《Gaiana: Season One》 Chapter 1: Him Darkness shrouded the him. Where was he? Who was he? He was moving upwards at tremendous speeds. Gears whirred and chains rattled in response. No. Something was moving him. A wave of nausea hit him as he retched, the darkness shook as he was thrown into a metallic wall. He felt square grids that dug into his bare back, he was in a shaft. The whirring gears groaned to a stop, the shaft stopped as he was thrown into another wall. He pushed his hands against the cold, hard floor as he tried to stand. Before he could even bend his knees, a loud bang shook the shaft as something tugged him, sending his frail body flying. Light beamed down on him from every direction, it blinded him as he squinted hard. He found himself on a bed of leaves, the bleak cloudless skies lay above him. There was no sign of a shaft as he glanced around, he was lying on a pile of leaves under a towering tree. A field of strange exotic plants stretched further than he could see, a small hut was suspended on another tree, its ladder so long half of it was buried under another bed of leaves. Wonder quickly turned into horror. Where was he? He grunted as he stood with much effort, a forest shaded from the blinding, distant sun stretched in the opposite direction of the field. He had taken a nap, it was the last day of school, his mother had called¡­ That was when it struck him: He was missing something. He had forgotten hisname. Was this a dream? No. His legs felt numb and he could smell the strange fragrance of the field in front of him.You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version. ¡°My name!¡± he yelled, it was at the tip of his tongue, yet he knew nothing. He knew Mother¡¯s name, Adam, Father¡¯s and every single one of his classmates. Yet, he knew nothing. The very concept of this terrified him more than the fact he had no idea where he had ended up after a stupid nap. Panic consumed him, what the hell just happened? On the very eve of summer vacation , he had taken a nap and woke up forgetting his name, in a foreign place. He took a step forward and another wave of nausea hit him. He was starving. The hut will do. If there was nobody in there, he thought darkly as he dragged himself there. The field of plants looked extremely foreign, there were giant rectangular blocks that sprouted from plants two times the size of Adam. As far as he knew, rectangular fruits didnotexist. He could not spot any other huts in the distance, the field of plants spanned miles and miles of endless shapes and colours. Therails on the ladder was much thicker than he thought, his fists could barely clutch the steps. And so he ascended, the hut was about a few metres above the ground, suspended on a tree trunk. The first thing he noticed as he climbed was hisarms.They were a shade more tan than his usual pale complexion and there were obvious veins sprouting from his biceps. And what biceps he had, his fists were also larger. ¡°What the fuck?¡± he murmured as he looked down on his bare feet. They were as tan as his arms and his legs were equally muscular. His entire body feltsmoother, it was an indescribable sensation his plump body had never felt before. No, this cannot be right, he thought frantically as he reached desperately for his face, hoping some form of acne was left on the accumulation near his forehead. Nothing. It was smooth and merely sweaty. ¡°Oh my god!¡± he gasped as his left arm reached for his cheek to confirm his suspicions. Oops. With both arms free from the handle of the ladder, his footing slipped and he fell, arms flailing and yelling in shock. Stupidly, he reached out for one of the handles as he fell and shockingly held on. He pulled effortlessly and swung back onto the previous rail he was climbing on. Impossible. I would not have performed this, never in a million years, his suspicions were confirmed: This was not his body. Great. This was not his world. Oh, and this most definitely was not what he wanted. Chapter 2: Who? As he reached the door that hung ajar, he heard voices that grew louder and louder. They sounded rough and rowdy but their conversations could not be made out. My god, please speak English, oh my god, he prayed as his left foot left the ladder and entered the hut. It was larger than he thought it looked, there was a light source that hung on the ceiling, emitting a weak, orange hue. The voices came from the kitchen, or what he thought looked like a kitchen. The room opposite the kitchen had a closed door and it was completely silent. He shut his eyes firmly and clenched his new fists. If this is a new body, I assume the voices in there are my friends? Or did I wake up in a completely foreign body to this world and I? His eyes snapped open as he stared at his new body. He was tall and his skin was severely tanned, his muscles were in perfect proportions. If those voices were somehow foreign to this new body, they would not make a scratch on me, I hope, he thought as he strolled into the kitchen. It looked similar to his at home but there were no gas switches and dishwashers of any kind. Unwashed utensils lay forgotten in a metallic bucket that he assumed was a sink. He had no time to ponder how such a miniscule treehouse could have a kitchen and space left for other rooms as the voices grew louder. He hoped to catch verbal communications similar to english but his hopes were held too high. "Roxunsittaru, roxunsittaru!" a high pitched yell echoed from the room next to the kitchen. Someone cheered as the shelf storing plates and other utensils rattled, something had slammed into the wall. His heart sank. He had read enough portal fantasy novels and watched enough portal fantasy films and shows to know that the current situation he was in is not what a standard portal fantasy novel is supposed to be like back at home. Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator. Home? His mother and father''s scowls flashed before his eyes and a jolt of excitement shot through him. He''s gone. He was probably another dimension away from the foul stinking planet that is Earth. He shivered with adrenaline, no longer did he feel unease for whatever situation he was in, no matter how foreign. He hated his family and the few acquaintances he had back in school would not bat an eye if he disappeared. Though his name stuck firmly at the tip of his tongue, he remembered everything else, his parents'' favourtism for Adam and every god awful detail about highschool. It was not like he had social anxiety or anything but he never found himself bonded with his classmates. He was in a perfect situation. The adrenaline died as quick as it came for he remembered he was foreign to a world, born into a new body and unable to understand or speak their language. Something crashed and landed headfirst into the sink as an unwashed bowl shattered near his feet. A groan of pain came from the sink as a literal goblin stood up. It wore a torn and tattered loincloth and its face was a light shade of green with facial features identical to a classic goblin potrayed in fantasy books he read before. Pointed and crooked nose with angular ears and sharp black beads for eyes that were menacingly evil. The goblin, seized a fork from the sink, knees deep in the water filled with food particles and other debris. It cackled at something in where he assumed was the livingroom, completely unaware of his presence. "Roxunsittaru!" the goblin jeered in the tongue. Two people emerged from the other room, they cackled at the goblin, which did not find that amusing. The creature snarled, the fork in his hand pointed in the most threatening manner possible at them. The man had high cheekbones, he was shirtless and his ribs were clearly visible under a thin layer of skin. The other was a woman who had a permanent sneer on her face, her hair was short and a violent shade of blue. The woman laughed again and the goblin dropped his stature and he burst into loud giggles as the man joined in. And then, they turned to look at him. The room fell silent and the goblin''s fork clattered to the floor. "Um, hi?" Chapter 3: Skirmish The goblin acted first, fork drawn once again and malice flashed in his black beady eyes. Okay, these guys are not my friends, he thought frantically. The woman lunged first, however, quicker than the goblin could. She unsheathed a dagger from her belt, grinning at him. ¡°HEY! HEY! HEY!¡± he yelled in alarm, ¡°I don¡¯t mean any harm! Is this your house? ¡®Cos I will just¡­¡± The man swept his feet in a circular motion and threw him off balance as he fell onto the kitchen floor. He tried to get up but the goblin was on his back, its nails dug deep into his scalp. The woman bent low and stared at him, she sneered and looked up at the man whose shoe was tucked under his ribs. ¡°Shumoyuru monrtuyus?¡± the woman asked, dagger pointed in his face. ¡°Gow.¡± the man snapped. The goblin let go and jumped off his back as the man dragged him up against the wall. He was speechless, what kind of portal fantasy threw you into the face of three murderous low-lives and no clue of what they were saying either? ¡°Let go of me, I¡¯m not here to fight yo-¡± A fist dug deep into his cheek as he tasted blood almost instantly. The man grabbed a handful of his hair and dragged it up to face him.Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. ¡°Yuhri? Hakatuyus yuhri?¡± he snarled. ¡°Look, I don¡¯t know what you are saying, I don¡¯t have anything on me!¡± he yelled desperately, ¡°I can¡¯t speak your fucking language! So leave me alone!¡± He swept his arm at the man and he banged into the goblin as they crashed onto the opposite wall. It was a desperate attempt to swat the man away but he had sent him flying. "Do jocks feel like this all the time?" he muttered in amazement. With newfound adrenaline, he dived straight for the woman. She let out a cry of surprise at the sudden turn of events and swung her dagger wildly. He ducked instinctively and sidestepped to avoid her swing, he slammed his elbow onto her neck and clutched her wrist. It was the oddest sensation in the world, for he had no prior knowledge of hand to hand combat but it felt completely natural. It felt like riding a bicycle without actually knowing how to ride it. The woman struggled and his grip hardened until the dagger clattered to the floor. She¡¯s inexperienced, he thought absent-mindely. What the hell was he saying? The last time he had attempted to fight was in preschool and it did not go well at all. The woman was clutching her wrists in agony and he dived straight for the dagger. Retreating to a corner, he pointed it at the man and the unconscious goblin. ¡°Hakatuyus yuhri?¡± the man asked again, slightly shaken. The man massaged his shoulder and whispered something to the woman out of the corner of his lips. Before he could react, they had bolted for the door, dragging the goblin with them. His legs gave chase but stopped immediately, what would he achieve from catching them? A trophy? Glancing down at his fists and at the dent in the wall where the man had crashed into the goblin, he could not help but feel a sense of relief at the fact that he was at the very least fit to fight in this bizarre new world. Chapter 4: Three Knocks Was he in a game? Or was he in another dimension? He doubted the former because an achievement or some form of a notification would most probably appear saying, ¡°Congratulations on chasing off three murderous bandits we put you to pit against before you understand the context of where you are, who you are and how to speak our language.¡± Lost in thoughts, he had not noticed the crow perched on a bucket next to the sink. It was not a crow, of course, for it had blood-red eyes and sharp talons that clenched the handle it rested on. He jumped and it flew, cawing alarmingly straight through the door. He peered at gap the thugs had left open, the field of exotic plants stretched beyond his vision. There were a few huts and houses in the distance but he could not spot anyone in sight. The image of the menacing goblin was still in his head. If he needed answers, it needed to be answered here. He rolled up the ladder with ease and found the giant wooden latch on the door and slammed it into a hole wide enough for it to fit in, all with one hand. It was strange being strong, for he felt empty, empty of fat, aches and fatigue. He gave the wooden door a shove to ensure it was locked, the wooden latch groaned and splintered instead. ¡°Mental note: I need to keep this strength under control before I make this entire house collapse.¡± he muttered as he tried his best to restore the latch into its original position. Great, time for some digging. It was very fortunate that the owner of this house had a room dedicated to books. It was extremely messy and several were still left opened, pages facing the carpeted floor. A window gave away a view to more huts, crops and this time, a wide tarred road cut a field of wild grass and the neighbouring crops. A clear reflection of his new face glanced back at him. His eyes were...boring. They looked bored and extremely relaxed, jet black hair went as far as his eyebrows, in contrast to his blonde, spiky hair. It was odd to compliment one¡¯s own body but he was too perfect. But then again, this was not his body. There was not a trace of acne or the old scar on his cheek (where Adam had elbowed him in the face). Yet, the more he stared, the more vague his original facial features got. As he struggled desperately to remember the mole that was under his lip, something else clicked in his brain. Jericho Warwick. It was a whisper that went as fast as it came, like a gust of wind that blew open the doors for an arriving storm. It rattled him to his very bones but he knew the name as if he had it from the very beginning. Something screamed at him, telling him that it was not, because it was certain that Warwick had never been his last name but it stuck to him and Jericho did not consider the idea of another name for a very long time.If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. --------------------------------------------------------------------- Jericho began exploring in the room filled with books, it was dimly lit with only a gaslamp as a light source, which was set on the wooden stool leaning against the wall. There were three shelves lined up vertically parallel to one another. There was a distinct smell of a basement in the room, it was oddly soothing to inhale for Jericho, who had spent the week skimming through the first two shelves. There seemed to be no sign of a bed, an old, musty mattress seemed to be what the owner of the house preferred. He showered with a wooden bucket and slept in the living room with no blanket whatsoever. So far, visitors had not come to bother him and he lived off a large basket filled with what looked like hardened bread and a dozen jugs of water he had collected from the nearby well. As water resources ran out quickly, he paid another visit to the well to find a family of three filling a three buckets of water. Jericho had half expected to be robbed again but they walked off without a word. It seemed to Jericho that he had not been transported to a medieval world as many strange sights and objects denied this. On the third day of his stay, Jericho heard the revving of an engine on the road near the hut. He snapped his book shut and sprinted for the window only to see a trail of dust left behind. The gaslamp was another giveaway because he was certain these things was not invited until the 1800s. Yet the lack of proper basic tools and technology in the hut puzzled him. From many pictures illustrated in some of the odd books he found, it seemed to Jericho that he was in a world where the level of development was in the World War Two era. An illustration of a military sergeant confirmed his suspicions for he was dressed in full military attire with something that resembled a bayonet in his hands. A bulky tank was parked behind the stone-faced man. From the lack of proper facilities that parallel the illustrations he saw of soldiers and strange contraptions, Jericho roughly knew where this hut was located. The metallic bucket that was supposed to be a sink and the absence of an actual restroom in this house and the surrounding field of crops could only mean that Jericho had ¡°spawned¡± in a rural area of the world. By the fifth day, Jericho had finally came across what he was looking for: a dictionary. It was extremely thick, its cover wrapped in a leather casing that looked like it was close to imploding. The alphabet was not long at all, consisting of merely fifty strange symbols he learnt in a single night. The strange thing was, that Jericho could pronounce these letters by themselves by simply staring at them. A voice would read the letters and he jolted down each of the pronunciations carefully. By the sixth day, he was able to read sentences with moderate difficulty. The dictionary also contained extremely useful information such as The Jorkai or The Highlander, the ruler of Gaesus Empire (which was where the dictionary was printed), a major kingdom of the realm Gaiana. The book was classified under categories such as technology, agriculture, monarchy and law. From the many illustrations Jericho saw, he could positively confirm that Gaesus had long emerged from the industrial revolution. From steam trains, ships, automobiles and tanks, Jericho wondered if arriving in this era was a good thing. Soon, Jericho could read sentences with fluidity and speed without looking at the alphabet chart. He had spent a week reading non-stop and was rewarded handsomely for it. And then, as a thunderstorm shook the hut on the eighth night of his reading, something knocked three times on the door, signalling the beginning of Jericho Warwick¡¯s journey through Gaiana. Chapter 5: Blaise Armstrong Jericho¡¯s heart pounded as he stood silently from his stool, the dictionary placed gently on the carpet. A flash of lightning lit up the room, followed by another three knocks. He stared at the grandfather clock that stood against the wall, facing the dinner table, the hour hand read exactly twelve midnight. Strolling cautiously to the door, he unlatched the lock and opened it. A blast of cold wind hit him as a hail of rain poured through the tiny opening. Jericho took a glance outside, his hair was wet almost immediately. A man stared back at him. ¡°Are you Blaise Armstrong of the Buck Village?¡± the man asked, expressionless. He was bald and he could see the moonlight reflected off the raindrops that fell relentlessly on his scalp. Jericho took a second to understand what he had just said before shaking his head. ¡°Sorry, I¡¯m not. Do you mind coming in? It¡¯s harsh out here,¡± Jericho asked boldly for the man did not show any signs of hostility. He was rather proud of speaking his first sentence in the Gaiana tongue though he had no idea what rain was so he guessed he had probably said ¡°Do you mind coming in? I am very wet concerned.¡± The man raised his eyebrow but accepted Jericho¡¯s offer, murmuring a word of thanks. He took a leg off the ladder and stepped in and his body came into full view. He was in the exact same attire like the sergeant Jericho had seen in the illustration, however, he was completely drenched from head to toe and his belt was missing with several buttons unbuttoned revealing a white singlet from underneath. Jericho assumed his attire was navy blue, but was so wet it had turned a much darker shade. ¡°So¡­ do you know if Blaise Armstrong is present right now?¡± the man asked, unbuttoning his military coat and hanging it on his forearm. Jericho considered this for a moment before realising why the name had sounded so familiar. A few days prior, on his third visit to the well, a frail woman was murmuring about Blaise. He could not understand what she was saying but he could roughly recall it about wishing Blaise was there to assist her. ¡°No. What is this for?¡± Jericho asked curiously. He was getting more and more familiar with the language but the words still came out slow. ¡°The Praetorian Trials. He had submitted an appeal form after passing the physical exam to attempt the trials in which we have approved. I am sure your town is very proud of him, we have not assessed any who have passed the exam from Buck Village in years ,¡± the man replied gruffly. Jericho had seen the word Praetori in the dictionary, under the military section. He remembered using the definition for practice: A Praetori or Praetorian is a high ranking asset of the Gaesus Empire. They specialise in various fields to assist the military and the Parliament. Only the strongest of men are qualified for the Praetorian belt. They take a gruelling trial before being deemed worthy of the title. ¡°Right, so why are you here?¡± Jericho questioned but he knew the answer before the man had replied. It was simple: he was living in Blaise¡¯s hut. The man frowned and rummaged through his pockets for a crumpled piece of paper. The ink was blotched from the rain but Jericho could roughly read the words ¡°Locate¡± followed by something scribbled in messy handwriting: Tatcher Lane, Tree (there was something Jericho could not recognise), Buck Village. ¡°This not Tatcher Lane?¡± the man asked as he strolled towards the window and pointed at the road outside. An automobile was parked right outside, its headlights switched off.If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. What could he say? Jericho was dumbfounded, he could not just tell the man that he was living in Blaise¡¯s hut. If what he saw was correct, that guy is someone that should not be messed with. ¡°Yeah.. I am his¡­¡± Jericho stuttered, ¡°friend,¡± He grinned foolishly and the man¡¯s eyebrows shot to his forehead. The man replied but Jericho could only understand a single phrase ¡°Pass the form to Blaise¡±. Jericho took it. -------------------------------------------------------- The next day, someone knocked again. It was the woman Jericho had seen beside the well. She looked much weaker than he had seen her. Jericho had to catch her before she almost slipped and let go of the ladder. ¡°Well, hello¡­ what is i-¡± The woman gave a sudden cry of anguish and began sobbing uncontrollably. ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± Jericho asked, alarmed. The woman said something unrecognisable and began sobbing again. ¡°Blaise¡¯s wake is near the fields of his house, come if you want,¡± the woman whimpered at last. The woman added that they were ready to spread something Jericho could not recognise. ¡°What happened to Blaise?¡± Jericho questioned innocently, it was an extremely foolish question to begin with but he could not stop himself. Expectedly, the woman began wailing at the top of her lungs. ¡°He¡¯s dead! It¡¯s time you get out of your stupid house and stop doing whatever the (an unrecognisable word Jericho assumed was something extremely offensive) you are doing in the woods!¡± She was hyperventilating this time and her eyes were so tragically filled with grief it was hard to watch. Something nagged in Jericho¡¯s mind: So this was not Blaise¡¯s house, but why was his hut the registered location of the Praetorian Trials? ¡°You are extremely polite today. You take joy in his death do you? You cruel (the same curse Jericho would assume meant ¡°Fuck¡±)¡± she said, seething with anger as she descended back down, her hands shaking as she did so. Wow so you are a real jerk, Jericho thought, talking to his new body, leaping off the treehouse and landing onto a pile of leaves next to the old woman. They walked for a while, crossing the wide tarred road and soon found themselves in a small hamlet of huts. What was Blaise thinking of when he wrote the address of his house, what could Blaise have anything to do with him if Jericho was always in his house or presumably in the woods? A few people who were also dressed in the same black clothing as the old lady greeted her as they walked solemnly by, Jericho assumed they were mourning attire for Blaise who seemed to be extremely popular in the hamlet for the entire place was deserted. On the contrary, Jericho was not even given a slight glance though he had sworn a boy had shot him a look of pure terror before ducking behind his mother¡¯s skirt. They reached a small stream where a large crowd of people stood near it, clearing the way for an opening where a small wooden casket was placed. A small picture of a grinning man who had blonde hair tied into a ponytail. He was extremely broad chested but Jericho could not see beyond that. The old lady had shifted next to the table and cleared her throat weakly. Jericho dove straight for the back of the crowd, evidently aware of his supposed bad reputation. The murmuring crowd stopped talking instantly. ¡°Thank you. Thank you all for coming today. For Blaise was the (unidentifiable word) man Buck Village would ever know. He was the pride of all of us, the first ever since old Barny to receive a Praetorian Trial (unidentifiable word Jericho guessed was invitation),¡± the woman said shakily as many noses were blown. There was a gentle tap on Jericho¡¯s shoulder and he spun around, coming face to face with a tall boy slightly taller and older than Jericho¡¯s body. He had eyes similar to Jericho¡¯s, cold and seemingly bored looking. His hair was jet black and trimmed neat, stretching beyond his shoulder and out of sight. Despite the sweltering heat, the man was in a travelling cloak, a single button fastened around his neck. ¡°We leave by dusk, you have his invitation, correct?¡± the boy spoke in a bare whisper, his voice completely expressionless. ¡°Wha-¡± Jericho asked loudly and the boy gripped Jericho around the shoulder and dragged him away from the crowd. No one was there to notice this happen as they walked towards a nearby field behind a particularly tall plant with flowers that sprouted thorns from the tip of its petals. "Too loud." the boy whispered simply. ¡°You have it. Give it to me and we will pack and leave by dusk,¡± the boy said, his voice a little louder this time. ¡°Yeah, yeah I do,¡± Jericho replied, perplexed but playing along for he knew, as he winced from the sharp pain on his shoulder from where the boy had gripped him to the claw like nails which he knew he had saw that he was in terrible company. Chapter 6: Hawks The boy peered through the crack from the plant and sighed loudly, as if he was extremely bored. ¡°That one was tough to kill,¡± he said after some time and Jericho realised with great shock that he was undoubtedly talking about Blaise. ¡°At least we got the invitation,¡± Jericho said, trying desperately to sound casual. He knew at once he had said something strange or wrong for the boy spun around incredulously, his lips curled into a sneer. ¡°You¡¯re not thinking of registering for Praetorian?¡± the boy burst into giggles that sounded extremely unfit for his stature. ¡°We¡¯re here for the bounty, the Tagori will arrive tonight to find the target they have been searching for had been decapitated with his head completely missing,¡± ¡°No one knows you are here, they think you¡¯re dead, Warwick,¡± the boy said as he stood up, walking back towards the hamlet, ¡°only me. And it stays that way,¡± Jericho opened his mouth to recover from such a horrible mistake but the boy spun around again, sneering, ¡°I like what you did with your hair, black, I like it,¡± They walked past his treehouse, heading straight for the forest next to it. It was larger than he thought, for he could no longer find the exit, they were completely surrounded by towering trees. Yet they continued walking, Jericho in a stunned silence. As far as he could gather, the boy and him were accomplices, who were claiming the bounties for Blaise¡¯s head, who seemed to be hunted by another organization. Jericho was also supposed to be dead having altered his appearance. They walked for another few minutes before they took a sharp turn on a dirt path, leading straight to a tiny wooden hut. They were in semi-darkness, the Sun completely hidden behind a sea of leaves. This part of the forest was in complete silence, the birds¡¯ chirping and the occasional mysterious croaking underneath dead tree trunks were absent. Something rustled in the leaves and Jericho jumped as a blur of bright orange whizzed past him. The boy reacted almost instinctively, his right hand that was concealed beneath his cloak shot past Jericho¡¯s face, faster than the blur of orange. Jericho watched, frozen with fear as the boy¡¯s hand caught a mass of orange fur, his hand going straight for a tree besides them. In a split second it was over, the boy¡¯s bloody palm planted against the tree, the orange creature behind it struggled for a moment before going limp. The boy removed his hand and wiped it against his cloak in disgust, a headless animal with a body similar to a fox¡¯s slid off, a small trail of blood following, painting itself on the bark. ¡°Just a horka¡± he said placidly and continued walking. Jericho followed in stunned silence. He would be found out sooner or later, to be an imposter or whatever he was. But how could he run? The boy could behead him with a flick of his wrists, or could he? He was his accomplice after all, could the sudden bloodlust that overcame him when he disarmed the thieves help himself against such a formidable threat?Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon. ¡°Wait here, I will get my gold out,¡± the boy said without looking back, entering the hut, slamming the door behind him. He needed to run but his legs seemed to say no. This could possibly be the only chance left before he is revealed for some reason. Could the boy be watching? Jericho eyed the curtained windows in panic, the coast was clear. Gritting his teeth, he mustered all the strength he could to break off into a run, to escape from- The wooden door opened and the boy came charging out, something silver glinted beneath the hem of his cloak. Jericho dodged before the blade could slice him, surprised by his reflexes. The boy had drawn a weapon that looked like a katana from his sleeves, his face triumphant. ¡°Really? You fell for this?¡± the boy scoffed, ¡°orousasho strikes first, quotes Maestro Graum every single time, you really fell for this?¡± The boy laughed shrilly, though Jericho noticed his knuckles were white and they were slightly trembling. ¡°The great Jericho Warwick, the underground will pay generous amounts for knowledge of your whereabouts,¡± the boy whispered, his katana pointed at Jericho¡¯s heart, ¡°you are already a dead man, but I will enjoy this,¡± ¡°Disarmed and useless,¡± the boy spat as he circled around Jericho, ¡°not so arrogant are you?¡± ¡°We are the first generation of pupils of the Takezo school yet everything is about you,¡± he snarled, ¡°your clan and kin whom (unrecognisable word) us, when we work tirelessly to even be acknowledged by the Maestro¡± ¡°You were a waste of space in the school,¡± he continued, his hands trembling uncontrollably now, ¡°taught in the ways of the (unrecognisable word) and assasination yet you arm yourself with your staff,¡± The boy lunged, his katana swinging in graceful arcs. Jericho barely dodged it this time, his arm drew blood instantly. There was no point in explaining, he also did not know how to. Fuck. I am so fucked. Come. Let me help. The voice came as fast as it had left, like the moment he had remembered his name. The same feeling overcame him and he felt himself letting go, letting the voice take over, whatever it was¡­ Jericho¡¯s eyelids drew heavy and snapped shut, he was in the shaft again, chains whirring and clanking but this time he was descending. Jericho awoke. The boy was in mid swing, his eyes murderous, time slowed to a crawl and he watched, though he was staring through the eyes of his body, it acted on its own accord. ¡°Good day, Hawks, I can explain,¡± Jericho spoke but it was not his voice, it was more relaxed and he had a very thick accent. He picked up a twig and to Jericho¡¯s horror sat down. "But I would not bother," he said again, sounding bored but cold fury behind it sent a chill down Jericho''s spine. What the hell was he saying? ¡°I could kill you with this twig,¡± Jericho whispered, Hawks was still in mid swing, his eyes turning from rage to terror. It was over in a second as Jericho watched and felt himself flicking his wrists, the twig connecting with the katana. He had sworn the blade had cut through the stick that was barely the width of his index finger but the katana seemed to have completely missed, curving and deflecting directly onto Hawks¡¯ face. There was a sickening ¡°thud¡± as Hawks collapsed, kneeling before a towering Jericho. The boy¡¯s face was ruined, the katana had found itself in the left side of his face, blood was literally gushing out. ¡°What... but I hit¡­¡± Hawks¡¯ voice left his throat at this very moment as Jericho yanked the katana from the boy¡¯s face, revealing the horrifying indescribable mess under it. Jericho had no time to look or gag for he found himself swinging the katana, slicing the assassins¡¯ head off, it flew a few metres away, the ghost of a terrified, vulnerable boy still on his ruined face.