Strange Situation (1)

Jasper Rhys wore an expression as blank as a canvas, his mind grappling with the surreal scene unfolding before him.

'Did I transmigrate into some other world?' he wondered.

A gruff voice interrupted his musings. "Boy, it's time to gamble on your luck."

Under the crimson and cobalt hues of dual moons, a middle-aged man with a rough demeanor pinned Jasper against a dilapidated red brick wall. The ground beneath them trembled, with a dark copper-colored steam pipe hissing beneath their feet, leaking its sizzling contents into the air.

Confusion lingered on Jasper's face, reminiscent of the expression he wore during tutoring sessions from the Church order's priest. Quentin, the middle-aged man, sighed in exasperation.

"Boy, let me tell you again, the monster behind has caught up. Now, our only refuge is [The Strange Land], a realm open only to those with potential. You must bet your life on it."

Jasper muttered, "Never mind."

Quentin, frustrated with Jasper's lack of comprehension, stepped back, casting a glance at the approaching dark figure at the alley's end.

"Remember, kid, if you die, the [Church of Shadowed Night and Covert] will compensate your family. If you survive and become my companion, consider yourself fortunate to glimpse the true face of the world. Pray one last time."

Jasper, grappling with the situation, unexpectedly recalled information: "Middle-aged in front of me is a member of the Church of Shadowed Night and Covert, believing in the Righteous God [Mistress of Shadows]?"

The middle-aged man seized Jasper's arm, thrusting him against the wall. In his final moments, Jasper, or so his inherited memories named him, glimpsed a colossal octopus with tentacles attempting to engulf him at the alley's corner.

The colossal octopus, its dirty green suckers devoid of eyes, seemed tainted by the filth of garbage and sewage in the narrow alley. Despite its grotesque appearance, Jasper felt an inexplicable pressure, as if his head were on the verge of exploding.

"What the hell is this? Is this Cthulhu?" Jasper exclaimed, his eyes fixed on the monstrous creature.

As if traversing a watery membrane, an indescribably brilliant white light flashed before Jasper's eyes. Once the luminance subsided, he found himself gasping for breath, kneeling on a dusty marble floor. Beside him, the middle-aged man wore a thankful expression, having guided them through the mysterious passage.

In the fleeting yet seemingly eternal moment within the white light, Jasper grasped the reality of his situation.

Jasper Rhys, a resident of Copper Lane in Montrose Quarter, Lutetia City, was the second son of the Rhys family.

On what started as an ordinary day, Jasper roamed the streets until nightfall. Just as he was preparing to return home and face the inevitable scolding, a monstrous entity emerged from the ground, attacking him. Amid fervent prayers for the blessing of the [Mastermind], he encountered Mr. Quentin while fleeing desperately. Despite Quentin using a "strange beam" to momentarily halt the creature, they found themselves trapped in the confines of a narrow alley.

Embedded within Jasper's acquired memories was the haunting recollection of his demise—the sight of dark eyes concealed amid the monster's tentacles. As he reflected on the scant images etched in his mind, an inexplicable ache gnawed at his soul.

The memory abruptly concluded, drawing Jasper's attention to three light spots and three bubbles that materialized before him.

"Did you see that? Those spots of light," queried the middle-aged man cautiously, to which Jasper nodded.

"That's good. Congratulations, kid. The truth of the world is about to be unveiled to you. Fear not, it's not some dreadful witchcraft; it's a supernatural power recognized by the church. However, you must report it."

With these words, he assisted the still-seated Jasper, revealing they had entered another space after seemingly passing through the wall—a dilapidated and squalid room that seemed to be a restaurant within an ordinary house. Dim candles barely illuminated the surroundings, revealing a door and window sealed with short wooden boards and a broken cupboard with a missing corner.

The room bore the marks of long neglect, dust clouds rising with the slightest movement. Jasper's black cowhide boots and Quentin's leather shoes underwent a rapid transformation in color.

In this confined space, the focal point stood by a round table—a figure draped in a black robe.

"We don't have much time. I'll give you a brief introduction. Don't interrupt," declared the mysterious figure, setting the tone for what lay ahead.

Quentin's gaze nervously fixed on the black-robed figure as he hastily spoke, his words spilling out regardless of whether Jasper could fully grasp them.

"Supernatural powers from the bedtime stories your mother might've told you—they're real in this world. No room for doubt now. Those fortunate enough to awaken can witness the early signs. Behold, the two [gifts of the world], the light spots before you."

'One, two, three... Maybe the number three doesn't exist here, right?' Jasper mused, employing this juvenile distraction to mask his nervousness. However, it wasn't a mere illusion; the black-robed figure by the round table seemed to be fixating on him.

"These two light spots mark the inception of your extraordinary journey. Now, tell me, what colors do you see?"

Three soybean-sized light spots lingered before Jasper—white, green, and purple. Unaware of their significance, he assumed purple held greater value based on general intuition.

"White and green," he declared, meeting Quentin's gaze with honesty. He wasn't fabricating; those were indeed the colors of the "two light spots before his eyes."

"Good," nodded Quentin, glancing back nervously at the motionless figure in the black robe. Speaking even faster, he continued, "Focus on touching those light spots. You'll gain two abilities—one, your soul's deepest characteristics crystallized in the green spot; the other, the world's gift available to all first-time awakeners."

"What do the colors mean?" Jasper inquired hastily.

"Colors signify types—white is foundational, green is life. We'll discuss this later; hurry up."

The atmosphere in the confined space grew uneasy. Despite the black-robed figure's immobility, an imposing pressure weighed on them. With time, the pressure nearly matched the intensity Jasper remembered from the giant octopus monster.

Complying with Quentin's guidance, Jasper furrowed his brow at the light spot, attempting to concentrate. Yet, finding no success, he hesitated briefly before resorting to the limited knowledge of "spiritual suggestion" and "self-hypnosis" from his pre-transmigration days. Touching his temple, he inwardly affirmed, "I am activating my superpower."

[Simple Boxing (White Basics)]

[Small Therapy (Green Life)]

In the dimly lit room, Jasper found himself caught in an exchange of enigmatic phrases, each line resembling an arcane skill rather than the common tongue of the Kingdom. Despite the unfamiliarity, a strange comprehension lingered within him.

Quentin, nervously eyeing the shadowy figure beside the table, dryly remarked, "Healing capabilities are always the scarcest." With a subtle tug, Quentin guided Jasper toward a round table, caution etched on his face. "We'll introduce you here for now. Save discussions for later. But remember, don't casually reveal your abilities to the outside world. It's our most guarded secret."

Jasper, sensing an opportunity, questioned, "Isn't this to gain your trust?"

Internally cursing, he activated his last purple light point: [Mysterious Path Ahead (Purple Fate)]. As they traversed the dusty ground toward the table, a disgraced air enveloped them. However, Jasper observed the black-robed man, untouched by the stirred dust, prompting doubt about his humanity.

The enigmatic figure, seemingly lifeless, remained silent and motionless. A hoarse voice, resembling mechanical synthesis, commanded, "Sit." This voice, though alien, echoed in Aurean, the Kingdom of Aurumia's language, more refined than Quentin and Jasper's Lutetia-accented dialects.

"Do we need to fight?" Quentin's nervous demeanor led him to pull Jasper onto two abrupt wooden posts in front of the table, where he nervously inquired.

"No," echoed the peculiar voice once more.

Relieved, Quentin's appearance brought to Jasper's mind memories of his or this body eldest brother's clandestine dates, mistakenly thinking they were covert. Yet, everyone in the Rhys family was aware of the affair.

Attempting to distract himself, Jasper wondered, "My butt is a little cold. Is there ice under the wooden pile?" The absurd thought served as an unreliable diversion from the overwhelming pressure of facing the black-robed man.

Misinterpreting Jasper's expression as confusion, Quentin explained in a hushed tone, "[The Strange Land] comprises fragmented worlds formed for unknown reasons. We, as extraordinary beings, must regularly cleanse them. Details can wait; know that we're fortunate to encounter a non-combat [Judgment]. I'm not adept at direct confrontation, and you're just a rookie."

Signaling Jasper to remain silent, the middle-aged man cautiously questioned the mysterious figure, "Hello, may I ask what we should do now?"

"Drink," swiftly responded the enigmatic man, with no discernible pause between his words and Quentin's last.

"It's not truly a robot, is it? According to the world, it should be something akin to an alchemy puppet," speculated Jasper, ears tuned to every word.

The black-robed man fell silent. In the ensuing quiet, the turbid air around the round table seemed to warp. Suddenly, ten gleaming golden bowls materialized, encircling perpetually burning candles. The outer surfaces were delicately carved with branch-like patterns that Jasper perceived as oddly bloodthirsty, resembling man-eating vines.

Inside, the golden bowls displayed a smooth surface, containing a clear, transparent liquid that shimmered in the candlelight. Jasper feigned astonishment, secretly lauding his acting skills.

As the black-robed man remained silent, Quentin offered an explanation, "Maybe you want us to drink it?" The nod from the mysterious figure confirmed it.

"In [The Strange Land], it's always like this. Accomplish a goal, escape, and the entrance to the real world collapses. With luck, we might gain some benefits," Quentin elaborated.

Jasper, feigning anxiety and excitement, asked, "What if we fail?"

"Do you think the giant octopus crawled out of the sea?" Without further details, Jasper intuited that failure meant death for both of them, and the creatures in [The Strange Land] would breach into the real world.

In the midst of transmigration uncertainty, Jasper found himself strangely exhilarated, contemplating the blend of steampunk, magic, and the supernatural.

The surge of excitement coursing through Jasper's veins manifested as trembling, though Quentin interpreted it as fear.

"Does that mean we need to drink the liquid in these bowls before we can leave?" Jasper inquired softly, his voice quivering. However, the man in the black robe remained silent.

"Maybe one bowl per person will be enough," Quentin speculated, cautiously observing the enigmatic figure. Still, there was no response.

The narrow room felt stifling, a stark contrast to the end-of-summer atmosphere before entering the strange realm. Jasper, unaware of the body's prior exertion, sensed the sweat drying on his skin upon sitting down, with his underwear uncomfortably adhering to his body.

Inwardly contemplating the wild boy Jasper's aversion to bathing, he mused on whether the two men beside him could discern the scent of his perspiration.

"I'll go first," Quentin declared, a resolute decision evident in his hushed tone as he turned to Jasper.

Grateful for encountering a considerate companion upon his transmigration, Jasper felt fortunate not to be coerced into unwittingly stepping into peril.

"Sir, this is really..."

Regardless of the world, such individuals deserved respect, and Jasper was not one to be ungrateful.

"Don't worry, my luck is not that bad," reassured the middle-aged man, muttering to himself as if summoning courage while adjusting on the wooden stake.

"Sir, please tell me how to use my ability. It's the green one. Perhaps it can be of some help," Jasper offered, recalling the recently acquired knowledge. In his thoughts lingered the question: 'Does the rule "only magic can fight against magic" hold true in this world as well?'