Ragnar's brain overflowed with emotions he has never felt before.
So much has happened in such a brief span of time. He hadn't even adjusted to what happened on the bus, yet alone the morbid sight he witnessed moments ago.
And yet his outward reaction was mild, to say the least.
Now he sat on the cold black floor, his clothes torn, soaked, and streaked with blood. He had stared into the face of death, he saw it slash many, and still, the panic slowly faded.
It was only natural.
It was just another day.
'Wait, what are those thoughts?!' He jolted upright, frantically running his hands over his body, then his throat. 'I was beheaded.' he paused, stuck in a longer think. 'No. I died in a bus crash.'
He has noticed there were some memories coming to him that weren't his.
"Maybe I'm losing memory? No… I'm losing my mind, that's what I'm losing," he said aloud.
"I'm definitely Ragnar Vault Noir, from Earth, born in 2008. But… I'm also Min Min, as named by my parents." He stared blankly at the text on the screen. "My parents…"
Min Min had been born in a small town west of Adelaida, but Ragnar couldn't be certain of that, since the only proof came from what Min Min's parents had told him when he was young.
They had moved to Adelaida more than two decades ago, but their blissful years didn't last.
Twenty-one years back, two martial artists, bearing the crescent dark moon as their emblem, passed through the town—slaughtering them in their wake, along with many other unfortunate victims.
Murder was the least of their crimes. They swept in and out, utterly indifferent to the town's misfortune.
Min Min, hidden in a coffin at his parents' desperate urging, survived.
Adelaida has never been the same since, struggling to recover from the immense losses—not only of lives, but also of spirit and resources—stolen from them, all at the hands of the Two.
Min Min's life soon descended deeper into hell. The Overseer, a kind soul and a great leader whom the people of Adelaida respected and were always ready to follow, was replaced. Another came in, seizing power, and with him the spirit of the town was broken.
Min Min, or by that point nameless as most of the common folk had been stripped of identity, found his purpose was to attend rituals of daily prayer. He was given lodging within the clergy and asked to take part in the ceaseless devotions.
His parents, in gentler times, had taught him the craft of shaping simple tools from metal: chisels for carving, hammers for building, sickles for harvest, nails and hinges for the carpenters.
This skill earned him a place of respect, and he became an apprentice at the town's toolsmithy, his hands shaping what little progress remained in Adelaida.
Yet, despite the honor of his position, Min Min's soul remained uncorrupted. He pitied those less fortunate, the exiled, the so-called impure. Even sinners should get another chance.
Many in Adelaida spat on them, calling them filthy, believing their removal was only natural, lest their "taint" spread.
Min Min thought that even sinners should get another chance but he kept quiet. He had no way to fight the system alone.
The Hunters and guards were a force to be feared, and the new Overseer was like a boulder, immovable, pressing down to keep everything and everyone in check.
To speak against them would have meant exile at best, execution at worst.
So he buried his pity deep within himself, he continued to forge, he hammered iron into tools for the people who scorned the weak, and at the altar, he mouthed prayers to a God who seemed deaf to suffering.
All of a sudden, Ragnar held his head with both hands as a fresh wave of memories surged into him. They clashed, sparking, as if his brain itself wanted to drive them away. He groaned, the pain clawing through him, yet the vision forced its way in.
One day, after saving a few silver coins over long months, Min Min was looking for relief.
He walked into the only tavern in town, a place reserved for traveling merchants and those rare few who could afford such luxury. The air was thick with smoke and the clamor of dice and cups, yet his eyes caught someone who stilled it all.
She was a young woman, seated with grace. Her figure was slender, yet carried a poise like a drawn blade—sharp, disciplined, dangerous if unsheathed. Her midnight blue hair was tied simply, in her gaze burned a steady flame, the kind that belonged not to taverns or merchants but to the open road of a martial wanderer.
Min Min's pure heart jolted. 'What a beauty', he thought
The light in the tavern was dim, oily. Two tables were taken by the town's Hunters in leather armor, drinking and laughting.
A few frivolous women draped at their sides. They were prostitutes, for unknown reason the clergy tolerated them, and yet they deemed others impure.
The young woman sat alone at a side table.
Min Min walked up to the counter. The Hunters shot a look his way, though none truly cared.
"A beer," he said to the barkeep.
The barkeep, a stout man with thinning hair, glanced at him and then slid him a cup of thin brown water, hardly strong enough to be called alcohol.
Min Min took a sip, then subtly nodded toward the woman.
"She come here often?" he asked quietly.
The barkeep's eyes flicked to her, then back to him. "Not one of ours, best keep your distance." he muttered, as he cleaned a tankard.
Min Min nodded, taking another sip of the beer. His gaze drifted back to the woman, unable to look away.
As if sensing his stare, the woman looked up, her eyes meeting his. Min Min felt a jolt run through him at the intensity of her gaze.
"You've got guts, don't you?" The barkeep chuckled.
Min Min slowly put down his mug. He was going to talk to her.
"What's her name?" he asked.
The barkeep shrugged. "Didn't ask."
Min Min pushed away from the bar. He walked across the worn, dirty floor.
He stopped at her table. She looked up as he approached.
"Hello," he said. "I'm Min Min. Mind if I sit down?"
She gave him the slightest of smiles. It wasn't friendly, but it wasn't a warning, either. She gestured to the empty seat across from her. "Go ahead."
Min Min sat down, pulling the rough wooden chair close.
"So," she said, her eyes on his. "Are you trying to flirt with me?"
"No... not necessarily. I was merely curious about you."
She studyed him. His eyes were wide, earnest, and not the sort of calculating look most men wore when attempting to charm her.
She picked up her cup of water flavored with peach leaves, swirled the thin liquid, and took a sip before answering. "Hard not to be curious when you live in a place like this."
"Where are you coming from?" Min Min asked, genuine curiosity in his voice
"The North, from the Southern Spear Duchy" she replied. "I'm heading further south."
It didn't mean much to Min Min. He had never had formal schooling, and the names of distant lands carried little weight.
She noticed his confusion and let out a short, almost imperceptible chuckle, more amused than warm. "You really are clueless," she said. "It's… tolerable."
Min Min didn't know what to think about her reaction. However, what he knew was that he wanted to get to know more about her.
"Could you tell me more? Where are you heading? How is it where you came from?"
There was a simplicity to him, a naive sort of openness that was rare in people these days. She allowed herself another small, subtle smile.
She was quietly glad someone like him had appeared.