NOVEL NEXT Chapter 122 Republish
Chapter One: Forgive me, Mother
Q: What is the Night of Brilliance?
A: The night when all the five moons share the same sky.
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Am I dying? Again?
I stopped the urge to vomit and gulped down whatever was trying to find its way through my throat. I thought I succeeded, but the dizziness in my head overwhelmed me as I puked. Something’s not right.
I had no idea how much time passed. Where were we before this? An impaling pain hit me as I tried to remember . . . Something’s wrong. Focus! Focus! This never happens to me. I never have a problem remembering stuff. It's almost a miracle for me to forget anything, but . . .
ραndαsΝοvεl ƈοm Several seconds passed, and I finally mustered the minimal mental capacity to carry out the thought process rather than the mindless rambling. It was still nighttime, and I wasn’t alone. My senses came back, at least some of them, and the pain assaulted my nerves exponentially.
My feet shuffled across the earth as I felt a force shouldering me, dragging me somewhere. Someone was dragging me on the shoulder.
"Pull yourself together, Scar," croaked a voice, probably having trouble dragging us.
I tried to mutter something, but ended up groaning. I tried harder, but failed. In the end, the dizziness in my head claimed it, and I lost consciousness.
I did not know how much time it took for me to wake up, but by the time I woke up, my head was still dizzy, though far better than before. The smell of alcohol was oozing out of me, and I found myself lying in a warm bed. Weird, I thought. I remember the fight and then . . .
Then my eyes widened. I looked at my palms, clasped them together and went as far as pinching my cheek. This wasn’t a dream, was it?
This is me! The headache was too excruciating for me to conclude anything. I felt sore in my throat. Water, I need water.
With that thought, I rose, though I had to lean against the wall immediately to keep on standing. All my bones and muscles felt sore. I leaned against the wall to calm my nerves first.
I looked around the small room to search for a general direction. I needed water. There was no water on the side table near the bed. The room appeared foreign to me, and so did all the things. It was a small room with a bed, though the way it was held did not appear to be a home where people stayed every day.
Dry wood burned soothingly in the fireplace, warming the dim room a little. Even though everything was well-placed where it should have been, I felt discomfort looking at it. The chilly atmosphere, coupled with the foreign room, weren’t the only reason for my discomfort. Breathing heavily, a couple of times, I walked in search of water.
Creeping against the wall, I managed to find the washroom. As soon as I stepped inside, I drew my head to the sink and let the cold water run through my hair. The cold water gave me a surreal peace of mind, and I drank the water to satisfy my sore throat. The water tasted a little sweet and satisfying.
The dizziness soothed too as I slowly drew my face towards a mirror. The face that showed up in the mirror was a youth towering over two metres height, lanky and pale-faced. An angular, handsome face with flamboyant red hair—they were all familiar to me. Even the distant eyes with a little tint of redness—which in a way proves magic is real—weren’t alien to me, nor was the mark on the right eyebrow all the way to the end of the forehead.
Scar? I called in my head. Hey, buddy, are you there? Come on, mate. Aren’t you going to take control?
No reply. That worried me for an instance, but I felt relief finding no voices in my head.
I stayed looking in the mirror for some time, as my senses cleared up. Memories readjusted, and so did my sanity. I waited until I was certain there was no one else in my head. I was as certain as I could be that Scar wasn’t there. It was both painful and liberating.
It had been over eighteen years. Eighteen years since I was transmigrated into this world. For eighteen years, I was trapped inside this body. Eighteen years of powerlessness to do anything against all the wrong decisions Scar made. Eighteen years with all the pain and . . . No, the pain wasn’t there for all the time.
That was why it was painful and liberating. Liberating because it seemed I was finally out of my imprisonment, and painful . . . because of Scar. for the last eighteen years, I was like an echo in his body. I lived through everything he had lived through. I felt everything he felt; all the pain, anger, hatred, sorrow, joy, and helplessness.
[Synchronisation ended.] A transparent text appeared before my eyes, and my facial expression changed.
[Preparing the Status window.]
Then a larger transparent window appeared on my retina, reminding me of the source of all this.
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Name: Arskar Emberborn
Title: Knight Squire. He Who Touched Death. The Chosen One.
Skills and Attributes:
[Purgatory (Unawakened)] [Spirit Body: F] [Spirit Power: C] [Fire Elemental Force: D+] [Charisma: D] [Cognition: C] [Eidetic Imagery: ?]
[Swordsmanship: ?] [Close Quarter Combat: ?] [Spiritual Manipulation: ?] [Spirit Armament: ?]
Dominions: None.
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"Does that mean," I muttered, “I would control the body for now?”
There was no confirmation, but then again, what’s the point of all this if I was just a helpless spectator incapable of doing anything?
It had been eighteen years since I was transmigrated into this world, Shrankor. I had no recollection of dying. Then again, death can be silent.
Forbidden Realms, a tabletop RPG that I grew up playing with my mom, while she was busy dying. I remember, I used to love this game as much as I loved my mum, however, I know it was all because of the time I shared with my mum playing this game in her dying years. That was almost three decades ago.
This world was almost exactly that with all the lore and history, story and characters, monsters and myths. At first, when I found out all that, I was lost for some time, and then I thought I deserved all the familial love my new mum, dad, and siblings were giving me, ignorant to the fact that I was but a parasite living in another's body.