Chapter 19 – Echoes of the Past
The forest finally ended.
Steve didn’t notice it immediately. It happened gradually — the trees thinning out, the greenish-gray light giving way to a softer gold, the air growing less dense.
When they took the final step and fully emerged, it felt like passing through an invisible wall. Full sunlight hit Steve like a physical wave. He stopped, closed his eyes, and felt the warmth on his skin.
“We made it,” Keara said beside him, her voice heavy with relief.
Steve opened his eyes. Ahead, beyond rolling plains, rose the walls of Thornvale. It wasn’t large, but the gray stone walls stood solid — eight meters tall, watchtowers at the corners, banners fluttering with a crest: a golden tree crossed with a sword.
Smoke rose from dozens of chimneys. Distant sounds carried on the air — bells, voices, life.
When they reached the main gate, a guard assessed them carefully.
“Purpose of your visit?”
“Rest and resupply,” Dagon replied. “Maybe work.”
The guard examined their condition. Weapons. Wounds. Days of grime.
“Adventurers?”
“Yes.”
“Where are you coming from?”
“South. The forest.”
The guard paused. Looked again — this time with respect.
“You crossed the Great Forest?”
“We did.”
“Entry granted. The guild is in the central square. Cause trouble and you’ll end up in prison. Understood?”
“Understood.”
As soon as they passed through the gate, Steve felt something change. The HUD flickered:
[SAFE ZONE DETECTED]
[PASSIVE REGENERATION: ACTIVATED]
[CONNECTION: 2% (STABLE)]
They entered the streets. Chaotic but organized. Uneven stone roads. Tightly packed houses. Shops with hanging signs: blacksmith, alchemist, tavern. Merchants shouting. Children running. Guards patrolling.
“Let’s find an inn,” Dagon said. “But first… there’s something we need to do.”
Steve turned to him.
“We need answers. About what’s happening to you. And about that green-eyed entity.”
Dagon led them through side streets toward the outskirts. They stopped in front of a modest house with a small herb garden. Strange symbols were carved into the doorframe.
“Who lives here?” Steve asked.
“Someone who can help.”
Dagon knocked. Minutes later, an elderly woman appeared. White hair braided neatly. Skin lined with age. But her eyes — sharp, the kind that had seen too much.
“Dagon,” she said, her voice rough but steady. “It’s been a long time.”
“Mireth. I need your help.”
She studied the group. Her gaze settled on Steve — and lingered.
“Come in.”
The interior smelled of dried herbs and incense. Shelves packed with books, scrolls, strange objects. A central table held an ancient map.
Mireth didn’t offer tea. She simply stared at Steve intensely.
“So,” she finally said, “you encountered a Nessira.”
It wasn’t a question.
“How do you know?” Steve asked.
“Because only someone touched by one would carry that mark.”
She pointed at his chest. Steve looked down. Nothing visible — yet he felt something burning inside.
“Nessiras…” Mireth continued slowly. “I haven’t heard that word in decades. I thought they had all been exterminated.”
“All of them?”
“Yes. A people who came from far beyond our central continent. No one knows exactly where they originated — only that they arrived millennia ago.”
She pulled out an old book and opened it to an illustration of humanoid figures — similar yet different, glowing eyes, living hair.
“When they arrived, they settled in three specific regions.”
She unfolded the map and pointed to three marked locations:
1. Forest of Velerithon (where they had been)
2. Ruins of Caelith (mountains to the east)
3. Abyss of Mor’Dhul (deep south)
“Why those places?” Keara asked.
“Because Nessiras always preferred areas with few humans or other races. And most importantly… places with high magical instability.”
“Instability?” Steve frowned.
“Yes. Where Ley Lines intersect chaotically, where magic runs wild. Nessiras don’t merely tolerate that — they thrive in it. They value privacy deeply and deliberately choose places where others struggle to survive.”
Jelím leaned forward. “Then why were they hunted?”
“Because they possessed power still unknown even today. Something not even archmages could decipher. That power inspired fear. And what inspires fear is usually destroyed.”
A heavy pause followed.
“Four hundred years ago, five kingdoms united. They organized the Great Purge. They hunted the Nessiras systematically. Brutally. Thoroughly.”
“And it worked?” Dagon asked.
“We believed so. For centuries, there were no sightings. Until you encountered one.”
“We did,” Steve confirmed. “Hair shifting between black and gray. Bright green eyes. And she’s connected to me.”
Mireth nodded. “A Nessira’s touch is not physical. It is existential. They mark you, forming a bond that transcends distance.”
“How do I break it?”
“I don’t know if you can. Nessiras aren’t villains like the legends portray. They’re not monsters. But they are different. They operate on logic that isn’t human. And when they choose someone, there is always a reason.”
“There wasn’t just one,” Steve added. “There was another. No eyes. They called each other sisters.”
Mireth paled. “Two? Together?”
“Yes.”
She walked to the window. “If there were two in that specific location… then they weren’t ordinary Nessiras. Those three regions aren’t merely refuges. They’re sanctuaries. Places where the eldest chose to reside because magical instability protects their privacy.”
She touched the other points on the map. “There could be more in the other sanctuaries. And if they’re moving after centuries… something has changed.”
“What should I do?” Steve asked.
“Survive. Learn. And when she comes, try to understand what she wants before resisting.”
They left in silence.
They reached the inn — “THE RESTING LIONESS.” Dagon negotiated the rooms.
Steve went upstairs. Small. Bed. Table. Window. But clean.
He sat on the bed and checked the HUD:
[CONNECTION: 2%]
[DAYS REMAINING: 173]
He lay down and closed his eyes.
Sleep came quickly — accumulated exhaustion finally claiming its toll.
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And then the vision began.
A white plain.
Endless. Without horizon.
Steve stood alone.
There was no sound. No wind. Only absolute whiteness stretching in every direction.
Then he saw her.
A figure. Far away. Very far.
Her back was turned to him.
Her hair — black and gray intertwined — flowed gently despite the absence of breeze. A white dress contrasted against the void.
The Nessira.
Steve felt his chest tighten. He didn’t know why, but he needed to reach her. Needed to understand.
He started walking.
Then running.
His legs moved, but the distance didn’t shrink. She remained exactly where she was — unmoving, staring ahead.
“Wait!” Steve shouted.
His voice didn’t echo. It was swallowed by the void.
He ran faster. Pushed harder. His heart pounded. His lungs burned.
But the Nessira stayed distant. Always distant.
She didn’t turn. Didn’t move. She simply existed there, observing something Steve couldn’t see.
“Please!” he shouted again. “Tell me what you want!”
Nothing.
Steve stumbled. Fell. His hands touched the white ground — solid, yet textureless.
When he lifted his head…
She was gone.
Steve jolted awake.
Sweating. Gasping. His heart hammering against his ribs.
He scanned the room frantically. Inn. Thornvale. Reality.
He took a deep breath. Once. Twice. Three times.
Then checked the HUD:
[CONNECTION: 3%]
[DAYS REMAINING: 173]
It had been 2% before he slept.
She’s growing inside me. And I can’t stop it.
He stood and went to the window. Opened it.
Cold night air rushed in. Thornvale slept peacefully. A few torches still burned. A patrol of guards passed in the distance.
Everything looked normal.
But Steve knew the truth.
There was no normal.
There was no rest.
Only a countdown.
[SHIFTING PERSPECTIVE]
High above the surface, a massive pavilion floated in the sky.
The structure was magnificent — white marble, golden columns, crimson carpets. Three thrones aligned at the rear.
On the right sat a middle-aged woman with regal posture. Brown hair streaked with gray tied into an elaborate bun. A modest crown. A dark blue gown embroidered with silver threads. The queen.
On the left, a young woman — but unlike any ordinary royal. Platinum-blonde hair cascading to her waist. Bright blue eyes that seemed to contain light itself. Pale, almost translucent skin. Beauty so perfect it felt unnatural. A pristine white dress. The princess — clearly not the biological daughter of the royal couple.
At the center sat the king. Dark hair already graying. A well-kept beard. Serious brown eyes. A more elaborate crown. A presence that commanded respect.
Before the pavilion, literally floating in midair without touching the ground, stood Zenk. He appeared to be in his early twenties. Short blond hair. Intense blue eyes devoid of emotion. His royal cloak fluttered. His hands glowed faintly — active magic keeping the structure suspended. Enigmatic. No one knew where he came from or why he served the crown.
Far below, the surface boiled with movement. Thousands of goblins covered the land like a gray-green sea.
On the pavilion platform, ten people waited. They were not ordinary adventurers.
They were players.
Pulled from other worlds — just like Steve and Kuto.
Each carrying history, trauma, and hope.
Jack — 29, the oldest. An axe on his back, a sword at his waist. Square jaw, scars across his face. A natural leader. Watching the others protectively.
Haru — 17, Assassin class. Short black hair, cold eyes. Calm. Calculating. But something obsessive in his gaze whenever he looked at Kuto. He saw in him the brother he had lost — and refused to accept that loss.
Selina — 20, Mage. Fiery red hair tied aggressively. Intense in everything. Fire in her eyes. Ready to leap.
Romeo — 22, Archer. Messy blond hair. Handsome and aware of it. Visibly trembling but trying to hide it. A flirt when not terrified.
Sonia — 16, Sorceress. Brown hair in braids. An upbeat smile even in the face of danger. Contagious energy that annoyed some but comforted others.
Celia — 28, Healer. Light brown hair in a low ponytail. Too shy to lead, but highly competent when needed. Her hands already glowed faintly, ready to heal.
Gunja — 20, Paladin. Dark skin glistening with sweat. Heavy armor. Shield on his back. Serious but determined expression.
Dimitri — 18, Elementalist. Selina’s younger brother. Same red hair. Playful even in tense moments. Cracking nervous jokes that no one laughed at.
Sensi — 19, Manipulator. Straight black hair to her shoulders. Serene face. Quiet. Observed everything, spoke little. When she smiled, it was genuine — and rare.
And Kuto — already known. Short black hair. Cold eyes. Relaxed yet alert posture. Different from the rest.
Zenk turned toward them.
“You may jump to the surface,” he said calmly. “I will use my magic to ensure a safe landing.”
Jack stepped forward. “Remember the plan. Maintain formation. Protect Celia at the center.”
The king rose and approached the edge.
“May your trial to become Royal Guards begin.”
Jack jumped first without hesitation. Golden light enveloped him, slowing his fall.
Sonia followed, shouting excitedly. Gunja. Sensi silently. Celia, nervous but steady.
Haru paused beside Kuto for a moment.
“Don’t die,” he said simply. “I need… you.”
Kuto didn’t respond. Haru jumped.
Selina prepared to jump when Romeo froze.
“I… I can’t…”
“Oh, screw this.”
She kicked him square in the backside.
Romeo flew screaming into the air. The magic caught him regardless.
Selina jumped laughing. Dimitri followed.
Only Kuto remained.
He opened his HUD:
USER: Kuto Yamakazi
CLASS: Adaptable
LEVEL: 18
HP: 100/100
STAMINA: 300/350
MANA: 400/400
He checked it. Closed it.
Turned.
Looked directly at the princess.
She was watching him — not with ordinary curiosity, but with recognition. As if she saw something in him that others couldn’t.
For a brief second, their gazes met.
No smile.
No gesture.
Only mutual understanding.
Kuto turned back toward the edge.
Damn the day I decided to stick with these people.
But then he thought of the two people who truly mattered.
I’ll stay if this helps me reach my goals.
He took a deep breath.
And jumped.
