Chapter 2

●-----------------------------------------------------●

After a week had passed, Demaris found himself still grappling with a sudden influx of memories flooding his mind. He had come to the realization that he was the reincarnation of Andrew Etherton, a past emperor. Nevertheless, Demaris had experienced a surge of newfound maturity that helped him to adjust to this new reality.

Growing up, Demaris had resided at Mother Theresa's Orphanage in New York City. Left on the doorstep as an infant, the only information provided was a letter that disclosed his name as Demaris Black. Due to the name's medieval feel, it served to make him a target of bullying, fueling his anxiety and depression.

Demaris found himself pondering the identity of his parents, questioning their rationale for bestowing such a peculiar name. He could live with it now, but Demaris prior to the merge was planning to change his name when he was 18.

Demaris grunted and shifted his attention to the kids in the small playground, tucked between the sprawling urban jungle. It was his twelfth birthday, and he wasn't really looking forward to anything. He might get a cake and a pitying look from the matron, but he had gone another year without being adopted. Of the hundred or so kids at the orphanage, he now stood out like a sore thumb. After all, he had the mental faculties of a man nearing his seventies.

The way a human brain operates is based on a series of electrical impulses and chemicals which influence cognitive thought. There is still much to learn about the human brain, but one thing is for sure, Demaris felt off. He felt as though he wasn't quite Andrew and wasn't quite Demaris, was he some new person made from the fusion of the two?

The park Demaris and the other orphans use is a small oasis amongst the concrete jungle, with only a swing set and a rusting jungle gym surrounded by rotting wood chips. The multi-story orphanage itself was also in disrepair, as funds had dried up. The Stark Corporation stopped making donations after the death of Howard Stark. Pleading with the acting head back then, or the current CEO, was fruitless. Tony Stark is extremely arrogant compared to his father.

"Hey doofus," a small gaggle of youths walked up to Demaris from the side entrance of the orphanage, "Are you sulking over here because you're a freak?"

Matthew Torres, the uncrowned king of the orphanage, stood tall and imposing with a malicious glint in his dark eyes. His short, jet-black hair contrasted against his tanned skin, adding an air of menace to his already intimidating appearance. At fifteen years old, he was nearing the age when he and his gang of goons would be kicked out of the orphanage, regardless of whether they had a place to go or not.

Torres's muscular build, a result of countless hours spent honing his physical prowess, set him apart from the other orphans and reinforced his dominant position. His angular jaw and prominent cheekbones further accentuated his unapproachable demeanor. He walked with a swagger that exuded confidence, and his goons followed him like loyal minions, eager to do his bidding.

As Demaris's main tormentor, Matthew Torres reveled in making life miserable for the younger boy. His cruel smile and cold, calculating stare served as a constant reminder of the power he wielded over the other orphans, and few dared to challenge his authority.

Demaris closes his eyes for a moment and sighs. "I see that you still don't know what to fill that empty space between your ears with. It's unlikely you could fit a brain in there."

"What did you say?" Matthew walks briskly over to Demaris, his eyes narrowing, and his brown hair fluttering in the breeze.

"Don't know English all that well either? Sheesh, you have to pay more attention in school." Demaris grins.

It was childish to throw insults at a kid who was much younger, but Demaris couldn't help but feel that it made up for when the original Demaris couldn't stand up for himself.

Demaris was quickly surrounded by four goons and their incompetent leader. It didn't take a genius to know that Demaris was about to get a beating, but today was different. With his new fighting skills, even average martial artists would struggle.

Demaris began to get a severe headache, one that would cause any normal person to pass out.

Matthew and his gang were composed of himself and five others; Samuel, Charles, Nathan, Robert, and William.

Matthew raised his fist and threw it at Demaris. Searing pain assaults Demaris and his vision blurs while the world does its best to spin faster. Matthew's fist connected with Demaris's jaw, sending him to the ground in searing pain.

"Pick him up and hold him," Matthew growled. "This smart mouth needs to learn a lesson."

Robert and William grabbed Demaris by the arms, and his head spun faster from the sudden movement. Matthew's punch to his jaw had left him more disoriented.

A second blow landed in Demaris's gut, making him double over in pain. Matthew sneered, commanding his lackeys to drop him. Demaris gasped for breath, clutching his aching stomach as he watched them saunter away.

Miss Karen Wright, the matron, had emerged onto the playground, and Demaris felt a pang of relief that the beating had been cut short. Demaris lay there, breathing heavily, his mind fixated on his pain. The pain in his jaw and gut throbbed relentlessly, but the pain in his head is far worse..

As the shock of the assault wore off, Demaris's fear and anxiety mounted. He couldn't fathom what was happening. Why was he hurting so much? Is it because of the memories of his past life?

Curious, Demaris walks to the Queens Public Library at Briarwood, determined to learn as much as he can about reincarnation and memory in the human brain.

Reincarnation is a myth in this world, a sort of urban legend or ravings of 'lunatics', widely regarded as impossible. Debates seem to rage about the soul's existence and the afterlife. Given that Demaris has in fact reincarnated, it is conclusive evidence that reincarnation is a function of reality. To what extent it could be prevalent in this world is as yet unknown. Is he alone? Are there others like him?

Having learned much about reincarnation, Demaris turns his attention to the human brain for anatomy and theories on its function. Despite extensive research over the years, the human brain is largely a mystery. One book titled Discovering the Brain, written by Ackerman S. provides some enlightening information.

Demaris sat in the cozy corner of the Queens Public Library at Briarwood. He absorbed the fascinating information contained within. The dim glow of a nearby reading lamp illuminated the pages, casting a warm and inviting light over the rows of books that lined the towering shelves.

He was captivated by a section discussing Eric Kandel's work on the marine snail Aplysia. The research focused on the physical basis of learning and memory, and the Aplysia's "gill withdrawal" reflex served as an excellent model for studying these complex processes.

Demaris read on, learning that the reflex could be modified through sensitization, resulting in an augmented reflex that could be stored in either short-term or long-term memory. These two forms of memory differed in both duration and molecular composition.

His eyes scanned the text, soaking in the details about the reflex involving sensory neurons, motor neurons, and facilitating neurons. The research indicated that when a facilitating neuron was added or the cells were exposed to serotonin, the connection between sensory and motor neurons would strengthen. This enhanced connection could last for days or even weeks and involved genetic transcription.

Demaris noted the key differences between long-term and short-term memory. In long-term memory, potassium channels in the sensory neuron membrane remained closed for a longer time while calcium channels stayed open, making the neuron more excitable and releasing more neurotransmitters. This effect persisted even without cyclic AMP, a second-messenger compound involved in short-term memory.

Demaris was intrigued to learn that the recording of long-term memories required gene expression and synthesis of new proteins in the nerve cells. This process could be disrupted by inhibitors of protein and RNA synthesis.

Demaris leaned back in his chair, contemplating the significance of these findings. The mechanisms behind learning and memory were astounding. He theorized that his mind was in such disarray and pain because of the influx of what is essentially a rapidly forced development of the neural brain tissues to accommodate the memory and experiences of Andrew Etherton.

Decades of stored reflexes, neural connections, and possibly brain chemistry, are causing Demaris to be a literal amalgamation of Demaris and Andrew. Though he had to doubt anything but the brain was being affected since all he had received from Andrew is memories. Memories essentially forcing a metamorphosis of Demaris's brain.

Demaris contemplated his next steps. Magic is the equalizer in a battle. Right now, Demaris might be able to take on at best older teenagers. In terms of strength Demaris will lose. His skills however, were more than likely invincible in this world. Therefore to make up for strength Demaris needs to obtain magic.

Though magic was commonplace in Andrew's world, he doesn't even know if it exists here. Demaris could swear he felt wisps of magic in the air, but needed to confirm it.

With his research complete, Demaris returns to the orphanage and walks back onto the playground. As he makes his way to the door of the orphanage, he is interrupted by Miss Karen, the matron of Mother Theresa's Orphanage. He needs to make up a lie to explain the bruises from his earlier beating. Thinking quickly, he tells her he got hurt while playing football.

Demaris observes Miss Karen, curious to see if his lie has fooled her. No hints of disbelief can be seen in her expressions or eyes.

Miss Karen smiles and instructs Demaris to be more careful in the future. Miss Karen then hobbles away to tend to a little girl's scraped knee, Demaris reflects on her genuine care for the children, in contrast to the neglectful staff who barely meet the kids' basic needs. He realizes that he doesn't want to trouble her further with his problems.

Thoughts bombard Demaris as he realizes he just read Miss Karen like an open book. Andrew was an emperor of a nation in his past life, holding a certain skill for reading others is the bread and butter of diplomacy. A skill Demaris will put to good use in this world, afterall, danger lurks around every corner and there is always someone stronger than you out there. Assuming there is no one stronger than you is folly and leads to arrogance, then death.

Demaris ascends the stairs to his room, the last on the right. It's a far cry from the attic where he lived in his past life. The walls are a soft grey and the stained carpeting underfoot is a dark brown. The only furniture in the room is his twin bed, a dresser, and a mirror on the wall. The window, cracked and dingy, only shows the brick wall of the adjacent building.

In the mirror, Demaris studies his reflection. His sharp features and brilliant blue eyes are offset by his messy mop of brown hair. Despite the bruise on his jaw, he has the potential to be quite handsome in the future, not that he cares about such things. At 5'8", he's already taller than kids his age, but his thin frame suggests he could use more muscle and better eating habits.

Demaris settles onto his bed and crosses his legs, intently focusing on detecting any traces of magic in the air. His headache momentarily forgotten, he clears his mind. The sensation of Mana flows gently around him like a warm breeze, composed of individual ethers that behave unlike any other energy particles, exuding an almost sentient playfulness.

Delving deeper, Demaris discovers that he is leaking ethers from his body. Why was his Magic Core leaking ethers instead of absorbing them? Furthermore, why were ethers escaping from his Core if he couldn't seem to absorb them either? After some contemplation, Demaris comes to the realization that his body can generate ethers. The absence of an instinctual use of Mana and its individual units stems from his body producing Ethers and subsequently losing them. To utilize magic, he must first repair the leak in his core. Although meditation can fix the issue, he remains concerned about the underlying cause. Was it a natural occurrence or a deliberate attack?

Considering the extent of the leak, Demaris estimates that his lifespan would be reduced to a third of its natural length if he does not fix it. Hours pass as he concentrates on mending the leak. Utilizing his vast experience in meditation and sheer determination, Demaris seals the breach through forced regeneration. He painstakingly guides each Ether back to the site of the leak and forcibly reconnects them. The repaired area now blends seamlessly with the rest of his Magic Core.

Opening his eyes, Demaris experiences an overwhelming sense of completion, as if a missing part of himself has been restored. He can now feel the ethers in the air dancing excitedly in clusters of Mana, their movements almost musical in their celebration. Peace filters through Demaris and his headache rapidly fades. The Ethers he generated were staying in his body and is helping the metamorphosis goe faster and with less pain.

Glancing out the window, Demaris notices that the afternoon has arrived. Although his window allows only a small amount of sunlight to filter through, the lively sounds of the playground below confirm that it's a pleasant Saturday.

Now, his thoughts turn to the possible forces that could have caused such extensive damage to his core. It seems unlikely that it was merely an accident. He would have to investigate and get stronger to face whatever threat is out there.

Demaris returns to the playground for some fresh air. Suddenly, something catches his eye at the corner where two buildings box in the playground. Hidden by some bushes, Demaris instantly recognizes it as The Gloomy Dungeon, a dungeon filled with slimes.

Confusion washes over Demaris. How does he know what lies in those bushes? Surely if others knew it was there, they would have eliminated the threat to the children. Kids playing near the bushes don't seem to notice the large hole in the ground between the bushes. Is it something that only Demaris can see?

Closing his eyes and focusing on the Dungeon and its strange energy, Demaris traces it back to himself, showing he is somehow linked to it. As he focuses on dissipating the energy, the dungeon begins to vanish, only to reappear when Demaris feeds it more energy, desiring it to be there.

So, he is the cause of the dungeon. Is it his ability? Demaris, like everyone, grew up knowing there are mutants out there. They played a major part in the Cuban missile crisis, and Magneto is a wanted man all over the world. Could he be a Mutant? That would be some absurd luck—reincarnating into this world and having a mutant power to boot.

Tonight, Demaris plans to sneak into the kitchen and grab a kitchen knife. He knows it should be enough for the slimes. He figures that if he can generate dungeons, he might as well use them to train and get his body into shape.

With a training ground where he can practice actual combat, Demaris then needs to start working on his magic and acquiring equipment. Given that the dungeon is a bizarre and new experience for him, he decides to stick with his plan to raid the dungeon tonight, as he prepares himself for the challenges that lay ahead.