He watched his wife die for the second time. Holes riddled her body as she lied face-down in a pool of blood. Suran tried desperately to prevent this outcome, but his efforts were in vain; no matter what he did, the result never changed.

The chirping of birds rose him from his slumber. It was just a dream, but it still forced tears to roll down his cheek. Memories of a life he once had flowed through him. A life that vanished, nevermore to return. He was sorely reminded he was now stranded in a world he didn’t want to be in – didn’t deserve to be in. But he was not weeping for the lost of his previous life nor for finding himself in this queer world; he shed tears for not being able to recall the name of his wife.

After a moment, he composed himself under the old tree. Below him the town roused back to life as the clamors of hammers and men filled the area. Before him was a second chance at life he never thought he would have. Trotting down the hill, he aimed to speak to Greyson. He was not going to waste it doing nothing.

Walking through the town, Suran found the East side of the town in good shape. With the knights holding the bridge, bandits never were able to raid this part of town. Following the river, he came across the bridge once more. Or what was left of it. Surveying the damage, nearly the entire bridge had collapsed into the river below. Holes were etched into the ground and surrounding buildings from the ejected debris.

On the other side, Greyson was waving at him. Due to the distance and ambient noise, Suran could not discern what he was shouting, but he was pointing North further down the road. Suran assumed that meant there was a second bridge, so he waved back and continued on his path. On his left where lines of warehouses with docks attached to them and, on the other side, homes and farms cropped up.

Sure enough, there was a smaller bridge further down, obscured by building and trees on either side. Moss grew in between the cracks in the rock, indicating its age. He crossed the small bridge without a problem and followed the road towards the town center.

Greyson stood at the center of the center, giving orders to those around him. Men were bustling about carrying supplies from wooden beams, to nails, to food. The corpses that littered the ground yesterday were being cleaned up, covered in cloth and moved to the side.

“Greyson!” Suran called out, approaching him from behind.

He waved off the two knights to his side before turning to face Suran. Greyson greeted Suran with a warm smile, “Glad to see you, Suran! Doing well?”

“Been better,” Suran replied with a shrug.

“So what brings you here?”

“To talk and see whats going on.”

Greyson’s cheerful expression faded and he scratched the back of his neck. “Welll…” he began with a sigh, “For starters we have to rebuild the town. A third of it was burnt down, another third ransacked, and the final third was, thankfully, untouched. “Not to mention we blew up the bridge.” He continued, looking over at the remains.

“Speaking of the explosion,” mentioning the explosion reminded Suran of the young Harrison who threw the bombs, “How is Harrison doing?”

“It’s a miracle he survived, only losing his left arm. With pride in his eyes, “Sure what he did was stupid, but those bombs did take out the entire enemy force save a few stragglers that fled right after.”

“Good to hear.”

“That it is, but that can’t be the only thing you wanted to talk about, now is it?” Greyson questioned, facing Suran dead on.

“You’re right,” Suran confirmed, “What I want is information.”

“Information?” He cocked an eyebrow. “You aren’t from around here, are you?” Greyson asked with a chuckle.

Suran furrowed his brow and frowned, “Correct. How did you know?”

Greyson stared at Suran intently, “Well, it’s not everyday you see someone with rich, cream brown skin, lush black hair, and commanding, crimson-red eyes–”

“I- I get it,” Suran interrupted, slightly uncomfortable at the explanation. “To start, I want to know where am I.”

“This town right here is Alnwick, two days journey by foot from our great capital, Valcadia. Both of which belong to the Holy Empire of Valeryia, which me and my men serve.”

“And what about the surrounding areas?”

“Where are you from?” Greyson joked, “Currently, Valeryia borders four nations. To the East is the Wood Elf country, Falaron. Going South, through Valcadia, there is a bridge that will take you to the island nation Riythos. And to the West are two countries: The mountainous region of Nosirion, where Dwarves and Dragon folk live and the icy tundra of Novgarad, full of those bastard barbarians.”

Suran paused for a moment, stroking his chin and going over the information in his head. Dwarves? Elves? Dragons? Never in a million years did he ever think such things would be possible anywhere.

“What are your plans?” Greyson interrupted Suran’s thoughts. “Having traveled so far that you don’t even know the basic geography, you must have a reason?”

“…I have a goal, more or less. It’s just difficult to conceptualize.” Suran tried to find the right words to describe what he wanted, but nothing sounded correct in his head so he settled on that.

“Don’t worry about that! Many people are like you where they don’t know what they want, but they will know it when they see it.” Greyson reassured Suran.

“I guess it’s something like that…”

“Then let me give you some advice,” Greyson inched closer to his Suran, putting his hand on his shoulder and staring deeply into his eyes, “You seem skilled so I feel at ease recommending you to visit the adventures guild in Valcadia. Adventuring is a difficult profession, but with the right ability, you can travel the entire world doing any job you want, giving you a better chance at finding what you seek,”

“Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind,” Suran graciously replied.

“And if you ever need anything, don’t hesitate to find and ask me,” Greyson withdrew himself from Suran’s side, “I’d be willing to help you with whatever you need.”

Suran discreetly took a step back, “I will find you if I need you.” He cleared his throat, “In any case, I better get going. He craved something eat, noticing that his stomach was completely empty. Turning around, Suran began to walk away in search of food.

“Oh, I almost forgot to tell you that if you have some time, swing by the Church. Harrison is resting in there and requested to meet you if he could.” Greyson called out.

Without turning around, Suran waved his hand, “Will do.”

He desperately wanted to eat, but had no idea where to find any food. So he decided to simply head to the church for now, and if he discovered anything to eat along the way, he would drop in and grab something. Through deductive reasoning, he determined the church was the large, monolithic, stone building that stood over everything else.

The further he traveled from the town center, the worse the scenery. More burned and ransacked buildings etched the landscape the closer to the church he got. The dilapidated buildings reminded him of the strange red-head he saved yesterday. If he was just a moment late, her home and her life might have also be counted as one of the losses.

Eventually, he stood before a massive, wooden, double-door entrance. The church was untouched in the chaos of yesterday. Using both hands, he pushed open both creaky doors and entered the church. It was dimly lit with beams of light streaking through the various windows. The floor a dark stone, and wooden benches lined a green carpet that ran down the center. On the sides lay men, coughing and moaning with priests in black and green robes tending to them. As Suran walked forward, what caught his attention was a glass mosaic at the back of the church. It was beautifully arranged with every color imaginable. It depicted a green orb enveloped in black aura plummeting through the red morning sky. Compelled to walk forward, he examined the intricate details of the mosaic. The attention to detail was immense with vibrant scenery and diverse people and images scattered throughout the mosaic.

“The Ouroboros of God,” A man with large, circular glasses and a balding head strolled up next to Suran, “The ancient legend that foretells the descent of God’s soul to purge the world and bring it to an end once more.”

Suran continued to gaze at the mosaic, “Are you a priest here?”

“Oh, God no!” The man chuckled, “The name’s Reggie. I work under Captain Greyson as a Cleric.”

Reggie caught Suran’s attention, “You work with Greyson?” He turned to face him, “I’m looking for Harrison. I was told he wanted to speak with me.”

Reggie adjusted the spectacles on his large nose, “I suppose you are Suran then? Right this way.” He flung around and hobbled off and Suran pursued.

In the back of Church in a corner, lied a bandaged up Harrison on a makeshift bed. Almost his entire head was wrapped in white cloth and his left arm was missing from just below the shoulder.

“Its you! Suran!” Harrison struggled to sit himself upright with his bandages. Suran waved at him to stay at ease, so he stopped trying. “I was looking forward to speaking with you! I admired what you did out there yesterday!”

“I didn’t do much,” Suran dismissed the comments. The only thing he did was tell Harrison about his bomb plan, and that plan resulted in him losing an arm.

“Don’t say that!” Harrison squeaked at Suran, “ I heard from some of the villagers that you were going about saving them in the middle of battle!”

“I suppose that is true…”

“Why?”

Suran was thrown off by the question. “What do you mean, why?”

“Well… not many people help others just cause. Even adventures take payment of some sort. So that is why I was curious. Why did you help out?”

Suran pondered for a moment then gave his answer, “I felt it was my duty to help regardless if there was a reward or not.”

“Nothing more?”

“Sorry, there is no other reason.”

“I see… that’s how it is…” Harrison went into deep thought at that moment. “Anyways, that’s all I needed! As thanks, some of the townsmen gathered some items for you to have!”

At the comment, Harrison shuffled in spot and brought out a small sack and tossed it at Suran. Opening open the sack, Suran found 20 silver coins inside.

“They know it isn’t much, but they hope you understand since they have to use all their resources to rebuild.”

“No, it’s more than I could have asked for. If you get the chance, tell them I appreciate the gesture.”

“Will do!” Harrison cheerily replied.

With a nod of his head, Suran took his leave. He exited the church and back into the street. The sun was still high in the sky and his belly still empty. A breeze rolled in, and a peculiar aroma assaulted Suran’s nose. It smelled of oil and fire, but, more importantly, of food. He could not discern what exactly, but he unconsciously followed the pleasant aroma.

He hounded the scent down, his body moving on its own. Following his nose, he accidentally bumped into a wooden door with a bang. He figured he should have paid more attention to where he was going as he nursed his bruised nose. Examining the house, it felt oddly familiar to him. A huge hole was on the left side and there were splotches of blood around.

Without warning, the door swung upon, smashing right into Suran’s forehead and toppling him to the ground. Standing over him was a freckled girl with auburn hair and hands on her hip, grinning like a madman with a raging fire in her emerald-green eyes.