ã€ŠArchivist of Divine Knowledgeã€‹


 Chapter 0: Shadow of the Origin - Part 1

    Huff, puff.

    Circles of smoke floated up towards the evening sky, dimly bathed in the setting sun''s light. The young man leaning on the rooftop''s ledge sighed, before taking another drag of his cigarette.

    Large eyebags adorned his tired eyes, looking down at the busy street, the bustling population seeming like ants going to and fro the anthill from that perspective.

    It was a long way down, if he slipped from that spot, at least a few of those ants would find themselves bathed red, he thought.

    Chuckling at his own grim thought, and to avoid that hypothetical from becoming reality, his back would be put towards the ledge, instead of leaning into it with his chest. From his pocket, his phone buzzed.

    Lifting up towards his face, the electrical light greeted him, a few notifications which he wasn''t interested in popping up. He ignored them, instead staring at the time indicated on the screen. He had been out for five minutes.

    He clicked his tongue in annoyance. ¡°Chet. I barely lit this one, and they''re already asking me to come back in¡­¡±. Breathing in some more smoke, he could feel like his lungs were on fire, coughing a few times. For some reason, he enjoyed that.

    Truth be told, even if it had only been five minutes, his workplace didn''t exactly allow smoke breaks. He had to sneak off to the rooftop of the company''s building every time he wanted to light up a cigarette, and even then, most of his superiors knew what he was up to.

    The only reason why he was allowed to do so was the difference in capability between the young man and his colleagues, he was too valuable to be fired for going out for five minutes every few hours.

    The identification badge pinned to his chest glimmered, thanks to the phone''s screen light: [Arthur Luria, 25, M. Werners Lead De¡­]

    By now, that position had changed a few times, thanks to the occasional promotion. Promotions he had to work hard for, despite his natural talent.

    Those eyebags and the permanent drowsiness in his body were proof of that, visible signs of all the hours he had spent working overtime instead of resting. The saving grace of that job, working in one of the biggest software designing companies in the country, was that he could at least work from home when he needed to.

    His phone buzzed again. This time, it wasn''t a message urging him to go back to his office, but someone else. Someone he knew since their university days, who happened to be working under him at the moment.

    [¡°Hello, Herr Luria! I started writing that webnovel I was talking to you about, think you can give it a look?¡±]

    [Attached: prologue.txt]

    That guy, he always messaged him for the stupidest reasons. Even then, he much preferred going along with that guy''s idiocy, rather than being bothered about someone needing help with their job, or having a scheduled appointment.

    Damn near every week, he received messages about a new novel idea, or similar projects, which never got finished. That friend had a lot of creativity, but couldn''t follow something to the end most of the time.

    Still, Arthur didn''t dislike reading, especially when he knew he could use that material to tease the other later on. He opened the text file, not bothered by the passing time, and read through the first sentence.

    [¡®Wherever there''s a light, a shadow must also be cast.¡¯]

    ¡ª

    ¡°Have a good night, Lead Developer, sir!¡±

    His office had every light turned off, and he was busy packing up the few things he brought with him to work. That day''s work was over, he could head back home. On the way out, his juniors greeted him with smiles and respect, which he didn''t bother figuring out how genuine they were.

    He disliked that job. He disliked the company, he disliked the ambience, he disliked the teams, he disliked his colleagues. However, to him, it was easy, and the pay was good enough to live comfortably, for now.

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    The lower ranked worker in front of Arthur smiled at him, clearly a forced smile. Hidden behind that expression, resentment and jealousy were baring their fangs at him. He was probably thinking how ¡®if that damned brat hadn''t come along, I would have been Lead Developer right now¡¯, or something along those lines.

    However, what he showed on the outside was a friendly smile, the absence of any warmth whatsoever quite noticeable. By now, he was used to this, it was part of the reason why he disliked that job.

    He simply nodded his head with a grateful look upon his face, repeating the same words to the junior whose name he didn''t bother reading on the ID. Even if he did, he''d forget that name more sooner than later, he figured.

    He was fine with being perceived like that by his colleagues, it didn''t matter too much to him. Inside that building, he was the ¡®Lead Developer¡¯. All that jealousy, envy and resentment wasn''t aimed at Arthur Luria, the person, but at the Lead Developer, Herr Luria of Werners.

    Inversely, when he stepped out of that building, the worth of ¡®Lead Developer Luria¡¯ disappeared, leaving him only as Arthur Luria. He lit up a cigarette, warming himself, if slightly. It was a funny thought, in some ways.

    He only had worth when working, his worth came from being the ¡®Lead Developer¡¯. However, others'' anger and jealousy was also only directed to the ¡®Lead Developer¡¯. Then, was there any proof that Arthur Luria wasn''t just that, the ¡®Lead Developer¡¯? Was there any proof that he wasn''t anything more than his position?

    ¡°What a bunch of bullshit.¡±

    He muttered to himself, breathing out a small cloud of smoke. Seeing himself as only a ¡®position¡¯, seeing himself only as his ¡®talent¡¯, that was a bad habit he had gained over the course of his life.

    A golden child, a genius of engineering, the prodigy of Werners. He was given those titles, complimented by anyone that saw themselves as inferior to him, but he found no happiness in having to hold those titles.

    Still, no one would care about what he wanted, that just isn''t how life works. The tip of the cigarette burned brightly, its length shortening with a breath. Walking down the streets of his city towards the apartment complex he lived in, he produced his phone from a pocket.

    Without even noticing, he found himself opening the text file he had received again, scrolling through the paragraphs and reading. The light bounced off of him, illuminating his tired face. Despite the electrical source, it wasn''t straining on his eyes, at all. Or rather, he was willing to keep his eyes open, just to keep reading.

    Surprisingly, this was good. Usually, that friend had good ideas and concepts, but couldn''t quite put them into words properly. This time, he was actually interested in the novel, it had some good hooks even for a prologue.

    Going back to the messaging app, he strung a few words together, a compliment as honest as he was able to make it.

    [¡°good¡±]

    [¡°keep at it¡±]

    Even in person, he was bad at talking to people, especially at his workplace. A result of only seeing himself, and his colleagues, as positions, rather than people. He only said what needed to be said, and kept the minimal greetings and words of goodbyes.

    When speaking over a phone, it was even worse. He didn¡¯t dislike speaking with that friend, but he just wasn''t good at conveying his thoughts through words, either. The other would understand, that was a pretty big compliment coming from Arthur.

    Sometimes, when he read webnovels or the occasional book, he fantasized what it would be like to live in one such world. An irregular world, full with magic and mysteries, where the logic that deemed him a ¡®genius¡¯ wouldn''t hold up in the slightest.

    He wished to live as a human, but instead, found himself as being nothing more than one of the many ants. An ant slightly faster or stronger than the average ones, but in the end, still an ant.

    Would an ant be able to decide its own fate? Would an ant be able to do anything, apart from following the orders it''s given, to follow a predetermined path? Would an ant be able to free itself from the shackles of expectation?

    He looked down at the streets, spreading out in every direction. At such a late hour, there weren''t many people walking around, apart from himself. And he had found himself going back to the company''s rooftop.

    As much as he disliked that company, he found comfort in that specific spot. The cigarette in his mouth had gone out already, he had to put it out to avoid triggering any smoke alarms while sneaking into the building.

    Perhaps the tiredness was making him act in a more stupid way than usual. Instead of simply leaning on the edge, he''d sit on the metal railing, his legs pointed towards the void beneath him. He chuckled. If he slipped from there, there wouldn''t be any ants to stain red. But maybe, even leaving a mark on the world itself, rather than on those powerless ants, would be better than to keep living like that.

    ¡°¡­ Nah, no way in hell. I''m too much of a coward.¡±

    Even a miserable life was better than not living. He sighed, looking at the streets beneath him. Still, it would be pretty nice, living in a world like the ones in the fantasy novels he sometimes read.

    [Is that your wish?]

    ¡°Huh?¡±

    He looked behind himself. He was sure he heard something. A voice, speaking to him, in a low tone of voice.

    [Do you wish for another''s life?]

    Right in front of his eyes, something impossible was happening. A voice, taking the shape of letters forming sentences in thin air. Words written with the sound of an unrecognizable voice. The written words sounded like a voice, and the voice was taking the shape of letters.

    ¡°What the hell¡­?¡±

    Was he finally going insane, thanks to the lack of sleep? Was that an hallucination? Some sort of complicated prank? No, something inside him told him whatever was happening, was happening in reality. Something defying every logic.

    [Answer me. Do you wish to live another''s life?]

    He didn''t know what was happening. He didn''t know what, or who, those words were. And yet, that voice caused something to spark in him. A flame which he couldn''t identify just yet, prompting him to answer.

    ¡°What, what do you mean, live another''s life¡­¡±

    Normally, any ordinary person would freak out and try to figure out the source of that voice, instead of conversing with it. But Arthur could feel something drawing him in, something urging him to understand the meaning of that sentence.

    [You shall live another''s life. That is your wish, and the punishment for your desire, Arthur ¡­]

    A pain suddenly spiking in his head dazed him. A headache so strong he couldn''t even properly understand those written sentences any longer, nor could he read that voice. It felt as if his head was being split into a thousand fragments.

    His vision was getting blurry, his body was growing weaker. He could feel the pain spreading throughout the entirety of his body, as if every single nerve was being stabbed with needles and his skin was being torn apart by razors.

    His body soon hit the floor of the rooftop, slumped over with no strength remaining to lift himself up. That pain was only increasing and changing, it felt like being torn to shred and burnt to ashes at the same time. From underneath his skin, d

    im light spread out.

    The voice spoke out with a smile.

    [Be born, Arthur.]

    And then, Arthur Luria blacked out.

 Chapter 1: Shadow of the Origin - Part 2

    The smell of the burning tobacco lingered in the air, as the young man started falling towards the ground. The cigarette dropping from his mouth glimmered in the night, like a meteor amidst the starry sky. Arthur Luria fell unconscious.

    He had no idea what was about to happen to his body. A pain intense enough to knock him out ravaged his mind, followed by a sensation like that of a fever dream.

    He couldn''t quite see his surroundings, or be aware of his body just yet, but he could feel something nonetheless.

    His senses were dulled and unclear. It felt like he was looking through a clouded lense, like his ears and nose were plugged, and a thin sheet of fabric was laid over the entirety of his skin.

    Thoughts were running amok in his brain, forming and scattering too quickly to try and develop them properly. His consciousness was hanging on by a thread.

    His body may have been out cold, but his mind was working overtime to try and figure out what had just happened. Granted, most of it was in the form of trying to put together those fleeting, feverish sensations.

    With some difficulty, he focused his eyes. His vision was still blurred, but at least he was consciously making use of his senses, that was already better.

    Fittingly, the sight that showed itself to him seemed straight out of a dream, or out of a hallucination. Lights and shadow of impossible colours overwhelming his tired eyes.

    If his main senses were dulled, the same couldn''t be said for the awareness he had of his body. He felt as if he was floating in the vacuum of space, or sinking through deep waters.

    And as if he had been sent spiralling, everything around him was spinning, the ethereal and ephemeral colours blending together in a manner that hurt his head just by looking at it.

    The more he tried to focus on his senses, the harder his thoughts became to collect, and vice versa. Like his mind and body were now two separate entities, and he could only control one, at the cost of letting the other loose.

    In that case, he preferred to keep his thoughts clear. Every time he squinted, or tried to focus his vision, that intense pain spread out from his eyes to the entirety of his body. His senses were tightly connected, focusing on one would mean that pain would only increase.

    The feeling of needles piercing through every nerve, while blades cut up his joints and flames burnt his insides. And somehow, he was barely managing to stop himself from focusing on that pain.

    He shut his eyes. He needed to focus on his thoughts, and ignore the sensations from his body. He needed to ignore that vomit-inducing feeling of his body spinning without control, and that maddening pain. He needed to ignore those head-splitting lights, and that incredibly loud quietness.

    What he needed to do was figure out what was happening to him. How did he get in that situation? Where was he? He remembered leaving work at the usual hour. He remembered walking home.

    And he remembered walking back to his office in a daze. Mindlessly climbing the stairs, working his way around the lock on the rooftop''s door. And while he was staring at the empty streets below him¡­-

    [Be born again, Arthur¡­]

    ¡ª

    ¡®There¡¯s a wall next to me. And some sort of window, maybe, over there.¡¯

    Before he even realized he was awake, the young man turned his head to examine his surroundings. He ran his hand over the wall, right next to his body, which was laying down moments earlier.

    It felt like it should feel cold, but it didn''t. He couldn''t quite place his finger on whether it was warm or cold, or neither. Maybe he was still dazed from having just woken up.

    Unconsciously, his body had shot upright as soon as his thoughts resurfaced. His eyes, surprisingly lacking any eyebags, were lazily focused on the wall beside him. Pressing his palm against the surface, his brows furrowed.

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    Something was wrong. He didn''t know what exactly, but something was wrong. Maybe it was just a gut feeling, but he knew something was amiss. It felt like a vital part of him was missing, an empty space inside of him needing to be filled.

    His hand moved towards his hair, running his fingers through the silky and smooth strands. ¡®Weird.¡¯

    He muttered inwardly. ¡®My bangs aren''t this long.¡¯

    For sure, they weren''t. His hair, dark in colour, only ever reached at most his shoulders, and that was in the rare occasions he couldn''t find any time at all to go to a haircutter. And even then, the frontal part was usually much, much shorter than that.

    Blinking a few times, he didn''t even realize the darkness of the room he was in. He could barely see his own hand right in front of his nose, and even then, he could only recognize its shape thanks to his sense of touch.

    He touched the wall next to him once again, before wiggling around. He was sitting upright. Weird. Did he fall asleep on the floor? No, there wasn''t any spot in his bedroom where he could have laid down so comfortably next to a wall.

    Maybe he fell asleep on a couch, or in the living room again. His backside felt numb, that was probably the case. The living room''s floor wasn''t comfortable, at all, but he''d fall asleep pretty much anywhere when he needed to rest.

    No, wait, he didn''t go back home, yet. Did someone knock him out in some alleyway to rob him? Or maybe he had fallen asleep on the company''s rooftop? Surely not, it was way too dark. Even if it was night, night in the city wasn''t ever dark, with all the streetlights.

    He blinked a few times, his eyes slowly adjusting to the darkness. The wall next to him seemed to be made out of a rough, uniform material. Not wood, or bricks. He definitely wasn''t at his house.

    Looking down, he was sitting on what seemed like a wooden plank, welded to the wall at its extremities with two pieces of metal. It didn''t feel too uncomfortable, but it was far from being called a bed.

    Trying to move his body again, he found himself rolling off of the plank, and promptly falling face first towards the ground. Curiously enough, instead of the stinging pain he expected from hitting his nose, what spread through his body was a sensation not unlike a single slap, reverberating through his skin.

    It didn''t hurt, but his body had hit the floor, that much was floor. Like slapping a body part with its blood flow cut off from having laid on it for a tad too long, it seemed like while his other senses were fine, his sense of touch was still dulled.

    ¡®Still dulled?¡¯

    Fixing himself and now sitting on the floor, a piercing pain struck him in the head. Fragments of memories, moments which he wasn''t sure whether they had happened far in the past, or moments earlier.

    The rooftop. That voice, and then, that dream-like sensation of floating through water. And now, he had woken up in an unfamiliar room. Grasping his temple, trying to manage that head-splitting headache, he grimaced in pain.

    That''s right. Something was definitely wrong. He tried standing up, but every time he moved a part of his body, the feeling of his nerves being pierced and his muscles burning up ravaged him. Still, he pushed through, eventually managing to stand on his two legs.

    The numbness hadn''t left him yet, and he felt like he would trip and fall over at any moment, if he didn''t fully focus on keeping his legs from collapsing under his own weight. ¡®What the hell is going on?¡¯

    Countless questions and doubts appeared in his mind, but, of course, he didn''t have the answer to any of them. Thoughts flashed, coming and going, but they all lasted too little to settle on one. He needed to calm down and sort out his line of thinking.

    ¡®As if I could calm down¡­¡¯

    Out of habit, his hand lowered, rummaging through the pockets of his trousers, looking for that familiarly shaped, tobacco scented container. Though, it was nowhere to be found. He didn''t have any cigarettes on him.

    His hand quickly rushed back to his hair, grasping at the strands to try and calm himself down. Huff. Huff. Even if he didn''t have a cigarette, he breathed in deeply, before letting out the air from his nose. If barely, it worked to calm himself down.

    The pain persevered, even spreading to his lungs now that he was focusing on his breathing. He needed to figure out a lot of things. Where exactly he had woken up, why did he wake up there, and what happened to him.

    The easiest of those questions to answer, was the first one. He hesitantly lifted a foot from the ground and took a step forward, his numb leg trembling. Maybe he was scared of tripping over his own feet, subconsciously.

    Turning his head left and right, he found out this room was quite small. Two walls identical to the one besides him, and in front of him, an empty space divided by columns. No, they weren''t columns, but rather, bars. That, and the wooden plank.

    It looked suspiciously like a prison cell. Even if it didn''t make sense, it definitely looked like one. Three rough walls, thick enough to withstand physical hits and altercations between prisoners, a plank on either of the room to serve as beds, and an entrance blocked by bars.

    On the extreme opposite to the entrance, the dim moonlight washed over the room through a window. The metallic bars, although relatively thin, were covered in seals and symbols, and were extremely robust.

    If a prisoner tried to pry them open, or slip through them somehow, they were sure to damage the offender, as well. Those symbols had a meaning, though the specifics of which he did not know, that granted them power.

    If he tried to force his way out, he''d probably be knocked out cold on his feet, by a surge of electricity, or perhaps a blast of kinetic energy. Without even realizing it, he rubbed his left shoulder gently with his hand.

    ¡®Chet!¡¯

    Pain once again assaulted his head. His brain was pulsing like a heart, and with every wave of pain, memories leaked out. He didn''t know whether he was obtaining, losing, or remembering memories, but that pain was dangerous.

    For a moment, he forgot his situation, pondering over memories and knowledge which he was sure of having no property over. Why he knew about the properties of those bars, or how strong the walls were, was unknown to the boy.

    The settled down as quickly as it came, leaving him gasping for air. This was a complete and utter mystery. He looked down at the wooden plank which acted as the cell''s bed, and gently placed his hand on it.

    As he thought, it didn''t feel like he was touching wood. Or rather, his sense of touch was still too numbed to properly identify something from his hands alone.

    Then, why was it, he could visualize exactly how that plank should feel? It wasn''t like any wood he knew, and at the same time, he was familiar with it. A type of wood which collected heat easily during the winter, and discharged it with the same ease during summer.

    Cold during the arid, warm days where the scorching sun fed its light to the lands below, and able to warm a person''s entire body during the cold and humid winter days. Coming from a tree with a rate of growth fast enough to be almost called an invasive species, many low income households, and establishments such as prisons, used them as beds.

    That wasn''t knowledge he was familiar with. Not to mention, he couldn''t quite recall it as fragments of information, but rather, something that simply sprung into his mind as soon as he touched the wooden plank.

    ¡®And since they¡¯re so cheap, it''s easy even for poor families to have multiple, somewhat comfortable beds¡­¡¯

    At that moment, a chilling feeling ran down his spine. When he was identifying the room, he clearly remembered his memories telling him that the cell had ¡®two¡¯ of those planks, two beds. And if there were two beds, most likely, he wasn''t the only prisoner in that cell.

    ¡°Up surprisingly early, I see.¡±

    From the opposite side of the room, a pair of scarlet eyes were glaring at him.

 Chapter 2: Shadow of the Origin - Part 3

    The two eyes, coloured crimson, glared at the boy from the opposite side of the room. Shadows veiled the other party''s face, leaving the youth unable to identify them and figure out who they were. Still, red was a unique colour for eyes, if it were someone he knew, he''d recognize them right away.

    The unknown person glared at the boy with an indecipherable expression, their brows furrowing and then softening multiple times, most likely as they thought over something.

    The young boy, still dazed from this mysterious situation, unconsciously backed up beside the wooden plank, pressing his own back towards the wall. His hand shot towards his pocket, fidgeting with the fabric to calm himself down.

    Maybe it was the uncommon hue of their eyes, or maybe it was the veil of darkness shrouding them, but something about that person made the boy feel uneasy. He rummaged through his pockets some more, but nothing was to be found.

    At the company he worked at, Werners, staying in the establishment until late hours wasn''t uncommon. And considering the streets of his city were far from safe, he had once bought a pocket knife, as a last resort in case he needed to defend himself.

    Though, now, he had nothing to protect himself, if that person decided to assault him. Not to mention, if this really was a prison, and if they were an inmate too, they probably had some makeshift weapon hidden somewhere.

    Staring from the darkness, the figure was sitting upright on another wooden plank. Their frame was small, perhaps short or malnourished, their hands folded on top of each other. The crimson hued gaze turned away from Arthur, falling onto the window. Their expression softened, a hand raised towards their chin.

    ¡°Hm, ah. It''s not that early, I suppose. It should be¡­ Around six?¡±

    Speaking up with a calmer tone of voice, the figure stretched their arms outwardly, letting out a few sounds of appreciation for the routine, before stepping off of the wooden plank, and into the dim light cast by the moon.

    ¡°You look like you''ve seen a ghost.¡±

    Arthur looked at the other, examining them quickly and thoroughly. They didn''t seem dangerous, at least. He seemed like a boy, probably a teenager or pre-teenager judging from his height and frame alone.

    His arms and legs, hidden beneath some rags, were thin and long, lacking muscle but not malnourished. Most likely, he was simply not the muscle loving kind. Still, they were long relative to his body, as he was still shorter than Arthur, if only slightly.

    And then, the most striking characteristics of the boy. Dark skin, not of the hues he was used to, but rather, a gray tone. Hair as pale as snow fell onto his body, contrasting with the dark skin, while the crimson eyes gazed at him intently. And lastly, sharp ears which extended horizontally.

    His facial features were soft and child-like, but carried a sense of slyness, or perhaps nobleness. He couldn''t quite put his finger on it. Arthur clicked his tongue, he had a pretty good idea of this guy''s character by now.

    He was used to judging people from their appearance. Not so much as having prejudices, but rather, using what he could to formulate a description of his target.

    That boy, was a unique beauty, that much was sure. He was probably young, but judging from the way he spoke and carried himself, he recognized his own worth. Even in a prison, he glared at the other for waking him up, before carelessly stretching and strutting into the moonlight, presenting himself to Arthur.

    He seemed like a young prince of some foreign, unknown land, who wanted to parade his beauty around. Or, perhaps, an ordinary person born with unique beauty, enough to convince him he was superior to his peers.

    The dark skinned boy tilted his head, gazing at the other, waiting for any sort of response. Ever since he had first spoken to him, he had stayed silent, rather than speaking and responding in turn. Though, he couldn''t blame him.

    With a sly smile on his face, he''d hold up a sleeve of the rags in front of his face, hiding the lower half of his face behind it while grinning. Deliberately taking slow steps towards the dazed boy, to see his reaction.

    ¡°Where are we? Is this a prison?¡±

    The shorter boy pouted at his unphased reaction, having hoped for something a bit more scared, just like he was earlier, Arthur pushing himself towards the wall just to move away from the other side of the room.

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    Still, he wasn''t unwilling to answer his questions. That was needed, too, but he''d only answer what was needed.

    ¡°That''s right, you''re currently imprisoned in one of the empire''s largest military academies. Military academy, and jail for possible merchandise. Now, it''s my time to ask-¡±

    Arthur cut him short, asking another question. ¡°Military academy? Empire? Are you sane? The last time those things stood in the continent, was some thousand years ago.¡±

    Another pouting insured, and the boy took another step forward, a finger slipping out of the large sleeve and pointing at Arthur.

    ¡°I! Said! It''s! My! Time! To! Ask!¡±

    Like a child throwing a tantrum, he made sure to emphasize each and every word, as well as stomping the ground on the last one, and exhaling heavily from his nostrils. Maybe he was in a bad mood from having been woken up, Arthur thought.

    ¡°You!¡±

    ¡°Me?¡±

    At the stupid retort, the boy asked him with a genuinely disappointed face. ¡°Do you see anyone else in this room¡­?¡±

    ¡°Anyways¡­ You, your name is Arthur, correct! And no, shut up, that''s not a question. I know it is. Even if you had a need to, there''s no reason to lie!¡±

    ¡°Do I know you, then¡­? Well, I''d remember some shortie with white hair, grey skin and red eyes¡­ And those sharp ears, too. Freaky.¡±

    ¡°YOU- You, you, you, you¡­ Tch! And here I was, being all kind!¡±

    With the sparking conversation, Arthur moved on top of his wooden plank. Even though he still couldn''t feel much, it was more comfortable than standing up, at least.

    ¡°Calm down Ayn, calm down¡­ He''s not ready yet¡­ Of course he''d act like this¡­¡±

    The boy muttered to himself, trying to calm down after Arthur''s comment. Judging from the glares shot at the other in-between muttering, it wasn''t working too well. The sharp eared youth, now identified as being called Ayn, looked at the other.

    And then, the sly grin on his face started growing, into a full fledged mocking smile, going from ear to ear. The sleeve once again covered his mouth, as he chuckled to himself. For some reason, Arthur had a bad feeling about this.

    Something started moving, below the fabric of his sleeve. A bright light found its way from the youth''s shoulder down his arm, rustling beneath the cloth. With a grin, he''d flick his arm towards Arthur, while speaking.

    ¡°You called me a freak, hmm, hmm¡­ Well, how about¡­ You look at THIS!¡±

    Light flooded the room for a brief moment, and from Ayn''s sleeve, a spherical, floating construct, seemingly made completely out of water, shot towards the other''s face. Stopping a few inches away from it, his intention wasn''t to harm Arthur, but rather, to give him something to look at his own face with.

    Though, at the moment, he was too shocked by what Ayn had just done, to focus on his reflection. First, that flash of light, and now, an orb of water was floating right in front of his eyes. Was this some sort of trick? An illusion, maybe?

    Arthur raised his arm, and tapped on the orb''s surface with uncertainty. Despite his dulled sense, a chilling sensation ran through his nerves as soon as he made contact with it. Ripples spread out on the water, the reflection slowly getting clearer.

    He tapped it a few times more, and with every touch, as well as that chilling feeling, the image got clearer. First, he could see his hair, longer than he was used to, but he had already noticed that. The colour, too, had changed, into a pale white.

    Then, the tone of his skin, a dark grey with cheeks flushed slightly pink. His features were striking, if maybe a bit noble-looking, with long, white eyelashes, a small nose and scarlet coloured eyes.

    And lastly, the sharp ears, which spread from his head in a horizontal manner. Arthur froze for a second. He tapped the orb a few more times, but the image didn''t seem to change at all. Was this truly his reflection? This wasn''t how he remembered himself, at all.

    Ayn stopped too for a moment, trying to figure out why he looked so shocked, before coming to a realization. Bumping a closed fist into his palm, he spoke up, as if this was common knowledge.

    ¡°Oh, right. That''s not your body, right? Wouldn''t make sense if you could keep your body after being transported to another Root, I guess. Well, get used to it!¡±

    Arthur slowly put his hand through the orb, the construct shaking in an unstable manner, before exploding on his appendage. Instead of wetting him, though, he only felt that chilling sensation spread through his body.

    With an expression now even more confused than before, he turned towards Ayn, his eyes bouncing from the scattering droplets of water to the boy and back. As if, in those fleeting reflections, he was looking for his appearance.

    ¡°You, you know something, right? What does that mean? Transported to another Root? What happened to me? Why- Who- Why am I in another body?¡±

    He was confused, to be sure, but he was keeping his thoughts in a surprisingly orderly manner. Ayn nodded a few times in approval at his capacity to adapt to his current situation, before extending his palm towards him. A dimmer light spread out from his palm.

    ¡°Let me explain the situation to you! As it stands, you¡­ Have been summoned to another Root! That is, another world!¡±

    Beneath his skin, light traced peculiar patterns and shapes, slowly growing in intensity. As it did, flickers and sparks of light bounced off of his skin, taking the form of a glowing tree, as tall as the both of them. Arthur could do nothing but watch in awe.

    ¡°According to tradition, our planet, Irminsul, is one of the roots of the Tree of Life which holds up existence itself. And as many branches and roots the Tree has, that''s how many interlinked worlds exist.¡±

    Ayn flicked his wrist, and the glowing tree morphed. Branches and roots started expanding in every direction, with flowers blooming on them. Those were the worlds held up by each branch.

    ¡°Now, of course, that''s only a legend¡­ But, with you, we now have living, breathing proof that there are indeed other Roots other than Irminsul.¡±

    The boy reached towards one of the taller branches, gently plucking a petal from the flower. That petal had a shape familiar to Arthur, the form of his body. He''d bring it down, crouching and placing it on one of the roots of the tree. And as he did, it quickly withered away, cuts and gashes appearing on its form.

    With another movement of his hand, the tree started quickly spinning in place, its shape changing and morphing, until eventually reaching a set-up similar to the galaxies Arthur was familiar with.

    Globes, celestial bodies and nebulas spinning around an axis,with blue and purple hues resembling deep space.

    ¡°I think our reality looks something more like this, but I can''t exactly fight against the general consensus.¡±

    ¡°That''s¡­ Cool, and all. But, you mean. I''m in another world. Right now? I got summoned to another world? This isn''t my planet? This isn''t Malkuth?¡±

    Ayn nodded, and shrugged. Closing his hand, the construct shattered into a number of fragments of light, scattering throughout the room before dissipating, a particularly large one even hitting Arthur in the chest. Though, it didn''t really hurt.

    ¡°That''s¡­ A lot to take in.¡±

    ¡°But you''re taking it surprisingly well!¡±

    ¡°I guess.¡±

    He had his reasons. If this was reality, and not some hallucination or dream, it might not be too bad of a situation, after all. Finding himself in a new world, untethered by those who knew him as Arthur Luria¡­ Maybe, he should grasp this chance.

    However, reality came knockin

    g at his door, in a quite literate way, and in the form of a patrolling guard knocking on the bars of their cell

 Chapter 3: Shadow of the Origin - Part 4

    ¡®Right. Other world or not, I am imprisoned¡­ For some reason.¡¯

    The guard''s heavy footsteps echoed through the hallway which led to the two man cell, before eventually stopping right in front of it. A large man, wearing a military uniform not too unlike those of Arthur''s world, perhaps only a few decades older.

    Knocking on the bars a few times to wake them up, in case they were still sleeping, he''d greet them with an expressionless face. Tired, sunken eyes, with eyebags which reminded Arthur of the state of his body.

    Well, of his old body, at least. Looking down at himself and wiggling his hand around, it didn''t feel real yet, that he was brought to another world. It was like he hadn''t yet quite woken up from that feverish dream. He pinched his cheek, but due to the lack of pain, he couldn''t even be sure if this was reality.

    Clicking his tongue, his gaze moved back to the guard, now rummaging through his belt for a specific key. Various keys were hanging off of it, each step resounding with ¡®clinks¡¯ and ¡®clanks¡¯. After sorting them out for a few minutes and finding the right one, it would slide smoothly into the keyhole, opening the door with a metallic sound.

    Arthur glanced at the other boy in the cell, as if asking him whether they should leave or not. With a nod, he''d step forward, leaving the room. The guard sighed, and once they both had got out, he''d lock the door back up, before speaking in an annoyed tone.

    ¡°Go to the common room¡­ Then get ready for¡­ Ugh, you know the routine already, just go. I can''t bother dealing with you.¡±

    ¡°My, how generous, good sir!¡±

    Ayn smiled at the guard, a smile as sweet as honey and as fake as the ones Arthur saw back at Werners, recognizable from a mile away. The guard, too, must have spotted it, inciting an annoyed groan as he walked off to the next cell.

    With the guard gone, the shorter boy started walking, leading the way towards the common room. Arthur looked around his surroundings, taking in the architecture and structure of the prison, just in case he''d need it.

    Though, for a prison, it was kind of loose, so to speak. The fact that the guard just let two prisoners march freely through the corridors meant that they either had a lot of confidence in their guards, and in their ability to catch prisoners, or that they were incompetent. Really incompetent.

    After walking for a few minutes behind Ayn, Arthur quickly took a few steps forward, reaching his side and tapping him on his shoulder. He had stayed quiet so far, thinking the other would speak up first, but he didn''t seem like that was going to happen.

    ¡°Earlier, ignoring all that stuff about other worlds and¡­ Whatever that light show was. You, you know how and why I got here, right?¡±

    Ayn smirked at his question. The way he spoke, knowing of Arthur''s situation, and speaking of him almost like a successful experiment, he knew something. ¡°Correct! Why, want to know how to go back? Because-¡±

    ¡°No, not at all. Right now, what I need to know is why are we in prison.¡±

    The boy stopped for a moment, falling behind Arthur, slightly confused by his words. Although most of them failed to become famous, in Irminsul there were some books and novels talking about people transported to other worlds without their consent.

    The common trope was the main character''s goal, or one of the goals, being the return to their homeland, going back to how it was before their adventures began. The desire to go back home wasn''t something Ayn was unfamiliar with, either. He gripped a hem of his clothes tightly.

    And yet looking at Arthur, he didn''t seem especially troubled about that. He was walking forward while rubbing his chin, deep in thought, his eyes glancing at the structure around them, and eventually falling back towards Ayn.

    ¡°So? Can I know?¡±

    ¡°Oh, uh, yeah, sorry,¡± the boy stuttered and caught up to the other, before cleaning his throat with a cough.

    ¡°Right now, we''re in one of the military academies of the Empire of Teiws¡­¡±

    Arthur¡¯s head throbbed, a wave of pain following soon after. This time, instead of the pain spreading through his numb body, however, only his brain ached. The feeling of a boiling hot bubble of water popping pervaded his head, making him dizzy for a moment. Right after, his thoughts felt clearer.

    The Empire of Teiws, one of the biggest forces of that side of Irminsul''s hemisphere. Its cities could be found in most regions of the world, though the emperor''s control over them waned as they distanced themselves from the capital.

    Finding its roots in the continent of Winguric, according to tradition they were once a tribe of the glacial region to the east of the continent, Midgar. Though, after crossing over the enormous mountain chain which separated the two halves of the continent, they settled in the southwest, founding a settlement taking the name of the chief of their tribe, Tiwez.

    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    In the manner of decades, that settlement grew to the size of an empire, with Tiwez managing to invade and conquer an incredible number of lands. Some were taken back by natives, while some split themselves from the empire''s direct control while accepting alliances. Originally, the chief despised trampling over foreign cultures and civilians being hurt in invasions, which dubbed him the title of ¡®Merciful King''. Even if he was an emperor, not a king.

    He massaged his temples, his mind still hurting due to the information suddenly flooding back, while Ayn kept speaking.

    ¡°Although, they also keep young criminals or prisoners of war in these academies as prisoners, and possible young talents for the militia.¡±

    ¡°Right, these guys do that, don''t they. Upholding Tiwez''s tradition, they offer any talent an equal chance.¡± Once again, he looked at Arthur with a surprised look painting his face. He was supposed to be from another world, and yet he was acquiring information about that world without Ayn''s help.

    It probably had something to do with the body he was currently residing in, they both figured. Arthur realized this, that even if he couldn''t call upon that body''s memories, common knowledge and information was still present, just waiting for something to recall it.

    Only now did he notice that the language he was speaking was nothing like the English or German he knew, though he understood and spoke it perfectly.

    ¡°Well, yeah, you can guess the rest. They found us- well, me and your body, trespassing on military property, and threw us in here. We might get sold off before our sentence finishes, but someone''s going to break us out. Don''t worry.¡±

    For some reason, he felt like he should worry after all. That first part all but confirmed that Ayn knew whose body Arthur was currently inhabiting, but more than that, he was worried about who was going to break them out, exactly.

    Teiws had a strong military force. Not to mention, right now, they were in a military academy. The prisoner holding complex, sure, but it was still connected directly to a military academy. Cadets and soldiers in training resided there, they''d probably drool at the thought of having a chance to test out their studies in a practical environment.

    That is, attacking any possible intruders and escaping prisoners. He clenched his fist and opened it a few times, his senses didn''t seem to be returning any time soon. And if a fight broke out, he''d be helpless, with what little strength he could draw out from his body. In other words, unless he blindly trusted the person Ayn trusted, in the event of a breakout, he was in trouble.

    He sighed, he didn''t have many choices apart from following him, anyways. The light slowly grew more intense, they had been walking for a while now. If he remembered correctly, they were heading towards the common room. In other words¡­

    ¡°Welcome to the mess hall! We''re lucky enough to have been caught in one of the better Teiwesian facilities, so even us prisoners can enjoy a free meal with average flavour and nutrients!¡±

    Led by the seemingly expert of the prison, the two headed towards an extreme of the room, where a number of similarly aged prisoners were lining up for food. After rummaging through his pockets for a bit, Ayn pulled out two pairs of items.

    Both made out of wood, the same kind which made up their beds, two small bowls and spoons. Another piece of information found its way to Arthur''s mind. Each prisoner had its own bowl and utensils that they were tasked to keep and wash, if they wanted to eat. In case one lost their utensils, a new pair could be bought by working overtime.

    Of course, Arthur had no way to remember that, without first seeing the bowl and spoon firsthand. He was thankful that Ayn took his along, too, though he didn''t know when exactly he grabbed it, or where he took it from.

    ¡°By the way, don''t get your hopes up. This might be a slightly better off prison, but it''s still a prison.¡±

    Still, the smell coming from the kitchen room was quite appetizing. Sneaking a glance into other people''s bowls, it seemed to be some boiled food, maybe a stew, or a really dense soup. Though, if it was soup, and assuming this world was somewhere around the middle ages when compared to his own, he couldn''t expect it to taste much better than hot water.

    After getting their bowls filled and sitting down in a corner of the large room, full to the brim with prisoners eating on the floor, Arthur hesitantly poked the food with his spoon. It looked like mashed potatoes, even smelling vaguely like potatoes¡­ But wasn''t that too luxurious of a food to give prisoners?

    He dug into the food, and took a bite with a sigh. His eyes lit up, it was surprisingly good. The texture was unusual, not like the mashed potatoes he was used to, but he was expecting worse. It was kind of chewy, but soft, and, most surprising of all, it was salted. He could feel the slightly sweet aftertaste of milk, too.

    ¡°This¡­ Isn''t this a bit too good, for prison food?¡±

    Chewing some potatoes, Ayn tilted his head slightly. ¡°I mean, not really? What, were you really poor in your old world?¡± Arthur furrowed his brows, trying to force more memories out of his brain. The key to that was taking another bite of salted potatoes.

    The town in which they were imprisoned at the moment was named Sigel, meaning ¡®blessed by the sun¡¯ in old Teiwesian. Even in modern Teiwesian, the suffix -gel kept the same meaning, with the word meaning ¡®holy¡¯, heigel, originating from the construct ¡®blessed by the sky¡¯.

    A coastal city, who thrived since times of old thanks to the production of salt. He tried to remember the history of his world. Salt was used since imperial times and even further back than that, but it was mostly a luxury, or used to preserve food.

    Using salt as a condiment, especially in medieval times, would be impossible for peasants, much less for prisons. And yet, they were able to not only salt that food, but give that many prisoners mashed potatoes as a meal. That''s how wealthy the city of Sigel was.

    The sealine was shallow and dense with salt, which allowed people proficient in fire-type magic to efficiently produce salt. Arthur stopped himself for a moment, while elaborating that information in his mind.

    Then, was magic real, in that world? Was what Ayn had shown him earlier, that light construct and that watery orb, not some kind of trick, but magic? He could feel more information about to flood his brain, but forcefully stopped it from doing so. For now, he wanted to enjoy his meal.

    ¡°So, potatoes, milk and salt aren''t luxurious, got it¡­¡±

    ¡°Well, it''s not that they''re that cheap. The milk and potatoes are produced by the prisoners, as part of the eligible jobs for the obligatory work routine. The soil is fertile and the cows are healthy, so when they produce a lot, they let the kitchen cook us something with it.¡±

    Arthur ate another spoonful of mashed potatoes, while thinking over the information he had gathered thus far.

    A world in which magic existed, as something common enough to be used for the production of salt and foodstuffs. Imprisoned in a meritocratic empire, that gave even its prisoners a chance to climb their way up. Trapped in a body not of his own, sharing memories and information every once in a while.

    Chewing another spoonful, Arthur grinned. This all was starting to seem interesting.

 Chapter 4: Shadow of the Origin - Part 5

    After the meal, the two headed towards the common washroom. They needed to clean their eating utensils, unless they wanted to eat with a dirty bowl and spoon the following day.

    It was a large complex of small rooms, each fitted with two sinks and a faucet, as well as space next to the sink to put the washed utensils. The water was free to use, however it was possible to buy oils and scented water for when one wished to wash their clothes.

    In fact, although they were prisoners there, it was ultimately a military academy with the addition of holding cells. The eastern part of the structure was mostly reserved to training grounds and dormitories for the cadets. Currently, they were in the western side.

    The academy, taking after the empire as a whole, followed a meritocracy. Cadets who did good in mock battles and exams were allowed more benefits and better rooms, fitted with a personal washroom, and weekly pay.

    On the other hand, those that didn''t do that well, were forced to wash their clothes, and whatever needed to be cleaned, at the public washrooms. In the rooms adjacent to the one Arthur and Ayn were in, he could spot a few uniform-wearing youths.

    Ayn had explained all of that to the transmigrator, on their way to the washroom. It wasn''t vital information, but having any information at all was nice, to be sure.

    Arthur didn''t trust the source of his information completely, to be fair. He seemed to be connected to the reason he was summoned to this world, but avoided the topic completely whenever he tried to bring it up.

    At the same time, asking him questions without needing to explain why he didn''t know anything about that world, was comfortable. Despite the reason behind Ayn''s knowledge of the transmigration, Arthur was going to trust him, for now.

    He fidgeted with the valve on one of the sinks. The light poured in from a window on the wall between the two sinks, brightening up the room. It was still quite early. The sunlight bounced off of the metallic material of the faucet, the glare hitting Arthur''s eyes.

    The design was similar to a faucet of his world''s era, despite this world clearly being in a less modern time. Slick, curved metal, with two valves to regulate the water''s flow and the temperature.

    Though, it seemed like the water just didn''t want to start. He kept trying to turn and twist the valve, to no avail. On the opposite side of the room, Ayn had almost finished cleaning his bowl, while humming a tune.

    Running a finger on the faucet''s metallic surface, memories once again flooded Arthur''s brain.

    The mechanism that this type of sink relied on was fundamentally different from those he was used to. Rather than an underground water system making the liquid available to most houses, it worked under the basis of ¡®Gemstone Technology''.

    Fitting for a world where magic existed, even simple, daily appliances abused that fantastical power. When talking about Gemstones, it''s usually to refer to a specific kind of crystal, colloquially known as ¡®Moonstones¡¯.

    ¡®Repetitive,¡¯ he thought to himself, but it didn''t matter much. Carved with the same patterns that allowed any normal person to cast spells and use magic, they had similar effects, such as lighting fires or ejecting water.

    To activate a Gemstone''s function, one needed to be able to use magic, at the very least. It required the foundation of magic, the mysterious energy known as Ark. Prior to this flood of information, Arthur had no knowledge at all about whatever Ark was.

    He understood that it was the basis for all magic, alongside the patterns carved on the Gemstones. When powered by Ark, a Gemstone would come to life, in the case of this sink, by emptying the reserves of water it had stored up.

    The valves were to regulate the water''s flow, and to regulate the temperature. A second Gemstone, which heated or cooled the water, was accessible by the valve on the left.

    This technology was created more than a thousand years in the past, by the first king of a neighbouring country, the Kingdom of Goetia.

    The first king, Fern Astros I, led a revolution against the dictators that ran the country, turning it from an absolute monarchy to a constitutional one. Alongside his discovery of a crystalline cave, where Moonstones could be easily mined, he soon went down as one of the greatest rulers in history.

    The name ¡®Moonstone¡¯, itself, took after the name of the caves in which it was originally mined. The Moon Mirror caves, named so due to their positioning. A cave complex with various entrances surrounding a lake, the surface of which always seemed to reflect the moon.

    If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.

    Teiws was founded much later than Goetia, and the possession of Moonstones was something the Kingdom valued highly. Rather than buying them from possible enemies at extremely high costs, Tiwez found another source of those gems.

    A city not too far from the one he was in currently, named Haegllfeld, the Field of Hail. Multiple times a year, crystalline hail blanketed the land with precious gemstones, those very same Moonstones that Fern Astros I discovered in the Moon Mirror cave complex.

    ¡®That Tiwez, sure was lucky¡­¡¯ Arthur pinched his nose while thinking. With each rush of information came pain akin to his brain being shredded to bits. But more than that, it annoyed him that he couldn''t dig out more memories out of his own volition.

    ¡®Finding good land for an empire, coastal territory for the production of salt, gemstones literally falling out of the sky¡­ I wonder if ¡®magic¡¯ helped with all that.¡¯ He could only wonder, for now. Most likely, there were no accurate historical records about those times, if not under the form of legends or myths.

    He pressed his palm against his forehead, trying to squeeze out more information from the brain of that body, but to no avail. With a sigh, he looked back down at the sink.

    He still had to wash his utensils, and he still hadn''t figured out how to start that faucet. Although he understood the workings of the mechanism, he had no idea on how to supply it with Ark, not even knowing clearly what Ark was.

    He tried fidgeting with the valve some more. He couldn''t feel the coldness of the metal as he twisted and turned it, even pressing on it or looking for hidden buttons. After clicking his tongue in annoyance a few times, Ayn walked over.

    ¡°Valve''s not working?¡± With a smug expression, he''d put his hand on the valve on the right, the one regulating the water flow. Twisting it slightly, liquid would quickly come pouring down.

    Arthur glared at him, annoyed at his shortcoming in the field of understanding how to utilize Gemstones. Though, so long as he could clean his bowl and spoon, it didn''t matter for now.

    He moved the two items, which he had been keeping on the edge of the sink, inside of the latter. Water quickly filled up the bowl, as Arthur passed his palm under the cascading fluid. He could feel it trickle down his skin, but even then, he was sure it was just his imagination.

    He couldn''t feel the water hitting his palm, nor the temperature of it. From the contact of liquid and skin, steam started filling up the sink, before Ayn slapped his hand away, quickly twisting the valve on the left.

    ¡°Are you trying to burn your hand, or something??¡± His expression shifted to one of worry and surprise, as he made sure the water was now colder. Grasping Arthur''s hand into his own to examine it, the transmigrator would pull it towards himself, and away from Ayn.

    ¡°I was checking something. Let me clean my bowl. My hand''s fine.¡± Reluctantly, Ayn let him do as he pleased, before clearing his throat with a cough.

    ¡°By the way, uh, you don''t know how Gemstones work, right? Basically, you just pour a bit of Ark into the valve, and¡­¡± Arthur interrupted him.

    ¡°No, I know, it''s fine. Ark powers the Gemstone, and the valve regulates the flow, while the other valve lets you control the heat. It''s similar to the sinks I''m used to.¡±

    The short haired boy tilted his head, a hint of confusion in his scarlet eyes. Looking Arthur up and down, as if he was looking for something in his form, he took a step towards him.

    ¡°Hey, you bastard. Are you sure you''re Arthur Luria?¡± Stopping his cleaning, he turned towards the one speaking. ¡°What do you mean, am I sure? I''m as sure of that, as I am of the fact you''re a dumbass.¡±

    Letting out an annoyed ¡®GNNNNNYAAAAAA¡¯ sound, Ayn took a deep breath to calm himself down. He was quick to get angry, but that anger was shallow. Arthur chuckled, teasing him was, at the very least, fun.

    ¡°But I do get where you''re coming from,¡± Arthur continued, while scrubbing his bowl and spoon, under the warm water, ¡°Every once in a while, I get these flashes of information and memory, not my own. I guess it''s this body¡¯s brain helping me.¡±

    Ayn mumbled something under his breath, while nodding in understanding. ¡°So, you have that body¡¯s memories? No, if you did, you''d recognize me, for sure¡­¡±

    ¡°I told you, it''s just flashes of memories. Brief moments of recollection, I guess. For example, I''m doing something, like fidgeting with those valves, doing something, with something of this world that I should have no knowledge of, and the information just comes to me.

    ¡°It''s pretty painful, too, and it''s not like I just remember it. It feels like my brain is being fried whenever it happens, and rather than remembering the information, it''s more so like I''m being told something.

    ¡°It''s hard to grasp as a concept, right? Think of it like, when you''re reading a book, and there''s a passage explaining the world around the main character. It''s like this brain is narrating this world to me. Any idea why is that?¡±

    Arthur tapped the side of his head twice, before turning towards Ayn with a sarcastic remark. He assumed he knew most, if not everything related to his situation, but he seemed to be at a loss, too.

    He signed, shifting his focus back to the bowl and spoon. They were pretty clean by now, even if the prison didn''t offer any dishwashing soap for free. No, wait, did they even have that sort of soap, in that world? Arthur sighed.

    ¡°So, what now? You said something about jobs, so I''m guessing we won''t be able to just go back to our holding cell and relax there until tomorrow.¡± Drying his hands by shaking them around, he asked the more knowledgeable one, who nodded.

    ¡°Yeah. The prison offers jobs to the prisoners, with various degrees of pay. Of course, working isnt a choice, but you can choose what sort of work you want to do. There''s tending to the fields, refining Moonstones imported from Haegllfeld, crushing salt crystals¡­ And some more that you probably aren''t interested in.

    ¡°By the way, since that body was sleeping until this morning, you were exempted from working. But, you seem pretty awake to me, now. You''re signed up for Moonstone refinement, just like me. Well, I signed you up, but if you don''t like it, you''ll be able to apply for a job change in¡­ a week, I think.

    ¡°The pay is pretty good, for prison work, anyways. We get a Staff each week, and some more depending on the speed and quality of the job. Usually a Blade per month.¡±

    Arthur understood most of that explanation, apart from the monetary terms Staff and Blade. He expected his brain to supply the information for him, but it didn''t seem it would help too much, this time.

    He understood vaguely that they were Teiwesian currency, but he had no reference as to how much they were worth.

    ¡°Is that a lot? A Staff and a Blade?¡± Ayn stood still for a second, processing the question, before nodding. He understood what Arthur was implying, he didn''t know how much they were worth.

    ¡°Yeah, a Staff is about 60 Wingurs¡­ Wait, no, you wouldn''t know how much that is either. Let me think¡­ A Staff is roughly half a Spear, the highest monetary value in Teiws. Then there''s half-Staffs and Blades, which are worth a quarter of a Staff, half-Blades, and quarter-Blades. Well, they''re called quarter-, but they''re one fifteenth of a Blade. Dumb name, right?

    ¡°Let me think. Oh yeah, for example, you could buy a wooden bowl and a pair of utensils for around one Blade and a half. That''s around twenty Wingurs, but I don''t think that can help much.¡±

    Arthur nodded absent-mindedly, doing calculations in his head. Most likely, the currency he was used to was similar to Wingurs, rather than Teiws¡¯ own. Which meant that, after a few multiplications, a Spear was worth around one-hundred and twenty or one-hundred and thirty Euro, while a quarter-Blade was equivalent to one Euro or fifty cents.

    And with what Ayn had told him about the job he was signed up for, in a month he would make around one-hundred and eighty quarter-Blades, or one Spear and a Staff. It was far from the wages he was used to, but for a prison job, that wasn''t bad at all.

    ¡°Well, lead the way. You''re t

    he prison expert here.¡±

    With an exasperated sigh, Ayn started walking towards the Moonstone refinement facility.

 Chapter 5: Shadow of the Origin - Part 6

    ¡°It''s not that far from here. See those windows? They''re pointed towards the internal field of the prison. That''s where the facility is.¡±

    As they walked through the hallways of the common washrooms, Ayn spoke out, pointing to the small windows located in each room. Arthur nodded, trying to visualize the map of the structure in his mind.

    He studied architecture for some time, and had a pretty good sense of direction, so figuring out how the prison was built wasn''t too hard.

    After getting out of their cells, they had walked straight down a corridor, turned right at the end, and entered the long room which contained the washrooms.

    After walking some more, they reached the large mess hall, square or rectangular in shape. If the room they came from was in the south, then, on the eastern side of the mess hall was the kitchen.

    And beyond that, probably distanced by some walls, were the holding cells. On the western side of the mess hall was a large wall, with a heavily secured door.

    That was probably where the guards and officers entered the holding complex, then.

    And right now, looking at the windows on the walls, it meant that the facility they were headed towards was in the western side of the prison, opposite of the cells.

    They had passed some iron doors on the way, each guarded by at least one officer, with various prisoners coming and going. He guessed those led to other working facilities.

    ¡°We''re here,¡± Ayn spoke out. They had arrived at the corner which connected the holding cells with the washroom hallway.

    Approaching a guard in front of a metal door, he produced something from his pockets, some sort of slip of paper, before pointing at Arthur and explaining he had just woken up from a coma of sorts.

    The guard nodded, taking a key out of a keychain and opening the door, letting them through without any issue. Despite his job, he seemed quite relaxed and easygoing with the prisoners.

    Ayn pushed the door open, and a number of bright lights and weird smells assaulted Arthur''s numb senses.

    The room which opened up in front of him was large, it must have been at least a quarter of the corridor''s length, and some more than that in width.

    There was little space to walk after entering, and much more space to sit down and work. Four rows of long, large tables and equally long planks occupied much of the space inside.

    Small, gemstones powered lamps lit up each table, spaced evenly between one another. Various weirdly shaped utensils were tied to the tables, at each workstation.

    The bright light came from not only the lamps, but also as a result of the work which underwent there. He could see someone in one of the corners of the room handling what seemed like a welding flame, sparks of blue flames ensuing with each use.

    A whole row of tables was filled with prisoners working on small, rough crystals, coloured amber. Each time one was struck by the peculiar utensils, a flash of light followed suit.

    In another row, he could see ice forming on the wood, some of the workers there shivering in the breath chilling temperature. With each strike, the frost spread slightly on the surface of the table, before melting.

    From the far side of the room, smells like melted metal, sulfur, and flammable gas spread to the entrance. The workers there seemed to be handling much more varied items than just Moonstones.

    There was only one singled out table, not connected to any of the long rows. Someone was working there, with a welding utensil in hand, and various gemstones scattered on the table.

    They seemed to be completely focused on their work. Arthur wondered what they were planning on making, there was clearly more material than just the gemstones on that table, and the gemstones seemed already refined, too.

    Though he didn''t quite know what the process of refining a gemstone entailed, his eyes could differentiate between a Moonstone and a gemstone. Maybe it was some sort of muscle memory, some sort of pattern recognition.

    He turned towards Ayn and asked, ¡°So, what do we do here, exactly?¡±

    ¡°Do you want the long explanation or the short explanation? In short, we work on Moonstones. The long explanation is, we''re given rough Moonstones, sent over here by Haegllfeld. There are various steps to the refinement, some analyze and select the usable parts, differentiate which Moonstones are better or worse Ark conductors, and send them forward. Then, those parts are carved out with a runic knife, according to specific directions.

    ¡°After the usable gemstone is carved out of the stone, a runic scalpel is used to give it the required shape, as well as engrain the required circuits. The easiest job is probably carving the gemstone out of the stone, but since the pay is the same across all three positions, you can do whatever you want.

    ¡°Ah, but, if you want to sculpt the gemstone rather than carve it, you need to know how to utilize Ark, at the very least. Do you know how? Maybe there''s still some leftover memories in that brain? Oh, and if you want to act as an evaluator instead, that''s a mostly instinctual job. As in, you need talent to be able to tell the differences between each Moonstone. You can try, though.¡±

    Arthur nodded slowly, taking in the information. He was expecting that body''s memories to help him out, but nothing came to mind. With a sigh, he watched as Ayn headed to his station.

    Without knowledge of how to use Ark, or the talent to evaluate Moonstones, he''d be forced to work as a stone carver. Reluctantly, he headed towards a free spot on the plank, sitting down beside two workers.

    This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

    The gemstone lamp in front of him wasn''t lit. After trying to turn it on by tapping it a few times, to no avail, he asked the one beside him to light it for him, quickly resulting in a strong light.

    Despite seeing every other worker carving the stones they had collected, Arthur had no idea where he was supposed to take Moonstones from.

    Hiss!

    With nearly perfect timing, the sound of steam blowing out resonated throughout the room. He could see small puffs of steam coming out from the table''s surface, at the very middle.

    The sound of mechanical gears turning and scraping against each other followed quickly after, with even louder volume.

    He had noticed something, when he first entered the room. Running across the tables, from the far end of the room to the closer end, were streaks of black, metallic material.

    Initially, he thought they were some kind of surface to work on the gemstones, but now his doubts were cleared, as the black scales started moving in a domino-like pattern.

    ¡®It¡¯s a conveyor belt! A conveyor belt, in the medieval ages!¡¯

    Although he wasn''t sure how much this world, or this empire, had developed, seeing a conveyor belt clashed much with Arthur''s perception of that world so far.

    The figure on the far end of the room, which he could not see properly earlier, was now busy pulling levers and twisting valves, perhaps operating the conveyor belt system.

    The ones which were tasked with evaluating the Moonstones hurriedly took up their tools. Examining the stones with a magnifying glass, before marking certain spots and parts with glowing energy.

    Right after, they divided the Moonstones into two baskets. The marked ones were put in a basket opposite to their station, while the unmarked ones to a basket beside them.

    And with the twist of a valve, the conveyor belts activated, bringing the baskets of evaluated Moonstones to the carvers and sculptors, stopping at each workstation briefly.

    Arthur caught on quickly. Each station, and thus each worker, needed to twist the valve in front of them after picking up their needed Moonstones. Then, they could put the evaluated, sculpted or carved stones into the next basket, to keep the production going.

    The basket eventually stopped in front of his own station. Picking up a few stones, like he saw the other sculptors do, he positioned them in front of him in the small area of the table, before twisting the valve.

    Or rather, trying to twist the valve. For some reason, it was extremely rigid, and hard to turn. Was it rusted? Maybe he had picked a spot which no one had used in years, and that valve wasn''t oiled properly.

    He tried twisting it once again with a grunt, to no avail. Only then did it hit him, that system most likely relied on Ark, too. If he couldn''t even use a faucet, there was no way he''d be able to operate a conveyor belt.

    Luckily, the one next to him reached out, twisting the valve and keeping the chain going. Arthur looked down at his Moonstones, slightly embarrassed. He was holding up the line so much that someone else needed to step in.

    Though, as if to reassure him, a hand patted him on the shoulder.

    ¡°Ya can''t use Ark, right? If ya need a hand, for yer lamp, or yer valve, give me a shout!¡± A feminine voice rang out, offering Arthur a grin. He looked up, watching the figure sitting next to him, who had been previously wearing a hood, revealing her face.

    ¡°Oh, uh, thanks, sure.¡± He muttered, before shifting his focus back to the tools on the table. She seemed young, maybe around that body''s age. But more than that, the look on her face, like that of a child who had just made a friend.

    Arthur felt slightly uneasy, seeing her. It was slowly setting in, the realization that he really was trapped in a prison, where even children got cast.

    He sighed. There wasn''t much he could do, anyways, and the living situation there seemed decent enough, as far as he had seen. The fact that they got paid for working was already a step-up from what he imagined prison would be.

    Not to mention, the food was pretty good, they had some free time every day, which would come right after working hours, and the prisoners, save exceptions, could sleep for eight hours a day. From ten in the evening to six in the morning. Ayn had told him that.

    The more he thought about it, the less he thought this was a bad place to stay in for a while. Of course, only for a while. They''d probably be released eventually.

    His hand rose up to his face, covering his mouth. Now that he thought about it, he didn''t know why exactly Ayn and that body had been thrown into prison. What if it was some crime that would keep them there for life?He sighed, before glancing at his sides. No use worrying about it now. What he could do, instead, was trying to figure out how to do his job as a Moonstone carver.

    The amber coloured light of the gemstone lamp bounced off of the stone''s surface. It was opaque, slightly transparent, as he expected of a gem. He could see his own reflection, in the gem''s formations.

    Picking it up and feeling its shape with his fingers, he quickly found various cuts in the gem''s surface. Most likely, cuts made by the evaluators to guide the sculptors'' blades.

    Tracing over the incisions with his fingers while glancing at the other workers, Arthur picked up the bladed tool. This gem was to be cut in an hexagonal shape, with hard edges.

    However, the directions shown on the gem were sloppy at best. Even Arthur could tell that. Which was why, he wasn''t sure how exactly he understood how to cut it. It was as if his instinct was guiding him.

    ¡®Maybe I''m more fit as an evaluator after all,¡¯ Arthur chuckled to himself, while chopping off the unneeded extremities of the gemstone. He started to notice patterns, details in the stone.

    It wasn''t instinct guiding him, it was his sight. He didn''t know how he''d explain it to someone else, if he had to, but in his vision, dark and bright spots appeared.

    Whenever he cut off a part of the gem with a dark spot in it, the brightness would inversely increase, making it more transparent.

    As if he was peeling a vegetable, he handled the gemstone and blade skillfully, a hexagonal gemstone eventually residing in his hand. On the table in front of him, chunks of gem material resided.

    He brought the gemstone up to his eyes, looking at it carefully. Now that it was as transparent as possible, a bright spot, at the very center of the jewel, revealed itself to the boy''s eyes.

    Almost spherical at its core, it spread out in all directions, tongues of light lashing out at the gem''s exterior. No, rather than in all directions, it reminded him of a plasma globe.

    The bright strings reached out towards his fingers, as they held the gemstone. Arthur chuckled, and putting down the bladed utensil, tapped on the gem''s surface with his free hand.

    At that moment, something peculiar happened. As if the gemstone had turned into a water surface, and his finger had dipped into it, a ripple spread through the reflections of the jewel, the light propagating.

    The gem started shaking unstably, the light turning into energy, cracking the surface with loud snaps. Arthur swallowed, he was pretty sure that wasn''t supposed to happen. He turned towards the girl beside him.

    ¡°Is this, er, normal?¡± She turned towards him. ¡°What''s up?¡±Her expression soon turned into a surprised one. Her hand bolted towards Arthur''s own, snatching the gem from his hold, but not quickly enough. The light reached its peak brightness.

    And in an instant, a powerful explosion knocked the boy out of his seat, knocking him out cold. A myriad of gemstone shards were stuck in his skin, fragments shot out due to the blast.

    The girl had managed to shield her face, although some fragments could be seen on her arms. She bent down to check his condition, before shouting towards the far end of the room.

    ¡°CALL THE MEDICAL TEAM!¡±

 Chapter 6: Shadow of the Origin - Part 7

    When Arthur next opened his eyes, he was surrounded by darkness in all directions. There wasn''t a single light in sight, his vision obscured and useless. He blinked a few times.

    His mind was dazed and his thoughts scattered. He couldn''t focus properly, no matter how hard he tried, making it hard to figure out the exact situation he found himself in. Fragments of memories, from moments prior, showed themselves to him.

    Instinctively, he patted down his own body, checking for any crystal shards still stuck in his body. Sighing a sigh of relief, there didn''t seem to be any, though the spots where they most likely hit hurt.

    He looked down, and weirdly enough, he could see his own body. Despite the darkness, he could see every curve and every inch of his own skin. This didn''t make sense, he could even see behind his own back?

    A faint light was spreading out from the core of his being. Like the gemstone which had put him in this state, bright beams were reaching out from the inner parts of his body to the surface of his skin, showing themselves as bright spots.

    And just like the gemstone was reaching out to his fingers, these strings of light, too, had specific locations in which they landed. One for each hand and foot, and one leading to his head.

    He felt warmth spreading out from those connections, propagating from the innermost parts of his body to his limbs and appendages. The temperature grew in intensity, but strangely, it remained a comfortable feeling.

    And as the heat grew, he could see those strings spreading, thinning themselves. Separating into a multitude of smaller, longer strings, taking residence in the entirety of his body, like a secondary circulatory system.

    That was the first time, since he had woken up that morning, that he could see his body. Now brightened by that inner glow, marks on his body of unknown purpose were made visible.

    Small canals, or cuts, not unlike a doll made of carved wood. Each and every one of his joints had one such incision, separating them from each other slightly. Only the inner parts of his body, the flesh, bone and muscle, seemed to be connected.

    On the surface, his skin was separated in every spot in which it could be tensed, or twisted. Like a flesh mockery of a marionette, the kind with accurate and movable joints.

    He shuddered. Seeing his own form in that manner, it made him feel uneasy. A feeling of watching something not quite human perpetrated in his viscera, seeing his own body felt disturbing. Perhaps it was just the manner in which he was looking at himself, from an outside perspective.

    The light''s warmth was helping him steady himself, guiding his thoughts in an orderly manner. He took a moment to breathe in, to further his calm. The air bubbled up as it exited his nostrils, as if he was standing inside a liquid.

    Then, he looked down at his feet. There wasn''t any ground to be standing on, but he didn''t feel like he was falling. He didn''t feel lke he was standing upright either, but he was sure he wasn''t upside down.

    He remembered he read somewhere once, that humans can''t feel ¡®wetness¡¯. When touching water, what they feel is the change in temperature and pressure, rather than how ¡®wet¡¯ what they''re touching is.

    Which meant, if he was afloat in a liquid at a temperature similar to his body''s own, with little to no pressure against his body, then it could be perfectly possible for him to be currently inside a liquid.

    But then, where was he?

    He stood thinking for a moment, trying to find any clue or evidence about his current location. Apart from the dim light emanating from his own body, the darkness still remained, shrouding everything.

    His surroundings were also extremely quiet, not even the air bubbling up making any sound. He opened his mouth, trying to speak, but the liquid muffled it to an unintelligible amount. He clicked his tongue. That, too, was left unheard.

    A mysterious location, clad in complete darkness, where not a single sound could be heard. Afloat in equally mysterious liquid, where he could breathe perfectly fine in, but trying to find any direction was useless.

    At first, he thought that he may have been dreaming. But, he was much too conscious for this to be a dream. A lucid dream, then? He heard people who suddenly became lucid in dreams could completely control them.

    Extending his hand, he tried to visualize an apple appearing in it, but nothing of the sort happened. Safe to say, this wasn''t a lucid dream, or a dream at all.

    Then, it was possible this was some sort of ¡®magic¡¯. He had witnessed it firsthand, and already accepted, that magic existed in that world he found himself in.

    Not to mention, the only reason he was in that state, was due to the Moonstone blowing up in his hand. Was it some side effect of the stone''s magical properties, then? Pushing a finger into his temple, he tried to push out memories hidden in that body''s mind, but nothing came up.

    He chuckled at himself. It was quite silly to just rule anything he couldn''t explain as magic, but at the same time, that seemed the best explanation for what was currently happening. Suddenly, he felt a shiver run down his back.

    Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.

    Or rather, spread out from his core, and expand to the entirety of his body. Like the surface of a lake being disturbed, a ripple turning into many. He had felt something similar already, when he touched the gemstone''s transparent surface.

    ¡®Am I about to blow up?¡¯ He shook his head. If he was lucid enough to crack jokes within his mind, he was lucid enough to use more brain power to explore this mysterious space.

    That shiver spread to his limbs, and up to his fingertips, creeping outwards. Those strings of light he had identified earlier, they were now pushing against the surface of his skin with no purpose, as if trying to break free.

    They were pointing towards the sky, if that was what was above Arthur. He lifted his head slightly, and immediately came to a halt. A sudden feeling of pure dread washed over his body and mind, telling him that if he lifted his head any higher, he''d see something he shouldn''t ever witness.

    And yet, the light inside him was pushing upwards. He couldn''t control his body''s movement, and against his will, his eyes were now glancing upwards.

    In front of him, was now a room filled with white colours. Blank sheets covered his weakened body, stained red by the blood which had poured out from his wounds. A nightstand, beside him, had a filled cup of water.

    Right next to the bed was sitting a man he didn''t recognize, looking at him attentively, perhaps waiting for him to wake up. Arthur blinked twice, confused. ¡®What just happened?¡¯

    ¡°Woah there, kiddo. Howd''ya get them bleedin'', too? Musta been one helluva blast, huh?¡±The man, with a thick accent, picked up a handkerchief which had been resting on the nightstand. Bringing it up to Arthur''s face, he wiped away blood which was trickling down his eyes and nose.

    Arthur weakly raised his hand, his finger tracing below his eyes. From his tear ducts, droplets of liquid gently slid down his cheeks, drawing crimson lines on his face. He was bleeding from his eyes.

    No, rather, he was crying blood. He didn''t know whether to be assured or feel worse about that. He wiped it completely away from his face, his vision, before blurry and stained red, now clear once again.

    ¡°Where¡­ Who are you¡­?¡± Arthur looked at the man with a confused and dazed expression. Was it really a dream, then? That dark space, and that feeling of sudden dread¡­ And whatever he almost witnessed.

    [Clock. Darkness. Passing time. The moon. Water. Bloodstains. Crimson ripples. A constellation. An unending wait. A swinging pendulum. Twelve. Twenty two. The third.]

    As soon as he thought of that unknown element, his brain pulsed with pain, and more blood trickled down his nose. No, maybe he did witness it, but whatever ¡®it¡¯ was, was too dangerous for his brain to hold.

    If even just a memory of trying to look at ¡®it¡¯ caused him to bleed from his eyes and nose, he didn''t dare think how the Arthur in that space felt, witnessing ¡®it¡¯ firsthand. He shivered for a moment, before shifting his focus.

    ¡°Yer currently in the medical bay. Ya see, one of my beloved, foolish students had a li''l accident with a gemstone, and blew it up right in yer mug.¡± The man answered his question, with a wry smile on his face. He seemed friendly enough, but there was something unreadable about him.

    ¡°Personally, I don''t oft'' come check on prisoners, but¡­ That fool, ya see? She said somethin'' good about ya. Ya cut that Moonstone even better than the directions the evaluator gave ya. ¡®Said yer eyes got potential.

    ¡°Then, of course, she said that ya handed her the stone, ¡®n with her clumsy hands, mixed with the fragility of yer stone, she accidentally crushed it and blew ya up¡­ ¡®N I''m sure, that''s how it went down, ¡®cause my beloved student told me so.¡±Before Arthur could speak up, to correct him about the situation, the man winked at him, behind the tinted glasses he was wearing. His expression quickly changed to one of understanding, before nodding.

    That hooded girl sitting beside him had covered for his screw up, for some reason, and her mentor backed her up on it. He quickly connected those pieces of information.

    [He is a member of the prison staff. He is her mentor. Most likely, she is a cadet, and not a prisoner. Henceforth, prisoners could be punished for messing up in that manner. She had protected Arthur from being punished.]

    He looked away, trying to ignore ¡®it¡¯ for now, turning towards the man once again. ¡°I see. I''ll have to thank her when I get dismissed. I don''t think my wounds are that bad¡­¡± He patted his own body, there were still shards stuck in his skin.

    ¡°I think an introduction is in order. I''m Arthur¡­ Arthur. Don''t remember my last name. You said, er, she said something about my eyes, right?¡± The glasses-wearing man nodded.

    [Arthur''s eyes bear an Innate Gift. The Gift of the Archivist.]

    ¡°Yup. Well, in short¡­ Do ya know how Moonstone evaluation works?¡± He produced a Moonstone from his pocket, probably smuggled from the facility.

    ¡°Evaluators deem which parts need to be cut and which need to be kept, right?¡± The man nodded. ¡°Exactly. ¡®N that''s not an easy process. More than that, if ya lack the talent for it, ya can''t really learn how ta evaluate a Moonstone. It''s all in yer eyes, ya understand?

    ¡°Moonstones are incredible Ark conductors, ¡®n more than that, there''s theories that they got reserves of Arch¨º in and o'' themselves. Evaluators hafta recognize the li''l parts with impurities, of other minerals, or stuff like that, ta keep the best, most conductin'' bits in the gem.¡±

    [The material commonly known as Moonstone is an extremely potent conductor of Ark. When the purity reaches an upper cap, the internally stored energy has a risk of being expelled in a forceful manner.]¡°I see¡­ If you don''t have an eye for detail, you wouldn''t be able to be an evaluator, while also keeping the rhythm of a construction chain going.¡±¡°Nah, it''s not jus'' that. Ya gotta be half-Dipping ta see the Ley Lines properly, ¡®n most people can''t do it with their eyes open. Ya know, yer talents would be really appreciated as a cadet¡­ Ya could even gain yerself freedom!¡±

    [Dipping refers to-]

    Arthur waved his hand frantically at the air, as if swatting a fly, perplexing the man.

    ¡°As I was sayin''... Well, I''ll let ya rest, fer now. I''ll be back soon, before yer dismissed. If yer interested in workin'' fer the Teiwesian Military, I wouldn''t be opposed ta recommending you. Fer now¡­ I''ll see you.¡±The man got up, putting on a halved top hat which had been resting on his lap until now, before exiting the room.

    As if he had been holding his breath until now, Arthur let out a sigh, closing his eyes for a moment, with an exasperated expression. Then, he stared right in front of him. To anyone but him, that space was blank.

    ¡°I¡¯ve been trying to ignore you, but¡­ What the hell are you?¡±In front of his eyes stood a floating, semi transparent slate. Light blue in colour, it was as thin as the page of a book. Words inked themselves into existence on the page''s surface, talking to the boy which was observing it.

    [Greetings, Arthur¡­ Luria.]

    [I am the Archive.]

 Chapter 7: Shadow of the Origin - Part 8

    ¡®Isn¡¯t this getting a bit too cliche-y, now¡­?¡¯

    [Indeed, this sort of situation seems to be a common trope, particularly in self-published novels. Would you like for the Archive to refer to themselves as a ¡®System¡¯?]

    ¡°No, that''s¡­ Not going to be needed.¡±

    Arthur spoke with a befuddled expression, at that slate speaking with him, and seemingly reading his mind.

    Arthur had first noticed the existence of that ¡®Archive¡¯ during the conversation with the man that had just left the room. When Arthur was trying to remember what he had seen in the dark space, it appeared, conveying information with unknown meaning to him.

    Then, soon after, it started talking about the properties of Moonstones, and tried to explain what ¡®Ley Lines¡¯ were. The man didn''t seem to notice it, so Arthur assumed it was another side effect of the transmigration.

    Taking the form of a computer browser like window, it really did resemble the Systems which he often found in webnovels and webcomics. Though, he cringed at himself, recognizing it as one. Was he in the shoes of one of those boring protagonists, whose main selling point were action scenes and stupid amounts of strength?

    ¡®As if I''d be a protagonist, anyways¡­¡¯

    He sighed. The life he led on his old world, on Malkuth, the life of Arthur Luria, wouldn''t be worth having a book written after it. If anything, it would be some boring, repetitive tragedy, or a psychology study into the misery of working an office job.

    [But Arthur isn''t Arthur Luria.]

    ¡°What?¡± Reading the text on the slate, a dumbfounded expression appeared on his face. ¡°I''m not Arthur Luria?¡±[Arthur is Arthur. Arthur Luria lived on Malkuth. Arthur is currently on Irminsul. Arthur Luria of Malkuth isn''t the same of Arthur Luria of Irminsul.]

    Arthur tried to think of a way to rebuke that, but the more he thought about it, the more sense it made. He could start a new life in that world.

    He didn''t know much about Irminsul, or the empire he was currently in, but more importantly than that, no one knew who Arthur Luria was, nor that he was a transmigrator from another world. Well, apart from Ayn.

    If he so wished, he could take on a new identity, severing all ties to the life of Arthur Luria. Surely, that would be a dream. He shook his head, he could think about that more later. For now, he wanted to figure out what ¡®the Archive¡¯ was.

    ¡°Right, anyways. What are you? And don''t respond ¡®the Archive¡¯ again. I mean, what are you? Are you some kind of magic¡­ Spell? Ritual? Computer?¡±

    Arthur could hear the sound of electricity buzzing and mechanical components turning coming from the floating Archive, followed by the clicking of a keyboard. Was the Archive thinking?

    Maybe that was like how a person would sometimes hum while deep in thought, or mumbling under their breath.

    [I am a result of the Innate Gift of the body Arthur Luria is currently inhabiting, and the Innate Gift bestowed upon Arthur Luria by¡­]

    Arthur covered his ears. Despite it being written on text, as soon as he read that next word, a terrible sound resounded in his head, it was hard to describe. Like nails scratching on a chalkboard, or the air being cut by a blade. The ticking of a clock, and the sound of waves.

    [Arthur Luria cannot comprehend that concept yet. I shall refer to that concept as ¡®THEM¡¯.]

    ¡°Thank you, I guess¡­ So, what''s an Innate Gift?¡±The typing on the slate stopped. Once again he could feel the inner machinations of the Archive buzzing into action, and soon, it duplicated itself. A number of other windows appeared, all with different information written on them.

    At the very top of the windows were words, presumably the titles of each slate. He could read ¡®Arch¨º¡¯ on one, ¡®Ark¡¯ on another, then ¡®Ley Lines¡¯, ¡®Ley Core¡¯, ¡®Arch¨ºometry¡¯ and ¡®Innate Gifts¡¯. He had heard some of those words already, but didn''t know what they meant.

    Giving a few glances to each window, without reading them fully, he''d take in some bits and pieces, mostly reading keywords and trying to grasp the general picture without having to read it all. He only got more confused.

    ¡°Is this all related to Innate Gifts?¡± A smaller window popped out in front of his eyes, a text box for the Archive to communicate with him.

    [Not quite. As part of general consensus, Innate Gifts are a part of Arch¨ºometry. Those are the main concepts related to Arch¨ºometry, which are currently stored in the Archive through your body''s memory.]

    ¡°Through this body''s memory¡­ I see.¡±Even if he didn''t quite understand what an Innate Gift was yet, he was starting to understand what the Archive was, at its core. A source of information available only to him, not because of some reason such as being the protagonist of a webnovel. But rather, because that body held memories which Arthur could learn.

    Then, that Archive was simply a medium for that information to be relayed to him. ¡®Wait, isn''t this way better than some overpowered ability?¡¯

    He debated with himself, thinking. Even if he had the chance to become the protagonist of a story, he wouldn''t like being too involved in violence. Had he discovered some sort of ability that forced him to fight to use it, he wouldn''t be sure how to feel.

    If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

    On the other hand, this Archive, was just that, an Archive. A storage of information. That was much more in line with Arthur¡¯s preference, surely. Though, since magic existed in that world, what if he needed to fight? Would it be useful, then?

    [Would you like for me to debate with you?]

    ¡°What?¡± Arthur tilted his head.

    [I am merely a visual representation of your subconscious thoughts. Which means, I write down stuff you don''t realize you notice. You can think of me as a second, keen eyed Arthur Luria in your head.]

    ¡°Stuff I don''t realize, is it. I see, I guess that''s pretty useful in any situation.¡± Arthur nodded slowly, reading the appearing bits of text.

    If he understood correctly what it meant, then, it would be like having a second pair of eyes. Not only that, a pair of eyes that would focus on that which Arthur couldn''t bother to, or simply couldn''t notice alone.

    He glanced at the floating windows surrounding him. If he could pull up the specific window containing the information he needed, at any given time, then this certainly would find its uses.

    Arthur sat up straight, crossing his legs and arms, and nodding. If he trusted the information given to him by that Archive, then he''d be able to find out a lot about that world''s magic just by reading from the text boxes, surely.

    ¡°Alright, let me see¡­¡± Moving his hand towards the window titled ¡®Ley Lines¡¯, he pinched it with his fingers, testing out whether he could interact with them physically.

    Sure enough, the window reduced itself into nothingness as soon as that motion was completed. Arthur rubbed his chin, interested in how this Archive worked. On cue, a text box immediately appeared in front of him.

    [Physical motions are not needed to interact with the Archive. That was simply a response to Arthur Luria''s preference for user interfaces.] The Archive chimed out, with a resounding clicking noise.

    Arthur tilted his head slightly, before understanding what it meant, hitting his open palm with a fist in a gesture of realization.

    ¡°What you mean is, I don''t need to touch the windows, but you reacted because I thought this would work, right?¡±[Correct.]

    Arthur hummed something to himself, rubbing his chin with a glint of curiosity in his eyes. He wanted to experiment with the Archive, discover what he could do with it.

    He reached out with a finger, tapping the air, and visualizing opening the window titled ''Ley Lines¡¯ once again. A ripple spread through the invisible surface, and the text box revealed itself once again.

    He tapped the window with his finger, and holding the point of contact, traced a line in the air, in an attempt to displace it. The window followed his finger, moving through the air silently.

    Then, he reached for the other open, floating windows with his hands. With a swift movement, he pushed them all towards the center of his vision, without touching them directly.

    Pinching the air once again, he closed most of them. ¡®Interesting. So long as I have a specific interaction in mind, I don''t have to actually touch them. It¡¯s as it said.¡¯

    He shifted his focus to the two windows he had kept open. The text box with which the Archive could communicate with him, and the one titled ¡®Innate Gifts¡¯.

    Although he figured out what the Archive could do, he didn''t quite understand what Innate Gifts, as a whole, were. He tapped it with his finger, bringing it to focus. The window grew in size, similarly to a scroll being fully unrolled.

    ¡°Woah, that''s¡­ A lot of information.¡± He took a glance at the literal wall of text in front of his eyes, hoping that the Archive would summarize it.

    [This window contains: the meaning of Innate Gift, how an Innate Gift works, the etymology of the term Innate Gift, the history of Innate Gifts, the first recorded Innate Gifts, the method to advance an Innate Gift, the¡­]

    ¡°Ok, ok, wait, stop. Summarize it, I only need to understand what they are for now, not their entire history.¡± He placed a hand in front of the window, as if to stop it from talking any more. He was sure he''d find a use for all of that information someday, but right now, he only needed to know the basics.

    ¡®How did this guy even know all of that¡­¡¯ He thought to himself, referring to his current body. Either he was really interested in the history of Innate Gifts, that was common knowledge in the world of Irminsul, or he had inhabited someone truly incredible.

    The electrical static and mechanical noises came to a halt, as the Archive produced a summarized version of the Innate Gifts window. Arthur sighed in relief, it was quite shorter than the other version.

    He started reading through the information window, his attention completely focused on it.

    [The term Innate Gift refers to the abilities each and every individual on Irminsul possesses, obtained at birth, hence the name Innate Gift. They are believed by many to be gifts of the gods, blessings or curses, and in some cases, that would be correct. Although, it''s more of an interference from the gods, rather than a gift.]

    [Innate Gifts are also known by the name ¡®Talents¡¯, due to their nature. Most people possess an Innate Gift that could be taken for simple and pure talent, had it not been recognized, whereas others possess Innate Gifts with more unique abilities. Such as the Gift of the Archivist in your possession.]

    [Common examples of Innate Gifts misunderstood for talent are higher proficiency in a specific typology of magic, or preference for craftsmanship rather than fighting, the ability to craft incredible weapons and artifacts. However, an individual is innately able to recognize their own Gift, which is the only reason these misunderstandings don''t last long.]

    [On a more practical level, Innate Gifts exist as Ley Lines placed upon one''s Core. Thanks to the constant influx of Ark from the Core to the rest of one''s body, a Gift is constantly active, without draining excessive amounts of energy form their user.]

    [In the case of some Gifts, such as your Gift of the Archivist, the Ley Lines spread to other parts of one''s body, affecting them with the ¡®passive ability¡¯ granted by the Gift. In your case, the Ley Lines affect your eyes, as well as part of the occipital lobe. The Archive isn''t an illusion, but rather, an hallucination brought forth by your Innate Gift.]

    ¡°Well¡­ Excluding all the terms whose meanings I have no idea of, I think I get it now.¡±Arthur nodded after reaching the end of the text box, processing the information over in his head. ¡®In short, it''s like a ''passive ability'' everyone in this world has, and some of them are handed out by Gods¡­ So, there''s Gods in this world. That''s kind of crazy to think about.¡¯

    ¡®What I don''t understand is, if it''s given at birth, then is this Gift this body''s? I sure as hell wasn''t born here.¡¯

    Arthur glanced at the text box in front of him, expecting to hear the sound of information being processed, or keys being clicked on. However, the information that was revealed to him wouldn''t be what he expected.

    [Arthur Luria can only know this is a gift from ¡®THEM¡¯. Any further information would be dangerous for his mind.]

    ¡°Dangerous for my mind, huh¡­¡±He sighed. He thought the Archive would just give him any information he needed, but there seemed to be some sort of restriction on it. But more than that, how could it be information dangerous for his mind?Shouldn¡¯t it already be in his mind, if the Archive was aware of it? He shook his head, trying to figure out what he shouldn''t was a bad idea. For now, he''d just read up on what he needed to learn.

    Waving his hand at the air, a number of text boxes appeared, the ones he had closed earlier. He wanted to learn more about that world, and its magic.

 Chapter 8: Shadow of the Origin - Part 9

    ¡°Whew, that''s a lot to take in.¡±Arthur sighed, letting his body fall down to the questionably soft mattress. It might not have been like the beds he was used to in his old world, but it was better than the planks in the holding cell, that much was for sure.

    He flicked his wrist, and the floating text boxes appeared once again, surrounding the air around him. They gave off a soft, light blue light, resembling the colour of the system windows themselves.

    Some more hours had passed from when he woke up in the medical bay, spent reading all the Archive could tell him about that world''s magic, and how it worked. He wanted to figure out quickly whether he, too, could use it, but was somewhat embarrassed at the thought.

    He didn''t want to seem desperate, but judging from how much text he had consumed in that short window of time, he wasn''t doing a good job at that. He spread his arms outwards, trying to summarize ¡®magic¡¯ as a whole in his mind.

    ¡®In short, it all revolves around that Arch¨º thing. It''s some sort of energy innate to every living being in this world, and to inanimate objects, too. Like those Moonstones.¡¯

    Glancing up, he noticed a text box appearing, automatically filling in the blank, floating sheet with his thoughts. ¡®That Archive sure is restless.¡¯ He thought. The Archive omitted that part, and Arthur chuckled lightly.

    He sat up straight, looking at the writing text box, before passing his hand through it. If the information the Archive gave him was correct, Arch¨º was some sort of unending energy, produced by everything.

    Although, he had his doubts about that. The only reason, being the word''s spelling. Had the Archive been a speaking Archive, and not a written one, he might have thought Arch¨º to be spelled as ¡®Arc¡¯, or ¡®Ark¡¯, but it wasn''t.

    He placed his hand beside his lips, thinking. His studies of choices revolved mainly around mechanical and electrical engineering, despite his job at a computer corporation.

    However, for his earlier studies, and out of personal curiosity, too, he had read many books on the broadest and most varied subjects. He had a talent for engineering, but his interests often changed quickly, from mysticism, to divination, to blacksmithing, and to philosophy.

    Philosophy, in particular, was one of his shorter lived interests, only lasting for a few years. However, those years were the most densely packed with studying, on his part.

    He wasn''t a philosopher himself, nor did he have the rhetorical capabilities or wisdom to be one. He simply enjoyed reading about the human mind, and what it could devise.

    He liked reading philosophical theories of ancient figures trying to figure out how the world came to be, or how the spirit and body were connected. The point was, he liked reading how humans thought.

    This caused him to develop an interest in psychology too, later on, but it was satiated mostly by reading books and literature with psychology as their main focus, or simply with characters possessing peculiar mindsets.

    That interest in philosophy was how he first found out about the term ¡®arch¨º¡¯.

    In his old world, Malkuth, ancient Greece could be called the birthplace of the majority of philosophical trends and currents.

    Men like Plato, Aristotle and Socrate, they shaped the philosophy which would come in the centuries to follow, and there were many more where they came from. That was ancient Greece, in Arthur''s mind.

    And many of the Greek philosophers living in that time period, had theories about the creation of the world, and where life came from. No matter what form it took, the universal term referring to the ¡®original substance¡¯, was ¡®arch¨º¡¯.

    The term itself had many meanings, simplifying it as the ¡®original substance¡¯ was just that, a simplification. For some schools of philosophy, it was the literal first substance, which created everything in the world through transformations or changes in form.

    To other philosophers, it was the original state of the world, a state of Chaos, or a period of divinity before some God created the universe, and Malkuth. To yet others, it was a cosmic force pushing forward the machinations of the universe.

    In some way or another, they all recognized the word arch¨º as something which indicated an original substance or state of the universe, or something needed for the universe to keep existing as such.

    He looked up at the text box in front of him and asked the Archive, ¡°Is there any information on who first coined the term Arch¨º?¡±

    After a brief period of electrical static, the text box provided a curt and direct response.

    [That information would be dangerous for Arthur Luria''s mind. Instead, I can provide the most common theories on the origin of Arch¨ºometry.]

    Arthur was speechless for a second. Even something like that was a danger to his mind? Either whoever ideated Arch¨ºometry was something like a national secret, or his mind was really weak. Well, that body was probably to blame, not him.

    He pondered over the written words, before telling the Archive he didn''t need any explanation. Arch¨ºometry, that was the term coined for the science studying Arch¨º and magic as a whole. It was taught in most schools, both the theory and the practice.

    With a silent sigh, he jolted down on the text box in front of him, ¡®Find out more about Arch¨ºometry¡¯, before getting back to his original thought process.

    This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

    This was mostly a gut feeling, but he felt like he could learn important information by finding out who first created the doctrine of Arch¨ºometry.

    If they coined the term based on knowledge from the world Arthur knew, that would surely imply something important. Be that they, too, were a transmigrator, or that they had knowledge about Malkuth somehow, Arthur didn''t know.

    In the text window about Arch¨ºometry, some of the earlier theories about Arch¨º, and the figures that developed them were mentioned. Oswald Wirth, was the one who first introduced the term Arch¨º to the world.

    He hailed from Teiws, but most of his works were published in the Kingdom of Goetia. A philosopher as well as a man of science, he lived up to the standard of Greek philosophers!

    However, Arthur only knew that much, from the information stored in the Archive. To learn more about Wirth, and his initial theories of Arch¨ºometry, he would need to find copies of his works, and read them.

    It seemed that this body wasn''t interested in older philosophy, but it knew quite a lot about the modern theory of Arch¨ºometry.

    Arch¨º, that mysterious energy, could be sensed by all living beings in an instinctual manner, through a method colloquially referred to as ¡®Dipping¡¯.

    Feeling as though one''s whole body had been suddenly submerged into an abyss, surrounded by water that couldn''t be perceived, Arthur had gone through something similar already, he figured.

    The dream he saw before waking up in the medical bay bed, was probably a result of a state of Dipping.

    Controlling Arch¨º itself, according to the modern theory of Arch¨ºometry, was close to impossible, due to the sheer strength of the unending energy. For Arch¨º to actually be harnessed by human beings, it had to go through various steps.

    The first one would be to refine it.

    After grasping the instinctual feeling of Dipping, one could try their hand not at controlling the Arch¨º inside of their body, but rather, to direct it. It''s much easier to redirect the sails of a boat during a storm, rather than to change the direction of the wind, after all.

    That was a quote mentioned by the Archive, taken from a modern Arch¨ºometrist whose name wasn''t recorded. Arthur understood the concept, but of course, he couldn''t put it into practice.

    The redirected Arch¨º would become unstable, inside a human body. Unstable, and dangerous. With the risk of quite literally blowing up the body, due to the sudden surge of energy, if handled incorrectly.

    But, if the sails were turned towards the right direction, then the boat would soar safely, with the wind propelling it on the wind''s tail. That, too, was a quote.

    Apparently, humans in that world possessed an invisible organ called ¡®Core¡¯, close to their heart. It could be perceived only during a state of Dipping, usually a glowing, spherical construct floating inside one''s own ribcage.

    That Core was to Arch¨º, what a heart is to blood. Taking in the unstable, uncontrollable Arch¨º, and transforming it into a substance which humans could actually utilise.

    The process usually took only mere instants, on average, and even less than that when attempted by someone who used magic on the regular. Due to how common magic was in that world, the refining process was nigh-automatic for most human beings.

    Arthur wasn''t part of that majority, of course, and had no idea how to even begin. He sighed, and kept recounting what he read.

    The new substance, the refined Arch¨º, would then take the name of Ark. That was the actual energy that could be used for magic, to cast spells, or to power gemstone-based technology.

    Ark was easier to handle than pure Arch¨º, but of course, the refining process had its downsides, too. For one, there was only so much Arch¨º a Core could produce.

    Or rather, that was one of the current theories. It was universally recognized that some sort of limit existed to how much Ark a singular person could output, without resting or restoring their energy.

    Some theorized people only had a limited reservoir of Arch¨º to draw upon, thus limiting the amount of magic one could use, without waiting for that reservoir to fill back up.

    Others thought the Core was the limiting component, needing a rested and fed body to keep working, like any other organ. Arthur kept himself from making assumptions, as he had too little information.

    That Ark could then flow throughout the entirety of the human body, through a system of invisible circulatory canals, similarly to the core, called Ley Lines, or Leyline Circuits.

    Although invisible, when large amounts of Ark passed through those circuits, the glowing light would highlight them. Compared to the only theoretical existence of the Core, Ley Lines were considered a system of the human body.

    According to most Arch¨ºometry and anatomy books, Ley Lines directly overlapped with veins, signifying that they were either one singular system with two functions, or weren''t completely physical. Once again, Arthur refrained himself from guessing.

    If one didn''t care about all the details like Arthur did, ¡®Curse my love for reading!¡¯, magic, or rather Arch¨ºometry, could be watered down to three steps.

    The process of refining Arch¨º and producing Ark, which granted the body the energy required to cast a spell.

    The process of letting Ark course through one''s body, which not only filled up every Ley Line, but had the side effect of strengthening physical capabilities such as strength and the skin''s resistance.

    And lastly, the process of forming glyphs with the Ley Lines. In fact, what allowed Ark to translate into magic, were the Ley Lines themselves.

    Ark could strengthen a body by simply coursing through it, but no additional effects could be obtained in that simple manner. That was why humans possessed the ability to innately give new form to the Ley Lines in their bodies.

    Forming specific patterns and shapes with the circuits, and then powering them with Ark. Just like granting electricity to an electrical construct, that was the basis for calling down the miracle known as magic.

    In fact, Innate Gifts, too, worked under the basis of Ley Lines and Ark. He wasn''t too sure on the specifics, as the details, even in the Archive, were lacking.

    However, most scientists speculated that Gifts originated from specific Ley Line patterns carved onto one''s very Core. Those circuits, which activated whenever Arch¨º was refined, were the reason for the ¡®passive¡¯ nature of Innate Gifts.

    Arthur stopped his train of thought for a second, a sudden realization falling upon him. If Innate Gifts sprang to life with the refinement of Arch¨º, that must mean he, too, was subconsciously refining Arch¨º.

    He looked down at his hands. An extremely subtle and feeble glow could be seen, peeking out from underneath his skin. Barely noticeable, he didn''t feel any strength coming from that energy.

    More notably, there were spots of light on the back of his right hand. Seven in number, there were various ones on the right edge of his hand, as if tracing a line along the side.

    Then, two more spots, underneath the knuckles of his index finger, and between his middle and ring finger. He had no idea about the nature of those spots, whether they were normal Ley Lines, or something different.

    As he was about to ask about it to the Archive, a few gentle knocks resounded from the wooden door of the medical bay. Without waiting for a response, a person''s head peeked out of the doorframe.

    Feminine features hidden underneath a hood, the girl from the Moonstone Refinement Facility spoke up.

    ¡°I, er, came to check up on you.¡±