Aiden walked through the village, hands in his pockets, keeping his pace casual but purposeful.
For once, no one called for him.No vague goal. No threats. No expectations.
Just silence.
But in that silence, questions stirred.
They always did when things grew too quiet.
What does the mark on my back look like?
Selina had seen it. The medic from when he arrived, too. No one thought twice about it.
Everyone here had one. That much he understood.
Except Aiden couldn't even picture his own.
The idea that something so central to this world, so accepted, so defining, remained unknown to him gnawed at his mind more than it should have.
His steps slowed as he passed the waking village. A few sleepy faces moved about, gathering water or preparing for the day, but they paid him no mind.
He preferred it that way.
Eventually, his search ended near the center. A small bathing house sat quietly in the shade, weathered and unassuming.
Hanging beside it was a cracked mirror.
Perfect.
Aiden glanced around. No one in sight.
He stepped closer, brushing dust from the mirror's surface, then pulled his shirt over his head with a single motion.
Cold air kissed his skin. He ignored it, twisting slightly until he could see his back in the reflection.
There it was.
A small black mark, etched onto the left side of his lower back.
Simple.
A stick, thin and straight, with a serpent coiled tightly around it.
Aiden stared.
Isn't that... a medical symbol?
He blinked slowly as the realization settled in.
So that's why Selina said it was the same type. Medical.
Then... is this mark what granted me regeneration back in the prison?
He thought back to those desperate moments. Wounds closing on their own, his leg generating after being ripped off.
But after he escaped, that ability went dormant.
Why?
Why would it stop? Why grant him that power only to take it away after he was free?
No answers came.
Aiden pulled his shirt down with a frustrated tug.
But as his eyes drifted to his reflection again, something else caught him.
His face.
No. Not his face.
Po's face.
Brown hair, a little unkempt, hanging just past the nape of his neck. Youthful features, too young to pin an exact age.
He knew this face. He had seen it when he met the brothers.
And now, it stared back at him from the mirror. Emotionless, unfamiliar, yet undeniably his.
Aiden felt something cold settle in his chest.
Isn't that something...
If I die again, would I change bodies?
The thought froze him in place.
Would I just discard this one and slip into another? Is that what happens now?
The question felt heavier than it should.
At that point... am I even human anymore?
His hand tightened against the mirror's frame.
He didn't know the answer.
The mirror reflected only confusion and doubt back at him.
Then, without warning, a faint light bloomed across the glass.
Aiden stiffened as the familiar blue glow flickered to life behind him. He didn't need to turn to know what it was.
The window.
"I didn't call you," he muttered, narrowing his eyes.
But the system responded regardless.
[Well, too bad for you.]
The text flashed across the translucent surface with its usual irritating casualness.
Aiden scowled. "What do you want now?"
[Just a heads-up. You've been spotted.]
His blood ran cold.
"Spotted?" he echoed sharply. "By who? What does that mean?"
[I would love to explain, but I can't.]
Aiden's fingers curled into fists. Frustration and dread churned in his stomach.
"Can't? Something stopping you?"
[Spot on!]
Aiden's eyes narrowed even further.
"You're seriously telling me something's limiting you? Aren't you a... god!?"
The word felt heavier as it left his mouth. Even now, part of him resisted saying it aloud.
For a brief moment, the window didn't respond immediately. Then, new text flickered into view, slower this time.
[It's... quite the specific situation.]
Vague. Purposefully vague.
Aiden grit his teeth. "Nice. So you warn me but can't say from what? Do you want me to walk around paranoid all day?"
[Wouldn't be anything new.]
His eye twitched.
"You..." he growled through clenched teeth.
Before he could continue, more words appeared, cutting him off.
[Oh, c'mon. Heads up. I don't think you're in danger, but the ones around you might be.]
Aiden's stomach twisted again.
"What's that supposed to mean?" he asked sharply. "Are we going to get attacked?"
[No.]
"Maybe some details?"
[No.]
Aiden glared at the glowing text, rage simmering just beneath his skin.
"So why bother talking to me then?!"
For several seconds, no reply came.
The screen pulsed faintly, as if hesitating.
Then, finally, a single line appeared.
[Aiden, be cautious.]
And just like that, the window vanished.
The blue glow faded from the mirror's surface, leaving him alone once more with his reflection.
Aiden stood there in stunned silence, his mind racing.
"...What the hell was that even about?" he muttered under his breath.
No answers came.
But the damage was done.
That brief conversation left him rattled, and for the first time since his arrival in the village, the quiet no longer felt peaceful.
It felt like something was watching.
Aiden lingered by the mirror a moment longer, his mind still spiraling from the cryptic warning.
But standing there wouldn't help.
With a frustrated sigh, he turned and left the bathing house behind, slipping his shirt fully back into place as he made his way down the dirt paths of the village.
His steps were heavier now. The peacefulness he'd enjoyed earlier had evaporated, replaced by a tight knot in his chest.
Spotted? Danger for those around me?
What did it even mean?
His mind buzzed with too many questions and too few answers. He needed to make sense of this, or at least, leave a record before the chaos caught up.
By the time he reached the barracks, the village was already fully awake. He paid no attention to the passing rebels or their hushed morning conversations. His focus was elsewhere.
He pushed open the creaky wooden door to the small room he had been assigned.
Good enough.
Aiden sat down heavily at the small desk pushed against the wall. The surface was scratched and stained from years of use, but it held ink and paper. That was all he needed.
He grabbed the quill, dipped it quickly, and began to write.
His handwriting was rough and fast, but legible. He wrote as the thoughts came, letting them spill out onto the paper without overthinking.
There were a few things he needed to keep in mind, things that had been quietly piling up, waiting for him to finally stop and process.
He tapped the end of the quill against the page, thinking.
The mark.The regeneration.The god-thing and its warnings.
But it wasn't just that.
His thoughts drifted, unbidden, to something else that had been gnawing at him since his arrival.
The prison.
He had been in the village for just over a day and a half now. That much was certain. In that time, he'd seen no signs of advanced technology. The people here wore simple clothing. No streetlights, no powered tools, nothing resembling the modern world he vaguely remembered.
The tech level here was low. Rural. Maybe medieval at best.
But then...
Aiden paused, frowning as the memory resurfaced.
The gun.
He remembered the moment clearly. In the prison, one of the brothers had fired at him. The pain. The sharp crack.
A firearm.
But not just any gun. Something about the shape stood out now that he thought about it more clearly.
He stared at the page, tapping the quill again as the word floated at the edge of his thoughts.
Rev... rev...
"Revolver," Aiden muttered aloud.
The moment he said it, the word felt natural. Familiar in a way nothing else here did.
I know that thing. I know what a gun is. I never questioned it until now.
The realization sank in like ice water down his spine.
It's from my world...
But if that was true, why had it shown up here? Why had someone in this strange, low-tech world been carrying a weapon that shouldn't exist here?
He couldn't remember the model, but the shape was clear in his mind.
Revolver. Six chambers. Finger on the trigger.Gun.
Aiden leaned back in his chair, his chest tightening.
"Why was it here?" he muttered quietly, staring at the half-filled page.
His mind raced faster than his hand could write, but he kept scribbling anyway, desperate to keep up.
The prison... too many loose ends.
He scrawled the word hastily across the page.
'Mongold.'
That was its name. Zane had mentioned it in passing.
He had woken up there. Cells, dust, and...
Rats.
Aiden's hand slowed as he drew a crude sketch of the small rodent he'd met.
Mercury.
He hadn't lasted long.
But something tugged at Aiden's memory. Something Ro had said during those chaotic moments.
It was never alive to begin with.
Aiden's pen hovered over the page, his brow furrowed.
"Why?" he whispered, tapping the tip of the quill repeatedly against the paper.
His mind jumped again, unwilling to stay in place.
The Golem. It said something about Sinners.
He jotted that down too, though it felt vague and frustratingly incomplete. The word had been thrown around, but it meant nothing to him yet.
The more he wrote, the more scattered his thoughts became.
So many loose ends.
With a frustrated sigh, Aiden slammed the notebook shut.
He rubbed his face with both hands, trying to calm his racing mind.
But then, a flicker of realization hit him.
Wait... English?
He froze.
His gaze dropped to the closed notebook resting silently in front of him. The words written inside were unmistakably in English, his native language.
But everyone here spoke it too. Perfectly.
Why?
The question hit harder than it should have.
Images flashed unbidden across his mind. Names of places from his old world. Street signs. Books. Conversations from another life.
Everything here felt so natural... but now, it felt wrong.
"What kind of place is this...?" he whispered, gripping his head.
His mind started to overheat. Every new thought spiraling into another, dragging him deeper into confusion and panic.
Damn it...
He clenched his jaw. He couldn't keep doing this.
His thoughts were becoming dangerous.
"I need the Core Memory," he muttered through gritted teeth. "Last time I saw my previous life... I need more."
But he already knew what that meant.
To gain enough coins, to unlock another layer of himself, he had to kill again.
For the next mission...
Aiden's expression darkened.
I hope there's action.
Maybe buying Soul Contractor had been a mistake. He hadn't used it since that last harrowing encounter.
But that could wait.
For now, he had two days until his mission.
Two days to rest.
Two days to wait for Zane to give him the directive.
Once that was done...
Aiden's eyes narrowed, determination hardening his features.
Once that's done, I'm taking a serious look into Soul-related powers. I need to understand this. No more loose ends.
With that final thought anchoring him, Aiden stood from his chair, rolling his shoulders and forcing his mind to settle.
Tomorrow would come soon enough.