Through The Fractured Lens

Lucian

There was nothing. It was still all black, like my eyes were glued shut.

Muffled voices still rang around me, clearly a lot of chatter—however, I still couldn't quite understand what had just happened.

Was this a memory of my birth, maybe? Or… am I reliving my life?

I focused all my strength on attempting to open my eyes. Everything was white, which was obvious I needed to adjust to all the light.

No real emotion pondered over me, as I was just waiting for this to all end.

Must just be a memory replaying in my mind. I was ready for all of it to end, and finally take the endless tumble into oblivion that I had hoped for.

Slowly, the white haze began to take shape. Blurry outlines shaped into figures looming over me. Their faces were unfamiliar—none of this, was familiar.

This couldn't have been a memory. The sensations, everything—was too vivid, too immediate.

What… had happened to me?

It took me a bit to notice, but it seemed like I was being held by someone. I was able to barely look around and get a glimpse of a female—likely my mother, who had given birth to me just now.

But was it my mother? Everything left a sense of dread inside me.

Finally, a muffled voice seemed to speak clearly to me. "Please continue resting Mrs. Walker, I'll check in later. Let me know if anything happens to Lucian."

There was so much to unpack. This had to have been a memory, because I was named Lucian. But also… Walker?

I suppose my last name was Walker. Although, I never knew till now.

Examining the room a bit more, I looked over to see two dudes. One I knew as Mr. Walker, as the doctor greeted on his way out. The other—I had no idea.

"Meet your Uncle," my 'mother' mumbled, clearly tired. 'Uncle Hayes.'

My entire world sunk. This wasn't my uncle. Not only did he not look anything remotely like Orin—the name was also different.

It was true. This wasn't a memory. I was… reborn?

I looked over the room, still taking everything in. However, one corner interested me. It was a dark corner, clouded by shadows—but it gave me an odd sense of déjà vu.

My mother and father pondered over me, clearly in awe. However, I never really paid much attention to them. I was technically their kid, but I still couldn't accept they were my 'new parents.'

***

Time flew by in a blur. I wasn't able to really process the sense of time, or get an understanding of anything. Most things passed by in a blink, while others seemed to stain my memory.

My father seemed like quite the reckless man, but nice at heart.

On the other hand, my mother was careful. Always worried about every little thing, it seems.

This was… definitely different.

One thing I couldn't get used to was my 'Uncle' Hayes. I couldn't call him Uncle—it felt wrong. Although, it also felt wrong to put something like that on him.

No matter, I am still just an infant. I couldn't even speak, so I owed nobody anything.

Despite everything, I was rather grateful for all these people. Seeing such care come out of humans was such a surprise to me. After all, that wasn't really a common thing in my old life, I suppose.

***

After a while of being dragged around, seemingly introduced to new people, it appears we were brought home. Had it been… days? I couldn't tell. Nothing made sense right now.

Everything was still so hard to comprehend. I was able to get a few glimpses of the outside world, but nothing rang a bell.

In truth, everything looked so different. I was far away from any city, of course… but this didn't look like any normal countryside, or anything at all.

My suspicions were correct once we passed by a market stand handing out newspapers.

One of the best sellers stood out, title in bold.

[ ROYAL FAMILY OF ELYNDOR SET TO TRAVEL TO SERATHIS ] 

Both the names of Elyndor and Serathis didn't ring any bells. I was really in an entire different world, it seemed. I wonder just how different it truly was.

However, my father did also take a glance at the newspaper, enough to make conversation with my mother.

I was okay with calling them my mother and father, at least, for now.

"Those damn Serathis scum, tired of them dragging on this useless war." my father spoke.

My mother was quick to reply. "With the recent raids they've been doing, I'm scared they'll reach our village. The warfront is not far off of us."

War. Raids. It seemed like this new world I'd been pulled into was far from peaceful.

As we kept moving, I caught glimpses of the modest village we seemed to live in. Thatched roofs, wooden structures, and the occasional wisp of smoke from a chimney.

After a moment, I noticed a group of what appeared to be soldiers run past us. They wore an emblem with pride, but I couldn't quite make it out. Splotches of dirt and grime riddled their tired bodies as they bolted past us with immense speed.

One of them was equipped with a clean set of gauntlets, something I've only ever read about in fantasy books.

The others both wielded regular swords, it seemed. One of them similar to what I used to carry.

Despite their poor condition, they seemed determined, hopeful. Whatever was happening in this world, it couldn't have been good. I was eager to learn more about the history here.

My fathers grip on me tightened, clearly worried about the stampede of soldiers running through.

However, one thing I noticed that struck a confusing bar of fear inside of me, was another newspaper that spoke about the village. This village was called Millbrook, somehow the same name of the village my foster parents lived—where I had 'lived' for many years.

Everything just wasn't adding up, and this couldn't have been a coincidence, not at all.

***

Days had passed, which days turned into months—which months, turned into years.

My life, at first, seemed like a blur. I was a meager 3 years old, and unlike my last life, time seemed to be moving at a rapid pace.

While I was grateful for the ability to actually crawl, then walk—and eventually be able to mumble something into conversation, I still had no idea what I wanted to do.

This life will be different. I will bring myself to top, and anybody who dares stand in my way will die. I will not let this life be a recreation of my last. I'll make something out of this one.

I won't be thrown to the side any longer.

As I approached my fourth birthday, my understanding of this new world grew, along with my determination to shape my destiny.

The village bustled with tension, whispers of the war floating around in the air.

My parents, while loving, seem constantly on edge, worried. Worried not only for themselves, but for me, more importantly. Which, to me, was a surprise.

There was a lot I had learned about this world, which was quite interesting to say the least.

Four continents exist on this world. Elyndor, Serathis, Vorrakhan, and Grimholt. I seemed to have been born in Elyndor, which capital is Eldoria. Although we are far from it.

Elyndor are Serathis are at war with each other, which seemed to have been a conflict growing for decades. The other two continents seem to push themselves away from us—fighting being a childish way to resolve differences, in which they were right.

Regardless of that, the war is what most intrigued me.

In my past life, I've grown so used to bloodshed that it became apart of my routine. I had killed to survive, taking down whoever tries to exploit those around them.

One thing that took me by interest in this world—is their abilities. In my old life, we didn't have any super cool fantasy elements that all the kids would rave about in their shows and books. However, it was possible to hone your movements and swordsmanship to such a level where you become invisible to the naked eye.

Movements would be near instantaneous, and you could become a killer who would vanish without any trace of ever being there.

However, in this world, it was a bit different. While your movement and other factors played a big part, most things were quite different. Weapons varied, not everybody used the traditional blade.

I've seen spears—gauntlets, staffs, or even just… fists.

Abilities seem to be quite the interest here as well. While my understanding remains trivial, I've learned enough to be confident in the little I do know.

While it is rare, there are people who can manipulate their spirit energy. Some people are born with this gift, while others train for it throughout their entire life—some not even reaching it.

This gift lets you fully utilize and exploit the energy within and around you to your benefit.

However this is used, is up to the user. Each user has their own unique fighting style which they manipulate the energy to follow suit.

Some users could be more defensive, focusing their energy on enhancing their defense, even creating potent shields to reflect incoming strikes—amongst other things.

The most common, of course, was the offensive capability. Energy could be rotated and confined all within one's blade, which created a potent weapon. Enhanced mobility along with sharpness and movement, even allowing it to pierce through other shields. However, in return, this left less energy to use to defend themselves, making them a glass cannon.

What seems to be the most rare, however, is manipulating the spirit energy to alter the five senses of an individual. One person in history, in fact, was able to manipulate and instill fear within their opponents, striking down thousands in their lifetime.

This is the rarest, but also the most powerful manipulation of spirit energy. What seemed to be most evident from my knowledge, was that most of these abilities—sense manipulation included, could all be gained through training.

While birth does play a part in your abilities, some not getting anything at all or even being able to manipulate spirit energy, hard work was a big factor in this.

I had spent many aching years in my past life training for one moment. Every other day I was running from something new. My foster parents, the police, or even myself.

This life, will be different. I will push myself every day, I will be the strongest.

Then… nobody could rival me, or abuse me—ever.

***

My fourth birthday had come and gone, even drawing closer to my fifth. I spent any free time I had rummaging through whatever I could find.

I even managed to snag one of my fathers old swords, using it as a way to train.

Swordsmanship was not a problem for me, as I already had years of experience. However, my body simply could not keep up with my abilities, so it would have to wait for now.

In the mean time, I wanted to learn more about this worlds power system—spirit energy.

While it was clear I hadn't been born with the ability, which most realize usually when their only 2 or 3—however it was more obvious when realizing both my parents couldn't either, I decided to take up some free time to train.

There was no direct training regime for this apparently. However, it seemed adrenaline played a big part in understanding the ability. Simple movements seemed to the best fit for me, considering my age.

Whenever I'd relax, I had always found myself in the dark corners of the house, drooping with shadows. 

My parents seemed to notice this odd behavior, exchanging frequent worried glances when they thought I wasn't looking. Despite that, they mostly seemed to brush it off.

For some reason, I had grown drawn to hide in the shadows. Whether it was my past life thinking or whatever—I felt a presence here, like someone was always watching me, but I was still always drawn to it, no matter what.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon and cast long shadows across our village, I heard raised voices from outside.

My curiosity got the better of me, and I crept over to the window, attempting to get a peek.

A group of soldiers had gathered in the village square, their armors gleaming in the fading light. They didn't look or act like soldiers—volunteers, maybe? Or even drafted? If that was even a thing here.

Their faces were painted with obvious worry, which startled the surrounding village folk without them even having to speak.

My father rushed over and picked me up, in a clear panic. I couldn't understand what was happening.

He rushed me all the way to the door, where my mother was waiting, worried. She was carrying a thin backpack that barely hung over her one of her shoulders.

"What is going on?" I asked, trying to get any sense of the situation.

"Nothing, sweetie. We just have to leave for a bit, take a vacation." My mother replied.

It all made sense now. Back near my birth it was clear the warfront was slowly pushing up to the surrounding villages. However, it appears that it has found its way to us—soldiers were coming, and they more than likely won't treat us with care.

Our own soldiers continued to gather, discussing something important. However, after just a brief moment, they all started rushing out to the eastern village edge.

My parents rushed out the door, going west, the direct opposite way of the battle.

Their fear couldn't be contained, and it painted their faces clear as day. They couldn't fight back—they weren't trained soldiers, they were just doing the best they could to survive.

While my ability in the sword alone could probably fend off a regular soldier or two, I had never seen spirit energy used in person, and that was most likely what the enemy soldiers were gonna be wielding. Even then, the skills I do know seemed to only be useless in this small body of mine.

Despite all this, I was hungry for battle—for blood.

I was driven by revenge and bloodshed in my old life, soon losing sight of anything else. All I cared about was spilling the blood of the ungrateful, Dante and Silas being just two of many victims.

A mischievous smile attempted to cover my face, and it did for a short while.

Afraid that my parents would notice and think I'm crazy, I quickly wiped it off. Despite me not having any real affection towards them, I couldn't live without them. For now, at least.

As we gained distance from the village, explosions began to ring through my ears.

It appears the battle in the village has begun.

Many other villagers we're seen scattered, running away. Some were close enough to us, running in the same direction, while others seemed to have lost their sense of direction entirely, letting panic overtake any rational thinking.

However, my parents seem composed enough to understand where they needed to go.

Our village was far out to the edge of the continent, quite close to Serathis. In truth—there was only the matter of time that decided how long until they reached our village of Millbrook, the name still hard to even think about.

However, in the direction were going, we would reach the capital city, Eldoria. While I doubt we wouldn't at least stop until then—it was more than likely where we were heading.

After all, it was the safest place on the continent. Perfectly centralized and fortified with a naturally protective landscape surrounding it apparently. I was eager to see it in person.

The sound of fighting drifted off into a faint wisp, before everything around us became silent, outside of the footsteps of my parents.

This was going to be a long, but interesting life—I hoped, at least.