What a world this is. Its reality is so barbaric and grueling that it’s hard to imagine the Old World was the same only three hundred years ago. It makes me sick that I have to do something so harrowing. I’m starting to believe gods are real and only exist to play this sick game with me.

  Lawrence stared down at the bandit leader and exhaled slowly, although his breath was shaky as adrenaline began to take hold of him.

  Two bandits cried out and charged at him, one doing a sloppy downward strike with a chipped sword and the other with a small, handheld axe.

  Building up momentum, Lawrence kicked the second one in the knee, knocking him off balance. Shifting his weight quickly, he maneuvered under the first and cut the first bandit’s hand off.

  He screamed as he tried to stop the blood that gushed out in rhythm with his heartbeat, but Lawrence quickly turned and slit the injured bandit’s throat.

  “You bastard!” The other one screamed and charged towards the young man. But he left himself wide open, which allowed Lawrence to stab him in the heart. His body fell limp as it crashed onto the ground.

  The realization had finally set in.

  I killed someone…it’s…this—is too real. This is no dream. But…these guys are about as inexperienced as me. I just need to remember what Bernard taught me.

  The blood of his opponents trickled from his kukri and covered his hands. His vision started to get blurry, but the screams of the remaining bandits brought him back to reality.

  One charged at him with a spear. With such a short blade, it would be difficult to fight him. Lawrence turned, hearing someone whistle loudly as the spearman moved to the side.

  He saw the other bandit with a bow and arrow drawn and quickly fired the arrow. It flew towards him and just barely grazed his cheek, making his heart skip a beat.

  Lawrence dodged out of the trajectory for the next arrow while periodically deflecting the bandit’s spear. It seemed never-ending until he had an idea.

  Moving past the bandit before him, the archer took the bait and fired. Quickly stepping to the side, the arrow hit his ally in the throat, causing him to gargle on his blood. Without wasting another second, Lawrence grabbed the spear and threw it at the archer, impaling him.

  The leader looked in disbelief, trembling as he watched his comrades die before him. “You’re not a normal rich kid…”

  “No, I’m a ghost.” Lawrence retorted, tossing his kukri in the air slightly to hold it reversed with the edge out as he wiped the blood off his cheek, the best he could.

  The final bandit gripped the handle of his sword with both hands, his eyes bobbing back and forth between Lawrence and the bodies.

  “You just got lucky!” He screamed, furiously running and planning to strike Lawrence upwards. His attack was sloppy, allowing the noble boy to deflect it easily.

  The clash of their blades rang loudly, and the momentum of the kukri made it easy to slash the final bandit’s fingers, dropping his sword as he screamed. He fell to his knees in pain, tears welling up in the corner of his eyes as blood gushed out of his severed fingers.

  Lawrence picked up the bandit’s weapon as he continued to grip his hand, groaning loudly. Raising the sword, he swiftly decapitated his wounded opponent. His body collapsed as his head rolled a bit away, followed by a heavy trail of blood.

  I’ve witnessed death before, but nothing like this. It almost makes me want to throw up.

  Lawrence dropped the sword, making a thudding sound against the dirt. Looking back, he saw the blood-stained grass with bodies resting before him. Flashbacks of his mother’s death bled into his vision as it blurred the landscape.

  ~

  He stood before her corpse, covered by a white sheet. A few feet away, their car was on its side. The crash had decimated the front of the vehicle.

  The sirens of both police cars and ambulances drowned out his hearing, and the flashing lights obscured his vision.

  The more he stared at her, the more time seemed to slow until a police officer snapped him back to reality.

  The adrenaline wore off, and the stinging sensation of the cuts all over his body became apparent, as if dozens of ants were crawling under his skin and pinching his flesh.

  “We’re going to take you to the hospital. Come on now.” The officer said as he guided Kaede to the back of the ambulance, where the paramedics were waiting.

  They had to push him since he kept staring aimlessly at his mother. His legs wouldn’t move on their own. Only one thing was running through his mind:

  “I am alone.”

  ~

  “-rence! Lawrence!”

  Lawrence shook his head and returned to reality. James had a worried look on his face as he looked up at the troubled young man, whose hands and shirt were blood-stained.

  “Lawrence, I didn’t know you were capable of this.” He said, a bit concerned and afraid.

  Me either. The continuity in my movements felt too fluid, as if I had always been able to move with such ease. Could it be muscle memory, as seen in Lawrence? I feel as if my training contributed very little…

  A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  He vaguely remembered Lawrence rigorously training his body and practicing the art of the sword between his magic training sessions.

  As time passed, he had more questions without answers. Hopefully, the basement would answer a few of them.

  Before he knew it, his legs gave out, and he fell to his knees. His lower half felt like jelly, and he had great difficulty standing back up.

  “It seems my body is responding negatively to doing such movements it’s unaccustomed to,” Lawrence revealed, chuckling a bit as James tried to help him up.

  Immediately, the fight began to replay in Lawrence’s head as he attempted to analyze his movements. They were a bit sloppy since he’d never been in a fight aside from light Taekwondo sparring in his past life.

  Over the years, he studied various martial arts and incorporated the techniques and principles into one that felt comfortable to him.

  I’ll need to find some free time to work out the kinks here and give it a proper name. But man, did it all go out of the window in the face of death, haha…

  Lawrence examined himself to find several shallow cuts all over his body that he hadn’t noticed before. He sighed, knowing it was unavoidable to soil this perfect dress shirt. At least he had the carriage, so he wouldn’t stick out like a sore thumb when they returned to the city.

  It is best to get what I came here for and leave. I don’t want to fight with anyone else. Finding his strength, Lawrence managed to stand upright with James' help.

  It’s hard to imagine that some people back then had to scrounge for whatever they could find just to eat. Regardless of the reasons for the bandits, I’m sure it still applies to this world.

  He thanked his driver and gave him a slight smile of gratitude. “James, get the carriage ready. I’ll only be gone for about five minutes.”

  “O-Of course!”

  With zero hesitation, he rushed towards the horses as Lawrence headed up the hill towards the house alone. He never expected to return to Leidhal so quickly, although there was nothing of value left.

  Stepping onto the charred grass, he headed to the other side to see a partially destroyed stone crypt. Getting closer, above the entrance was ‘Jacob Blackwood’ inscribed on the stone.

  Pushing the heavy stone door inward, he entered the dark crypt and walked down the stairs, nearly tripping on the uneven steps due to damage.

  Reaching the bottom, a single stone casket with hundreds of Old Lavonian inscriptions around its base lay in the middle of the cobweb-infested room.

  As he struggled to push the cover to the side, his wounds flared up like millions of razors cutting into his skin due to the adrenaline wearing off.

  Opening it halfway, he stared at the shadowed corpse of the previous Paladin. His suit was worn, with some parts slightly torn but, surprisingly, largely intact.

  For a revered mage, he sure does look like an average rich guy.

  Lawrence carefully searched the half-skeletonized body, wanting to defile the deceased as little as possible, finding the key still hanging around Jacob’s neck.

  He carefully took it and shoved it in his pocket, giving a pained look to the skeleton. “Apologies.”

  The Blackwood descendant did his best to slide the lid back on and quickly exited the crypt, feeling slightly guilty of the grave robbery.

  Taking the key back out, he examined its unique shape under the light emanating from the stairs. It didn’t look normal, almost as if it were an alien artifact, but it gave off the distinct metallic smell that all keys shared. It had irregular grooves at the end and a strange pattern running down its spine.

  James pulled the carriage around, standing by it as Lawrence approached him.

  “Back to the mansion, I’d assume?” He asked, opening the door and holding Lawrence’s jacket out to him.

  “Yes, I need to change out of these,” Lawrence replied gratefully, taking his jacket and heading inside.

  The door closed behind him as he collapsed on the seat, hitting the back of his head on the wall and sighing deeply as the exhaustion set in.

  I can’t believe this was a regular thing back then…

  Large-scale murders were rare in modern First World countries. In less developed ones, it was standard. But doing it himself made Lawrence question his character and eventually, his sanity.

  The carriage began moving as they rode past the bodies, getting a good glimpse of them once more. Flies had already started surrounding them. Lawrence couldn’t help but continue staring at them until they were out of view.

  …

  They returned to the mansion with haste, almost being pulled over by the police on the way, as Lawrence continued to look back on the massacre.

  As he got out, the housekeepers looked on in horror to see him covered in blood. Aria and Corinne walked outside and quickly ran up to him, checking everywhere for any serious injuries, but sighed with relief when there were none.

  “Lawrence, what happened?” Corinne held both of his arms tightly with a frantic look on her face.

  “He—bandits attacked us, and Lawrence killed them!” James blurted out, stepping off the carriage and joining them.

  “Bandits…? Lawrence, you killed them? Impossible…” Corinne was speechless as she looked up at him, who had a persistent blank stare.

  “I'm going to head inside now.” He brushed past her as he felt everyone’s eyes on him, heading towards the mansion.

  “Lawrence…!” Aria called out, but he ignored her. They didn’t attempt to chase after him as he closed the door behind him.

  I can change clothes later. I felt like I would go insane if I didn’t have the answers to the questions that echoed in my mind at any time. As much as I want to live out this new life, I don’t deserve to be here. I need to get home.

  Heading downstairs, the uniquely designed metal door greeted him once again. Taking the key out of his pants pocket, inserted it into the door and turned it. It made a heavy clicking sound as it unlocked. Opening the door as it made a heavy creaking sound, Lawrence observed stacks of dusty books and papers on a large desk. The room resembled a lab and a study. Piles of assorted items and empty pots occupied the right side.

  As he approached the desk, Lawrence saw a perfectly symmetrical metallic box with a unique design carved all around it. Curious, he slowly approached it, reaching out to touch it.

  In addition to its smooth outlines, it had dozens of rough, grooved areas. Lawrence couldn’t tell what metal it was composed of, but it wasn’t something he was familiar with.

  After his hand lightly grazed it, a bright blue light shone from its crevices, bringing it to life.

  The box started to hum softly as more flashes of light encompassed the room. Then it projected what appeared to be Jacob Blackwood in blue before Lawrence.

  At a loss for words, Lawrence fell backwards onto the floor as he watched the box float about a foot off the desk behind the blue projection.

  The heir of the house couldn’t believe what he was seeing, blinking several times to ensure he wasn’t hallucinating.

  “Hello, Lawrence.”