Now that I'm lying here in relative peace, it finally feels like the right time to confront the question I've been putting off.
So I close my eyes, asking myself what the fuck is actually happening to me.
Alright, let's think about this… I've either been reincarnated or summoned—something along those lines—but there's still something off about it. The notification bar or whatever the hell I keep seeing doesn't feel like magic at all. It's too sophisticated, too modern. It doesn't feel like an ordinary hologram but like something beyond even the most cutting-edge technology humanity had in my previous life.
And that thought alone sends a chill down my spine.
Because now that I think about it… I remember something. I remember what that damn bionic hand says to me. The one that manages to defeat me.
Is it possible that when I blow myself up, my brain and spine are still intact?
Am I kidding? Of course that's impossible.
I've seen others use the exact same bomb I do, placed in the exact same spot on their bodies. The explosion should be enough to reduce two human bodies to nothing but dust. And even if, by some insane miracle, my remains aren't completely obliterated, the gas pipe behind me at the time should cause an even bigger chain reaction—enough to bring the whole damn building down in flames.
There shouldn't have been anything left of me. Not a body. Not a mind. Nothing.
So I shouldn't have to worry that this is all just a simulation—some twisted program running by a company with a grudge against me, designed to extract my memories and way of thinking… right?
…Right?
But if that's true, then there's another problem.
This world is completely foreign—there's magic here, for fuck's sake. And not just that, but judging by the way the elders treat us, they're something even worse than the soulless corporations I've fought against in my previous life. These aren't just corrupt suits chasing profit at any cost—these are lunatics, fanatics, the kind of people who see the world through a warped, upside-down lens.
I'm not exactly unfamiliar with that. I've dealt with my fair share of zealots before. But here? Here, they have magic to back it up.
And magic means possibilities I can't predict—forces that might as well have come straight from the devil they worshipped.
Which means that whatever is waiting for me up ahead…
I need to start planning how to avoid it. Right now.
My eyes snap open.
I sit up abruptly from the hard board that passes for a bed, my mind racing. Across the dimly lit space, the girl is now standing, leaning against the cold stone wall. She's biting her thumbnail, her expression tight with frustration—despair, even.
And before I can think twice, the words leave my mouth. "If you teach me everything about magic again—starting from scratch—maybe I can help you escape."
It comes out so suddenly that I startle myself.
The girl, however, barely reacts.
"I'm just a paladin… I don't know that much about magic," she admits, her voice quiet but firm. "And even if you could be useful for something, unfortunately, we've been hit by the Nullbrand Hex. We'll never have enough mana or eidolons to cast anything."
I hadn't expected her to actually think this much about my offer. That's a good sign. If she understands even a little, then she could be useful—useful enough for me to learn magic through her.
That alone makes her worth keeping close.
"Then tell me something about this world," I ask without hesitation.
Probably also a mistake… Because the girl lets out a short, confused laugh. "What does that even mean?"
And I frown. "You know, anything. The history, the kingdoms—just something useful."
"What for? Why now, of all times? Can't you pick a better moment for this?"
"I see how worried you are about tomorrow, yet you also know there's nothing we can do to escape—at least not tonight. Same goes for the boy who's already asleep below, and the one still screaming at the end of the hall."
Then I lay back down, letting my gaze settle on the ceiling as I continued, "So I was just thinking… why not accept tomorrow's torture for what it is? Endure it, survive it. And then, once we're still breathing after that, we start figuring out how to get out of here."
"That's the most ignorant thing I've ever heard coming out from people's mouths in my entire life. Oh, you're so clueless about what's happening to us—and worse, about how much we're going to suffer here."
"Well, if you want to think that way, that's fine by me." I exhale slowly, my voice calm, almost indifferent. "But if you stay this stressed out until morning, unable to settle your mind, then not only will you fail to figure out a way to escape, but I'm afraid you won't survive tomorrow either."
Turning my gaze to the wall beside me, I let the conversation slip away, focusing on the rhythm of my breathing—slow, steady. Sleep will come eventually.
"Oh… I almost forgot to ask… What's your name again?"
Of course, my late question annoys her but somehow she still answers, "Siona... Siona Everglow."
"Siona… Got it. Oh, and just forget my previous question and try to calm yourself down a bit, alright? You'll need it for everything that's to come."
Whether my words receive a response from her or not, I no longer care. I shut my eyes, letting exhaustion take over, ignoring everything for the sake of the rest I desperately need… Until tomorrow eventually arrives.
~~~~~
The sharp clang of a bell being shaken fast and hard echoes through the hallway, followed by the commanding voice of someone pacing in circles. My eyes snap open.
Whether I woke because of the noise or because the cursed obedience forced me up, I'm not sure. Either way, I don't want to sit around feeling that artificial fear creeping in, so I push myself up and jump down from the bunk.
As my feet hit the ground, my eyes meet the boy's—his expression is serious, but there's a hint of a smile as he stretches. He greets me briefly before resuming what looks like a strict morning routine, almost as if he's still following habits ingrained in him from his past life.
"I've heard that children's bodies are more adaptable—easier to mold, more flexible, and quicker to condition than adults. This might be my chance to develop a better physique than I had before… Don't you think so?"
Gideon doesn't wait for an answer before adding, "I've also heard that young minds are easier to shape—easier to instill with principles, easier to sharpen into something precise."
And there's something unsettling about the way he speaks—calm, deliberate, as if he's already decided to turn this nightmare into an opportunity.
"So that's why our souls were put into children's bodies, huh?" I muse, pretending I haven't already figured it out.
"No, it's not just that…" He suddenly counters, stopping me from jumping to conclusions. "You've seen how those Solmarians act, right? And the way those damn Karthmeres talk about them... Their minds are conditioned from birth—indoctrinated to sacrifice everything for their king. They worship him like a god. That kind of deviation in thinking patterns… it's necessary to activate the curse of The Unbroken Devotion."
"That's not a curse."
The voice comes from above. Siona, still lying on the middle bunk and who had been silent until now, but her interruption is sharp—almost dismissive.
"You see what I mean?" Gideon continues, undeterred. "All these children's bodies—before they died and were given to us—were most likely indoctrinated the same way. Since this curse can only be activated if the one who is about to be controlled has absolute loyalty, without the slightest hesitation when casting the spell."
The girl then lets out a dry chuckle, her amusement laced with something else—maybe pity, maybe frustration. "You just proved my point," she says, shaking her head.
But now I also remember—last night, the elder indeed mentioned something peculiar about the curse.
That it wasn't cast by the controller, but by the one who is about to be controlled… So, naturally, those who had been thoroughly indoctrinated would also find it easy to believe that this so-called curse wasn't really a curse at all—at least, not to them.
"Why isn't the animal from this cage awake yet!?"
An elder's voice rings out from behind the bars, thick with either impatience or mockery… It's clear that the three of us are already awake, but whether he's too blind to notice or just being sarcastic, none of us has the luxury to question it.
Without a word, we move toward the open iron door, falling into line with the other children as we shuffle down the dim hallway.
Then comes the stench—a thick, putrid blend of decay and filth that clings to the air like a curse. The room we enter could hardly be called a cafeteria, not for anyone who still clings to their sanity. Yet here we are, forced to accept it as such.
Splintered wooden plates, crusted with the remains of meals past, are thrust into our hands without care, as if we're no different from the vermin that likely share this space with us. And at one of the tables, I spotted him—the boy who spent the entire night screaming for death, swearing he wouldn't see the morning… Yet here he is, pale-faced but awake, conscious, and eating, his face full of bruises.
Next, I hear whispers spread through the line ahead of me.
"Why isn't he dead yet?" one child murmurs to another.
But as a pair of eyes lock onto something in the distance, the others also follow their gaze, one by one… To where a group of children are dragging two lifeless bodies toward a closed-off disposal room.
The realization hits all at once.
The bruised boy must have begged his two roommates to kill him, but when they tried, the curse of obedience activated—forcing his own body to fight back and defend itself against his own will. And in the end, his wish had been granted in the cruelest way possible.
Instead of his own death, he had consciously but helplessly slaughtered the very ones who tried to set him free.
"Damn, he's strong."
Gideon, standing in line behind me, grins in fascination as he scoops up a strange green lump from a food tray, his lips licked in a sign of appetite.
But seriously… The more I observe how he reacts to his surroundings, the more I become convinced—this boy had probably been insane long before he died.
He saunters over and takes a seat next to the bruised boy, likely trying to establish some kind of connection—probably hoping to gain recognition from those he believes are strong, as if he's already accustomed to prison life. Not a bad strategy, really… But since the table is full, I settle at the far end of the room.
Besides, one of the elders had just barked that we have only ten minutes to eat, so overthinking can wait.
Right now, my only concern is filling my stomach—my first meal after death.
And surprisingly enough, out of all people, Siona chooses to sit with me.
"It's not that surprising," she says, as if reading my mind.
"What?"
"That Solmarian knight… fighting two opponents at once and still coming out on top." She struggles to swallow a mouthful of the foul, jelly-like substance, chasing it down with a bite of rock-hard, ice-cold bread. And with her mouth still half-full, she continues, "It just proves how far Solmarians surpass the rest of the world in combat."
But I consider her unwavering pride in her kingdom as a coping mechanism—a shield to keep her from losing her mind in this wretched place. So rather than argue, I simply nod, focusing on making the most of our limited mealtime. Slowly but surely, I have to gather information, piece by piece.
Letting a few seconds pass after she finishes her display of patriotism, I finally ask, "That script… the one that appears in the status window and when we refuse to obey orders. Can you read it?"
"You mean the Zeirathis script?" Siona raises an eyebrow. "Not even the current Grand Magus understands more than half of those symbols. So, of course, I know far less than he does… But at most, I can recognize numbers and a few basic words for stats—nothing more."
"There are many ancient books that contain only that kind of writing, right?"
"Yeah, there are a lot of them in the special section of the Solmaria Library, but they're usually only accessible to scholars or high-level sorcerers, and none of them have been translated yet."
Siona scoops up the last spoonful, her expression tinged with disappointment. "Can you ask me something more useful? I'm not sure any of this will actually help us escape."
Well, if it's really that hard to access books that I somehow can read and no one else can, then there's no point in asking… But then, something comes to mind.
"Parx… Akh… Xyren… Voz…"
I raise my hand toward Siona and chant the spell. The echo of my voice triggers her stats window to appear before me, something that seems to annoy the girl.
╔══════════════════════════════════════════ ══╗
║ ⌈ Status Window ⌋ ║
╠══════════════════════════════════════════ ══╣
║ ▶ Name: **Siona Everglow** ║
║ ▶ Race: **Human** ║
║ ▶ Level: **1 (EXP: 138 / 2,000)** ║
║ ▶ Class: **Unassigned** ║
║ ▶ Title: **[None]** ║
║ ▶ Energy Orientation: **[None]** ║
║ ▶ Destiny Bind: **[None]** ║
║ ║
║ ▶ HP: **168 / 189** ║
║ ▶ SP: **82 / 90** ║
║ ║
║ ▶ MP: **1 / 29** ║
║ ▶ EP: **1 / 13** ║
║ ║
║ ▶ Strength: **19** ║
║ ▶ Agility: **27** ║
║ ▶ Arcane: **7** ║
║ ▶ Essence: **8** ║
║ ▶ Sanity: **8** ║
║ ▶ Intelligence: **10** ║
╠══════════════════════════════════════════ ══╣
║ ⌈ Skill and Effect List ⌋ ║
╠══════════════════════════════════════════ ══╣
║ ▶ **[The Root of Nyxthorn]** - Passive ║
║ - The Withering Blight has spread to this body ║
║ caused by the Nyxthorn root infection. ║
║ ║
║ ▶ **[The Nullbrand Hex]** - Passive ║
║ - This entity will lose 5% of its mana and eidolon every minute ║
║ and cannot regenerate its own mana and eidolon. ║
║ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ ║
║ **[The Withering Blight]** ║
║ Status: Active ║
║ + Infection Progress: 87% ║
║ + Base stats amplification: 1.5 ║
║ + Level up stats amplification: 1.75 ║
║ + Time Remaining Before ║
║ Vessel Expiration: 3 years, 3 months, 14 days ║
║ ║
║ **[The Irreversible Holy Sacrament]** ║
║ Status: Permanent ║
║ + Commands in Queue: ║
║ - Obey orders from any Karthmere noble ║
║ - Do no harm to any Karthmere noble ║
║ - Fear any Karthmere noble ║
║ - Avoid your own death at all costs ║
║ - Do not attempt to escape ║
║ + Defiance Progress: 0% ║
║ ║
╚══════════════════════════════════════════ ══╝
"You shouldn't just check people's stats without their permission. It's never considered polite, no matter where you stand on these plains."
"Forget it. Now… Do you understand the meaning of what I just said?" I ask, hoping that the answer won't be exactly the same as my fears.
"Which one? The text in the stats window or the spell?"
"What? I just said—The spell! The spell I used to bring up this status window. Do you understand what it means?"
Siona shakes her head, a hint of shyness in her expression.
"Console… Target… Information... Activated…"
That's the rough meaning of the spell—literal, straightforward. And yet, while I understand it, Siona doesn't.
Which means one thing: the symbols in the status window and the words used to cast spells are all the same language… Probably. And somehow, I can comprehend them.
But now here's the problem.
Either there are actually two distinct languages, each with its own script, and because I understand both yet don't know which is which, I can't differentiate between the people's everyday language and the language of magic…
Or, they're actually the same language—one script, one tongue—but separated by vast eras, and I have the inexplicable ability to grasp both while the people of this world do not.
Wait—none of that matters.
The real issue, again, is that I can't tell which words belong to magic and which belong to ordinary speech. It's like being born fluent in both American English and British English, but growing up in Japan, never realizing those languages existed in the first place, never realizing they were variations of the same language.
…Wait, that comparison sounds off.
But anyway—in other words, I need to hear as many magic words as possible from the people around me. That's the only way I can start figuring out which language is which. Let them trigger something in my memory, piece it all together bit by bit, and then, moving forward, I can work it out myself.
Yes, that's the plan.
~~~~~