Chapter 4 Thaumaturge Escamoteur
Luke floated in the void. No pain, no sound, just the endless nothing. Then a light, a small one like an endless star in an endless night finally appeared, and it grew larger and larger until he realized that it was a screen with text appearing to be projected from an infinite source.
Luke was confused. What was this? He felt a peculiar serenity.
.
Information cascaded down in intricate hieroglyphs, translating itself into words Luke could instantly read.
The information was a brief history of the Cities of Exiles. The lawless lands that were unbound by law and were populated with criminals and exiled people.
These cities that were thirteen in total , were ruled by what were called anarchs, sole individuals whose power trumped all other criminals of the country.
As soon as the general information was dumped into him, the void suddenly disappeared.
And the Luke gasped.
The world had suddenly snapped back into focus. But he was no longer in the military base.
Disoriented, Luke woke up to the sound of shouting outside the window.
His head throbbed and the thin mattress beneath him reeked of sweat and mold, and his hands...his hands weren't his. They were bony, with bruised knuckles and cracked nails.
At this moment foreign memories that weren't his suddenly assailed him, bringing on a strong wave of dizziness that made him clutch the wooden bedframe.
The memories were fragmented with lots of gaps in them, making it impossible for Luke to make sense of them.
He remembered a boy, who always stayed by his side and whom he trusted like a brother.
He remembered a fierce woman in a dark tunnel whom he feared and respected deeply.
And he remembered another scene that seemed to be deeply engraved in his mind.
He recalled a silver-braded man whose face was covered by a silver bone mask, handing him a metal case. He remembered the man saying the word Joker ." And then everything faded.
When his vision steadied, he saw the room clearly for the first time.
It was small, barely larger than a storage closet, with walls darkened by years of smoke. A crooked chair sat in the corner and a chipped metal basin leaned against the wall.
And the window… the window showed a city. Alas a city he never seen before.
Narrow streets twisted between crumbling brick buildings. Laundry flapped from wires overhead.
Luke pulled away from the window, his throat dry.
'Could this be the World of Imagination. It looks different from what I had expected ' silently remarked Luke.
In midst of his thoughts, he remembered the brief information he had learned about this world.
"City of Exiles huh"
He began to take in the sorroundings.
"So what? Is this city a result of my imagination? "
Sadly Luke was alone, so there was no one who could answer him.
At this moment a sudden chill ran down his spine as he heard a voice and as words flared in his mind.
Candidate Luke confirmed.
"Path: Knowledge.
Class assignment: Pending…
Analyzing candidate psyche…
Class assigned: Thaumaturge Escamoteur "
Class grade. : Ordinary
Status: Transmigration.
The words vanished as quickly as they appeared.
Luke sat down on the chair, breathing hard.
One word kept repeating inside his mind.
"Transmigration …" The word slipped out. Although his memories were still a jumbled mess.
At this moment, he caught a reflection of himself on the basin's water, which made him freeze.
The face staring back at him wasn't his. Sunken cheeks. Hollow eyes. Neck length black hair streaked with dirt.
He was in another body.
He had really transmigrated.
Before he could process that, someone banged on the door.
"Oi, Rook!" a hoarse voice barked. "You alive in there, or rotting already?"
Luke stiffened. Rook?
The door creaked open and slim man with messy brown hair stepped in, heavy boots thudding on the floor. He wore a patched leather jacket, and a crooked grin revealed teeth stained with tobacco. A knife handle peeked from his belt.
He looked Luke up and down, then snorted. "Figures. Wouldn't want you dead before repaying what you owe."
Luke blinked. "...Owe?"
The man's grin widened. "Don't play dumb, Rook. You know the debt. You lost what was his, now you pay. That's how it works in this city."
Luke's pulse quickened. He opened his mouth, but no words came.
The man leaned close, his breath foul. "Word of advice. Don't try running. Joker finds everyone. He always does."
He chuckled, slapped Luke on the shoulder hard enough to make him stagger, and left. The door slammed shut.
Luke sank onto the hard small and uncomfortable bed, hands trembling. Debt? Joker? Rook?
He suddenly recalled the scene of the man with bone bone-polished mask handing him the metal case and uttering the name Joker.
As he recalled the scene, Luke instantly gathered his thoughts.
Judging by the nickname, Luke assumed this Joker was a gangster or a criminal, which a large status.
His stomach growled, pulling him back to reality. He spotted a half-stale piece of bread on the chair, wrapped in dirty cloth.
At first he hesitated not sure if his digestive system was even capable of digesting such food. From the moment he was born, he had not so much as once, eaten a bad meal.
The world was just too perfect for that lifestyle. Thus why he was reluctant to eat the piece of bread.
And yet hunger won. He tore into it, chewing slowly, eyes on the window where shadows moved like predators.
If there was one thing Luke was good at, it was adapting. He had enough time to sulk in misery for his unfortunate encounter, but now that he was here in the World of Imagination, he had to pull his socks up in order to survive.
First things first, he tried to confirm a few things. He imagined a warm nice cooked meal to manifest in a plate on the floor.
Sadly it didn't work. He tried imagining other things like weapons, clothes, cell phones , and even something as simple as a mouse. But nothing worked.
'Okay so l can safely conclude that the World of Imagination, has nothing to do with imagination. "
He clicked his tongue remembering all the time he wasted on the drills of making his mind calm. Of course he couldn't completely dismiss the idea, maybe it had something to do with imagination but that required techniques or certain circumstances.
Luke rubbed his temples.
After he confirmed that theory didn't work, Luke moved on to the next concern.
He turned towards the window, taking in the view of the outside city once again.
From this scene he could safely assume that World of Imagination was at least civil, with no instant appearance of nightmares.
At least the biggest challenge he would face in here was poverty and hunger. A foreign worry that Luke had never experienced.
He then turned his thoughts to his current circumstances, which were by all the most pressing.
From what he could tell, he was imprisoned by gang members, and right now they seemed to be waiting for their infamous leader to come and deal with him.
This speculation wasn't unbiased for Luke had gleaned it from his jumbled mess of memories, which had lot of gaps in it.
As soon as he confirmed that, Luke knew he had to escape this place. But how.
At this moment he recalled the advice that Instructor Hale gave them before their transition.
"Remember once you are in the world of Imagination, there are only two things that guarantee your survival.
"The safe possession of your identity card and your class"
As he recalled this , Luke remembered the screen of words that had appeared in his mind, about his status. While he was on that he also checked for his identity card which he found lying on his bed.
After confirming that he still had the card, he then focused his mind on his status panel. And the instinct felt natural to him.
A screen status appeared in his mind instantly.
_CANDIDATE NAME: ROOK
Candidate Status....