Scribble 26 Samsara Genesis (2)

Hello, Wanderers.

Well, it's been months since the last Scribble; I could neither confirm nor deny that I've been sitting on nigh-complete draft of this for a couple of months; but that's irrelevant. I finished part two! That's what important right? The isekai story nobody asked for but I wrote it anyway for some reason!

Who knows. I might even finish the next chapter before the pandemic blew over.

I don't think I could remember even if I want to.

Scribble 26 Samsara Genesis (2)

The rays of light from the window woke me up, and confusion temporarily filled my brain. The unfamiliar room and unfamiliar scent of the alien world, mixed together with the familiar metallic tone of iron and strong disinfectant. My brain ran through the checklist of situation assessment, but it only reinforced the confusion it was initially in.

I tried to sit up, but soon an immense pain eclipsed my every thought.

My scream echoed through the wooden house, my right hand reflexively grabbed on the stump attached to my left shoulder, wrapped in bandages and tourniquet. An arm reached behind me, trying to prop me up to sitting position.

"..eathe! Breathe!" I heard a voice between my own screams, a vague blur of a face behind the curtain of my tears. The owner of that voice rested my back on her arms and straightened my neck, before forcing a liquid down my throat. Were I in better position I would've admonished the aforementioned person for subjecting me to dangerous choking hazard, and were I in worse condition the act would've outright killed me, but my consciousness were barely enough to recognize liquid entering my mouth and nothing else.

The liquid chilled my stomach, and gradually suppressed the pain; not entirely, but just enough for me to stop screaming and wipe my tears with the sleeve of my intact arms.

"Thank you." I whispered with my broken voice.

"Don't thank me." The woman—the Paladin stood up, laying my body back to the mattress. The bowl on her right hand was still wet with transparent green liquid, presumably the same one that she forced down my throat moments prior. "It's only an analgesic agent, it won't accelerate your healing. If you're fortunate the wound would close, but if you're not..."

"I know what would happen, more or less. But you bringing me here and cleaning up the wound surely would help with my chances to survive." I forced a grin "Besides, we went against the salamander ready to lose two lives, and got out with only an arm short. That's a win in my book."

The Paladin sighed. "I guess things could be worse. You did blow that salamander apart, though the gamble was a precarious one. A million things could go wrong and left only a splatter of blood on a charred ground where both of us used to be."

So in the end I'm still at fault for all those imaginary scenarios? Eh, whatever.

"Don't think too hard about it. I already said that I hated all Wraiths, it's not a grudge against you in particular." She turned around and walked out of the room. "Get some rest and conserve your energy, the painkiller won't last forever."

---

Compared to the pain of the waking world, the nightmare was almost bearable. Although the cold in the tip of my fingers and the burning pain on my throat implanted a profound terror in my psyche, the reminder that there's something to pursue gave me almost calming clarity in my anger.

Vengeance. Towards those hands, towards that knife, and towards the cruel smiling face of my executioner. The prerequisite of my reincarnation into this alien world is uncertain, yet if death is but a transition between unrelated space-time through a set of law, there must be a pathway between the graveyard of ideas back to the world where she existed.

As if a mosaic, the patchworks of nightmares formed a singular image. Just a little more, I could almost make the shape out—

But the waking world snatched me away the moment I felt like I could reach the conclusion.

---

The subsequent mornings were filled with similar routine: I would wake up screaming, the Paladin would force the painkiller down my throat, and I spend the day observing the grotesquely ripped apart flesh that was once my arm before getting back to sleep.

Well, I was supposed to train my Wraith powers too, but after telling her that I could only use it as explosive she told me to never use it indoors: her face was understandably horrified at the mere thought. Instead, she has been teaching me how to read and the history of this world.

"A thousand years ago, a witch known as Cross Contact Calamity Lilith summoned a powerful being to this world. I don't know if one would call it a god or a devil, evil or good; the Temple and the Legion would give you different answers. But it was undeniably powerful, and brought with it a fundamental change to the structure of the world that allowed the magic of the Wraiths to manifest."

Her telling of the history was fluent and pretty obviously exercised, one would wonder if she was used to teaching others. Or maybe those trained by the Temple all have this air around them. She is a Paladin, after all, a warrior-cleric wielding the teaching of the Temple as well as she would a sword.

"It was unclear how she summoned the being, even now it's a mystery how she achieved the Original Magic. But her motives were certain. The power of the Wraiths were clearly designed to create destruction, and she wished to use it as a fuel for her conquest. Many Wraiths started appearing all across the continent, and a lot of them aligned themselves with Lilith, seduced by her lies."

She paused, clearing her throat.

"The human Kingdom created the Temple to gather the few Wraiths that opposed Lilith. They started calling the Wraiths that are under the Temple's umbrella as Oracles, with the strongest among them designated as a Prophet. Of course, there's nothing fundamentally different about them, only their allegiance. Their powers are still rooted in the same abomination summoned to this world by Lilith."

She called the being that gave Wraiths their power an "abomination". Her hatred towards Wraiths must be deep indeed, or perhaps she hated only their power...

"Wait. You said Lilith had an army of Wraiths, their power of which entirely unknown in this world until then. How come she hadn't achieved total domination, then?"

"The earliest batch of Demons and Disasters; that is, Lilith's Wraiths were numerous and powerful, yet they're untrained. Not only in the ways of their powers, for nobody were, but also lacked the military stratagem. Even so, the war was brutal, the cold and ruthless effectiveness of the royal military was opposed almost equally by the horrible power that Lilith's Legion wielded. And then the Temple's Oracles tipped the balance just as the war touched its half-decade mark. They saved humanity from the horrible rule of Lilith's Legion."

The Wraiths must've been of similar situation as me, then. Mostly, at least. A dead civilian dragged to another world ravaged by war.

The abomination, the entity either seen as god or demon by those who encountered it, was probably the same thing I met in the afterlife: a collection of mathematical expression, definitions of worlds once touched by the soul that it consumed. If, with some unknown method, this Lilith breached a god-sized "hole" between this world and that world, it might create a sink capable of dragging at least some of the dead souls from another worlds into this one.

It's all conjecture and hypothesis, but the evidence stacks up.

"Mind you, all I've said to you was based on the Temple's record, written decades after the war ended as an Oracle introduced the technology to efficiently produce books and such." I suddenly became very aware of the Temple's emblem on the book we're holding.

I guess the architecture of the wooden house, and the existence of antiseptic as well as non-psychotropic analgesic agents were quite anachronistic. The Wraiths; the Temple's Oracles must've brought a lot of culture and technology from their native world. "Setting aside the reliability of a thousand years old record, passing through translations and revisions by the royal and templar scribes, even the original record would contain clear pro-Temple bias."

"History is written by the winner, so I guess the fact that the Temple won the war was at least true."

"I guess. The Kingdom won the First War, reduced Lilith's Legion into pockets of stragglers, but they never did got their hands on Lilith herself. The subsequent reunification of the Legion and wars that are waged after that perpetuated the myth that Lilith is still alive, even now."

"What do you think?"

"Lilith would be more than a thousand years old now, if she's still alive. No matter how powerful she was, I doubt she could defy death for more than a millennium. Her name is probably used symbolically by the strongest Wraith in the Legion."

Uncomfortable silence. She wore a simple green dress today. I noticed my clothes also change every time I woke up. She must've changed them in my sleep, and these must be her clothes too.

I caught myself almost blushing. I must be careful with my emotions, there's no telling what kind of taboo are in place in this world. But really, what a precarious ledge I've been thrown in...

"This is just a bit of warning, but don't even think of joining the Legion. I might not trust the Temple as a whole, but I'm still duty-bound to cut you down on the spot."

"So, where do Paladins fits into all this?"

She unsheathed her rapier, and it glowed in magical light. "You're a Wraith, so you must be able to see it, right?"

"The sword glows with magic—wait, so normal people can't see it?"

"Not in ambient quantities, no. Only concentrated magic like slashes made with this sword would glow enough for normal people to see. Anyway, don't you think the way magic gathers around this sword reminds you of something?"

It does.

I don't want to admit it.

But I know exactly—

"It gathers magic the same way your body does." There's only one explanation. "It's made with the same material as your body—a Wraith's body, flesh, blood, and bone."

A wave of rage filled my sight with red. Within a single motion I gathered magic in my hand and slammed her neck to the wooden wall, destroying the wall in the process. Perhaps a result of my lack of control, or maybe because of her ability, her neck was barely bruised, the brunt of my magic passed around it almost harmlessly.

"People die in a war. But the Wraiths kept coming. We had no choice—"

"DON'T YOU DARE SPEW SUCH BULLSHIT EXCUSES ON ME!"

"It was a war! A total invasion of our world! If only—"

"We were civilians! Dragged into a war in a world we barely know!"

In a swift motion she twisted my arm behind my back. "All the more reason that your anger was misplaced! Lilith summoned that abomination into this world, Lilith dragged all of you into her vendetta against humanity. Lilith forced all of you Wraith-kind into the front-line knowing full well you will readily kill and be killed in a war you didn't even know why." The Paladin threw me to the hole on the wall, and I stumbled over the remnants.

"None of what you said gave you reason to desecrate their corpses and turn them to the very same weapon of war you claim to be against."

"Perhaps. But do you even consider for a second about our civilians? Those conscripted on a war that suddenly brought on their doorstep, by enemies unknown? Look at your own damned power. How many corpses do you think we could even find and bury in its aftermath?"

Silence.

"I thought so."

---

"Magic wielded by Wraiths could be broadly divided into three categories. Blow, Sharp, and Lens."

And just like nothing happened, the lessons continued. This time outside, on a small yard behind what's obviously a village chief house—the Paladin's house. It might not seems like it from the inside, but from outside it became clear how spacious the house was compared to the villagers' houses.

I stood in a weird posture in front of her, my body still hadn't fully learned how to function without a left arm.

"Blow governs impact and explosion, something you seem to be familiar with. The suicidal plunge that cost you your left arm could've hurt you less if you learned how to project your power—a vital principle behind magic. Advanced form of Blow would allow the Wraith to freely control fire and even remotely control objects." She raised her rapier, pointing its tip towards the sky. A ring of fire appeared encircling it, circulating hot air in controlled manner.

A forced combustion? How does that even work? I mean, fire magic is common in games and all, but even an idiot like me would know the three components of combustion process: heat, fuel, and oxygen. One does not simply create fire out of thin air...

"Sharp governs cuts and thrusts. Separation and division of objects. A dense mass of magic is formed into tight beam, projected to reach the enemy and cleave through their armors and flesh alike. Although, at certain distance these tend to lose coherence and detonate as Blow." The blazing circlet disappeared from her blade, and the familiar glow reformed on its edges.

So it's less a sword and more water-jet cutters...that explains why her slashes exploded.

...and also why my "swords" failed spectacularly.

"What kind of advanced form does it take?"

"I honestly don't know. The Temple record told a story of prophets capable of severing the fundamental thread of Existence, erasing their enemies directly from Records of Fate, but I'm unsure what forms it actually takes."

Separation and division...fission...it couldn't be, right?

"The final and most complex form of magic is Lens. It governs the warping of phenomenon, a rather vague description, but the point is it places a distortion layer over our perception of the World, as if a lens distorting the shape of an image. This is an aspect of magic reserved to those with profound and fundamental understanding of Existence. It is an ability so complicated, so intricate, that even amongst the Prophets only a handful were specialized in Lens." The blade of her rapier disappeared as if a mirage dispelled by desert winds. "The most basic form is an illusion, but this is a pale imitation of what true Lens magic could achieve."

"So, I assume the person who is now your sword specialized in Sharp." I said sarcastically, earning a cold look in her eyes. Any charade of warmth disappeared from her form, leaving harsh edges illuminated only by glows of magic.

"You know, I did owe you my life. That's why I thought to spare you your freedom. That's why I hid you here—the last place the Temple would look for wayward Wraiths, because they knew I would sooner kill them than hand them over to the Temple or the Legion. But if you continue to test my patience..."

The magic surrounding her sword expanded to form a grand sword longer than she is tall, and wider than her face. The mass of magic was so dense it might be as well be solid metal blade, clearly far exceeded the amount of power needed to be visible for even normal people. Magical particles are sucked in at prodigious rate, thinning the environmental density as if a black hole absorbing every last atom in its vicinity.

"Are you going to kill me, and then desecrate my corpse, just like you did with that sword?"

"No. I will annihilate you until not even a trace of your soul remain. I won't let hell or heaven harbors the tiniest figment of your incorrigible consciousness. I swore this on my name, former Paladin of the 67th Holy Knights Order, Austeria Fomalhaut."

...this "bluffing" business is getting south real fast. It's a long shot, but maybe she'll still forgive me if I get to my knees?

As if she heard my pathetic thought, she dissipated her magic, and the thin blade of her rapier re-materialized.

"Whatever. Crushing someone that can't defend herself isn't exactly my hobby. I'll do it after you got your arms back or something."

"Are you sure you're not scared?" Fuck "Wait I meant—" In a fragment of a second, her blade sliced several hairs around my right ear.

"I see, you should just tell me if you're feeling suicidal."

"No, please, I take them back, I'm sorry I shouldn't have provoked you! I regret everything!"

"If an apology could absolve all sins, there won't be a need for purgatory!"

...neither Heaven nor Purgatory exist tho, only Hell. I wish I don't have to go back there so soon...

"Go and repent for your sins in the afterlife!"

"Stop right there." An old man, visibly muscular and wearing simple leather clothes reminiscent of a blacksmith, interjected with a calm yet confident voice. Hanging on his waist were several tools of strange designs, consisted mostly of hollow cylinders I suspected to be finger pieces for his metal gauntlets. On his hand was a, presumably, wooden cane with metallic decoration, shimmering coldly under the sunlight.

"Ah, the Hollowsmith. Right, the appointment was today. I'm sorry for the impolite welcome." The Paladin; Austeria returned her rapier to is sheath. "Shall we talk business, then?"

---

The Paladin saved my life.

When the Temple chased me away for researching Lilith's  original magic, she gave me shelter in this village; a village built by heretics for heretics like me. The only reason the Temple let us be was because she would be far more troublesome if they outright denounced her and let her become full-on enemy to the state, instead of the current ambiguous relationship.

"Forget about her." She wisely advised, as I told her about my research. "Chasing her shadow would only bring you ruin."

This day marked only the second time I saw the depth of darkness her heart harbored towards the name Lilith.

"Stop right there." My ring was the only thing preventing me from breaking into tears from fear, yet the girl whose the Paladin's sword was raised against must be very strong indeed, to not even shaking at the face of death. Her heart would've made for a splendid Relic, while it wouldn't be the strongest, it surely would be an indomitable Relic capable of great deeds.

It would be a shame not to see her standing at the front line, her immovable strength reducing enemies into ashes. Yet I shall listen and obey the Paladin first and foremost: if she wanted the girl to become a sword, then I shall pour every last drop of her blood into a crucible and forge her soul into a blade.

"Ah, the Hollowsmith. Right, the appointment was today. I'm sorry for the impolite welcome." The Paladin sheathed her Relic, much to my confusion. She had her blade pressed against the girl's neck, it is simply illogical for her to not slice through it if only to spite my insolent command. "Shall we talk business, then?"

The girl stared at both of us. The Paladin beckons me to follow her into her house.

It took me several minutes to finally move my own legs.