Clarissa barely gripped onto the edge of a floating, speeding train car.
Red blisters and blue frostbite came head to head as she clung for life. Terrible freezing winds shook the woman back and forth.
She aimed her gun to the front, giving her all to just keep her fingers around the hand cannon's grip.
Clarissa grit her teeth. The open zipper of her parka jacket exposed her standard officer t-shirt to winds below freezing temperature.
"FUCK!"
She finally twisted her hand cannon into the train window's lock.
BANG! Clarissa jumped inside the newly opened hatch. She coughed up cold air before she scanned her surroundings.
This train car matched hundreds of others she'd seen before. A thousand dark silhouettes of metal coffins sat organized, above one another like products.
The experimental machine of terror caused an even deeper shudder to leave Clarissa. Freezing temperature never compared to how dangerous the proud faction became.
"This is Clarissa Chaves, I need immediate evac!" She shouted in false hope, desperately gripping her walkie device.
No response came from the faulty device. Whether Sarah could blame the mechanics or corruption from inside, she didn't have much time for anger.
The wide freezer doors opened near the front of the train car. Freezing gasses burst away from the vault seals, leaving behind that man's silhouette.
Clarissa lowered her gun.
There was no use in fighting.
No use in running, not anymore.
"Well, well, a little rat has gotten aboard!"
He stepped forwards, celebrity perfect appearance slowly walking down the metal stairs.
Every step was normal.
Every step shook Clarissa to the core.
Her suspense finally came to a close when the man walked past without another word.
"What do you think we do with little rats, young miss?" The handsome man asked while shrugging.
Clarissa wanted to drop her gun. No, she needed to! If only she could stop shaking!
"Take a guess?" He leaned behind Clarissa's shoulder, warm breath massaging her neck.
"I.. don't know.."
Her gun clattered to the floor, more from exhaustion than decision. Clarissa stared down at her hands, with a crazed smile, trembling.
Death would arrive at any moment. Clarissa knew she'd lost. He caressed her shoulders, grumbling. "A human might use poison to kill a rat, but-"
"AAAGH!!!" Clarissa burst out screaming. Her shoulders, from her neck to her chest, exploded at the clutch of his grip.
Both arms barely dangled by thin threads of muscle tissue.
"WHAT THE FUCK?!!!"
She fell to the ground, screaming and crying from the sheer pain of lost limbs.
"So that's what you stole. Super conscious serum? That's it?" He knew what item Clarissa stole when she was able to remain conscious.
The serum she took years ago. Clarissa leaned back with a triumphant glare.
She didn't need any words for this scum. No one needed to know what they really stole.
At least, not until the artifact awakened.
…..
Percy turned the page with a shaking hand.
The death of characters rarely phased him by now, aside from the few Percy carried personal attachment for.
His old book purchased from a used bookstore downtown, was imbued with magical powers, or something like that.
'Clarissa mentioned an artifact that told the future, and could change the past. Where was that page again…' Percy frowned.
As far as he could remember, Percy had never seen an artifact with such powers described before- Not once in the entire book. Time remained the one permanent feature of the novel.
Characters died, cities burned or bled dry, but time always passed just the same.
The magic book was bound in hard, old cowleather. Its pages leaked a jaundiced yellow, old paper so thin it screamed to break.
Percy wanted to avoid hurting the clearly ancient piece of literature. He at first feared the book belonged to the hands of historians, instead of a reader like himself.
That opinion changed when Percy opened it twice.
The untitled hardcover would change its ink-drawn chapters without warning.
If he spent enough time watching, Percy could watch the letters hop from page to page. Other chapters however, like this recent one, appeared during his sleep.
Typically the change would add new chapters to the end of the novel. The oldest pages of the book were rewritten and replaced with new words.
As strange as his book was, Percy couldn't help but feel attached.
Forget bringing the cursed tome to historians- What kind of reader would give away a hardcover relic, which was updated on a weekly whim?
Unfortunately, the curious benefits that Percy adored came with unexpected side effects.
As the chapters bled into thousands Percy felt his senses grow sharper. The book spoke in more languages than text could ascertain.
Images, feelings, and terror seeped through Clarissa to Percy's body while she pleaded for life. Such vivid emotions kept Percy hooked on reading the sketchy object. He shuddered in the dark.
Clarissa never deserved to die.
Her fiery personality resulted from a rough upbringing. She pushed through Osaka University while enduring the heaviest torment from her peers and family.
Clarissa Chaves ranked four-hundred and fifty in strategy, and near the bottom in combat. Only Percy, the reader, learned about the shattered backstory of his favorite characters.
'Though, what was that artifact she mentioned?'
The young man doubled back in search of the unique chapter. 'Did I see something I wasn't supposed to?' Percy thought warily.
He was painfully aware of the dangers that may come from reading such a strange book.
The hardcover novel made a thumping noise when Percy closed the cover, and set it above his bedside dresser.
"Much too late for concern. By now my fate would be sealed either way. Damn.. good read though." He grumbled.
As strange as it was, Percy couldn't help but feel drawn to the words. He recognized years ago that he'd never been a person for reading.
The slow, methodical nature of turning page after page felt pointless compared to the idea of shaping his own personal goals.
Even still Percy found himself trapped in the book's pull.
The characters weren't perfect. In fact, most designed so realistic and practical that he binged hero movies for relief.
Normal people never had a world to save.
Most people had a profit to survive.
The morbid take on reality terrified Percy more than the feeling of death itself.
Artifacts aside, Percy could recognize the main villain by the man's vague title and description.
He was never given a name or title, to the point where Percy believed he was better described by who he wasn't.
Thousands of nameless experiments ran organized through a nameless man.
"Letters alone cannot define a power beyond our nature." Percy retorted as he recalled Luke Crimson's last words.
Just the act of narrowing down that man's identity cost a ranker his life. He shuddered with both eyes closed.
Percy brushed aside any skepticism he carried about the book's true nature, and turned off the night lamp. Cold darkness swallowed up silhouettes and color alike.
The rhythmic bedtime routine was so common to Percy that he didn't recognize when his mind was overtaken by sleep in the unforgiving dark.
A digital alarm clock eased Percy awake from his deep slumber, with a ringtone noise he had never heard before.
The young man darted upright with a startled expression, sweat leaving every pore on his skin.
"So… I had a dream for the first time ever.. but can't remember the contents? Typical.. What happens now..?"
Percy retorted as he slid off the soft bedsheets of his loft apartment. Somehow for Percy, the wealthy material of his blanket alerted him more than the beautiful penthouse view.
He never slept well for a man without dreams. So badly in fact, that every spare saving Percy could muster fell into a bottomless pit of therapeutic sleep items.
The impoverished trickle of five dollars a month allotted Percy the money to save for a nicer bed, but didn't add up for the price of medication.
Consequently the feeling of exquisite fabric had become all too important for his desperate wishes.
The apartment Percy recognized disappeared. A penthouse with a tall view replaced his dull apartment building, and its width alone spanned farther than his eyes could see.
Percy opened doors into walking closets, into guest bedrooms and more spare rooms that belonged to the same flat.
A private pool, personal gym with martial arts equipment, and bowling alley passed Percy's eye before he stopped exploring.
'Fucking hell man… Let me guess, next week I'm enrolled at Osaka University? Just my damn luck.. FUCK.' Percy candidly cursed inside.
One major fact Percy knew for certain.
Almost no one enrolled at Osaka University was sane, and even less survived to the end.
The few good characters who did act regardless of profit or pleasure found themselves dead very quickly.
From the get-go, noble society invaded the deepest follicles of this world's greatest magic university. Osaka University became a hub for young organized crime and dangerous connections.
So, Percy knew his new background right away, from the massive penthouse he'd been given. The man he replaced would be enrolled just fine.
"Fucking hell. You knew I couldn't drop out, not after I've read far enough..!! Are you having fun up there, writing another chapter about the misfortune of others..?!" Percy shouted and then proceeded to flip off his ceiling.
The smooth white texture remained absolutely spotless. A quick glance around the room revealed traces of hidden cleaning.
Servants treated most conglomerate children, but everyone's family held different preferences for their appearance. Percy sighed.
With no servants in sight, he couldn't figure out what family he'd been molded into...
The entire situation came naturally to Percy.
He always knew this day would come, ever since his unlucky encounter at the used bookstore. Something had claimed his soul in ways he couldn't fathom.
In the same way a puppet moves based on its strings, the shivering hands of fate brushed against Percy's neck.
The strings weaved his mind to read on repeat, night after night. On the bright side, whole chapters that Percy read inside that cursed tome never left his mind.
The only two exceptions to his perfect chapter memory were the title of his book, and the name of that man- both removed from descriptions.
Percy dashed corridor to corridor in search of a standard notebook. His strange ability for memorizing knowledge, he knew he could rely on without a doubt.
Goals, however, passed by the train of thought for Percy like anyone else.
Pencil and paper were the best way Percy knew to store his personal projects. Goals from basic survival to stopping an apocalypse level threat needed tiny bullet points in between.
For now Percy resolved to fix two. Power and identity ran intertwined, so his first goal was to resolve both.
Hidden secrets around the world could be claimed at any time, but the connections he needed required an unhealthy level of commitment to noble society.
Morals would need to be thrown out the window to reach certain long term goals, like the Sword in the Stone.
So before tackling any monumental ideas, Percy jotted down a cryptic message to remind himself to discover his own identity.
Quis es meant who are you in the language of ancient Latin.
As far as Percy understood, Latin never appeared in that special tome. The few times Latin words appeared they belonged to powerful objects or beings.
Only a select elite learned how to read the language people referred to as runic.
Percy moved down one bullet point. His metal pen glistened in the morning sunrise while he inscribed new information.
Quis est ille translates roughly to who is he in both Runic and Latin.
A nasty chill shook Percy's spine like an extended breath. He staggered backwards and collided with an unfamiliar face.
She fell backwards in turn, slamming her skull hard onto a closet door. "Oh-!" Percy nearly apologized.
No matter how wealthy his parents were in this world, most nobles kept tabs on their children's behavior.
Showing kindness or emotion early on risked revealing his identity.
No chapter outlined what happened to commoners who impersonated nobility, a sharp detail Percy felt was missing for a reason.
That chapter would need to remain unwritten for as long as possible.
Instead Percy examined the servant's attire over five deafening seconds. She wore a plain-gray business suit, with black buttons and a white t-shirt.
Her dyed black hair ran smooth, and tied to a bun. Percy shuddered. The woman bled from her nose. She sobbed quietly as Percy stepped back.
Only one noble family matched the description of servants who shed tears over a bruise.
Sure, finding a gray business uniform matched millions of office jobs from Percy's hometown, but in this world only one family encouraged their servants' emotional behavior.
They were the Adolbeit Dukedom- blood related to the royal family, and known for their assassination techniques.
Percy regained his composure and spoke as calmly as possible.
"What is it?" He retorted.
The Adolbeit servants Percy remembered from his novel opened wounds on purpose to create justifications for shady noble deals. Duels could be lost and won at the same time.
Adolbeits loved to use a mix of fake injuries and noble power for excuses.
It's why Percy understood right away- the servant forced a nose bleed on purpose. He snickered internally.
Of all the fake injuries a servant could use, she underestimated him.
Nobody bleeds from their nose when the blow was weaker than a concussion. Especially not an Adolbeit.
"You've grown quite a lot.. young master." The young woman wiped the blood away from her nostril. He glared in reply.
"Enough games. What is it?" Percy repeated his question in hopes to pass whatever whimsical test had flown his way.
"The Lord expects you to attend Osaka University.. I expect you'll follow his suggestion?" Threatened Percy's dangerous killer. He sighed once more as his supposed servant bowed in turn.
"Not like I've got much of a choice.." Remarked Percy who barely contained his inner shock. "Are we leaving right now?"
"You're growing sharper by the day, young master.." Taunted the servant to Percy's dismay. He clicked his tongue at her harsh comment. They were doing what now? Leaving?
"Lead the way.." Percy grumbled in fake absentmindedness. The whole situation called for a sarcastic laugh, but Percy understood just how easily a laugh might end his life.
Still, Adolbeit as a family remained the best possible starting location, as far as Percy felt concerned. Sure, normal emotions caused the family head to prune children like nails, but their social standing remained undisputed.
Even a forgotten bastard child carried diplomatic weight on the level of a small barony. Pursuing small civilian matters would be easy for him now, no matter whose Adolbeit body Percy possessed.
Twenty minutes of nonstop walking led Percy outside. A floating shuttle lay waiting for Percy with its hangar door ajar.
Inside stood two heavy guards, armed with longswords for departure.
Unlike most noble families- the Adolbiets valued efficiency over luxury.
All four seats inside the shuttle were forged using cold metal.
A central hologram projector decorated the streamlined ceiling, left powered off for the next combat briefing.
'How impressive' Percy thought to himself. 'They earned the wealth to compare with royalty, yet spent on weapons entirely.' Percy wished he could click his tongue after taking his seat.
In the first place, Percy's loft reached far beyond convenience. Whimsical paths leading from guest bedrooms to guest bedrooms supported an amalgamation of noble entertainment.
Yet, when brought outside Percy recognized the location as a secure military facility.
The Adolbeit family tested children using nonsensical methods, and although he never read the description of a false-luxury-resort, it certainly matched their portfolio.
He shuddered as the shuttle soared upwards in half a second.
Space travel evolved humanity to be cost-effective in all regards, yet greed infiltrated every orifice of their society.
Nothing compared to seeing it directly.
A volcanic planet's horizon disappeared behind the stars, showing him just how convincing the Adolbeit's illusion magic could be.
The testing ground took place inside a molten planet. Percy glanced to his escort knights.
Adolbeit's knights, despite being rare, were trained in noble honor not for publicity's sake, but for family necessitated cruelty.
They likely paid keen attention to Percy's expression.
So when the sheer lack of G-forces on takeoff still invoked a partially giddy feeling, Percy forced himself to stomp out joy; as their shuttle followed orbit.
Something as small as enjoying humanity's advancement to the stars remained among the easiest details for nitpicking. He composed himself to endure a long flight in silence.
Forty hours passed without food or water.
Percy's consciousness grew scarce the longer the flight dragged on, and he realized that another test had begun.
'What does the youngest do when he comes to age? Passing the luxury resort probably involved recognizing the test, and fleeing the facility as fast as possible.' Wondered Percy in a lost train of thoughts.
Here, Percy's reaction to mistreatment was being examined.
For someone whose food remained uncertain during life, half rotten over his parent's whims and half unaffordable between adult shifts; Percy long since ignored the pang of empty hunger.
He felt confident he passed the exam with flying colors once the shuttle doors opened to a military ceremony.
His lacking nutrition values resembled a pale ghost who managed to crawl from the grave.
Needless to say how Percy lacked knowledge about his outer appearance, four days without food or sunlight destroying his sense of time.
Standing before his path lay blood maroon carpet, leading up a stone staircase, towards a burly armored knight.
He stood two times higher than Percy- generations of genetic sculpting promoting the strongest type of defender.
"Welcome to Earth, young master Percy." Beckoned the middle aged man whose wrists lacked the dexterity to shave his own chin.
He watched Percy's nauseated balance manage its course up the first twenty steps, and grinned ear to ear. "Looking meek, dear Adolbeit!"
"...Where's the canteen?" Percy scoffed as he reached the bulky officer. His question sparked unspoken controversy.
The Adolbeit's family tests concluded the moment Percy's shuttle opened its doors on Earth's steel forged ground.
Luxury was guaranteed to even those who failed spectacularly, so Percy's odd request somewhat mocked the normal soldiers.
What kind of noble got chummy with their subordinates?
The meal inspection mere kitchen chefs would need to undergo, may cause delays for the truly hungry personnel.
He understood this unspoken dissatisfaction and addressed the issue directly.
Unlike the Adolbeits, Percy realized he could hardly treat people like chess pieces.
On that painfully empty flight Percy pondered for strategies again and again.
His notebook, written using pure runic language, helped the combat specialist knights from picking up the details.
Regardless of his body's previous owner and talents, Percy noted sincerity as his greatest strength.
Working beneath the large houses offered survival and slight luxury to the recognized subordinates.
These benefits came at the oath to sacrifice one's own life for their owner.
Other details, like death sentences for bad food, or whimsical noble dissatisfaction created the most volatile work environment since gambling.
The rare cases where sincerity permeated the ranks of noble subordinates? It created opportunity.
Luke Crimson's faction which opposed his tyrannical rule gave Percy a solid example. Not even noble children enjoyed all the benefits from their families.
So despite their "guaranteed" safety, effort needed to be made for long-term survival.
Recruiting subordinates lay among the easiest paths for better safety.
In Percy's case, without personal strength or known reputation, he wagered on sincerity.
Nothing spoke more to soldiers than a high ranking officer who eats the same crap. Forty minutes of doubtful gazes led Percy inside the most crowded stadium he could imagine.
Despite his subordinates' warnings Percy insisted that he needed a quick meal. "No need to worry. The quality doesn't matter in the slightest, but I'm famished.."
Pleaded the young man whose pale expression reflected that desperation.
Needing to walk between the lines of noble drama, his escort soldiers led Percy directly to their canteen.
Working for a noble house brought benefits to strong soldiers like the bulky man in charge, but most grunt units were restricted to a utilitarian, mass produced slop for meals.
Percy remembered the disgusting description loud and clear.
Food for those in fake noble favor ran between generous and efficient. Slop, as soldiers knew food, lacked the material qualities of real cooked meals.
Each slab supplied soldiers with every nutritious calorie they needed- most vitamins generated using mutated alien organisms.
Proteins were grown using meaty species that lacked consciousness, but preferred to grow out like a sponge.
An automated factory shaped the conquered "hive mind" into palatable rectangle slabs.
Slop became the informal term for such meals, because even paupers and commoners ate better.
The only difference soldiers gained was safety.
A diplomatic whim usually helped older veterans move up in social standing, where commoners often saw mass genocides for the exact same whim.
Only the killing side of the weapon changed when soldiers enlisted for his imperial army.
Commoners with relative freedoms tossed away their sanity in exchange for bloodshed.
Percy could hardly fault their behavior, as options for commoners were limited. Criminals caught once became paupers for life- and what counted as crime itself changed day to day.
Paupers were then forced to work on developing future colonies outside the solar system, dangerous conditions killing thousands by the week.
Their metaphorical corpses lay the foundation for worlds such as the Adolbeit testing grounds.
Percy stood in line for a brief moment, until his escort gave the order for him to be allowed to cut.
Exhausted workers and soldiers alike gave Percy Adolbeit uneasy glances while he marched towards the lunch counter. "How may we help you..?" Asked one chef whose arms carried a stone-carved tray of food.
"Just hand me the meal in your hands. I'm famished.." Percy laid out his excuse again.
This time, his escort mustered enough courage to stand up for the worker.
From the escort's perspective Percy was doing his best to start a fight, upset from his experience during the test.
When nobles ran without question, as their personalities remained a mystery even to themselves.
Many illegitimate heirs or children picked on people of slightly lower class, taking advantage of their immunity.
Obviously therapy wasn't an option for nobles who could not accept the slightest critique. Percy shook his head as he listened to the escort knight's defenses.
"My lord.." Interjected the escort whose spoken address of Percy's behavior changed to a formal representation. He continued stating, "This meal does not suit a noble's taste."
"Hmm.." Percy grumbled over deep thoughts. He contemplated the best words, soon relaying,
"We're Adolbeits. The family cares not for luxury, pleasure, or joy. Only efficiency matters to our people- that's the way I've been taught…"
Percy ad-libbed his attempted excuses- sticking close with Adolbeit's core values.
He quickly searched for resolution by adding, ".. What's your name?"
"I-It's General Fosdam, my lord!" Shouted the bulky man whose traumatic training created a deafening response.
Percy grinned in shock, as normal people on Earth should've never reached such genetic supremacy.
It's the main reason noble lineages sought to keep their relations in check. Powerful beings carried powerful blood.
Even so, General Fosdam's loud regards would've been chewed out by any typical noble.
He sensed the same as Percy froze, a false warm smile recognizing his misconduct. The canteen fell silent as Percy pondered his response with a grin.
"General Fosdam.. You're looking out for your subordinates, which I can respect. No need to worry- the disaster you've been envisioning won't be a problem."
Percy said before he dug a fork beneath the rubbery 'meat section' of his standard meal.
Its color ran light pink, and while its texture appeared spongy, its consistency matched that of rubber without saliva.
After four seconds of rough chewing the mixture softened to the consistency of a hotdog.
The visible disgust on Percy's face did little to calm General Fosdam's nerves- but a gluttonous rampage of the food quelled all suspicion at once.
Starving for several days allowed Percy the stomach to swallow every bite- scarfing down the meal of bare minimum like the forbidden apple of knowledge.
Once finished Percy turned to the General whose dumbfounded expression gave him a slight chuckle.
"Ah- My apologies.. Despite my talk about efficiency, I dragged your men here searching for a meal. Could you please continue your planned itinerary?"
Questioned Percy whose hidden meaning was picked up immediately.
The General understood Percy's intentions for eating his first Earthen meal next to soldiers- a rare sincerity tactic used by nobility, but still seen before.
Percy's imitation, however, carried the blunt honesty of a snake.
Even the inexperienced soldiers could see right through his intentions- but his calculating nature allowed them to see it. General Fosdam chuckled nervously.
A very dangerous guest now graced their fortress.
"Of course, my lord." General Fosdam zealously bowed in respect. Percy smiled and stood up from his empty table.
The chef from earlier sprinted forwards- hoping to grab the dishes before anyone protested his canteen quality, but froze when Percy handed his plate instead.
Efficiency: A quality deemed greedy by nature, could be utilized to a different effect.
By avoiding a stressful scene Percy piqued the interest of soldiers who'd never met nobility before.
Even General Fosdam pondered for a moment, unsure about Percy's true intentions.