1 Lumin
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Year: 2043, Month: October, Day: 8
Material Realm
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⁎⁎⁎
"Wake up, Lumin."
Lumin's sight clears as the train halts, revealing Vienna's beautiful architecture. The atmosphere buzzes with activity. Marking new beginnings.
﹝Vienna, the city of artistic and intellectual legacies.﹞
Golden hour dimly lights the vivid trees, casting enchantment since the awakening of mana, something the world once knew only in myths. Since that mysterious incident in 2000, humans have evolved, and the world has adapted.
"Lumin, let's go."
Helena Blavatsky, Lumin's mother, calls. Her eyes reflecting wisdom, and her voice laced with urgency.
They offboard the train, exiting the no-smoking compartment, and walk down the corridor toward the exit. Lumin's gaze meets faces filled with hope and trepidation. A reminder of why he left.
﹝And I am never returning to that vile place, endless troubles and lack of respect for human dignity, my dignity.﹞
A worker arrives to see their tickets, uniform crisp, eyes sharp. Lumin and his mother comply, albeit with annoyance.
﹝I know, Mother, though this is only a minor delay.﹞
Lumin retrieves his ticket and ID, quickly glancing at the information.
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Name: Lumin Blavatsky
Gender: Male
Date of Birth: 2026-10-09
Eye Color: Brown
Height: 5ft 8in
Hair Color: Dirty Blonde
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﹝Well, this is me.﹞
Showing their tickets and ID, the worker verifies their identities, bids them good day, and Lumin and his mother exit the platform.
﹝Talk about exceptional service, even if it was a disturbance.﹞
As they navigate the terminal, Lumin's eyes are drawn to street performers, overpriced stores, gates leading to distant lands, and people rushing across the halls. He watches a businessman crash into a performer, chaos ensuing.
﹝You have got to be kidding me﹞
As the situation diffuses, Lumin's mother grabs his arm, her grip firm and pulls him along, her eyes fixed on the exit.
"Let's go. Quit standing around and get moving. We don't have all day."
His mother's insistence cuts off Lumin's thoughts.
﹝I would comment on my mother's demeanour though I am more concerned about why my thoughts are cut of-﹞
"Let's go!"
⁎⁎⁎
Exiting the terminal, Lumin and his mother board a city bus bound for their new apartment. The steps creak as they make their way up and feed their fares into the machine.
His mother, ever the navigator, guides him towards the seats close to the doors, and he sits beside her, feeling the warmth of the cushion. She quickly loses herself in her phone, browsing through articles and social media, leaving Lumin to collect his thoughts.
On the city bus bound for their new apartment, Lumin observes the varied passengers, each lost in their world. Conversations about heroes, villains, and the newest sensations in the world of magic blend into the background.
﹝Hero this, villain that, occasional gossip of mana related stirs, and whatnot. Why does it always have to be the same? It's as if the world is stuck in a loop, regurgitating the same tales and ideas.﹞
The words become a blur, and the mundane conversations drone on. Lumin feels a yearning for something more profound. After a few more minutes of listening, he pulls out his noise-cancellation earbuds, seeking refuge in a different world. Blocking out the current noise, he starts to play music from the early 2000s, where, in Lumin's opinion, lyrics had depth, and meaning, and resonated with real struggles.
The music transports him to another time, filling his ears with melody and emotion. Fables begin to form in his mind's eye. Lumin takes the foundation of the song and builds a vivid fable, painting pictures with sound.
He listens to a song about those oppressed based on their beliefs, their convictions, their very essence. Those oppressed resisted, marching louder than a freight train, more powerful than a storm, heavier than a hurricane. The imagery is intense, filled with passion and resilience.
The song, founded on a real event and powerful emotions, speaks to Lumin's soul. He visualizes righteous people, ideas linked, voices harmonizing with one another, standing firm against those oppressing their existence, their resistance symbolizing hope.
Ultimately, their resistance paid off, and they prevailed with their beliefs, their legacy immortalized in song and story.
﹝If only our new world could have such myths, such legends, born from struggle and triumph. This world would have reached unprecedented possibilities. Though I suppose a guy like me can only dream.﹞
Lumin's gaze drifts to the passing scenery, the cityscape merging with his thoughts, as the bus continues its journey. The music plays on, a soundtrack to a world that once was, and a reminder of what might yet be.
After all, the magic of dreams is never entirely out of reach.
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[Arriving at 'Vienna Rennweg']
As the bus begins to slow, a gentle murmur alerts Lumin to his mother's movements. She glances at him, her eyes soft and knowing, and she begins to stand. He follows her lead, standing and steadying himself as the bus comes to a halt.
The doors hiss open, revealing a bustling city scene. Lumin's mother heads towards the exit, and he trails behind her. The air is crisp, carrying with it the subtle fragrance of freshly baked pastries and blooming flowers.
Exiting the bus, they head north. Along the way, Lumin's senses are greeted by lush trees in well tended gardens and elegant hotels inviting tourists. A prominent hospital stands tall among the urban landscape.
﹝Good, in case something happens, I have quick and easy access to medical services. Though I hope I will not have any ties to this place.﹞
The thought comforts him, a quiet assurance in the back of his mind.
After a leisurely walk, Lumin and his mother turn right, venturing down a small street lined with cobblestones.
﹝Our apartment should be close by.﹞
As if to verify his intuition, his mother's voice breaks through his thoughts.
"We are almost there."
Her words ring true. After walking through the nearly deserted street, flanked by charming old buildings, they arrive at their new apartment—a sweet little place tucked away from the bustle.
﹝Not bad﹞
The building's exterior is modest but inviting, hinting at a well maintained interior.
Upon entering, Lumin's mother approaches the receptionist with a determined grace.
"Hey, my name is Helena. I called earlier today and would like to get the keys to our apartment. I would like to unpack as soon as possible."
"Of course, you can have your keys. Let's see here, aha! Helena Blavatsky, I see. All I need you to do is sign a waiver."
"Sure, give me a pen."
"Of course!"
His mother's interaction with the receptionist flows smoothly as Lumin's thoughts wander.
(I wonder what our new 'home' will look like?﹞
The receptionist's cheerful guidance leads them to the elevator, and they ascend to a floor above ground. Stepping out, the apartment's layout reveals itself—two bedrooms, a kitchen, a bathroom, a living room, and a dining area.
﹝Minimalistic but effective.﹞
Lumin's room beckons, and he begins unpacking, arranging his belongings: his laptop, books, equipment, clothing, and—
A picture frame. His friends, well at least they used to be. Their smiles were frozen in a moment of time, three of them, two girls and one boy—a snapshot of a bond that seemed unbreakable.
﹝That's what I thought, even if I knew some events would happen. They seem to just play out, and I can only watch.﹞
His mind drifts back, replaying the memory that severed those ties. A dream, so vivid it transcended the boundary between fantasy and reality. He had seen it, a premonition of tragedy, a truck losing control, the terror in their eyes.
Then he felt himself being pulled back, exiting from that dream. As if an entity only permitted him to see what he needed. Nothing more, nothing less.
﹝I remember that night. I remember dreaming. I always seem to grasp the flow of that something wherever I am dreaming.﹞
He remembers how he had tried to warn his friends that day, how time had slowed, and how the dream had played out in agonizing detail—the truck's impact, their pain and suffering, the hospital, and then the blame.
﹝They were too slow.﹞
And then the painful reality. The accident, the blame, the suffering. They had lived, but at what cost?
Their anger had been misdirected at him, and he had lost everything. Their friendship had fractured, trust eroded, and Lumin was left isolated, his dignity trampled upon.
﹝And I will never return to that vile place, endless troubles and lack of respect for my dignity.﹞
The memories sting, but they're overshadowed by the opportunity that lies ahead in Vienna: a fresh start, a new chapter.
Then he went off, and his last thought about that place was:
﹝Damn the Heavens, and of course, that god forsaken place.﹞
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After unpacking, Lumin surveys his new surroundings.
A sleek laptop and an ergonomic mouse sit together on a polished wooden table, reflecting the dim glow of the room. A full wardrobe styled in a rich tone. His bed, adorned with black and white sheets, is topped off with plump white pillows that invite him to rest. A lamp, closer to the window illuminates a nightstand, itself bearing the same rich hue that characterizes the room. Lumin is satisfied with his surroundings.
﹝Everything seems to be in rich tones, perfectly matching my taste.﹞
It was getting dark out, and it had been a long day. The first sighting of Vienna did not disappoint. Lumin has great hopes for what may be to come. However, his hopes seem to translocate as he ponders.
﹝I will have to go to school next week, though thankfully, not yet.﹞
With a sigh, he undresses, leaving on his comfortable sweatpants, and slips under the elegant covers.
﹝These sheets are quite eloquent, they do not irritate the skin. That is a relief.﹞
As the edges of sleep begin to pull him under, a nagging feeling tugs at the back of his mind, hinting at something forgotten.
﹝If I forgot, then it is most likely not important﹞
He decides, allowing the comforting darkness to envelop him.
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[...Augmenting]
[Target "Lumin Blavatsky" Found]
[Paraphrasing Records: In Process]
⋈ Alert, Total Status at 23% ⋈
