Sheer Tenacity

"Ugh…" A groan escaped Luke's lips as he slowly opened his groggy eyes.

He looked around the small bedroom in a daze, still in disbelief that he had actually transmigrated into another world.

"Why am I sleeping on the floor?" He slowly sat back up. "No wonder my body aches all over…"

He sat there with a blank look on his face. He then looked toward the window and saw the sunlight seeping in through the gaps of the curtain.

"I must've slept through the whole night again," he muttered under his breath. "But… why am I not on my bed?"

Slowly, he recalled the events of last night - his conversation with Aunt Peggie, his euphoria when he learned that he could walk, and finally the terror when he saw his reflection in the mirror.

His eyes widened yet again when he recalled that scene. He looked around and saw that the hand mirror was lying beside him. He immediately reached out for it and noticed that a crack had appeared on its surface. But that's not what he was worried about.

As he looked at his reflection in the mirror again, he finally breathed a deep sigh of relief.

"I must've been tripping last night, haha!" He nervously laughed.

It was a harrowing experience, to say the least. He figured that he must've gotten so terrified last night that he passed out.

Now, when he looked into the mirror, he saw the reflection of a fair young man with dark blond hair, blue eyes, and a light stubble on his jaw.

There was a cloth bandage tied around his head and a small portion of the bandage was stained with blood. His cheeks were a little sunken, probably because of the lack of a proper diet. But other than that he looked fine and healthy.

Luke reached out for his face, stroking his chin. "I still can't believe all of this is happening," he muttered in disbelief.

His face bloomed into a bright smile as he saw his reflection in the broken mirror.

Abel Bishop, an eighteen-year-old student pursuing a Bachelor of Arts degree at the University of Newport.

Since he aspired to be a journalist, the youth focused his studies on philosophy, history, rhetoric and logic, and finally classical literature.

His late father had been a clergyman at the church, while his mother supervised the Sunday schools organized by the congregation.

Unfortunately, both passed away many years ago due to typhoid fever.

However, the silver lining in their tragedy was that Abel and his brother received death compensation from the Church, allowing them to purchase the terraced house that Luke now found himself in.

Furthermore, both brothers also received scholarships to study at the University of Newport. Abel's brother, however, had already graduated and left for Winchester, the capital of the Albion Empire.

"While I am in my third and final year," Luke muttered under his breath as he slowly got to his feet. He then stretched his arms and legs, feeling quite refreshed.

"Come to think of it, I have my final exam in a couple of days, huh."

As he recalled the life history of the body he now inhabited, he was saddened that his parents had passed away already.

However, the joy of being able to walk trumped everything else—even the mystery behind his death.

He walked to his cupboard, wanting to change into a new set of clothes and go out for a walk. He was quite excited at the prospect of walking outside under the sun.

But as soon as he opened the wooden cupboard, his smile froze.

There was barely anything inside!

He looked through his clothes inside with a dumbfounded expression. "A plain white shirt, a pair of trousers, one waistcoat, one coat, one cravat, a pair of boots, and a flat cap, and a top hat… That's it?"

Luke remained standing before the cupboard for a long time, wondering just how impoverished the previous owner of the body was.

He also wondered what happened to the set of clothes he was wearing on the night of his transmigration.

According to his memories, he didn't have to pay rent because he owned the house, and his college tuition fee was already taken care of thanks to the scholarship from the church.

All he had to spend on was food and clothing. Although he didn't work a part-time job at the moment, his elder brother was kind enough to send him money every month.

So that begged the question—if he wasn't spending the money on himself, where was it all going?

Luke racked his brains and suddenly turned his head, looking in the direction of his bed. He walked toward it and got on his knees. Then, he bent over and removed a small wooden plank from the floor underneath his bed and grabbed a rusty, metal box.

"Abel, oh, Abel!" Luke opened the metal box and found a few banknotes and several gold and silver coins.

"You cheapskate, how dare you live so miserably!" He ruthlessly grabbed all the banknotes from the metal box.

But a moment later, reason took hold of him and he kept the banknotes back inside. Instead, he grabbed a handful of silver coins. "Yeah… let's not be impulsive."

He then placed the metal box bank under the wooden plank and got dressed. Finally, once he was ready, he stepped out of his house for a merry walk with a bright smile on his face.

…

At the same time, in the heart of Newport, two old men sat inside an office, discussing Luke, or rather, Abel.

One of them was none other than the old man who was kind enough to assist Luke two nights ago, Edmund Mercer!

Dressed like the proper gentleman he was, Edmund sat at the broad mahogany table, lighting up the tobacco in his pipe.

As he inhaled the smoke and savored the taste of tobacco, he glanced at the bald man sitting across from him—the one whom this office belonged to.

"Well then, Mr. Kensington, tell me, have you dispatched your men to conduct the necessary inquiries regarding the boy?"

John Kensington, a retired military man, replied while his attention was still on the day's newspaper, The Newport Herald. "What boy?"

Edmund resisted the urge to roll his eyes. As he replied, he cleared the burnt tobacco from his pipe and onto the glass ashtray, "You know who I'm talking about—Abel Bishop."

John was silent for a few moments. He then set aside the newspaper on the table before gazing at Edmund with his piercing blue eyes.

"Why are you so concerned with this boy? Surely, you do not mean to tell me it is merely because he possesses a little more spirit energy than the rest of us."

Edmund's lips curled up into a faint smile. He put in fresh tobacco leaves in his pipe and lit it. Then he replied, "First, the boy's spirit energy is not merely somewhat greater than ours, it is significantly so. Second, that is not the reason I am recommending him for the organization."

"Then why?" John asked with a raised eyebrow.

Edmund leaned in slightly in his chair and answered truthfully, "You see, Mr. Kensington, when I met the boy the night before last, it was not his spirit energy that impressed me, but rather his will to live!"

He paused for a moment before continuing, "Despite suffering such a brutal head injury, he pressed on, one step at a time. The sheer tenacity, the fire in his eyes—it was a sight to behold. Tell me, Mr. Kensington, is that now precisely what an Occultist requires?"

The old man then leaned back in his chair and lightly chuckled, "Besides, I daresay you would rather not want another rogue Occultist to contend with.

"Would it not be wiser to train him and bring him under your wing? Who knows, should he awaken a unique Hallmark, he may yet prove a great asset to your organization."

John slipped into silence. Although he had already decided as to what he should do with the boy, he wanted to hear the reasoning behind why Edmund Mercer, a retired Occultist, would recommend him.

Besides, he needed no reminder of the extreme dangers a normal man faced when entering the first trial without any prior knowledge of the supernatural, let alone a rogue Occultist who was a threat not only to himself but to society as well.

"I have already gathered all the relevant information on the boy—he is clean," John said after a long pause. "I have also sent one of my people to meet him personally. She will glean far more from him once their conversation is finished."

Hearing his words, Edmund chuckled heartily. "It will be nice if the boy and Henry get along well."

He suddenly thought of something and asked, "That reminds me, Mr. Kensington, how do you plan to reveal the existence of the supernatural world to the boy? If he is a rational person, he will dismiss it outright. Yet, that would serve him no good, given that his first trial is only a few days away."

"His is a rare case," John said with a nod. "It is not everyday that one encounters a man who has awakened his pineal gland through a near-death experience and lived to tell of it."

He paused for a moment before adding, "Have your grandson introduce the boy to the occult. He will take it more readily from a peer. Besides, they attend the same university."

"Well, that is quite the surprise," Edmund said, momentarily taken aback. "I did not expect the boy to be a student at the University of Newport!"

John simply hummed in response, not deeming it necessary to divulge the information about Abel receiving a full scholarship from the Church.

"Very well, then, Mr. Kensington." Edmund got up from his seat and offered a slight bow. "I shall take my leave. I will inform Henry of his task at once."

With that, he took up his cane and strode out of the office at once.

After the old man left, John retrieved a cigar from the metal case on his desk and struck a match.

He took a slow and long drag, and muttered while exhaling a plume of smoke, "Abel Bishop… let us see if you prove worthy of the investment."

[Countdown to First Trial of Ascension: 5 days]