Cheon Donghwan chuckled. "Is it already morning?"
"Cheon Donghwan! Surrender or we'll shoot you dead!" the military general shouted.
Without expression, Cheon Donghwan turned away from the assembled police and soldiers. He calmly strode into the old gray building. Inside, he gathered broken bricks and flammable materials.
The joint force of police and military exchanged confused, mocking glances.
"Is he insane?"
"There's no way he'd just give up his life so easily, even after blowing up the presidential building. It's a trap!" exclaimed the three-star lieutenant.
"Fall back!"
Before they could move, Donghwan snapped his fingers.
Rumble. Rumble.
The ground trembled around them. Chain explosions followed, starting from the building Donghwan occupied, then spreading to surrounding homes. Each blast occurred in a consistent, deliberate pattern.
At least I'm not dying in vain. Twenty of my thirty-five plans are already in motion. Donghwan chuckled, a smile etched on his face in his final moments.
Peaceful. So peaceful. Donghwan's loud laughter echoed, without pain as the flames consumed him. His long hair began to scorch, his red robe turned to ash, and his lower body was reduced to a lump of cooked flesh.
With his last smile, Donghwan snapped his fingers once more.
...
"How about we try making a potion? This kid hasn't woken up in three days! Before it's too late, we might as well steal some ingredients!" The high-pitched voice belonged to a child, perhaps ten or eleven.
"Have you lost your mind? How can we steal anything when we're this hungry? We'll just get caught!" replied another hoarse voice, also a child.
Donghwan slowly opened his eyes, feeling his body so small.
The child in sailor clothes came to consciousness. "Grime! You're awake?"
Grime? So, where am I now?
"Calm down, you must be disoriented…" said the other child, wearing a dark sailor outfit. His jacket had a wide collar with bright trim and buttons down the front. His voice was slightly hoarse.
Is this the 19th century? My observations point that way. But if this is reincarnation, why is it so far back?
Donghwan forced himself up from the dilapidated bed. A pungent stench hit him as he opened the door. "Rotting." Piles of trash towered outside, paper, food scraps, plastic. Clearly this wasn't the Earth he knew; waste management was abysmal.
"From now on, call me Welt Rothes. Just call me Welt." Donghwan's small voice, the same age as theirs, affirmed that this body was still very young.
The two children stared, confused. "Grime, you're not crazy, right?"
"No. If you mind, you can live here. I'll go wander."
They looked at each other, then turned their backs on Donghwan.
The child in white sailor garb said, "If that's what you want, go. I want to see how you survive in the outside world full of 'Evolvers'. You won't stand a chance!"
They laughed at Donghwan. He paid them no mind. These kids didn't even know how to earn money besides stealing.
He stepped out of the ramshackle hut. From the outside, it looked grim—brittle wood, a roof made of stacked old palm fronds. Donghwan knew nothing about this world. As a lower-class place, there likely wasn't anything valuable here.
Evolver? Some kind of magic? Donghwan thought as he walked away from the hut. He saw many heaps of waste before finally exiting, finding trees and green grass spreading out.
He felt his body. A three-piece dark suit, jacket, vest, trousers, fit him well. A stiff-collared white shirt and a long striped tie completed his appearance.
He felt several coins in his pocket. He didn't know this world's currency system. It was likely not the Earth he knew.
Strolling through the forest, Donghwan saw acacia and oak trees. He found a secluded hut in the woods, far from any road. The hut looked ominous as dusk approached. It was probably around six p.m.
He entered without knocking. Darkness enveloped him, only a few cool blue moonbeams pierced through gaps. It took him a few minutes to adjust. Finally, he saw it, a skull sitting on a chair near a desk, as if writing before death claimed it.
Without lighting, Donghwan took several sheets of paper from the desk. He also grabbed books he couldn't read in the dark. With these, he tore some cloth from the hut, turning it into a makeshift bag. He moved the skull onto the grimy mattress. The hut was full of spiders, but he had no choice but to sleep there tonight. He placed the books on the floor and laid down beside them. The mattress was far too filthy.
The next morning, Welt awoke refreshed though hungry. He prepared himself, grabbed his new 'bag', and left the forest. At the river, he dove into the water, catching a few fish. After cleaning them, he gathered wood and stones to build a fire.
Once full, Welt left, carrying the leftover fish wrapped in extra cloth. The fish supply was plentiful. After hours of walking, Welt reached a town buzzing with steam trains, horse carriages, and commotion. He hid the books under his clothes, folding them to keep them inconspicuous.
So it really is the Victorian era. Unexpected.
Welt stepped forward, seeing rows of brick houses exactly like those he'd seen in history books in his previous life. Unbeknownst to him, this was not Earth.
He wandered the town, wondering. He realized he previously lived in a Slum District, populated only by scavengers. Life there was harsh; if they didn't eat trash, they stole.
Now, he was in District Nine Cruches, part of the Eastern Cledestine Kingdom. Strangely, he'd never heard of 'Evolver' or the Eastern Cledestine Kingdom in his history books.
"Two oranges, how much?" Welt asked the fruit vendor.
"Certainly," the seller handed him two oranges. "That'll be 3 brithe."
Welt recalled the child's knowledge: one gold gryn equals twenty silver grior; one grior equals eleven bronze slein; one slein equals twenty copper brithe; and one brithe equals fifty iron pere. So it was quite cheap.
Welt rummaged in his pocket, found one slein, and handed it to the vendor. He received 17 brithe in change. As he ate the oranges, he continued through the city, observing the architecture, adequate for the era. Streets bustled with noise. Vendors shouted their wares, the aroma of freshly baked bread mingled with spices from grocers. Horse carriages rumbled past; the occasional steam whistle punctuated the din.
In the crowd, Welt noticed an ancient plaque on a large building's wall. The inscription was weathered but legible: "Otherworld Explorer Association." The building's door was thick oak with intricate carvings, and above it hung a symbol resembling an old compass, with needles pointing in various directions. No one seemed to notice the plaque, or perhaps they were simply used to it.
Other world? Explorers? This wasn't just a dramatic name. It had to be connected to those Evolvers. Welt's thoughts raced. He needed to gather information, but cautiously. Talking too openly would attract unwanted attention.
He continued on, passing narrow alleys filled with trash, reminding him of the slum district. But here, signs of life remained—laundry hung between tall windows, and occasionally he saw children playing among the debris.
A hoarse voice suddenly interrupted his thoughts. "Young one, are you new here?"
Welt turned. An old man with a long white beard and sharp eyes stared at him from within a cramped, musty bookstore. The man wore thin-framed glasses sliding down his nose. Behind him,helves rose high, filled with aged volumes whose aroma filled the air.
Welt studied the man. His attire was shabby but clean, showing he took care of himself. This was no ordinary bookseller.
"Yes," Welt replied curtly.
The old man nodded, a thin smile forming on his lips. "Explorer's eyes. I can see it. What are you seeking in this town?"
Welt didn't answer immediately. He weighed his words. This man could be a source—or a trap. "Information."
"Information is a rare commodity in Nine Cruches, especially valuable information," the man said, his voice like rasping wood. "What do you want to know?"
"Evolver." Welt said the word softly, watching the man's reaction.
The old man's eyes widened slightly; his smile vanished, replaced by seriousness. "A dangerous word to utter casually on the street. Come in." He nodded toward the store's interior.
Welt hesitated, then stepped inside. The old door creaked softly as it closed behind him. The air, thick with the scent of old books, dust, and a hint of mold, enveloped him. The store was dim, lit only by a few oil lanterns hanging from the ceiling and faint light filtering through dirty windows.
"Sit," the old man said, pointing to a wooden chair in a corner, tucked behind stacks of books. Welt sat, feeling his back ache from the stiff support.
The old man moved to the counter, picked a thick leather-bound book, and placed it before Welt. "My name is Silas. Have you introduced yourself?"
"Welt Rothes," Welt answered.
Silas nodded. "Welt. An interesting name. Now, about these Evolvers…" He opened the book; its pages yellowed and delicate. "They are anomalies, blessings, and curses, individuals who have surpassed ordinary humans through interaction with the World's Essence."
World's Essence? Welt noted a new term.
"This world," Silas continued, touching the ceiling with his gnarled finger, "is not empty. There's an unseen energy, inaccessible to ordinary people. For those with a certain 'gift' or 'affinity', this Essence can be absorbed, cultivated, and manifested in various forms."
"What forms?" Welt asked, his eyes tracing the carvings on the open book's cover.
"Some control fire, some manipulate metal, heal wounds, even foresee the future or past," Silas explained in an even tone, as though he'd explained it thousands of times. "They're divided into various 'Paths' or 'Archetypes', depending on the Essence they absorb and how they channel it."
Silas snapped the book shut with a click. "The government, or more accurately, the Grand Consul of Eastern Cledestine, monitors every registered Evolver. There's hierarchy, rules, and penalties for violations."
Grand Consul of Eastern Cledestine. A hierarchy. Welt began to form a picture. "So they're not free?"
"Freedom is an illusion for those with power. Power attracts attention. Attention attracts control," Silas smiled cynically. "There's an organization regulating them to maintain stability. They're called the Essence Keeper Order."
"And if someone becomes an Evolver unregistered?" Welt asked calmly.
Silas sighed. "Then they're deemed a threat. They will be hunted. No matter how powerful—an individual cannot defy an entire Order." He stared at Welt. "Why do you ask, Welt Rothes? Do you possess such a gift?"
Welt stared back, revealing nothing. "Just curiosity."
Silas nodded as if satisfied. "Alright. Nine Cruches hosts many Evolvers—mostly low and mid-tier. The Essence Keeper Order has its main headquarters in the Sanctum District, in the heart of the city."
"Headquarters?"
"An old cathedral converted into a training and administrative center. They train new Evolvers, conduct research on the Essence, and enforce the law." Silas rose from his chair, grabbed a small bottle of dark liquid from a shelf. "Coffee?"
"Thank you," said Welt.
Silas poured the dark liquid into two worn cups. The aroma of bitter coffee wafted up. "You must be careful, Welt. This world is more complicated than it seems. Every shadow holds secrets; every smile hides an agenda."
Welt sipped. It was bitter, but refreshing. "I'll remember that."
"I think this is enough for your introduction to this world," Silas said, returning to the counter. "Further information comes at a price. Information is valuable."
Welt took a single brithe from his pocket. "Is this enough?"
Silas looked at the coin, then at Welt, and smiled thinly. "For a start. Next time, bring more."
Welt stood. "Thank you, Silas."
"Be careful, Welt Rothes," Silas warned as Welt stepped out. "This world doesn't show mercy to the weak."
Welt returned to the busy streets. The information he'd gained sharpened his view of this new world. There was power, organization, hierarchy. "Evolver" wasn't merely myth—it was integral to the world's structure.
He walked toward the city center, the Sanctum District. He wanted to see the Essence Keeper Order's headquarters. The city was much larger and more organized than he'd imagined. The buildings grew grander, streets cleaner, and people neater as he approached the center.
A grand old Gothic cathedral emerged before him: soaring pillars reaching skyward, stained glass gleaming in the late afternoon sun. This was Silas's location. Above the main gate hung the symbol of the Essence Keeper Order: an eye encircled by chains.
Several tall men in dark uniforms stood guard at the gate. They held metal staffs that looked more than ornamental. Their presence felt different—stronger, sharper. Evolvers. Welt could sense it.
He didn't approach too close. He only observed from afar, absorbing details. This was the power center, a place he needed to understand before making any moves.
Night began to descend on the city. Gas lamps along the streets flickered to life, casting a muted yellow glow. The steam whistle grew more frequent, and the hustle slowly subsided. Welt knew he couldn't wander aimlessly. He needed shelter—and, more importantly, a plan.
He looked around, searching for a place that could offer him protection tonight. A simple inn on a corner caught his eye. The faded sign above the door read: "The Wandering Soul Inn." Dim light from within hinted at life.
Welt stepped inside. The smell of alcohol, tobacco, and cheap food assaulted him immediately. A few hard-faced men sat at wooden tables, drinking and speaking in low voices. They looked like laborers, sailors, or small-time criminals.
A middle-aged woman with tired features but sharp eyes watched him from behind the counter. "Can I help you, lad?"
"A room for one night," Welt replied.
The woman nodded. "Two brithe. No food included."
Welt produced the copper coins. "Here."
She took the coins and dropped them into a wooden drawer. "Room number seven, upstairs."
Welt climbed to the upper floor. The room was small and narrow: a simple wooden bed with a thin mattress, a small table, and a rocking chair. A tiny window looked out onto a dark back alley. The air was stuffy and damp.
He locked the door, then placed his cloth 'bag' on the table. The books he'd taken from the forest hut were inside. It was time to read.
He lit the small lantern in the room. Its yellow light reflected off the book's cover. The title was written in strange characters, but Welt could read it: Throne of Nothing.
Welt's heart quickened slightly. This was the key. The book would give him deeper insight into this world. He opened to the first page and began reading with full concentration. Each word, each sentence, was priceless information that could help him survive and thrive.