ONLINE IN ANOTHER WORLD

The following day was a day of celebration, but the nature of it caught Emilio off-guard quite a bit. It began at the peak of the morning, just before the afternoon; festivities began with feasts being prepared and contributed by members of the village.

A massive bonfire sat in the center of the village, to which children played and danced and the village shaman danced and sang.

The great trees that served as walls around the isolated village towered high, though were inhabited by the many occupants of the land, who celebrated together. It was a beautiful day in which the sun’s rays danced over the foliage, letting the soft, orange light glimmer down onto the verdant grass below.

What was curious about the celebration of victory itself is that it was also the funeral for those that had fallen in the battle against the Outriders.

“–” He sat by the large bonfire, a safe distance away....

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Alekkai shook his head, “I have things to tend to still,” the red-haired warrior smiled softly, patting the boy’s head, “…Don’t worry. I will be fine. One does not become a champion through being defeated by a simple bit of exhaustion.”

“…Well, if you say so,” he smiled.

Though he wanted to help, he was partly glad to be spared of having to work further that day; while walking up the tree-accompanied bridges, he watched from up above as Alekkai began to settle in the freed captives.

“I never asked, but what happened? You know, while you were captive at the Outrider village?” He asked, looking up at Vandread as they walked.

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“Urgh…?!” Urganna growled.

Before the Outrider could do anything, Alekkai had reached his head, using his sword to stab into the abhorrent demi-human’s right eye, sinking it in deep.

“Graaaaaagh–!!!” Urganna roared out in agony.

The sudden burst of pain caused the monstrous bear to thrash about, slamming his fists and flinging his body side-to-side, causing the crimson-haired Verma Champion to withdraw his blade and jump away.

“That pain! Does it hurt?! Does it burn!? My brother, my son–they suffered much worse than that! Your screams will be a melody to their spirits!” Alekkai shouted.

“…Quiet!” Urganna roared out....

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“Come, then,” Alekkai said, holding his blade up as the rain fell down his body, “Allow me to slay you like the beast you are.”

Though he was taken aback by the sheer speed at which Urganna moved–bursting forward with agility that didn’t shift at all from the increase in size. A ground-trembling roar unleashed from the monstrous bear’s jaws as it tunneled forward, digging up piles of mud with its claws.

“–!” Alekkai readied himself.

He dodged to the side as the paw of the champion, which now was the size of his body, slammed town, causing the mud to ripple with a shock wave of the bear’s weight. In an attempt to counter, he struck the arm of the champion-turned-beast, but found his sword unable to slash the flesh of the great bear.

What? Alekkai thought...

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As the adrenaline died down, the pain that was suppressed within his body kicked in and his strength gave out, causing him to fall back as he held onto his sword, falling with the mountainous body of the chief.

It’d be real nice…if prince charming caught me in his arms right about now, he thought.

With the large body of the chief plummeting down, an echoing thud sounded out, causing the temple to rumble momentarily.

Landing harshly against the fur-carpeted, wooden floor, the fall from such a height should’ve hurt, but it didn’t register to his nerves.

Just as his eyelids began to flutter for him to attempt to take a nape–the chamber rumbled vigorously as a booming roar sounded out, beginning like a revving engine before exploding out.

…Dammit…can’t a guy catch a break…? He thought.

It wasn’t over.

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Even facedown with a mind that barely clung to consciousness, he managed to defend himself while the healing magic tended to his tender, broken body. Collisions constantly filled his ringing ears as stone clashed against stone; new walls sprouted each time they were shattered, using the material from the broken shields.

“–No! No! No! Impossible! Something like this…it’s impossible!” The chief roared out.

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The dragon blood was pumped into his veins, but he maintained himself; he didn’t lose himself in blind savagery, but instead reached to his side, unsheathing his precious sword from its scabbard. It was the subconscious restraint he managed to invoke the Dragon Flow in that allowed him to withdraw its repercussions; he opted not to rely on the flames, saving his body from overextension.

As he drew his black-steel sword, the chief immediately invoked a new spell in response: “Spears Of Plantana!”

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[The Chief’s Chamber | Emilio]

The chief’s ears flicked as he seemed to notice the sounds of battle outside of the temple walls, “I see. It’s the Verma; how unsurprising. They’ve fallen so low that they’ve recruited human children into their ranks.”

“–” He was silent.

After the damage he’d sustained, the lesser spirits had naturally vanished from him from the loss of focus.

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He gulped and held his spear tightly, “…Don’t worry. I’ll save you!”

Though he said such courageous words, his heart thumped inside of his chest with fear; his fingers trembled against his spear and sweat dripped from his chin,

STOMP. STOMP. STOMP.

It was only thanks to the two lesser spirits that aided him and the light they emitted that he saw the approaching figure: it was an Outrider dressed fully in black garbs; he was bulky and stalwart like a steel wall. In the hand of the approaching foe, a large greatsword was dragged across the floor.

In the face of such a beastly adversary, he found his legs quivering beneath him as his grip on his weapon felt as fragile as glass, but he held himself together with a false stretch of his lips. Being able to smile in the face of dread allowed for some semblance of hope, no matter how insignificant it might be.

“…You’re awfully big, aren’t you?…” He said with a shaky smile.

“–” The Outrider stopped, staring at him from behind his painted mask.

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“Run from the inevitable, young human,” the chief taunted him, not having moved a single step.

He suddenly stopped with a stomp the wooden below his boots, holding his staff forward as he unleashed a large wave of wind to stop the hail of seeds that soared towards him.

There! I can do–he thought.

“Ghh-!” He winced.

His thoughts were interrupted as pain struck throughout his entire body, focusing on his compromised forearm as the roots seemed to dig in violently. It didn’t take more than a moment for him to realize what happened:

It reacted in response to me using magic? What the hell?! He thought.

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As he ascended the stairs, he found himself undersized compared to the structure of the temple; doors towered like arches and normal furniture stood head-and-shoulders above him.

It was a frightening discovery, as it spoke of the size of whoever occupied the abode; everything felt as if it was built around giants, too large even for the Outriders he’d seen previously.

As he was walking down the corridor of the nature-built temple, a low grumble echoed through the halls.

“–” He stayed silent.

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“Be careful…He’s got incredible strength–he’s not the same as before…” Yula said weakly.

“Got it,” Alekkai nodded quietly.

Rushing forward, Alekkai took the initiative, staying low as he ran almost like a wolf on all-fours, aiming to sweep the Outrider Champion’s legs with his blade.

CLANG.

The sword swipe was blocked by one of Urganna’s axes before the other was slammed down, which Alekkai dodged swiftly before countering with a roar, puffing out his chest below unleashing it to the rainy wind.

“–!”

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Bruman rolled across the ground before looking up at the blonde-and-black haired boy, “…Emilio?! Nice save!”

“Thank me later!” He said, holding his staff up as he wasted no time with his next incantation.

The ferocity and tenacity of an Outrider warrior couldn’t be understated; even with a spear lodged in his gut, the bear demi-human launched forward, swinging his blade wildly towards the boy.

He moved around, rolling and using his spear to create walls of rock to space the Outrider away and give himself room for a counter.

Though the slabs of stone were merely momentary stopgaps, as a single swing of the massive weapon of steel crushed the walls in the Outrider’s way.

“Gah!”

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He knew this was already the plan, but he felt anxious already as that doubt swirled in his stomach, but there was no time for that anymore.

All he could do was his best as he stayed hidden within the grass while the Verma moved on ahead into the Outrider village, still within the element of stealth.

Bruman stayed beside him, staying wary.

“Is something bothering you?” Bruman asked.

“–” He glanced back.

Bruman chuckled, “Sorry, I can kinda smell doubt like that. Just part of being Verma.”

He turned back around, “Well…I was just thinking…the Outriders, they’ve got women and children, too, right?”

“I see–that’s what’s bothering you,” Bruman said.

“Yeah,” he nodded.

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[Through The Forest | Emilio]

As he followed the Verma elites, he kept his staff close to his body, wary of even the slightest sounds that disturbed the foliage around him.

I hope Vandread is doing alright…Maybe he already escaped? Yeah, that’s right. That’s entirely possible as well, he thought.

“You look awfully gloomy,” Bruman said, slapping him on the back.

He jumped a bit, looking up as he placed a smile on his lips, “Well, I’m just worried about my friend. The Outriders sound pretty scary, you know?”

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[Verma Village | Emilio]

“…Do you think this is going to be enough?” He asked.

There were about a dozen warriors of the Verma clan readied by Alekkai’s call, who seemed confident that this group would be capable of launching a successful attack on the Outriders.

“Having’ some doubts, kid?”

The one who asked this was one of the women in this elite group of Verma, who was built like a powerlifter, having her tanned, chiseled abs on display, which were shining from the rainfall.

“No, it’s just…”

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The bearskin-dressed Outrider had spiky, black hair with no eyebrows and beady, black eyes, layered in scars and possessing a body with unnaturally wide arms and a muscle density far beyond that of a human.

Simply put, he would be relying on skill rather than power for this encounter.

Just as he flipped his knife in his hand, he was forced to jump backward as the Outrider sprung forward with surprising speed, slamming his man-sized club down into the ground.

THUD.

“–!”

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Even if one were to strip all of the blades off of Vandread’s body, they would find their oversight met with swift impunity.

That oversight was one, simple concept: they didn’t strip the blades from within his body.

After removing the stitching, a hole opened up in the flesh of his heel, to which he reached in with his toes, sliding out a blade that was stored within his foot.

The benefit of his immortality kicked in quickly as his heel compartment reformed; strands of flesh reunited, stitching itself back together as within moments, it was back to new condition.

“Open pa mara!”

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Somehow he did manage to get a decent amount of rest by the time morning came. As the sun rose, he looked outside while yawning to find the village occupied by mist. The rain had yet to stop, with no signs of it coming to an end.

It was worrying to him that an entire day had passed while Vandread was still in the hands of the Outriders, but the best he could do in his situation was simply believe in the man’s strength. At the very least, it seemed highly unlikely somebody with an abnormal body like Vandread would meet his end easily.

“…It feels like I finally drew the good end of the stick for once,” he mumbled.

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“…Then what is it you’ve come to say?” Alekkai asked.

Chief Hurun looked at him, “Do not die for this vengeance, young Alekkai.”

“This is not for revenge—the Outriders are—!”

The man was interrupted by the elder, “You can say such things, but I know what stirs you, young Alekkai. Words may leave your lips, but your eyes speak the truth; a thousand flames burn in your gaze.”

“—” Alekkai looked at him before returning his gaze over the bridge.

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It was surprisingly large, and well-built with unique architecture, though it wasn’t inferior to anything he’d seen within Milligarde. The home was built in a dome structure, made of well-furnished wood with the floorboards being mostly covered in a thick, wooly fur of some sort of slain, pale white beast.

There was an incense lit within the home, producing a refreshing aroma that billowed within the abode.

It’s nicer than I expected, he thought.

“Papa!”

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“Vandread…he won’t die that easily. Trust me–he’s still there,” he said.

The utter belief in these words lacked any trace of a lie or exaggeration, causing the fluffy, red tail sprouting behind the tan-skinned man’s back to wag.

“Interesting. You’re a magic man, aren’t you?” Alekkai asked.

“A mage, yes.”

“Are you a capable warrior?” Alekkai asked further.

“…I’d like to think so,” he nodded.

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Though the man was seemingly immortal, he still feared for him. Perhaps he feared for himself and wanted the reliable fighter with him, or perhaps the child-like part of his brain didn’t want to be left alone in this dreadful situation.

But alas, his frantic run led him to an obstacle–

SMACK.

As he was running blindly into the forest, he ran face first into a bulky tree, being floored by the sudden, harsh impact.

“Ghh!” He winced.

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[Two Months After Setting from Elsia]

[Level Six]

[Well, I’m fifteen now. Woohoo. Some birthday it was–you know how I celebrated? By myself. That’s right–Vandread slept through the whole day while the carriage moved. And about that! We’ve been stuck in this carriage, moving along for months straight now–all through this forest! It’s insane how large it is! I thought it was just hyperbole or something when they said it was the size of a nation.]

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“Let me narrow it down for you,” the formless entity said, “White hair, gold eyes–anybody like that?”

The moment that was said, he found the memory stirred up of his encounter with the odd, beautiful woman amidst the night in Elsia before.

“Yeah…I recall meeting a woman with those features. She…was intimidating,” he answered.

“Ha-ha,” the entity laughed, “That sounds about right.”

“You know who that was?”

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“The Hunting Party isn’t on our trail anymore, and we’re both alive–in this world, that’s a victory,” Vandread told him.

He didn’t respond, only listening as the carriage rolled through the uneven forest trail, riding over protruding roots and causing the critters of the verdant region to scatter in its path.

Days came and went, all spent traversing the stretch of the massive forest. It was larger than he could ever anticipate, especially since the carriage moved constantly, pulled at a respectable pace by the mare that seemed to never require rest.

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There was a spectrum of emotions flooding through his mind as he sat in the field that stunk of death, finding crimson having painted portions of the foliage.

He didn’t know the man very long, nor did he share many nice moments with him, but he still felt grief and lamentation–he instantly blamed himself. It was due to his desire to become an adventurer that this person was sent on this journey with him, and why that person was now dead.

Or, so he thought.

Wriggle. Wriggle.

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Distant from the skirmish, but watching from a cliff far above the forest ground, the woman with divinely white hair watched, keeping her hands orderly behind her back as her eyes seemed to see past all of the fog and through the thickness of foliage.

Crescentia mumbled to herself, “…Let’s see how you handle yourself, Emilio Dragonheart.”

–

[Increasing Dragonblaze | Increasing Physical Capabilities]

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In terms of the swordsman rankings, the “Hero” rank was something in an entirely different realm; for each style, there could only be one hero-rank swordsman.

That meant the man standing before him was a living legend–practically a god himself of the blade.

Though he knew of the sigil, he hardly knew anything about the Two-Faced God itself. There were many thoughts flooding through his mind–though most, if not all were scrambled and discombobulated as he was left swallowed in fear.

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Amidst the dense fog, it was completely silent as he watched the platinum-eyes, shaggy-haired man step outside into it, being swallowed in the mist within just a few paces.

He could only stand there and watch the fog anxiously after Vandread had disappeared into its hold.

Am I really supposed to just sit here and wait…? He questioned.

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“…What about the city?” He asked.

“What about it?”

“The Hunting Party is traveling this way, right? Won’t that leave the citizens in its path…?”

He mostly asked this out of concern for Reno, knowing well that by the sounds of it, this Massacre-level entity was probably something beyond the likes of Oswell, by a long shot.

Vandread scratched his head, “The Hunting Party won’t go through a city–not one like Elsia, at least. It’s not a mindless entity–they’re smart and slippery. They seem to aim for caravans and mostly small groups that’re traveling the roads, not entire cities like that.”

“I see…What happens if it reaches us, then?” He asked.

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As he ventured around the city for a bit longer, stretching his legs and taking in the crowded atmosphere one last time before he’d be back in that carriage for quite some time, he found himself looking in surprise at the sight before him.

He had returned near the inn, where the “carriage parking service” inhabited.

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As the man returned to his feet, neither he nor Reno could do anything but stand still, knowing well that the unknown visitor to the tower knew they were there.

Slowly, the figure turned to face them, though he was surprised to find the one dressed in the white-and-black uniform was a young man, likely in his early twenties, at most.

What stood out were his eyes–the irises the man possessed weren’t just one shade, but many–it was as if staring into a rainbow kaleidoscope.

“Oh? A pair of children have wandered in?” The man said.

“–” Reno gulped.

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He still wasn’t a fan of breaking-and-entering, but it at least seemed devoid of ask as the garden looked empty, and Reno definitely knew her way around.

Once again presenting the movement abilities not unlike a monkey, Reno hopped down, grabbing onto the branches of one of the old, tall-standing trees before hopping to the garden floor.

“C’mon!” Reno called out to him from below with a smile.

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“Ya never told me why you’re here. Yer younger than me, arentcha? What’re ya doin alone in Elsia as a traveler?” Reno asked.

He shook his head softly, “I’m not alone exactly. But, well, we’re just stopping here for a bit–today is my last day here, actually.”

“Last day?” Reno looked at him with a slight dulling to her expression.

“Mhm,” he nodded, “I didn’t actually get much of a chance to see Elsia yesterday, so…”

“My bad,” Reno sulked.

He laughed a bit, “It’s not your fault. I made my own choices. But, today, I’d like to see it properly.”

Reno’s smile returned in full-force as she placed her hand on her chest, “Leave it to me! I hope ya got the right wallet, because yer gonna need some souvenirs to take with ya!”

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“Welcome!”

He was immediately greeted by a waitress, who gave him a big smile and bowed in front of him, as if trying to match his height.

“A new customer? Just yourself?” The waitress asked with a smile.

He nodded slowly with flushed cheeks, “Y-yeah.”

There was something catching his eye–no, two things that were catching his gaze. Though they were tucked into the white-and-green waitress uniform that was matched with a medium-length skirt that stopped just above the knees, those two mounds bounced with the slightest movement from the woman.

Boobs, he thought.

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It was such an odd, perplexing encounter without little clue of its purpose that he chose to bury it in his mind for now, going on his way again.

Eventually, he managed to wander his way back to the inn, entering through the flower-decorated door as he found a wizened, old man standing at the reception desk.

“How can I help you, lad?” The silver-haired man asked, setting his book down.

He scratched his cheek, “Err, my companion checked in here. A tall guy, darkly dressed, got a lot of scars–ring a bell?”

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“Ah! Many thanks, my dear friend!” Lawrence laughed in joy.

“Mhm,” he nodded, “You were amazing back there, Lawrence. Are you sure you’re a Noble-rank? You seemed even better than Oswell at one point…”

Lawrence laughed again at this remark, “That’s the nature of being one of chaos, my dear friend. You can’t quite be certain of any match against such lavish unpredictability, can you?”

“–” He didn’t know how to respond.

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He predicted that this time, Oswell would rush towards him, which he was ready for as he waved his staff around, summoning rings of fire around him that howled in a beautiful blaze.

“–!” Oswell looked forward in surprise.

It was launched just as the man got close: a fire-born spell that shaped itself like a mighty lance–being thrust forward as if wielded by an unseen knight before crashing against Oswell’s blade.

“Ghhh…!” Oswell struggled.

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“I’ll take his focus,” Lawrence said, glancing back, “However, I will need your support, my dear friends. This man is quite the troublesome opponent.”

“You’ve got it,” he nodded.

“I want a piece of this creep myself!” Reno added.

As the three readied themself for the fight, Oswell had already initiated the fight–dashing forward as he closed the distance between himself and the clown-like adventurer within a single moment.

“You’re talking as if you can contend with me, jester,” Oswell said with a look of utter bloodlust embedded in his eyes, “Please, show me where that unwarranted confidence comes from.”

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As he kept his eyes closed, muttering unheard words to himself, he visualized a sea of flames, constantly rising in temperature, the same thought became reality around him; the temperature rose, with the air shifting into heat waves around the boy.

Reno continued to lure the beast around, ducking and rolling as it constantly tried to bite or claw her.

“Gah! Anytime now, Emilio…!” Reno yelled out.

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“Strong as in we should be running right now?!” He asked.

“Yes!” Reno replied.

With that, Reno already began turning around to run, moving in the opposing direction. Just as he turned his head to think about running beside the girl–a cold, dreadful air zoomed by him.

What…? He thought.

It was there.

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While Lawrence was definitely taking the attention of the hideout bandits, one way or another, he began searching the area for Reno.

“Reno…? Are you here?” He called out.

All he found at first were cages that held frightened captives of the bandits, who didn’t reply and seemed to flinch at any words thrown. As expected, there were mostly demi-human children being locked in cages.

It seemed most demi-humans possessed majority human features, with just some aspects of animals like tails, ears, claws, and sometimes noses. Though there were some cases of some leaning more into the animal side.

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As the smoke dissipated from the minuscule explosions, the state of the hazel-haired bandit’s body was revealed–the volatile explosions had charred his flesh and crushed his internal organs.

The bandit fell over onto the stone as a mixture of billowing smoke and steam exuded from his burnt body, which was now a corpse.

[Level Up!]

[Level Five Achieved.]

The level up was instantly felt through his body as it felt as if his wisdom was expanded and his grasp on his own magecraft heightened.

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With his back turned to the bandit, the thin, snow-skinned man twisted his joints around completely, reversing the direction his arms faced and guarding against the attack.

Lawrence’s elbows popped and reversed, his shoulders rolled and rotated, completely allowing his arms freedom to defend his back.

“What the–?!” Dingo let out.

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He didn’t have time to respond, nor did he intend to as the man rushed towards him, seemingly unhindered by the weight of his massive weapon.

The atmosphere was so dense with dread and horrific acts that his mind was hazy–there was no doubt he was off of his game.

…Don’t lose your focus. You’re better than this. Use what you’ve learned! He told himself.

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“You know a lot about Oswell and this place, don’t you?” He asked.

“–” Lawrence looked down at him.

“Tell me the truth, Lawrence,” he stopped, blocking the path, “…Why’re you here?”

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In a world of magic and monsters, the man before him was a sight that made it all feel more mysterious and abnormal than ever before.

He nodded, “…Well, if you’re set on helping me, then–”

“Of course–your wish is my command,” Lawrence stayed bowed.

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He kept his shirt over his mouth and noise as to not breath in the miasmic air that hung in the stale air, slowly making his way down the hall.

Rattle.

“–!”

Nearly jumping out of his skin, he was startled as his boot kicked into something by accident–looking down to find bones just laying in the corridor.

Such a sight made his stomach drop as a cold shiver ran throughout his body. It was beginning to seem like much more than he narrowly imagined.

…Is this place really just a place where they abduct and sell people? That’s bad enough, really–but what’s the deal with there being skeletons around here?!…What the hell is this place?! What’s wrong with this world–!? He questioned.

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Whatever thoughts raced through his head, he came to the same conclusion: he needed to take out the man with the keys–especially while he was online.

With that in mind, he didn’t discard the idea of finding an alternate entrance, looking up to find an empty window sitting high above his head.

Quietly now…He told himself.

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As the man took his leave from the area with the girl slung over his shoulder, he quietly tiptoed away from his spot in the bushes, beginning to follow behind the man from a safe distance.

…This is such a risky plan! I really didn’t give this much thought, did I? He thought.

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“I have an idea. One that you’re probably going to hit me for suggesting,” he told her while looking her straight in the eyes.

The sapphire-eyed girl gulped, “What is it?”

There had been a clear discrepancy in their plan, if it could be called that, which he had only noticed earlier.

The idea is to stop Oswell’s trafficking, but how’s that going to happen if we’re just waiting out here to beat him down? Can we really trust that he’s going to lead us back to his operation, and not right into some sort of ambush? Or just run away? He thought.

As he looked at the girl, he gave it to her straight, “I need you to get taken away by Oswell.”

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“Ugh…” He groaned.

“…I’m out,” Reno gave up.

There was roughly one-fifth of the pie consumed, as it was far too much of a tall task for the two youths.

“Ba-ha-ha! Got a long way to go, don’t ya?” Urming laughed.

“…Yeah, yeah,” he quietly mumbled.

Retrieving three thrones from his pouch of coins, he paid up for failing the seemingly impossible task, to which the bear continued laughing boisterously as he took the leftovers away and cleaned the dishes off.

“–“

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“Being taken away, held by grimy, scum-of-the-world men like that with the idea of being sold off,” he answered, “It’s just the worst. As simple as that.”

It was clear that there was something inside of the young boy that spoke of firsthand experience, but Reno chose not to pry as she parted her lips quietly, stopping herself from emitting a word.

“I understand how you feel though,” he replied with a smile.

“–” Reno looked at him.

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“Hey, Gramps!” Reno called out.

Once the young girl had greeted the bear, who had a wheat straw sticking out from between its lips, he was beginning to piece together what was going on.

This bear is…? Hold on–is this a demi-human?! I thought they all looked kinda, more…human?! He realized.

The bipedal, human-clothed bear gave a pat to the girl’s head, “Staying safe out there? It’s been getting rowdy around here lately–”

While speaking, the bear demi-human stopped as he finally noticed the existence of the blonde-and-black haired boy standing there like a statue.

“Who the hell are ya?” The bear asked.

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The man rubbed his chin with his sable glove before glancing at the young boy, “Oh, I see. It’s like that, then. Well, get to it–I’m expecting my payment by tonight. If I don’t have it, well…”

There was something being alluded to by the man’s words, though he didn’t know what it was, Reno certainly did as she visibly shivered.

“…I know!…I know…I’ll have it,” Reno said through a quivering voice.

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As he walked through the streets of Elsia beside the girl, he watched her out of the corner of her eye, which she noticed quickly as she huffed.

“…I swore on ‘Aerium The Great’, didn’t I?” Reno asked.

“Well…” He wryly smiled.

“You have no idea, do you?! Children of Aerium can’t break a promise like that!” Reno looked at him.

The girl was quite loud in her words, drawing attention from the goers of the city as he glanced around, not much of a fan of all the unwanted gazes.

“Err, sure…” He nervously scratched his cheek.

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“You’re younger than me and able to use magic like that?!” Reno let out before coughing and correcting herself, “…Anyway, just because you’re a kid doesn’t mean I won’t hold back on you! You’re younger than me, so do the same!”

“What?! You’re still going on about that?! One year! You’re one year older than me!” He contested.

Before he could get any further words out, Reno sprung towards him again with the nimbleness of a cat, springing forward and attempting to swipe at him with the sharp silver held in her hand.

“Gh!”

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The first instinct in his mind was protecting his bag of coins, but it was too late–the girl was simply faster than him.

Again, it was lost from his possession in that brief moment as he looked in front of him–seeing the young girl racing off and glancing back at him with a smirk, presenting the stolen goods in her hand.

“Damn it…!” He yelled out.

Without a moment of hesitation, he broke off in a sprint towards the thief, pushing past the crowd of people that filled the width of the street.

What’s with this girl?! Can’t you rob somebody else?! He thought.

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“That’s it, then. These are the newest, hottest things on the market for mages!” The bearded man laughed.

“Really?”

“Yeah! Apparently they’re a type of catalyst for you mages! Specially made n’ stuff–I dunno how they work exactly, but apparently they boost the proficiency of your magic flingin’!” The man told him.

It sounded nice, and it was free with the staff holster anyway, so he smiled, “I’ll take both, then!”

“That’s what I like to hear!” The shopkeeper smiled.

Though it was an obvious ploy to secure a new customer into a repeat buyer, he could sense that the man was quite benevolent.

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“Huh?!”

Covering the gap between both rooftops, the girl in the blue scarf leapt to the other building, glancing back at him and teasing him with another slip of her tongue past her lips.

“Grrr…!”

He was definitely getting frustrated, resulting in him not hesitating to pursue her further as instead of covering the several meter gap with a straight leap, he manipulated the winds once again to launch himself.

This time, he decided to use a lot more power behind his speed-augmenting winds, bursting towards the girl.

“–!” She looked back with surprise embedded in her sapphire eyes.

I’ve…got you! He thought.

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I’ve had enough of you! He thought.

He pointed his staff down towards the hazel-haired slingshot-wielder, deciding to give him a taste of his own medicine as he coalesced the loose stone in the surrounding area into balls of rock, gathering them around himself before shooting them towards the stocky thug.

It was thanks to his recent level ups, reaching “Level Four” that combat felt much more natural for him.

“No, no–! Gah!” The thug pleaded.

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…Alright, first on the agenda: something to eat! He thought.

After eating nothing but tiger meat the last two days, he was more than happy to find some quality grub for himself.

There seemed to be a plethora of choices available to him, whether it was small outside markets serving fresh bowls of mixed fruit or full-blown restaurants that exuded savory aroma from beyond their front doors.

“Hmm…”

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“…Where are we?” He asked.

Vandread answered, “Elsia.”

“I thought Elsia was a city,” he replied.

“It is. We’re in its outskirts right now,” Vandread clarified.

Though he got an answer, the bountiful fog still made him uneasy as he sat back down across from the man.

“Have we been moving the entire time?” He asked.

“Yeah,” Vandread responded without looking up.

“…How? Isn’t that horse tired at all?”

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As he looked around for a bit to find a proper source of firewood, an effort was made to avoid all of the insects that slithered through the nightly forest.

Once finding a tree that wasn’t covered in eerily-large millipedes or colorful arachnids, he drew his sword from its sheath, planning to strike the tree down.

Here goes…He thought.

“Hyaah!”

As he swung towards the body of the tree with all of his might–

Nothing.

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Picking himself up, he brushed the dirt from his pants and began picking up the scattered firewood before moving on, now holding a heightened sense of caution with the prospect of what he nicknamed “super bears” on the prowl.

It reforged the way he saw Julius’ stories that were always told in a jovial manner as if they were just simple encounters.

All those times he talked about fighting bears…he meant things like this?!…I am deeply sorry for any disrespect I’ve shown over the years, Father! He thought.

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The sounds of forest-dwelling creatures were audible throughout the depths of the nature-ruled domain; some were the chirps of birds, but some were the howls of apex predators.

“Err, are you sure this is a good idea?” He wryly asked.

Vandread drew a pair of hunting knives that were sheathed beneath the all-black cloak, “Just keep quiet and follow along.”

There wasn’t much of a choice with how lost he felt in the dark forest and how stone-like his escort’s personality was, so he simply nodded and followed close behind the man.

…Father, you couldn’t warn me at all about this guy?! I’m going to be stuck with him for at least a month…He thought.

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[???]

In the sky, a fortress floated, secluded from the rest of the world, surrounded by a swirl of clouds that slowly spun around its immaculate architecture. It was forged of stone so smooth and pure, glistening white, that such a place resembled the keep of Heaven.

Within its impenetrable walls, an illustrious throneroom awaited; the floors were of rich marble that echoed with each step the one that approached the throne took.

Statues stood tall on both sides of the chamber; colossal sets of knight armor, forged of rich steel.

Sitting on the lone throne was a wizened man of a long, aged beard of snow and lengthy hair to match; his garments were as seraphic as his domain in their silver-and-white design.

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“…I did it–I did it!” He let out with a surprised smile.

Celly nodded, “You did…now, I have nothing left to teach you.”

“–” He glanced up at his tutor.

It was clear that the smile she had was one of pride and joy of her student’s achievement, but it did have a certain sadness to it.

As he released the trio of water-shaped dragon heads, letting them dissolve into a sprinkle of rain, he turned around to face his teacher, who knelt down to match his gaze.

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“…Why’re we all the way out here?” He asked.

It was just a couple weeks out from the end of his time with Celly. Though it was supposed to be just a normal day of magic lessons, he could feel there was something different–not only by the chosen location, in the most vast and empty field in Yullim, between two mountains, but by the demeanor of his tutor.

That day, Celly seemed more serious than usual.

“I can’t issue anything officially, but…if you pass this test, I’ll recognize you as a proper mage,” Celly told him.

“Huh?” He looked at her.

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“…What’re you doing, Emilio?”

Celly’s words came out lightly and tiredly as her emerald eyes were only half-open, but he immediately withdrew his hand with cheeks completely flushed.

“Err, n-nothing!” He said.

“…I see…” Celly yawned.

He let out a sigh of relief from not being caught on the subconscious act of “copping a feel.”

After such a dangerous encounter, he could still feel the amber liquid meddling with his senses. So knowing it was rather risky to be around, he chose to tuck his young tutor into bed, pulling the blanket over her and patting it softly.

“…Thank you…”

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Though he acted in the moment rather than the long term, that came to bite him as the alcohol gripped at his mind–swirling his natural self and letting loose any filter he once had.

With red cheeks, hot and flushed, he was fully drunk now.

It was a new experience for him, that’s for sure. Attempting to simply walk around felt as if the world below his feet was spinning around like a merry-go-round being tugged by storming winds.

Irene was the only one who stayed away from the booze, though it wasn’t because it was kept away from her. In fact, he tried multiple times to try and get her to drink it.

“C’mon! It’s kind of bitter and tastes like gunk, but it’ll make you all warm inside!” He tried urging Irene.

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After gratefully accepting the sword specially forged for him, he was surprised by Celly herself giving him a gift.

He looked up as the silver-haired young woman gave him something that was wrapped in a verdant cloth, bearing a similar, long shape to the sword he had received, though as he accepted it, it was certainly lighter.

“…You didn’t have to,” he smiled.

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“You’ll have to leave soon, won’t you?” He asked quietly.

Celly was quiet for a moment, but she seemed to already know that this would be it, “Yeah. In two more months, I’ll be returning to Vasmoria.”

“–” He looked down with a silent sadness in his amethyst eyes.

“But, Emilio…”

“Huh?”

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“I’m sorry…” He apologized.

“Don’t be. It’s my own fault for being rusty,” Julius chuckled.

“–Still, I should’ve listened.”

“Maybe, maybe not. You made your own call, though. I’m not going to say I was happy about it, but you did stay there–you chose to fight alongside me, and it looks like you saved your old man’s ass,” Julius smiled.

The pat on the shoulder he received from his father sent a jolt of pain through his body, causing him to wince as Julius nervously retreated his hand with a “My bad.”

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A change occurred with his body: his veins were visible, shifted into a black shade; his amethyst eyes had increased in vibrancy with his pupil altering to an almost vertical slit.

[Dragonheart System Unlocked.]

[Current Stage: Dragon Newt | 1/10]

I feel it now. I can win, he thought.

There wasn’t a single ounce of fear that tainted his blood as he looked up at the orc. The pig-faced creature instead looked fearful; stumbling back before it attempted to swing its blades towards the young boy.

–He vanished. In place of the young boy, the sword he held dropped to the stone floor, ringing out.

THUD.

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What was sitting on the throne of bones was a large, pig-faced creature, towering at least four meters tall with a humanoid body with four arms; it was dressed in jewelry of chained skulls around its neck, wearing a cloth around its nether region.

“What…?” He let out.

“It’s an orc–not just any normal orc, either! That’s an ‘Orc Chief”!” Julius yelled out, holding his sword up, “I don’t know what that thing is doing here, but you need to get out of here! This is too dangerous for you!”

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Eight months had came and went, marking the three-fourths point of his tutelage under the half-elf, young teacher of his. For some reason, he noticed after this day of learning after having cast several, high-level invocations, Celly almost looked sad.

It was a melancholic smile she held, looking off into the distance.

“…Soon enough, I’ll have nothing left I can teach you,” Celly said with a small smile.

There was no doubt that she was happy for the young boy, but there did seem to be something there that wasn’t joyful.

“–“

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What he planned to do was anything but orthodox, and less than normal–in fact, this would normally be something of an act that would land one on a list, but he had on advantage he planned to use to its fullest:

Right now, once again, I’m a twelve-year-old boy! That means–I’m totally innocent! Free of suspicion! This is my chance! I’ll take a bath with Celly! He thought.

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“That’s pretty much how it went,” Julius finished his story.

For a moment, he was totally silent as he looked up at his father in awe. Amidst the recollection of the journey from Julius, he was so engrossed that he could visualize it for himself.

He wanted to experience it for himself; the mystery of an unknown land, traversing its obstacles, and overcoming trials.

“I want to go there someday,” he said, looking at the fireplace.

Julius laughed a bit then stopped, looking at him, “Wait, you’re serious, kid? I just told ya’ how terrible that region is!”

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[Years ago…”The Stretch of Zero”]

[…”Back then, I was just a few years older than you. Just barely had a couple hairs down there, but I felt like I could defeat anything in my path. Let’s see…around that time I was…I believe a “Noble” class swordsman”…]

“…Phew…”

Standing in the sea of pale white, he exhaled a misty breath between his lips, looking towards the cavern.

THUD. THUD. THUD.

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[Winter]

The cold winds of winter howled, arriving with an abrasiveness this time around as snow quickly piled up around Yullim.

“Brrr…”

He sat in front of the fireplace, rubbing his hands together as he kept a plaid blanket wrapped around his shoulders.

“You’re not cold?” He asked, looking over at Irene.

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He stood his ground as sweat trickled down his cheek, watching as the massive, scar-covered goblin began to rush towards him with its heavy stomps echoing out against his ringing ears.

…Hold! He thought to himself.

Just as it stomped within reach of him, rearing its club that was larger than him back, he sprung forward with his sword tightly gripped between his sweat-laden fingers.

“Raaagh–!” The burly goblin let out a deep roar.

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With how many goblins there were and how plentifully they came through the small tunnels, there wasn’t much of a point in hoping for his father to protect him as the man was already hacking away at goblins.

The same went for Celly, who was focused on her own enemies–

“Bring forth punishment to my enemies beyond the shores! Water Roar!”

From the staff wielded by the silver-haired half-elf, a highly-pressurized spray of water lashed out at the drooling goblins that attempted to rush her. In a violent clash, the water sliced through the green-skinned fiends, dicing them apart.

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As the next day arrived, it was time to tackle the quest.

It required a hike as the area they were sent to was in one of the opposing corners of the valley.

…Nobody mentioned this part! We’ve been walking for three hours straight! He thought.

To make matters worse, since they were climbing one of the trail-paved mountains around Yullim, he has to walk up an incline.

“—”

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…”The Cries of The Days To Come”; usually we’re ignorant to the pleas of spirits, but while under the effects of the “Soul Strain”, we can hear those cries. That’s what this is?…So, the spirits are trying to show me something? Is it a warning? He questioned.

While pondering this, all that flooded his mind with that thought was the bleached world and the faceless man he kept dreaming about.

But what he was perplexed about most was one thought–one that clung to his mind that made him fully question the authenticity of this world’s artificial nature:

…My “soul” is being exposed? Soul? Is something like that possible inside of a “digital world”–I just don’t get it. Is this world truly artificial? I know what I saw, I know what I’m seeing–it can’t be fake, he thought.

“–“

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“You are not worthy–yet.”

–It was a cold, feminine voice.

With those words, he felt the strength in his body sapped, convulsing for a brief moment as if an electric shock had just surged within his body. In a single blink of his eyes, the mystical scenery was ripped from him.

“Wha–?!”

He jumped, startled by the jarring shift as he was standing on grimy steps. The sudden change in setting made him stumble as he rolled down the stairs with a harsh tumble.

“Ghh–!”

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As he etched these teachings into his mind, he was already getting to work on creating this gateway as he snuck outside with quiet steps, bringing only a small knife with him and his wand tucked into the pocket of his gray shorts.

Around the side of the house, he stood in front of the cellar doors, which were hardly ever used as nothing of much value was kept in the cellar, as he was told.

He brought the edge of the blade next to his palm, breathing in as he remembered the text once more:

[…’To create this gateway, you will need to draw your own blood. It doesn’t matter where from, just make sure it’s fresh. You will need to create the seal as shown on this page’…]

Drawn onto the page was a picture of the circular seal needed to be painted: it was one circle holding six more inside, all surrounding the center which were archaic letters and a bloody handprint in the center.

[…’Depending on the size of the catalyst you choose as your gateway, you may need a lofty bringing of blood’…]

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It wasn’t until they returned to the Dragonheart residence that Celly gave him the two grimoires for him to begin studying: “Sea of Mana Majesty” and “The Astral Teachings.”

The first he was lent by the young woman pertained to water spells, and the second was one she herself said she could hardly use—it focused on spirit arts.

While he was studying at the desk in his room, his nose was pleasantly greeted by the aroma of warm broth.

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“I’ve only really learned novice spells and a few intermediate castings, but this one…” He said.

“Show me,” Celly gave him the go ahead.

It was something he learned recently from peeking into the back of the “The Scripture of the Element King, Aelor”–he found a spell that caught his eye.

After that encounter with the Chaos God Style swordsman, I had to find my own “trump card”…He thought.

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The first day of his tutelage under Celly came with a nice, good-weathered day to greet the two. It was a bit windy, causing the coat that the silver-haired young woman wore, that reached down to her knees, to sway in the passing breeze as she held onto her hat.

“It’s a nice day today. Perfect for what we’ll be focusing on,” Celly said with a smile.

“What’re we doing today?” He asked curiously.

Celly looked back at him, “I was told you favor the winds, right?”

“Yeah,” he nodded.

It was true; he definitely held his wind magecraft above all other elements under his belt.

“Can you tell me why you favor wind, Emilio?” Celly asked with a smile.

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Celly smiled, “I can show you the path to reach that, but you have to be willing to walk it yourself.”

“I am.”

His answer seemed to satisfy the kind, young woman who held her reassuring smile to him before looking forward towards the wooden wall.

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Celly had a large case of her belongings that she brought with her, as this was going to be a lengthy endeavor, so the young woman would be staying at the Dragonheart residence.

“Sorry again that you had to come all the way out here to a place like this,” Julius laughed, helping Celly with her case.

Celly shook her head, taking off her wizard hat as she held a soft smile, “Please–I don’t mind. I’ve always heard of Yullim’s beautiful valley, anyway. It’s a pleasure to finally see it for myself.”

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When he tried asking Irene about her homeland, the girl didn’t seem to remember anything. The fact that she was from such a mystical land made him more interested in her, though.

Julius and Treyna tried asking her as well, but Irene simply didn’t seem to remember anything before being taken away by the traffickers. It was a much more widespread issue than he had initially though, mistakenly believing the actions of the traffickers were limited locally.

…This world has its own share of corruption. All around the world, children are taken away like that–sold to the highest bidder. With adventurers being plentiful in every land, it’s helped reduce the numbers as parents usually pay to establish a quest to find their missing child, but…it’s only a band aid solution, he thought.

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“Well, I can safely say I’ve melded you into a proper man now,” Veldalla said with a smile, resting her sword on her shoulder.

“I’m still twelve years old, but thanks…” He said, catching his breath.

“It’s up to you now to improve from here. I’ve helped you build your fundamentals, but you’ve got a long road ahead of you,” Veldalla gently knocked her fist against his chest, “You’ve got a good head on your shoulders–use it, kid.”

He nodded, wiping the sweat from his chin.

With the end of his mentorship under Veldalla, the red-haired woman finally took her leave from the Dragonheart household, though it was a begrudged leave

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As they sat there against the wall, the sound of horse hooves trotting against the soil met their ears. Through the woods, the Milligarde soldiers returned, and it was clear they didn’t take any prisoners as their swords were slick with blood and their armor lightly scratched.

He looked up, his eyes widening as he searched with his eyes for the girl, scrambling up to his feet.

“Did you find her…?” He asked.

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After deflecting the blows with his stern expression, Julius began thrusting his sword as if using a rapier, stabbing Rubert multiple times, though none of the wounds seemed to go very deep.

Pain didn’t seem like a concept that existed in the man with black and white eyes as he laughed, charging forward as he threw his blade into the air, spinning around and launching a kick against Julius’ abdomen.

“Gh!” Julius blocked it, but was knocked back.

“Father!” He yelled out.

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The man had shaggy, jet-black hair with an unshaven stubble, dressed in a black cloak that sat over light leather armor and metal greaves.

…Father? He thought.

“Oh? I don’t remember inviting you here,” Rubert said, jumping back as he held his sword up with an unorthodox stance.

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The silver hissed as it was slowly withdrawn from its leather scabbard, unsheathed fully before the ginger-haired man tossed the sword-holder to the side.

“–“

As the man raised his sword, resting it on his shoulder, he caught a glimpse of a tattoo etched onto the back of the smiling man’s right hand: it was a sigil similar to that of the Mountain God emblem, but of a horned jester with four stars surrounding it.

He didn’t recognize what the sigil belonged to, but the stars told him one thing: this man was nonetheless dangerous.

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Though it didn’t seem to be enough as an unorthodox maneuver came from the man; as he managed to leap out of reach from the spinning slash, he looked up to see the sword being flung towards him like a spear.

What–? He threw his sword?! He thought.

It felt like a dirty trick, but an effective one nonetheless.

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He looked at the steel sword that was now half-dyed in fresh blood, only looking up once one of the doors in the hall was kicked open.

“Marlo! What happ–”

It was the man with the scarred, bald head. The words coming from his lips halted as he saw what had transpired in the corridor; the man’s complexion shifted into an angered red as he drew his blade from its sheath.

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“Hey…what’s your name?” He asked quietly.

The girl was hugging her knees, leaning against the right wall, while he was chained up to the back.

“…Irene…”

He felt terrible. The fact was, she stood up for him despite herself being covered in bruises. Such a sight made him clench his fists, but he hardly felt like he could even justify being angry after such a cowardly act.

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“…Stop…please…”

The timid, trembling words came from the pale girl who was in the chamber with him. This caught the attention of the cruel man, but it hardly felt like a respite to him.

Left drooling blood onto himself, he was bruised and battered by the time the lowly criminal walked away.

The bald man set his sights on the girl, stomping towards her as she hid behind her arms out of instinctual fear.

“Huh?! Got somethin’ to say?!

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“Welcome home,” the smiling man told him, sounding out the words twistedly.

Before he could react, he was grabbed from behind, yanked off of the horse’s back as he heard the heinous laughter of a man.

“Nice catch, Rubert! This slippery little brat really gave us a chase!”

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It was a situation like this that he thanked the gods for the elbow grease he put into studying magic as he was placed with a perfect environment: the rocky walls that made up the grimy prison were perfect for him to forge his own path out.

As he placed his palm against the damp, rugged surface of the wall, the stone carved itself out into a path for the young boy as he held a surprised smile, looking at his hand as if in shock of what he was capable of.

Nature magic really is amazing, isn’t it? He thought.

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As he walked around the town that smelled of freshly baked dough and manure at the same time, he stopped as something caught the corner of his way.

In the alleyway to his left, he saw what looked to be a young girl, wrapped in a tattered cloth, hiding within it as she held out a rusty cup.

A beggar.

I guess some things are the same between worlds, huh? He thought.

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“Please! C’mon!”

“I’ve said it once and I’ll say it again: the price is steel.”

While moving through the bustling marker section of the town, he found a boy that looked to be around his age haggling down a stubborn merchant, who definitely wasn’t willing to budge on whatever it was that was being bargained.

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For some reason, it was almost more breathtaking than the sight of magic itself; the atmosphere that was boisterous, loud, and filled with laughter; stinking of booze and the smell of sweat and steel–he felt truly inside of a fantasy world at that moment.

“Gh-“

He fell back after being bumped into by a passing person, not noticing them while he was awestruck.

“Sorry ’bout that. Didn’t see you there.”

The words came from the man who had knocked into him, who extended a hand down to him that was clad in a glove woven of black leather and studded with silver.

“–“

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Going on his way, he carried the heavy, blood-stained sack with him across the dirt road that sat in the luscious fields.

Still, he didn’t mind the opportunity to finally walk the trail alone; the lively, verdant trees swayed in the gentle breeze along with the colorful flowers that occupied the sides of the dirt path.

While marching down the road, he saw a few village kids playing by the trail, kicking rocks and playing with sticks. It was clear by how they were swinging their sticks that they were pretending they were swords.

Playing Knights n’ Thieves? He thought.

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I did it! He thought.

It was much more anticlimactic than he had imagined; Veldalla didn’t even budge from the strike, but she did come to a full-stop.

Well, can’t expect much from the body of an eleven-year-old, he thought with a sigh.

The scarred, but beautiful, rowdy woman looked at him for a moment.

In place of surprise, Veldalla’s expression instead turned to a fierce smile as she slapped the spot where she was hit, laughing out to the azure skies above.

“Nicely done, kid!” Veldalla smiled wide, smacking her stomach again, which didn’t even show any signs of being hit.

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“Pick up your sword. Let’s try this again,” Veldalla instructed.

Though the last thing he wanted to do was go for another round with the woman who certainly didn’t treat him as though he were a child, he begrudgingly lifted the training weapon, knowing it was his one line of defense.

Again and again, he felt it impossible to keep up with Veldalla, who had the speed of a bullet and the aggression of a bull.

Even defending against her strikes by holding the sword up still caused him to feel the strength of the blow echo through his bones

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“Your mother and I discussed it, and if you want to take your training in the art of magic to the next level, you’re going to have to also become a half-decent swordsman!”

“I don’t understand…why?” He asked, raising an eyebrow.

He could tell the discussion that Julius had with his mother was likely more of the eccentric, brawn-for-brains man convincing her to have him undergo this training.

“Balance is key! Sometimes, a sword is going to come in handy over magic! Having both options will make you a twice as powerful combatant!” Julius told him, “Now, if Veldalla here passes you by the end of your lessons in six months–you can get your magic tutor!”

It was a deal, or rather, a challenge issued to him.

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With the complete embodiment of the spell interlaced with his thoughts, he kept his hand forward with his intentions clear: to part the fallen leaves.

Come…Wind Sphere, he thought.

His eyes were still closed as he invoked the magecraft through his mind with a hope unlike that of an ignorant child’s; he didn’t know whether it had worked or not yet, but against his palm, he felt a brisk wind.

So deeply believing in the flow of wind in all aspects, the unmistakable feeling of a stable breeze was something he couldn’t perceive as real or not until he parted his eyelids.

Fwoosh.

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It was easy to tell why magic was so difficult for people to grasp: there were hardly any real, tangible instructions given.

The very first entry in the grimoire was the pre-information needed to understand magecraft itself.

‘Mana is no different than one’s own life essence. It’s drained when we’re exhausted, it’s filled when we eat. Just as we burn through energy by tending to a field or swinging a sword, we burn through mana to manifest magic. The incantations are engrained with the true visualization of a spell; they help one to completely imagine that which they wish to manifest. However, it’s possible to bypass the need for words bringing your magic to life. However, that’s something one should focus on much later in their tenure as a mage.’

Still, the knowledge flowed into his mind seamlessly as he glanced over the first page that caught his mind:

“Wind Blast.”

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[Three Years Later | Age 10]

Thwack. Thwack. Thwack.

“C’mon, Emilio! Swing back!”

Julius called out, swinging the wooden sword rapidly as he held his own training blade up like a shield, being pushed back as he backpedaled across the front yard.

“Ngh–I can’t when you’re being so aggressive!” He whined.

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There wasn’t much to do at his young age; his parents were still overly protective of every little action he took, though he didn’t blame them nor did he really mind it.

While sitting and reading a book, Julius watched in surprise, witnessing his young son studying away at the text.

“…You can read already, Emilio?” Julius asked, kneeling down beside him.

He nodded with a smile, “Yeah.”

At first, this language seemed foreign to me, but I picked it up quickly. I wonder if it’s a special skill or something? He pondered.

“That’s amazing!” Julius laughed proudly, “I knew a son of mine would be amazing!”

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Over the past few months, he adamantly tried to conquer his status as an “infant”, though it was more difficult than he gave it credit for.

He was mostly left to the whims of his parents, only able to cry out when needing something as his small tongue and vocal chords weren’t developed much yet.

Walking was a difficult task with his uncoordinated baby body, but he didn’t mind it–this ended up with him being carried by Treyna a lot, who always kept him close to her chest.

There was nothing that could ruin his joyous bliss in this new life–after all, he had a functional body.

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It was entirely black.

There was no body he possessed, as if solely inhabiting a consciousness amidst a void bearing nothing but total darkness.

For a moment, it was nothing but complete silence in this void; deprived of all senses, his thoughts felt hazy.

What…is this? He thought.

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“Reincarnation Online: The Second Life of Fantasy, Excitement, and Wonder.”

Seeing the title of the “VR” product–a “Virtual Reality” game–he felt it resonate with something within him as he stared at his monitor.

However, virtual reality had evolved from just an ocular augmentation to something that was able to completely augment all senses of a person’s mind, allowing them to fully immerse into new settings.

But, even above that, “Reincarnation Online” was touted as an experience that was quite literally a new reality.

Reading the article, it seemed like less of a game and more of a ticket into another world entirely. As he scrolled down the page, he clicked on video embedded on the page:

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