Horns

How many times has it been until now? 

This feeling of powerlessness and incomplete knowledge...too many to count. It is nauseating. 

The pain in my back had all but vanished until now, however, a wave of nausea washed over me as I tried to hold it in. The sensation of travelling a thousand miles was fresh in my body, despite physically doing nothing. 

It was dark.

Everything was.

A reflectionless, pitch black darkness surrounded me and my entire being.

It felt like the time when I was inside Alice—well, her womb. However, unlike my very tangible and grounded sense of reality there, unfortunately, it was not the case this time as the postulation of time and space seemed null here.

I was cold, freezingly so. 

The cold was like a raging blizzard, and it felt like my own body was rejecting me. 

Deeming me insignificant. Yet the subtle warmth that seemed like a lighthouse on a stormy night was enough to blow away the awful pain that came from the blatant rejection from my own juvenile body.

It was strange—chaotic yet still, nauseating yet oddly calming. 

My mind felt like it was being pulled in a thousand directions at once, stretched past its breaking point like an overstrained tendon on the verge of snapping. Thoughts weren't forming so much as colliding, shattering, and reforming before I could grasp them.

But my mind wasn't what got the worst of it...whatever it was—it was in my body.

It felt like a hundred thousand needles stabbing into every inch of my flesh, each one digging deep, twisting, embedding itself in places no pain should ever reach. 

Like acupuncture performed by someone with no understanding of the art. 

The sensation was neither uniform nor rhythmic; it came in unpredictable waves, searing in one moment, dull and crushing in the next. 

I tried to dull it out, using the same methods I had learnt in that place, and surprisingly so, I was finally able to do it. For the first time in three years, I was able to suppress the baby impulse. 

My bones ached, not in the way of bruises or fractures, but with something far worse—more like them grinding internally, like tectonic plates realigning beneath my skin. 

My muscles spasmed violently, tightening, twisting, stretching past limits I hadn't even known existed. 

I gasped, but even that felt foreign. My lungs expanded too fast, too deep, pulling in air with an efficiency that left me lightheaded. My heartbeat thundered in my ears, erratic and unfamiliar, as if my own body no longer recognized itself.

I didn't know what was happening. But whatever it was, it wasn't stopping. Not any time soon. 

As if trying to mock my thoughts, everything stopped. For around ten agonizing seconds, nothing happened, and then something punched me in the sternum and colors bled into the dark world around me. Things felt coherent again - shapes, colors, smell, touch, voices. 

There was a distant ringing in my ears, not because of something loud blasting in my ear but...because I was hearing too much. Sound of people talking, laughing, sobbing, panting and moaning, mice running, carts being pushed. 

"Move ya dimwit! Fuck off! Don't stand in the middle of the road!" 

I moved to the side, the sensory overload making my head spin and my stomach upset. The taste of the fruit I was eating was still fresh on the tip of my tongue, although the metallic tang of what I assumed as blood made it hard for me to keep it in my mouth as I spat. 

Focusing on myself, I muffled out the sounds and controlled my senses. I have no idea how, but I could control it. Much more efficiently. It was like all of my motor control from Earth was returned to me and had been multiplied by four. 

I rubbed the bottom of my palms against my eyes. A white static replaced my visions as I took a deep breath and decided to assess my situation. Taking my hands off of my eyes, they were the first thing that came into focus. 

My hands were pale... freakishly so. It was like I had lost all of my life blood. 

This has to do something with...

...wait, who exactly? 

This is strange. I should definitely remember what happened barely an hour ago...

Memory recall—it is a smart way to remember things as you play everything that happened in a day like a movie and catch along. 

However, it's like a damper has been placed on my memories. 

I can remember Alice—my mother, Reynolds—my father, and Arthur—my older brother. I have another sibling on the way, and I am Julian Leywin. 

We were attacked by bandits on the way and while fighting them off, I was hit by a non-mana augmented arrow into my back after which I fell and... yeah, it is a blank after that. Whatever happened, I can either think hard about it, however, if I can't remember it the first time, it is highly likely my memory has been tampered with. 

By whom, I have no idea. 

I mean, I don't even an idea where I am. 

Suddenly, the sound of thunder invaded my ears. 

The alley where I was standing in faded in and out in the dark as lightning struck across the sky, followed by another thundering boom. 

I walked slowly. 

Raising my head up I saw the lightning form a partition in the sky. Like it was splitting it into half. The light of the lightning was the only source of light in the otherwise dark alley in the encroaching evening time. 

I kept walking, my thoughts split between how I arrived here, what happened to me and how to tackle this situation. Although it is bizarre to the highest degree, I cannot let it overwhelm me. 

My feet came to a halt as I walked towards the back of a particular house. 

Multiple boxes were stacked over each other, a foul smell permeating through it. I

 walked closer to the glass of a window. 

It was covered with a curtain from the other side making it easier for me to look at myself. 

My eyes widened for a fraction of an inch as I looked at myself. 

I looked back, trying to confirm that if someone else was standing behind me. But the fact that there was no-one there made it even more dreary.

My looks had changed completely. My hair length was the same but now it was pure white in color. As the rain started to pour, I stared into the lavender eyes that stared back at me, a slit running through the pupil which gave it a feline look. 

I took a step back. 

It was a lot to process. 

A wave of migraine coursed through the back of my head as I clenched it. Words, memories—a lot of things, they coursed through my head too suddenly, too violently. Once again, as if the senses were a tangible extension of my body, I took a hold of them and meshed them until they dulled to a normal extent. 

I let out a small breath of relief. 

Hmm. This is strange. 

********************

Sliding my back against one of the walls I peeked at a particular shop. 

By now I was sure that this place... wasn't Dicathen. 

The way people dressed, the way people talked, the way everyone—without a single exception swore by using the name "Vritra", I was pretty sure that I had ended up in a different continent or maybe in another world altogether.

There was a list of priorities I had to make. 

Since it was raining quite heavily here and the culture is supposed to be quite different, I needed to adapt. 

Rummage some supplies that could help me sustain myself and a roof over my head. However, there was this strange feeling—or the lack thereof, I didn't feel the need to sleep or eat since I came here. 

Once I looked in every direction, I found myself in the situation I had decided already.

I walked, holding my head low. My white hair was quite standoff-ish as despite people having blonde hair here and there, there was no one who had hair or eyes like me which made me stick out like a sore thumb. 

And while it might've been overlooked due to assumptions like me being from a "Highblood" —or so I heard — what makes it troublesome are my clothes. Technically, I look like a bastard son of a high-ranking noble who had cast me away. 

I walked slowly and stood in front one of the shops that sold garments. Luckily, they had some samples hanging outside as well, and due to them being in large number, it was easy to steal one and not be suspected. 

Ruffling my hair and pulling them over to hide my features, I walked slowly. As I passed by the shop's outdoor collection, I quickly grabbed a coat and a big hat and squeezed them into a ball under my arms. Keeping my head low and eyes through the white strands, I took a right and walked right into the alley. 

"Hey!" 

As soon as I heard the shout, I ran. It was obvious, of course. They had felt me stealing. Mana was quite fascinating. Unlike the conventional methods of discerning a person's feelings like body language, facial expressions and change in demeanor, you could just read a person's mana wavelength and tell what they were feeling. 

Perhaps it is due to my sensitivity to mana which persisted even before my awakening, but even now, I could feel this intense burning sensation permeating from the man—no, two of them—perusing me. A person's emotions do not reflect a color in mana, however, if it did, it would've been definitely red, given how strongly it blazed. 

I am sure this small duffle is not even that expensive. Why is he so angry? From the state of the shop, I could tell it was quite well off. It could be a salesman running low on the threshold number of sales; however, it still didn't explain the rapid buildup of mana. 

I came to a sudden halt, and looked back as the man stopped a yard away from me. Bending down, he rested his hands on his knees. "By the Vritra, this girl can run..." He commented, out of breath, his word an incoherent mess. 

Now that I looked closely, it made sense. He was obese. Like American-level obese. His belly looked like the rotting carcass of a pig. Looking back, I saw another man seal off the exit. Unlike the first one, this one looked to be in good shape. However, he seemed to be balding, given how visible his scalp was even from here. 

"Woah..." the balding man suddenly exclaimed, his eyes going full circles as he looked at me with his mouth agape, "...what a beautiful girl." 

Huh...what is with these people calling me a girl? I admit my features have gotten a bit effeminate, but it doesn't look that epicene. 

"What's that, eh Mark? Did you fall in love with a thief?" The pig—that corpulent, red-faced lout—spoke his lips curling in a grin as he gave them a smack and took a step forward. 

"I am 3, just so you know." I spoke up. Of course, I do not expect modern morality to be applicable to this era. 

Although, moral frameworks are contextual—shifting sands dictated by those who wield 'true' control. 

It is, in essence, a system designed for consolidation. If morality were truly universal and unchanging, and inherent to the fabric of existence, then the history surrounding it would not have been so malleable. 

Take the concept of age restrictions, for instance. Those in power decree that below an arbitrary threshold—18 years of age—one is incapable of informed decision-making. 

As if wisdom and autonomy magically manifest the moment the clock strikes midnight on one's eighteenth birthday. Nothing but a fiction made to maintain exclusivity.

Flip the pages of history, and you will find that many of those who impose these restrictions and talk about 'basic human decency' have themselves indulged in the very acts they criminalize. Their own pasts stained with the same transgressions they decried in others. 

It is not morality they uphold, but privilege. 

Moving back to the current moment, I saw the balding man cock his head. "And?" 

Of course. I mean, what better thing than to catch and defile a 3-year-old. I do not have any particular revulsion towards it, although, I would like to not be...

As I was talking, Mark took a step forward as well as he extended his hand. "Come here." 

"No." I replied in a heavier voice as the realization suddenly dawned on him. His features cracked, like I had cheated on him. 

He closed in and I felt his hand coat in mana and travel towards me, orange flames igniting. 

However, it was strange. 

His movements were sluggish. 

What was even off putting was that despite his mana definitely coming from his core, he was not shaping it. Unlike how I visualize a spell by thinking about its formation process, he doesn't look like he was doing it. The flow of mana was weird, and... the motes of red mana were flowing from his sternum to his back. 

Wait...red mana? 

The world was slowly turning achromatic. Different motes started to dance in the air as the entire world fell into slow-motion. 

I don't know what was happening, but my body felt cold, and so did my core. Mana was draining out of the core at a rapid speed, however, there was a strange emotion inside me. It was not my own...it felt foreign. 

A sense of overwhelming superiority. 

Like a thick veil, mana pressed down on them and both of them were crushed down in an instant. The brick ground broke, fragmenting and flying into the air along with the splatters of blood. 

Like an implosion, the monochrome burst into my core and color returned to the world as I lost touch with the motes of mana...red, orange, blue and green. 

"What was that...?" I asked myself, out loud, feeling lightheaded. 

"I wonder that as well." 

A voice spoke from behind. 

Perhaps it was because I was in another body which was literally three years old, but a violent pain exploded through my side. I fell down, clutching my core as the dull chipping of heels against the brick road reached my ears. 

Horns...?