Meet Thorin Ironfoot(Rewritten)

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Thoughts:- '---'

Dialogues:- "---"

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(MC'S POV)

The word *reincarnation* echoed in my mind, a chant I couldn't shake. Questions swirled in my thoughts, each one adding to the confusion. I glanced around. The rustic room—wooden beams, a cozy hearth, the faint scent of burning wood—felt warm, but its peace mocked the storm in my head.

I stood, my body heavy, unfamiliar. Every ache, bruise, and scar felt wrong. I wasn't supposed to be here. This wasn't my life. This wasn't my body.

Yet, it was.

Creak!

The door to the bedroom opened with a low, drawn-out groan. But there was no one standing in the frame. I stared at the empty doorway, my mind still hazy, unsure of what to expect next.

"???"

"Where're ye lookin', lad?" A deep, gravelly voice interrupted my thoughts, seemingly coming from the floor itself.

"Down 'ere!"

Confused, I blinked and shifted my gaze downward. A dwarf stood at the threshold, his thick, bushy beard reaching his chest, adorned with small trinkets and beads. His bloodshot eyes squinted at me, his face flushed—likely from too much ale. A heavy frown creased his weathered features, making it clear he wasn't pleased.

He snapped at me as if I'd personally offended him by not noticing him sooner.

I blinked again, barely registering how I'd missed him. "Uh... sorry."

The dwarf crossed his arms, his scowl deepening. "Ye tall ones," he grumbled, shaking his head.

"Always lookin' past us shorter folk like we're part of the furniture. Now, what do ye have to say fer yerself, eh? Wandering into me home, scaring me half to death, and even breakin' me plate?"

Arghh!

I clutched my head as his harsh voice scraped against my mind like sandpaper, deepening the sting, my face barely masking any irritation.

Don't get me wrong but, I'd woken up here not more than ten minutes ago, with no memory of how I'd arrived. Now, I had a dwarf yelling at me about a broken plate.

Great!

Just great!

After a moment of confusion, still reeling from the whirlwind of events and unaware of the situation outside, I decided to offer the dwarf just enough information to keep things from getting too complicated.

"I do not know how I arrived here, but I am Merlin Von...Hermes," I said, internally wincing in cringe.

"I... I'm a wandering orphan. I've been traveling, learning swordsmanship, and selling small things here and there. I ran into some Wraiths while wandering and... they nearly did me in."

I spoke with as much readiness I could muster.

(A/N:- Wraiths here are just a type of mana beasts)

After the first cataclysm, when Earth was enveloped in mana, people gained access to its power, resulting in stronger bodies and longer lifespans. An average child here could easily overpower an adult from my old world.

As for being an orphan, it's not unusual. Mana Beast attacks, bandits, and evil organizations often targeted remote areas, leading to many young orphans and widows. Some were rescued, while others had long perished before help could arrive.

Thorin hummed, stroking his beard as I continued. The dwarf's keen eyes scanned me from head to toe, assessing my story.

Though he helped me, I could see a meaningful readiness in his eyes, which wasn't a big surprise; Afterall I was still practically a stranger to him and bandits often used children or people with a childlike appearance to make other people's defenses.

However, wariness in his eyes disappeared, almost instantly when the word 'orphan' slipped from my mouth.

'Does he have some connection with Orpans?'

We stood in silence for a few seconds, I could feel my heart hammering in my chest.

Was he going to believe me?

Did he see through my lie?

Did the name "Merlin" felt awkward and my fabricated backstory seemed flimsy at best? 

The dwarf took a step forward, the sound of his boots resonating with a deep thud. I could feel my muscles tense, bracing for whatever might come next. But as Thorin approached, he stopped short, his gaze fixed intently on me, as if weighing my every word and movement.

Instead of the confrontation, I had envisioned in my mind, the dwarf clapped his hands on his knees,

"Alright!" he exclaimed, his tone shifting to that one of acceptance, 

"I believe ye, more or less. Wraiths've been spotted near the woods lately. Nasty creatures. If ye got tangled up with 'em, it's a miracle ye survived at all."

I relaxed slightly, though I could still feel the tension in my chest. "Yeah... I barely made it out."

The Dwarf nodded, "That explains your pitiful state."

"Me, Thorin Irofoot. Welcome to me humble Woodhaven." he introduced himself, moving his hand forward, and greeting me with a handshake.

I took the dwarf's hand, feeling the rough calluses. While I wasn't an expert, his hands suggested he might be a craftsman. As I pulled my hand back, I noticed blood seeping from a cut where the broken plate had grazed me earlier. Thorin followed my gaze, his eyes crinkling with amusement as he let out a hearty laugh.

"Don't worry about that, lad," Thorin said, waving off the injury.

"I've got some warm water and medicines ready for ye. Go on, take a bath, and clean up yourself."

Grateful for the offer, I nodded. Despite feeling sluggish and weak, I managed to steady myself with Thorin's help. As I made my way toward the bathroom, each step reminded me of how unfamiliar and fragile this new body felt. The lingering pain from earlier—both the physical exhaustion and the searing headache from the foreign memories—was still present, but it was manageable now. 

The bathroom was small but functional. A wooden tub sat against one wall, steam rising from the water Thorin had prepared.

The water had a faint green tint and seemed to have medicinal properties, which added a soothing quality to its warmth. I stripped off my tattered, bloodstained clothes and stepped into the tub. The warmth enveloped me, easing my aching muscles. For a few moments, I allowed myself to relax, the heat helping to clear the fog in my mind.

As I lay there, submerged in the water, my thoughts drifted back to the strange status screen I had seen earlier. The name "Azrael Ravenshade" still echoed in my mind. Even though I had somewhat accepted him as an additional identity, his mysterious title made him an anomaly. While having a title wasn't uncommon, possessing one as enigmatic as this was quite... unsettling.

It felt like a puzzle piece that didn't quite fit, stirring up a sense of unease. The more I pondered over "Azrael Ravenshade," the more it seemed like a key to something unknown, something that could explain the bizarre twists of this new reality

Does this title explain his survival? Is it connected to the Veil? 

If so, how did I end up in this mess?

I sighed as I lowered my head buried under the weight of unanswered questions, looking at my reflection in the water. The grime of my past ordeal had been washed away, revealing a lean, athletic body covered in scars and bruises all over.

Each mark seemed to tell a story of tenacity and survival. It was as if I had been molded into a warrior, inhabiting a body that had endured countless battles. This vessel, shaped by hardship, felt like it was forged for a world where survival was the only option, a grim testament to the life it had led before me.

My thoughts wandered, the name feeling both foreign and oddly familiar. Inevitably, they drifted to Thorin, the dwarf who had taken me in.

I struggled to recall any significant role he might play in this strange narrative I had been thrust into. Thorin's name didn't evoke any familiarity, and there was no trace of recognition from the stories or lore I was accustomed to.

He seemed to be a character who existed solely to fulfill a minor role—more a footnote than a focal point in the unfolding drama. His function appeared limited to being a helpful, albeit inconsequential, figure in the background.

 As I continued to reflect on his role, it became more clear that Thorin Ironfoot was not a character whose destiny intertwined with the grander schemes of the world I was now a part of. Instead, he was a minor player, contributing to my current situation without influencing the larger narrative.

After finishing cleaning myself I stepped out of the tub and wiped myself with a dark-colored cloth in the corner of the bathroom. The clothes Thorin had left for me—a simple set of black trousers and a white tunic—were surprisingly comfortable, and the bandages covering my injuries were tightly wrapped, but functional. The dwarf's generosity was not something I could take lightly, perhaps if I survive in the distant future I should repay him.

The air hung heavy as I stepped out of the bathroom, feeling somewhat refreshed. As I entered the living room, a rich, intoxicating aroma filled the air. Whatever Thorin had been cooking smelled incredible, far more appetizing than I'd anticipated.

At the edge of the living room, I saw Thorin waiting by the fire. A large chunk of meat sizzled and crackled as it cooked on a spit, the rich aroma filling the room. In his right hand, he held a fresh mug of ale, the golden liquid frothing slightly at the rim. The firelight danced across his rugged face, casting flickering shadows that accentuated his gruff yet warm demeanor.

Noticing my approach, the dwarf looked up with a warm, albeit gruff, smile. "Perfect timing!" Thorin called out. "Come, sit here. I've made enough for two. "

I moved toward the table that sat near the window, the darkness outside pressing against the panes. Thorin joined me shortly, setting down a steaming plate of food.

My mouth exploded with flavor as soon as I took my first bite. The meat was tender and juicy, seasoned just right with a blend of herbs and spices that created a rich, smoky taste. The warmth and depth of the flavor were comforting, almost otherworldly, providing a sense of satisfaction and contentment that felt like a balm for both body and soul.

As I savored the rich, savory taste, I couldn't help but ask, "What kind of meat is this?"

Thorin chuckled, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Ah, ye've got a discerning palate! This here is the 'Gorgon's Grizzle.' It's a special mana beast—part Gorgon, part Grizzle Bear. Quite a mouthful, eh? It's known for its robust flavor and the occasional magical surprise if you're lucky!"

I raised an eyebrow, half-amused and half-skeptical. "Magical surprise?"

Thorin winked. "Aye, if ye're really lucky, it might grant ye a burst of energy or a peculiar vision. Or it might just give ye a really good meal. Either way, it's quite useful if you take plenty of rest after eating it. If not, you might find yourself in a bit of trouble later on."

The conversation ended with it, the silence eloped the walls with the occasional crackling of the fire

 "Feeling better, lad?" he asked breaking the silence.

I nodded in response, "Yeah...thanks for the help" I replied.

Thorin grunted, his face softening slightly. "Ye looked like death warmed over when I found ye in me backyard. Don't know how ye managed to survive whatever ye went through, but ye've got some fight in ye, that's for sure."

I didn't respond, my thoughts too tangled trying to think next steps for survival in this world

Waiting a few seconds, I finally asked, "Thorin... Where am I?"

The dwarf raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised by the question. "Yer in Reed Village, lad. A small place, out of the way. Not much happens here, aside from the occasional trader or traveler passing through."

l frowned, the name unfamiliar. It wasn't a place that had existed in my old world, nor did it match anything from the memories of the story I now found myself a part of.

It seems that the novel didn't describe everything. This some random village— was part of a larger, intricate world. A world that I would have to navigate, now that I had somehow become part of it.

For now, though, all I could do was take things one step at a time. Even before I could ask for more information something unexpected happened.

CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!

The deep, resonant sound of the bell echoed through the village, cutting through our peaceful meal.

Whatever was out there, I had a feeling it was only the beginning.

-to be continued.