United
Arshen—or Luke, whoever he was now—sat silently in front of the bonfire. His long brown coat fluttered slightly in the night breeze. His eyes slowly opened, staring blankly ahead, as if his mind was still trapped between two worlds.
He glanced around, and then his gaze settled on something.
A dagger was embedded in a tree trunk, with a leather bag hanging beside it.
The dagger had a pale white blade, as if made from the bone of some unknown creature. It was about thirty centimeters long, with strange symbols carved along its length.
"That dagger..."
Suddenly, a sharp pain pierced his head.
"Aaarhh...!!"
Arshen groaned, pressing his temples with both hands. The sensation felt like thousands of needles stabbing his brain simultaneously, as if he had been hit by a car and then struck by a wave of electricity without mercy.
"What is this...!? My head...!!"
Memories flashed uncontrollably. Strange faces. Unfamiliar places. Memories that shouldn't belong to him.
He gritted his teeth, enduring the pain that threatened to tear his consciousness apart.
"Who am I...?"
"What's wrong with these memories...? This trauma, and this past..."
"Luke Constantine...? Who is that!?"
"Or... who am I really!?"
Words spilled out uncontrollably, filling the night with desperate cries.
Regression? Reincarnation? Memory fusion? What was happening!?
His breathing quickened. His body trembled slightly.
After a moment, he slowly stood up. His steps were unsteady, but he forced himself to approach the white dagger.
He reached out, pulling it from the tree. As the leather bag fell to the ground, he stared blankly at the blade, then slumped down.
"No..." He holding his head and smiled crookedly, like a madman. "Maybe I've truly become both of them...."
"Hehaha...!!"
His laughter echoed through the trees. It grew louder, wilder.
Then...
Sleb!
The white dagger stabbed into his own thigh.
Fresh blood immediately flowed, soaking his black pants and seeping into the dry ground. Yet, instead of pain, he continued to laugh.
That was what he felt now.
After a while, his laughter subsided. He was panting, and with a rough motion, he pulled the dagger from his leg.
"What has happened...?"
Tears streamed from the corners of his eyes.
Strangely, the wound on his thigh slowly closed, though blood still dripped.
He sat still. Empty. His gaze was hollow, as if despair had swallowed him whole.
Then, he wiped his tears and let out a small chuckle.
Limping, he walked back to the bonfire, leaving a trail of blood on the ground.
Thud...
He sat down again, then extinguished the lantern beside him. Now, only the dim light of the bonfire accompanied his solitude.
Tak...
The sound of crackling embers filled the silence.
Arshen Rosselvelt.
That was the name of this body. And now, he was also Luke Constantine.
"Sigh... I need to focus."
He took a deep breath, then began sorting through the events in his head.
"I am Luke Constantine, a detective. Before this, I heard strange voices that nearly blew my head apart. Then suddenly, I woke up here."
Tak...
The embers crackled again.
He took some mushrooms from the leather bag, roasted them over the bonfire, then pulled out a tattered notebook and placed it on the ground.
"Is this the effect of some supernatural power? Did I offend something... and that creature threw me into this world?"
He sighed, then bandaged his wound with a piece of cloth from the bag.
"If I'm not mistaken, the voice said... 'Archivis'."
What did that mean?
"Besides that, there were other words... 'Arshen'. Does 'Arshen' refer to this body?"
He paused for a moment.
What troubled him even more… the voice also mentioned something about "World."
Too many mysteries for now.
"Alright, think about that later. The main issue now is..."
He fell silent, then smiled crookedly.
"Who am I now?"
"Luke...? Or Arshen?"
Casually, he ate the roasted mushrooms.
"Hmm... It's soft and slightly salty, like mushrooms on Earth."
He chewed slowly, then smiled faintly.
"No matter who we really are. Now we are one."
Mentally, he had become one with Arshen Rosselvelt.
But physically, he was Arshen.
And perhaps… it would be safer to create a new name later.
As he ate, he opened the old notebook from the bag. Its cover was made of goat leather, and some pages were torn or burned.
---
"Arshen Rosselvelt... a magician. His life was hard, his family died in the war, and he took on many jobs to survive."
---
"Hehe..., is this my handwriting?"
Arshen chuckled to himself.
He flipped through the pages, finding entries written in Serapian, the language of the Seraphia Kingdom.
He read one of the entries.
---
-June 12, 1501-
Today I went to Fran to perform magic with my circus companions. This was the beginning of my meeting with Broughstone. He taught me many things about Commoners.
The mystical world... is fascinating."
---
Commoners? What was that?
He kept reading.
---
-June 25, 1501-
I returned to Fran and met Broughstone again. Today, for the first time, I saw magic right before my eyes. It was different from what I imagined, but still amazing.
Broughstone said I could do it too, if I followed a certain Pathway.
But when I asked how, he just fell silent and said:
"The mystical world is cruel, full of strangeness, and madness."
"Never make hasty decisions."
---
Arshen chuckled softly as he read it.
Full of madness and strangeness...? Heh... Sounds familiar.
He flipped the page again, then found something strange.
---
-July 15, 1501-
I didn't meet Broughstone again. But... I met 'him'.
Maybe I'll get it soon.
'He' is watching me....
---
The next page... was damaged.
The ink had faded, the paper was torn, some parts were burned, and all that remained was a blank page.
Arshen closed the notebook and sighed.
Tap...
Suddenly, the sound of footsteps echoed.
Someone was coming.
No—more than one.
Arshen immediately stood up.
From behind the trees, two men, a middle-aged man, and a girl in a black hood approached him.
Who were they...?