The Autumn Leaves Have Fallen On Glory’s Path by DemonMaster666 was a webtoon soaring high above others. Praised by nearly a million fans, it wrapped a simple harem story in a fantasy setting with a mystery plot.
The story followed an enigmatic hero known as X. Carrying a King’s mandate he roamed the land of Marros with his trusted side-kick, solving crimes and winning the hearts of beauties.
X’s side-kick, Tier, was dashing in his own right, noble, brave, and cool. His deep friendship with the protagonist was the solid foundation for their flawless teamwork, and their mutual understanding was often pivotal for solving the cases at hand.
And it was also the biggest flaw of the story.
The mysteries were intriguing, the main character was captivating, and the art was god-like, but–
For a harem story, the most important part of the story were the ladies, right? One couldn’t say The Autumn Leaves Have Fallen On Glory’s Path didn’t deliver on that end. Each more beautiful than the last, personalities reaching from sweet to spicy, there were enough of them for each reader to find their favorite.
However.
However.
It didn’t matter how beautiful they were, how spicy or sweet, if the main character’s chemistry with his best friend overshadowed them all.
Or, as one reader put it in the comment section of the latest episode
[lol shouldn’t X just be with Tier?]
The comment was polarizing – some agreed while the others vehemently disagreed, and the comment section quickly deteriorated into a flamewar.
As a long time fan – loyal since the author’s previous, far less popular series – one reader by the username of FrozenMoonlight was inclined to agree.
Dear Sir DemonMaster, what were you thinking?
In a rumor (supposedly a leak from The Autumn Leaves Have Fallen On Glory’s Path’s editor) that had recently taken the fandom by storm, the heroine of the story, end-game girl, and one true love was going to be Brita – a healer with a shared history with X.
If he had to choose one, reader FrozenMoonlight would’ve also picked Brita. With a lovely nature and looks to match, she was well suited to be the leading lady.
However.
However.
Compared to Tier, her interactions with the protagonist were formal at best and lackluster at worst. Even then, she was arguably the closest to him of all the harem members. What sort of a nonsensical situation was this? Do you even know what a harem is, Sir DemonMaster?
Reader FrozenMoonlight leaned back in his chair, and adjusted his headphones. His eyes focused on
[lol shouldn’t X just be with Tier?]
He clicked up-vote on the comment and began to type.
[I have to agree. DemonMaster, just have them get married already] he wrote. Then, after careful consideration added [^_^] to seem less blunt, before hitting enter.
He paused to rub his eyes and reached for the energy drink next to his monitor only to discover it empty. Looking up, the posters above his desk (and one photo from a meetup with the DemonMaster himself, from when he had still been working on his previous series) were a blur. Funny, he was really sleepy all of a sudden… Maybe it was the headache he’d been ignoring, but wasn’t the room getting dimmer?
Reader FrozenMoonlight woke up in a soft, comfortable bed, covered in cool linen sheets, with a ray of sunlight warming his face.
He frowned, slowly opening his eyes. He shut them again and raised one hand to shield his eyes.
This is strange, thought reader FrozenMoonlight, who had no recollection of going to bed and even less of opening the curtains. Shouldn’t the opposite building block all sunlight from his dingy one room apartment? Never mind the bed or the sheets, both nicer than anything he owned.
Wait, was he at the hospital? Did something happen? Was there a fire?
Reader FrozenMoonlight bravely opened his eyes again, and took a look around.
No, he definitely wasn’t in a hospital.
The bed he was in seemed to be built into a nook in the wall with dark green curtains hanging at both ends of the opening. The room was small, but cozy. At the opposite end, a round window took up most of the wall, with a low wooden bench in front of it. To the right – toward the foot of the bed – was a sliding door with painted panels and a small mirror next to that. The mirror was the culprit for the light in his eyes, reflecting from the window. Under the mirror, a sword in a simple black scabbard was propped in a stand.
Reader FrozenMoonlight blinked and pushed himself up on the bed. The sudden movement made his head spin, but he went ahead and pushed the sheets aside to find he was wearing a long white dress. A gown? A robe? Whatever it was, it was not what he was wearing before.
Stirred by his movement, something slithered down his back. Something long and dark and rope-like? A snake? Was there a snake on the bed? A hard, panicked pull and a searing pain in his scalp revealed his error – his hair was now long enough to be braided, ha, ha!
It had been a good while in reader FrozenMoonlight’s quiet, isolated life since he had last felt anything intensely, but at this moment he was definitely experiencing emotions.
Namely, hysteria.
What the hell is going on here? Is this a dream? The pain in his scalp and the cold sweat trickling down his back seemed to suggest otherwise. Maybe it was a hallucination? A gas leak? A virtual reality?
Before he could get any further, a PLING rang in his ears.
[Congratulations!] a robotic voice said, making reader FrozenMoonlight jump and spin to see where it was coming from.
The only things behind him were a window, and under it a writing desk and a low-backed chair made out of dark wood. Outside, the sun was shining, with a few clouds drifting across the sky.
[Due to a life of virtue, you have been given the opportunity to resolve your dying regret!] the robotic voice spoke again.
First of all, reader FrozenMoonlight thought, first of all.
What life of virtue? A university dropout idling his time away reading webtoons with no recollection of when he’d last left his apartment, the qualifications for a virtuous life should probably be higher, right?
Second of all – what regret?
Reader FrozenMoonlight was doing his best to avoid the word dying, but the robotic voice was happy to fill in:
[Would you like to review your dying regret? Yes/No]
The choice appeared before him with two glowing, semi-opaque buttons floating in the air. Unsure what to do, reader FrozenMoonlight focused his eyes on the Yes-button. This seemed to be the right approach, and the robotic voice read out:
[Registered dying regret: [lol shouldn’t X just be with Tier?]]
Reader FrozenMoonlight was stunned silent.
How was this a dying regret? Wasn’t it more a random, meaningless thought? Who was responsible for picking such a dumbass regret? What the hell?!
[The dying regret registered is your last regret before death] the robotic voice said, with a hint of disapproval.
Alright, fine, whatever, reader FrozenMoonlight thought. So he only had himself to blame. But how had he d***? As far as he knew, aside from being a bit tired and having a headache from staring at a screen all day, he’d been completely fine!
[Would you like to review cause of death? Yes/No] the robotic voice added with unnecessary cheer.
Reader FrozenMoonlight hesitated for a good while before settling on Yes.
[Registered cause of death: Carbon monoxide poisoning]
Huh? Ahh. Reader FrozenMoonlight sat down on the bed and put his head in his hands. Now he thought about it, he’d heard an alarm go off – but in his apartment building an alarm went off at least once a day. How was he supposed to know this time it was for carbon monoxide and not just the old lady downstairs triggering a smoke alarm with her cooking again?
Ahh. Well. What a careless way to die.
Alright, reader FrozenMoonlight thought, collecting himself, what now?
[Would you like to review your mission? Yes/No]
Reader FrozenMoonlight waved his hand and focused on No. Based on that stupid regret, his mission should be making sure X ended up with Tier, right? Reader FrozenMoonlight sent a quick apology to Sir DemonMaster, but what could he do?
What could he do – more like could he do it?
Wait, what happens if I don’t succeed? reader FrozenMoonlight thought.
[Penalty for failure: unresolved dying regret. Soul destination: VOID] the voice informed him.
VOID? That didn’t sound good.
[Would you like to preview VOID? Yes/No]
It was something that could be previewed? Sure, let’s go with Yes, reader FrozenMoonlight thought. Maybe it wouldn’t be too bad after all?
Suddenly, light and gravity disappeared.
Floating in complete darkness, unable to tell up from down – if there even was an up or down – the only thing he could feel at first was a faint humming in his ears.
Then, a pressure started to build.
First on this side, then the other, as if in the darkness, something massive was circling him. He turned his head this way and that, but there was nothing but darkness. The pressure closed in, the humming in his ears become a thrum, the thrum become a roar–
[Would you like to stop previewing VOID? Yes/No]
Yes, yes, YES!
And the cozy little room with warm sunlight was back again. Reader FrozenMoonlight shivered, covered in sweat, his heart beating out of his chest.
What was that?!
[You have viewed VOID. VOID is the destination for unresolved souls.]
Yes, thank you, reader FrozenMoonlight thought, but what was that thing? Whatever it was? That thing moving in there?
[There are only unresolved souls in VOID] the voice said.
That was a soul? The soul of what exactly? Never mind, this VOID was definitely something he didn’t want to end up in.
So, what next?
He should somehow get close to the main character and his best friend, obviously, but what role could he possibly play? Aside from the main duo, the webtoon didn’t really have that many recurring – or even named – male characters. And despite the long hair, this body was definitely male, though that didn’t necessarily mean anything.
Remembering the mirror, he got up to take a look, and then turned and went back to bed, laid down and pulled the pillow over his face.
Then he got up to take another look at his new face.
At first, it just appeared to be his own, regular, boring face, with minor changes – the scar on his eyebrow was gone, the hair was much darker and definitely much longer. But what got his attention were the eyes. The color was all wrong – black with dots of gold that had looked alluring on a drawing but turned out a bit odd on a living person.
He could live with the color, but–
There was just a small problem. A tiny one, really.
The only character in the story to have this eye color was the main character’s best friend.
[Designated role: Tier Vartia] the mechanical voice cut cheerily through reader FrozenMoonlight’s terror.
Wait, wait, wait!
Wasn’t this going too far?
The mission, his sordid regret, had been barely within his reach as it was, but this?
Wasn’t this level of difficulty too high?
Reader FrozenMoonlight sat down on the bed, covered his face with his hands and wept.
The matter of sexuality aside, he had never gone on a single date in his twenty-two years in life. Hell, he couldn’t even complete a dating sim without getting stuck on a bad ending. His romantic luck stat was so low the number was in the negatives.
Honestly, he wasn’t even sure if he would be capable of becoming the main characters best friend.
The original Tier Vartia had a stoic personality and enough charisma to be a fan favorite. He was a brave and powerful swordsman, strong enough to stand shoulder to shoulder with godlike protagonist X.
Reader FrozenMoonlight on the other hand was an introverted loner with a fatalistic personality, too pathetic to be called even a keyboard warrior. Someone like Tier Vartia was an unattainable ideal for someone like him. He might as well try to touch the sun without catching fire.
Hey, how did you even pick this body? he thought desperately. Isn’t it a little too unfair?
[Host has been chosen based on soul affinity. Similarity: 97.4%]
Yeah, OK, that definitely sounded like bullshit.
“Soul affinity” aside, apart from the eyes, he still just had his own face. How did that even work? Huh?
Of course, he thought, Lord DemonMaster had mentioned in an interview that Tier was one of the few characters in the series to have a real-world model. Perhaps it had simply been someone he resembled?
Looks aside, the only thing he had in common with Tier was that neither could be described as chatty. In Tier’s case it was probably due to his cool and aloof personality, whereas poor reader FrozenMoonlight – now Tier Vartia whether he wanted it or not – just never knew what to say.
Wait, Tier thought suddenly. The regret indicated that the main character and his best friend should be together, right? It didn’t specify romantically, right?
[Requirement for mission completion: a happy marriage!] the robot voice chirped in.
Ahaha. So it was like that, after all.
Perhaps he could get used to VOID after a while, he thought with a shiver, head hung low.
[Would you like to forfeit your last regret and directly enter VOID? Yes/No] the voice asked.
What? No, no, no. Let’s not be too hasty. Maybe he’d have some miraculous stroke of luck? He’d always been told he gave up too quickly, but even a quitter like him had to find his backbone in a situation like this, right?
Find his backbone and somehow trick a man to marry him, ahahaha.
And be happy about it.
In any case, did it have to be a marriage out of love? People got married for all sorts of reasons. Maybe they could get a tax benefit? Getting X to fall in love with him would be impossible, let’s be realistic. There was no way in hell that would happen, but maybe he could convince him that way? There’s no reason a marriage of convenience couldn’t be happy, right?
Tier leaned back and stared at the ceiling. Hey – what should I call you? S*ri? Al*xa? he called out in his mind.
[I am the Registry] the robotic voice chirped.
Alright, Registry, please tell me if this mission is even possible for me?
[Calculating please stand by…
Mission completion probability: uncertain] the Registry said.
Tier sighed. Of course it was. Speaking of uncertainty, wasn’t he getting ahead of himself? Thinking about the end game when he hadn’t even met the hero yet?
Where was he?
[Current location: Vartia family residence] the Registry was happy to fill in.
Ahh, that might be a problem.
The webtoon began when the protagonist and side-kick had already known each other for a while, and so far, Tier’s backstory had only been alluded to. One, there was some dark tragedy to his past. Two, he had lived in the countryside, but not on a farm. Three, X saved his life somehow. The fandom was full of speculation, but aside from these three details, his past was as much a mystery as X’s.
In short, Tier had no idea what to expect.
[Would you like to rearrange your working memory to install memories registered to the soul of Tier Vartia? Yes/No] the Registry inquired.
That’s an option?
[Yes.]
Wait, what does rearranging memory mean, exactly?
[Rearranging memory: defragmentation of user memory to reallocate space.
Would you like to rearrange your working memory to include the memories registered from the soul of Tier Vartia? Yes/No]
Defragmentation of memory? What was he, an old hard drive?
There was no doubt the backstory would come in handy, but having his memory fiddled with didn’t sound good.
A soft knock broke through his thoughts, making him jump.
“Tier? Can I come in?” a voice called through the sliding doors.
Trying to calm his heart, Tier managed a weak “yes?”, and a tall middle-aged woman stepped through the door.
[Rearranging of memory confirmed. Allocating memory.]
Wait, wait, wait-
“I thought I heard you moving around up here,” his mother, Asta Vartia said, her eyes crinkling with a warm smile.
“Mom,” Tier said, feeling dizzy as he tried to focus through the images rapidly spinning into his brain. Playing with swords made of sticks with a blue-eyed girl – a sister and a friend, swimming in the creek nearby, learning archery and swordplay with his mother, serving at the shrine, reading practice, writing, sworddancing, fishing, running through the forest, playing with kittens, sunlight, hard winters, smoke rising over the horizon, his mother worrying-
Asta reached over to touch his forehead, brows furrowing into a frown. She shared a strong resemblance with her son – the same fine features and dark eyes, though the black in her hair was already streaked with gray.
“Glad to see my child still recognizes me,” she said. “Seems like your fever’s breaking. Lay back down, I’ll send Rel up later with something to eat.”
Rel was the name of his mother’s assistant, his new memories told him. Tier nodded, head still spinning, and let his mother help him lay down again. She gave him a quick kiss on the forehead, and left, pulling the sliding doors shut behind her.
Tier closed his eyes, suddenly exhausted. He knew he was far from the level of the original goods, but couldn’t he get a break? His own past looked hopelessly gray and drab in comparison. No freely frolicking around idyllic countryside, no childhood friends or sisters, never mind a loving mother, the contrast of the whole package was blinding.
He almost didn’t want to explore those damned, envy-inducing memories again, but there were a few details he knew he should look into.
One: a whispered argument between Rel and his mother about someone the original Tier assumed was his father. This was the only mention of him in Tier’s memories.
Vartia was Asta’s family name, that much was certain, and from what Tier could gather, she had never married. While marriage was a common custom (see: Tier’s mission), it was more a formality, and someone in Asta’s position could easily raise a child without a partner. But why keep the identity of his father hidden? Why go so far as to never even mention him? From Tier’s memories, it was difficult to tell if it bothered him, but the memory of his mother telling Rel to never speak of “that man” again was so vivid in his mind it was easy to assume it had significance to him.
Two: sworddancing. The Vartia family residence, it appeared, served as a shrine for a battlegod of Marros called Vesri. Tier Vartia was one of the shrine disciples and his duty was to dance in shrine ceremonies.
Dance in an outfit that made the current Tier Vartia break out in cold sweat all over again. Could a few skimpy pieces of fabric even be considered an outfit? Hell, even the spiciest of harem girls dressed with more modesty! Dear Sir DemonMaster, what were you doing, thinking up a detail like this? Did you forget your genre again?!
In any case, the name Vesri made him remember something from the webtoon. Wasn’t there a story arc where X investigated a murder at a shrine?
Tier rolled onto his side and frowned.
Funny, he had just completed his fourth read-through of all of the published episodes of The Autumn Leaves Have Fallen On Glory’s Path, but he couldn’t seem to remember details about the case.
Or details about any of cases.
The panic that had more or less subsided surged back with a vengeance.
[Memory allocation has removed incomplete memory fragments] the Registry chirped.
What? So he’d been made to forget about the plot? Registry, Tier thought, can’t I pick and choose what to keep? How about he forget that one time he drank sour milk and ended up in a hospital for a week? Huh?
[Memory allocation can not be rolled back.]
Of course it can’t.
Tier felt an immense weight on his shoulders. He’d held on to a hope that his godlike knowledge of the events in the webtoon would come in to aid him. “Marry me and I’ll tell you who the murderer is,” or something like that. After all, in this sort of setting, wasn’t plot knowledge your god-given right?
But it seemed that option was out the window as well.
Dear Registry, next time be more clear when explaining the options, alright?
The Registry, perhaps wisely, remained silent.
Ahh, well. What was done was done, right? No use crying over spoiled milk after you already had the food-poisoning. What did a few more flames matter when your house was already burning down?
Moving on to memory number three – the most pressing one. It seemed that there had been a series of attacks on the farms and villages in the surrounding area. The attackers were described as masked bandits, but they moved and acted like soldiers under one command. But if they were soldiers, where were they coming from? Vartia shrine was in the middle of nowhere, and no Lord ruled the region. There were no hostile neighbors nor local rivalries to worry about.
The attacks had been of great concern for Asta Vartia, whose position as the grandmaster for a battlegod’s shrine meant the locals looked to her for defense. She and the disciples had been running around tirelessly, but always seemed to be a moment too late. With every attack, their enemy seemed to grow in number.
It had just been decided that Tier should make haste to the capital to report the situation and ask for the King’s assistance, when he had suddenly fallen ill.
After that, the memories became little more than jumbled fever dreams, dim and scattered, until reader FrozenMoonlight woke up as Tier Vartia.
In any case, the situation was strange.
Not only did the timing seem conspicuous, the illness itself was weird – looking through Tier’s memories, over his entire life, he had only been seriously ill once.
The memories from his fever were a mess, days and nights blending together. There was no way to tell how long he’d been out.
He frowned and rubbed his forehead. It seemed Tier had been reluctant to leave, and instead urged for Sara, the head disciple and the blue-eyed girl from his memories, to be the messenger. Had Tier made himself sick on purpose to avoid the task?
No, while that was something the current Tier might consider, it didn’t mesh with the personality of the original goods at all. Nor was there a memory of him doing so.
So, either the illness was natural and only a matter of poor luck, or someone else had caused it.
Tier felt cold. Did that mean he was still in danger?
He flipped through his memories, trying to find anything out of place, anyone suspicious, but either Tier 1.0 was clueless, or the community at the shrine was truly harmonious and peaceful. Relations with the locals seemed fine as well – though most of Tier’s memories of anyone from outside the shrine were limited to ceremony crowds and visiting merchants.
Tier got up and paced around the small room, floorboards cool under his feet, before settling down on the bench by the round window. The view outside was so familiar from his new memories, it felt as if he’d already seen it with his own eyes.
Water had eroded the landscape into deep valleys and tree-covered, round-topped mountains that stuck out like fingers of a giant. Vartia shrine stood at the top of one of these fingers, and Tier’s room on the second floor of the shrine was right on its edge. The earth swept into a steep decline under his window, dropping into the river valley below. Shaded by the high forested riverbanks on each side, the river rolled on like a lazy black snake.
Tier ran his hand along the warm window frame, fingers tracing the familiar lines and dents in the wood from someone else’s memory and sighed. In other circumstances, living in a place like this might’ve made him truly happy.
Registry, he called out in his mind, are you there?
[How can I be of assistance?] the Registry replied without a delay.
Does my mission have a deadline?
[Calculating, please stand by…
You have 9 years, 364 days, 22 hours, 13 minutes, and 34 seconds left to complete the mission.]
So, basically ten years? What’s the significance?
[Ten years is how long it takes for a soul to deteriorate] the Registry explained.
That didn’t sound good, but at least the deadline was long enough. Ten years was plenty of time for a miracle to happen, right?
Tier sighed. Too bad Vesri was a battlegod. He could’ve prayed for some luck in love.
A knock sounded at the door, cutting through his thoughts.
“Come in,” Tier called out, thinking it must be Rel bringing the food.
Instead, a blue-eyed woman in the azure robes of a disciple stepped in. Her back was straight and brows slightly furrowed as her gaze swept from the empty bed to the window. A fine sword in a snow white sheath rested at her hip, hand never far from it. It was Sara, the Vartia shrine’s head disciple, the blue-eyed girl from Tier’s memories all grown up – a childhood friend who’d always been more like an older sister.
“You’re finally up?” Sara said, not bothering to close the door behind her. “Master said you were still resting.”
Then why are you here? Tier thought, but instead just nodded. Despite the warm childhood memories, it seemed things had been awkward between them since Sara gained the nomination for the chief disciple, closing the door in Tier’s face. Based on his memories, Tier had been content with his position as a sword dancer, and it had instead been Sara who’d been avoiding him. So why was she here?
Well, at least this answered whether or not she’d left for the capital.
“Why are you here?” Tier said just to say something, as the silence threatened to drag on. Sara shrugged, stepped up to the writing desk, and idly pushed through the books and papers there.
“Master still thinks it should be you to petition the king,” she said, as if answering his thoughts, picking up a book and leafing through it. “So I came to see if you were up for the journey now.”
Tier remained silent, unsure what to say. There was a strange tension in her voice and posture that he couldn’t decipher. The difference between his childhood friend and this cold-eyed woman was shocking. Where was his supportive older sister? Huh?
It was strange. The only explanation Tier’s memories could provide was that they had grown distant with age, as friends sometimes did. Instead, Sara’s expression revealed civility at best and animosity at worst.
Had something happened during his illness, or was the original Tier just that bad at reading people? Tier 2.0’s heart wept.
Sara dropped the book back onto the desk and turned to face him. “While you were idling here, they burned the Tovei farm,” she said, looking at him with narrowed eyes. “We lost Eiro in the fight.”
Eiro, Tier searched through his memories, was one of their fellow disciples. A few years older, and not one Tier had been close to – though now he thought of it, aside from Sara, had he been close to any of the others? Even in his memories where the disciples were all playing together, he and Sara seemed to be separate from the others. And then, after he started training with the dancemaster, it had been Sara with the others, and he was the separate one.
Come to think of it, if he hadn’t been with Sara in those happy memories, hadn’t Tier 1.0 been just as alone as 2.0 had?
“I’m sorry to hear that,” he said, disregarding the comment about idling – did she suspect he was faking his illness? Or did she just want to be mean? Had she wanted to be the messenger? What the hell?
Sara nodded and turned on her heel to go. “If you’re well enough to get up, you should go and take a bath. You reek like a haunt,” she said over her shoulder, before disappearing down the corridor.
Tier sighed and got up to close the sliding doors.
Don’t worry, he thought gloomily, tidying up his desk. I’ll be out of your hair in no time to find my happy marriage.
Sinking back onto the bench, he tucked his legs under himself. So, his kind sister didn’t seem to care for him much. Perhaps life in the shrine wasn’t quite as peaceful and harmonious as the memories implied?
Well, at least that’s something familiar, he thought. Ahahaha. Though, at least his mother had seemed genuinely affectionate and it wasn’t like he’d be spending the rest of his life here.
He wrapped the end of his braid idly around his fingers while thinking.
He should try and talk with his mother about the trip to the capital before the day was out. What time was it anyway?
[The time is currently 3:09 p.m.] the Registry piped in helpfully.
According to Tier’s memories, the afternoons were for training until dinner. Breakfast, chores, training, lunch, prayer hall duty, training, dinner, quiet study – daily life of disciples followed this pattern year round with three days off every two weeks. Yearly ceremonies were the only breaks in the routine. For Tier the training had been martial skills with the others before lunch and sword dancing with the dancemaster before dinner, but each of the fifty or so disciples had their own duties.
Due to his training, the dancemaster played a key role in Tier’s memories. Ania was a stern, middle-aged woman, and a sister to Tier’s mother. He seemed to get his reticence from her – Ania never wasted a word, rarely smiled, and even in all his memories, Tier 2.0 couldn’t tell if they had a good relationship or not.
It seemed his reluctance to leave for the capital came from her, though. “Sword dancers belong to the shrine,” she told Tier’s mother. “Send your own student.” Maybe he should go and see her before he left? Or maybe-
Another knock came from the door before he could finish his thought.
“Young master?” a voice called out, and Rel stepped in without waiting for an answer. She was round and small, a kindly woman in her late fifties. More like an aunt than a servant, she’d been with Asta since her birth. Pushing the books and papers aside on the desk, she placed a tray on it.
“Come and eat. You look like a corpse, all skin and bones,” she said, proceeding to hover over him until he obediently started spooning up the thin soup.
“I wanted to make you something proper, but your mother said it might upset your stomach, what with you sleeping for three whole days,” she said and pursed her lips. “Really, though, you gave her such a fright. What’s gotten into you, getting ill all of a sudden – and at a time like this, too!” she tutted. “I won’t say a bad word about your master, but staying in that moldy old hut is doing neither of you any good.”
Tier had no idea what to say to any of that, but whether he did or not made no difference to Rel, who prattled on until the last of the soup was gone.
“I’ll let your mother know you’re up,” she said finally. Rel picked up the tray, bustled out again, and Tied couldn’t be bothered to close the door after her. If the whole household was set on visiting him, he might as well let them do as they pleased. Instead, he cleaned his desk up again, and returned to his seat by the window, idly wondering if the original had spent a lot of time there.
Asta appeared soon after, tapping lightly on the door frame before stepping in.
“How’s my son?” she asked, reaching over to stroke his hair. “Feeling better?”
Tier nodded, then, when she seemed to be expecting something a little more verbal, added “I think the fever’s broken.” Asta smiled, pulled the low-backed chair over, and sat down with a sigh. In the mellow light flowing from the window, her face looked sallow, lines etched more deeply than in Tier’s memories.
“I’m glad,” she said. “It’s been bad, the last few days. We lost Eiro the other night.”
“Sara told me,” Tier said, and Asta blinked in surprise.
“Did she now? Did she come over?” she asked, brows furrowing. “Really, that girl… I don’t know what’s up with her lately, I hardly see her these days,” she paused there, then smiled. “Well, I suppose I was like that once as well. No matter, she does her duty.”
“Do you still want me to go to the King?” Tier asked, making his mother sigh.
“Yes,” she said. “Now more than ever. I’m sorry to rush you out from your sickbed, but we can’t hold on for much longer. With Marta, Enlis, Ritta, and now Eiro too – I never thought I’d be building pyres for my own disciples, though I suppose that speaks of my skills as a master,” she said, her face taut. “We’ve been giving them grief as well, but where one falls, it seems five take their place. We still don’t even know where they come from! Forget catching one alive, they don’t even leave their dead behind,” her voice trailed off and she cleared her throat.
Most of the disciples were little more than children, and out of the rest, perhaps twenty – including Asta, Sara, and Tier – had the skills needed for battle. The dancemaster avoided leaving the shrine, saying her blade was only for the dance, and her insistence that Tier do the same had caused another rift between the sisters.
“What of my master?” Tier asked, doing his best to play his part. Asta grimaced.
“She has relented, more or less. You should visit her before you go,” she said, rubbing her temples.
“When do I leave?”
“As soon as possible. Tomorrow, if you can.”
Tier nodded, standing up. He had to take that bath – and hopefully get something more filling than watery broth into him. Other than feeling grimy and stiff, it seemed the illness left him with an odd feeling of emptiness. It wasn’t quite fatigue or hunger, but he felt low in energy in a way he couldn’t quite place.
Asta rose as well, and pulled him into a tight hug – the first that Tier 2.0 had received in a very long time. Stunned, he had no idea how to react.
“I’m sorry my son,” she whispered into his ear, “I wish we had a little more time.”
Tier could do nothing but awkwardly pat her back, swallowing down the “I’m not your son” stuck in his throat. Trying to rationalize that the people in this world were only fictional suddenly seemed meaningless, and he was left feeling like a liar and a fraud.
[Warning!] the Registry chirped so suddenly his heart jumped into his throat. [To preserve the world’s integrity, it is forbidden to disclose soul origin. Doing so will negate all progress and directly transport soul into VOID]
Wait, so he couldn’t tell anyone he wasn’t from this world?
[That is correct!] the Registry said, with more cheer than Tier thought was appropriate. Wasn’t that really unfair to everyone?
Suddenly feeling suffocated, he took a step back from Asta’s hold, and stammered out “Sorry, I need to take a bath.” Ahh, tomorrow couldn’t come fast enough! He couldn’t take anymore of this! He had to hurry and get out, marry X, and get out of this world, damn it all.
Asta nodded and smiled, wiping her eyes. “Alright,” she said, “I’ll get your things ready for tomorrow.”
Tier managed a quick “Thank you,” before using his memories to pull a fresh set of clothes from the drawers under the bed, and getting out of the room as fast as he could without running.
The Vartia house bath was located on the first floor of the main-hall. It consisted of a small washing area and a pool cut into the stone of the mountain the shrine rested on. The pool took its water from a natural hot spring, giving it a faint sulfuric smell and supposedly healing properties. The area was enclosed within a high wooden wall, but the ceiling was open, giving a view of the blue sky above.
To Tier’s relief, there was no-one else there. He washed quickly, grateful for the mild late spring weather, before slipping into the bath.
Soaking in warm water, he tried his best to not look at his body – Tier’s body – but a glimpse of here and there was enough to confirm it was a vast improvement to his previous physique. It wasn’t like he’d been horribly out of shape before, but how could a shut-in whose halfhearted attempts at exercise had been motivated by back pain even try to compare to someone who trained twice a day, every day?
Of course, Tier 2.0 had to admit he had gained in the switch. If it was unfair to anyone, wasn’t it the original? It was his body, the result of his training – even his life, suddenly handed over to someone else.
Come to think of it, what had happened to the original Tier? Had he died of his illness?
This world had a concept of each person having two souls; a body soul and a spirit soul. One controlled the body, and the other contained the personality and the memories – everything that made you who you were. Losing the body soul meant the death of your body. The spirit soul alone couldn’t keep the body alive, though it didn’t necessarily die. However, the spirit soul could leave the body, and though the person inside was no longer there, the body would move on, though it would no longer be considered living. You needed all three: a body, and two souls to be fully alive. Maybe that was what happened to the original Tier? Maybe his spirit soul was still floating around somewhere?
The current Tier shivered. Wandering spirits, ghosts, and haunts all featured in the original webtoon, and while he had enjoyed reading about them, he had no aspiration to ever encounter them in person. Nor had he ever wanted to push anyone out of their own body!
Or maybe there had never been a real Tier Vartia, and this world only appeared when reader FrozenMoonlight migrated over? Maybe it’s all just my imagination, he thought desperately. But this world seemed so real, Tier’s memories so complete, it felt impossible to think it was all a work of fiction.
Registry? Tier called out in his mind.
[How can I be of assistance?] the robotic voice replied immediately.
Is this world real?
[All worlds come to existence after their creation.]
But if the world was real, what would happen when – if – he completed his mission? Trick X to marry him, then disappear? Did the original Tier return to his body? How long could a spirit soul survive on its own?
Not for long without corrupting, his new memories suggested.
Besides, wasn’t that horrible on its own? Imagine losing control of your body, only to it return years later to find yourself married to a man you’ve never met… Hey Registry, what happens if I complete the mission?
[Reward for completion: soul fulfillment] Registry said.
Soul fulfillment? What does that mean?
[Soul fulfillment specifications depend on the soul]
So it was up to him? Well, whatever it is, it won’t be VOID, right?
[Correct! A fulfilled soul can not enter VOID] the Registry chirped.
So the only way to move forward was to complete the mission?
Tier closed his eyes, letting the warm water soak into his bones as he thought it over.
First things first, he should see his master.
The path descending to the dancemaster’s house started between the shrine’s main-hall and a sidehouse where the disciples slept. It was narrow and easy to miss, worn into the rock before either of the two houses were built, winding down the mountainside.
Tier stepped carefully. Though with his new memories the path was clear enough that he could’ve named every stone and pine on the way, he was too cautious to rush. Down below, treetops blocked the river from the view, and though Tier didn’t have a fear of heights, the thought of a misstep made him break out in a sweat.
Dancemaster Ania was waiting for him in the small yard outside her house, looking as she did in his memories – posture rigid, face unreadable, arms crossed. She gave him a small nod in greeting, then turned and stepped into the house, leaving Tier to follow after.
The house was ingrained in Tier’s memories. Built out of gray stone, half burrowed into the mountainside, it had only a single room, with a low roof and a cold stone floor. At one end, in a concave carved into the rock, stood a small statue of Vesri, light from the single window at the other end never quite reaching it. He paused in front of it, bowing according to his new memories before he even realized what he was doing, the action so ingrained into his bones.
The dancemaster sat down at a low table by the window and poured water into two cups. Tier sat opposite from her, the cold from the stone floor immediately seeping through his clothes, but he didn’t dare shiver. Ania pushed one of the cups in front of him and said “Tomorrow.”
Would it kill you speak a whole sentence? Tier thought, but just nodded instead. It was easy enough to fill in “you” and “leave”.
“Master,” he said, picking up his cup. “Did you make me ill?”
“Do you think I did?” the dancemaster asked, her expression unchanged.
Tier turned the cup in his hands. Did he think she did? “Why did you change your mind about me leaving?”
Ania shook her head. “It isn’t safe anymore,” she said, and stood up suddenly. She walked to Vesri’s statue, bowed low, and bent over to lift a tile from the stone floor. Tier watched her, mystified. There was nothing of this in his memories! So, 1.0 had never seen this hidden compartment either.
At first, Tier couldn’t tell what it was she took out, but as she turned around, the memories caught his breath.
Something long and thin, wrapped in blue silk lay in his master’s arms. Tier didn’t have to pull off the cloth to know what it was – River’s Tear, sword of the sword dancer.
Of course, it wasn’t just a sword. Forged before the shrine was built and cooled with the river’s water, it was the first of the shrine’s five treasures. It was considered an extension of Vesri, a shard of the god’s soul, and Tier couldn’t help but feel a little intimidated.
Ania returned to the window and set the sword down on the table in front of him. “Take it with you,” she said.
“Why?”
“It isn’t safe anymore,” she repeated herself and picked up her cup.
And that was it. Tier didn’t need the help of his new memories to know the conversation was over.
At least, he thought as he made his way back up the path, hair still wet from the bath, she didn’t waste any time.
By the time he reached the shrine’s front yard again, the other disciples were starting to come in. Some passed by with a nod as a greeting, others stopped to exchange a few words – or rather, to say a few words while Tier listened politely. The original’s memories worked hard in connecting names to faces, but after a while they all started blurring together.
The sun was low, barely peeking out from behind the mountains, when Tier made it back to his room. He was all but ready to collapse on the bed, but a covered tray on his desk pulled his attention. Hands shaking in anticipation he carefully lifted the cover off, only to find a bowl of soup.
Ah well, he thought, at least it was a thicker this time, with pieces of white fish, spring onion, and egg mixed in clear broth. The taste was much milder – definitely less salty – than Tier 2.0 was used to, but it wasn’t bad.
As he ate, Tier found his thoughts returning to the words of his master: “It isn’t safe anymore.” Did she mean they had no hope of holding back the bandits? Or did she know something else?
Tier 2.0 wasn’t prone to believing in premonitions or visions, but in the original’s memories there were several instances where his master had sensed things she had no way of knowing. She seemed to know about events she hadn’t been part of, or things that hadn’t happened yet. Though she lived in seclusion, she always seemed to know what was going on at the shrine and in its surrounding lands.
Tier shivered, finishing the last of his soup. He carefully covered the tray again and put it aside.
He was in a world where gods and magic were real. According to the author, everyone could use magic to some extent and many mundane tasks were aided with a spell or two. As with any other skill, aptitude varied by person, though hard work and proper training could surpass the talent of a lazy natural.
The dancemaster was definitely a master of magic. As her pupil, the original Tier should’ve been skilled as well, when at his full strength. Sword dancing, his new memories told him, was equal parts of dance, prayer, and spellcraft. While its main purpose was to praise the god Vesri, it could also enhance the vitality and endurance of those watching.
Tier covered his face with his hands and sighed.
He wasn’t sure if he’d be able to do it even with all the original’s memories aiding him. Dancing had always been a thing that happened to other people, not only that, but he believed there was a certain amount of skin, that one should cover in a public setting (and no, wearing a mask didn’t actually help at all – if anything, it made it somehow worse).
As the last rays of the sun disappeared behind the horizon, Tier read a spell to light the room. Following the original’s memories, this everyday spell left him with a sense of wonder, even if the light was far weaker than he’d expected. Perhaps it was linked to the fatigue he’d been feeling? What was the energy they used in this world to cast magic again? Mana? Tier thought. Perhaps his illness had depleted his reserves?
But still, weak as it was, he couldn’t help but smile as he watched the small sphere of light settle in the ceiling. He liked this sort of magic, magic he didn’t have to strip for in front of the entire region.
No matter, he thought with some relief, once he got on with the plot of The Autumn Leaves Have Fallen On Glory’s Path, he wouldn’t have to worry about that anymore.
Which reminded him, he should get ready for tomorrow.
True to her word, his mother had already gathered a lot of what he needed into neat bundles on the window-side bench.
A lot of what he needed really being a lot.
Just as Tier was trying to figure out how he would carry it all, his mother returned.
Her eyes lingered a moment on River’s Tear as she pulled the sliding door closed behind her, but she said nothing. Instead, she stepped over and handed Tier two sealed envelopes – the message for the King and a letter to his uncle – and two slim pouches.
“I had to redo the spells, but they should work,” she said, sitting down.
Ah, of course, Tier thought, as the memory hit him. Tier 1.0 had traveled further than a day’s trip away from the shrine only as a child and had little more than a vague recollection of it, but this was something that stood out.
In this world, they were called travel pouches, but weren’t magic bags of holding common in fantasy settings? Small on the outside, but much bigger on the inside, they could hold an almost unlimited amount of items. Very convenient when you didn’t want to explain how your character was able to walk about with ease while carrying an entire warehouse’s worth of inventory, haha.
“Do you remember our trip to the capital?” Asta said, touching on the one memory Tier had of traveling. He nodded and she smiled.
“You were so little then, and kept getting lost every time I let go of your hand,” she said. “Which reminds me-” she pulled out a slim roll of paper from her sleeve. “It’s a bit old, but I doubt the city has changed that much,” she explained, rolling out a map of the capital. “The royal palace is here, but you should go to your uncle first – you remember Kajo, don’t you? He can help you arrange the audience.”
Tier nodded again. He knew it all from his memories already.
“Right, I’m repeating myself, aren’t I?” Asta said, guessing his thoughts. “I really wish I could go with you. I feel like there’s so much I’ve forgotten to tell.”
She got quiet for a moment, staring at her hands. “After you leave, we’ll be going as well. Ania will take the children into hiding, and I’ll take the rest to gather and help the villagers into the caves.”
“Master will leave the shrine?” Tier said, surprised. Asta gave him a half grin, half grimace.
“Shocking, I know, but she actually volunteered,” she said, pushing herself up again. “I’m thinking she’s had one of her premonitions again, but whatever it is, I’ll take it.” She bent down to stroke his hair.“I should let you get some rest. I’ll see you again in the morning,” she said, and left Tier to his thoughts.
Perhaps because he’d been asleep for so long, or because he was too nervous, but rest evaded Tier until deep into the night. When he finally slept, he dreamed first of dancing and swords and marriage, and then of a god smiling down at him.
The words “I accept you, Tier Vartia,” still rang in his ears, echoing like thunder when he woke up, confused and disoriented. That wasn’t real, was it? But it had felt a little too real… He got dressed hastily, trying not to think about it.
Though it was early, the shrine was already bustling as Tier made his way to the front yard. His mother was waiting for him there with Rel in tears on one side of her, and Ania stoic on the other. Sara stood some way off, her expression blank.
The dancemaster was holding a long staff of darkened wood, and muscle memory made Tier’s sides ache at the sight of it. How many times had this body felt its force, Tier didn’t even want to guess. Ania gave him a small nod, apparently meant as a greeting and a goodbye, as she turned aside and walked away.
Tier 1.0’s life sure had had its share of trouble, 2.0 thought, staring after her until Asta cleared her throat and called him back to reality.
“I suppose this is goodbye,” she said.
Tier nodded, going through 1.0’s memories to try and see how he should react, but apparently a nod was about it? Damn, so neither of them were any good at this?
“I’ll return as soon as I can,” he said long after the silence had dragged into awkward territory. Asta nodded and Rel wept harder than ever.
“Stay safe, my son,” his mother said, and pulled him into a quick hug.
Rel wiped her tears, and pushed a small bag into his hand. “This is for fatigue,” she said, voice a little hoarse. “Don’t eat too many at once, and only when you can’t have a proper meal and rest. Did Asta give you the money? Remember, the first wayhouse is in Karros, but you can ask for room at any village, and–”
“Rel, he knows,” Asta said, giving her a nudge.
Tier nodded again, pushing the bag in his travel pouch. There was little else to say. His mother hugged him once more, then gently pushed him on.
Stairs cut in stone led down the mountain, and the scenery changed as the horizon disappeared behind the trees. At the tall wooden gate at the end, Tier nodded a goodbye to the two guards stationed there and walked through.
*
The road forked after the gate. A dirt trail broke away toward the river, but Tier’s steps took him to the wider stone road winding between the mountains. It was well maintained thanks to Asta’s efforts and easy to travel, broad enough for a horse drawn cart, and even though he could still feel the lingering effects of his illness, he made good progress over the morning.
The turn of the road and the forest soon hid the shrine from view. Air was still under the trees, a stifling contrast with constant wind blowing on the mountain top. Tall trees on each side of the road reached out overhead, blocking out the sun. The light filtered in was tinted green, lending to an eerie atmosphere. Tier could hear the rush of the river somewhere behind the trees, but otherwise it was silent.
There were no other travelers on the road and the guard station Tier passed a little before midday had been deserted. The southern road was never busy, but it was never this quiet and Tier found his steps slowing. Eyes darting from side to side and uneasiness growing in his heart, he made his way forward when a turn on the road placed him in front of a group of bandits.
Standing oddly still with swords in hands, cloth masks covered their faces.
Tier stopped in his tracks, then took a step back.
The bandits stepped forward as one.
Shit. Shit. Shit, Tier thought and turned to run, only to find himself facing another group of men, similarly masked and armed.
Slow and steady, in no hurry, they circled Tier on all sides.
Tier’s body reacted before his mind could, his sword – Whisper – flying out of its sheath. Holding the sword gave Tier a strange sensation, memories mixing inside him, both familiar and not.
The quiet forest filled with noise as swords clashed together.
Tier fought with all he could, relying on the memories and the skills ingrained into his body through years of hard training, but the odds were against him. Not only was he outnumbered, the way the masked men moved was united – as if all six were controlled by a single mind – and he was still recovering from his illness.
A cut here and another there, his blood was already flowing. Even as he took one out, the two in front of him closed rank forcing him into the waiting blades pointed at his back.
A spell cast on reflex saved him, cut down one of the attackers, pushing the swords aside for long enough for him to force his way out of the encirclement, but his wounds – while none too serious on their own – were sapping his strength. His mana reserves were still depleted, and the quick spell drained them further. If he ran, how far could he get? The bandits blocked his way back to the shrine, but even if they didn’t, it would take him five hours to get back. The next village was still far away, and leaving the road would slow him down.
Thoughts racing, flipped through his memories – a speed-spell, a fire-spell, a prayer to call on Vesri’s aid – but the first two took more mana than he had, and the last was too complex to be of instant use. Dammit, what use was a god, he thought, and felt an immediate rush of guilt, remembering his dream. But that was just a dream, right? Right?
Ahh, I’m sorry!
Tier tightened his grip on Whisper, ignoring the blood flowing down his arm. There was no doubt in his mind; the bandits had been waiting for him. But had they been there for four days while he burned with a fever? Or had someone alerted them after he’d left the shrine? Tier swallowed hard. There were still four of them, slowly, silently moving to surround him again.
Shit. Shit. Shit. His heart was pounding as he tried to think of a solution, retreating one step at a time, trying to keep his distance. A cut on his left leg was starting to bleed heavily, pulling open with each step, and every time he stopped, blood pooled at his feet.
One of the bandits suddenly lunged forward, the tip of his sword cutting through the skin on Tier’s arm. Tier pulled back, the pain almost making him lose his grip on Whisper.
The sword stayed in his hand, but he lost his footing, his injured leg sliding under him. Balance lost, Tier fell heavy on one knee, and the bandits were instantly on him.
Did I fail without even meeting the hero? The thought barely surfaced when a shadow flashed in front of him.
A flowing black robe blocked his view, as Tier tried to find strength to get back to his feet. He slipped again, sword-hand hitting hard enough against the road for stars to dance in his eyes.
Tier blinked, trying to clear his vision.
A tall man dressed in black stood in front of him, the slender, dark blade of his sword glinting red with blood. A hare leaping over a crescent moon was embroidered onto the back of his robe, and Tier didn’t have to see his face to know who it was.
The man moved quickly, silent as a shadow, his sword drawing a graceful arc through the air.
Slash. Slash. Slash. And then, in a heartbeat, it was over. The road was washed red with blood, the rusty stench making Tier swallow down bile.
X turned slowly to face him. Long black hair pulled back from his face, a few strands falling down on his cool gray eyes, ahh, he really was every bit as handsome in flesh, the godlike hero of the webtoon come to life.
However, unlike the easy, knowing smile painted by Sir DemonMaster666, the real face of this hero held an expression cold as ice.
Ah, Tier thought, involuntarily pulling back, forget marriage, was he even going to survive the introduction?
X took a step towards him, slowly sheathed his sword – Mourning – and just as slowly, keeled over.
*
Tier blinked. Then blinked again.
What the hell? Great hero, sir? Dear (future) husband? Did you just faint?
Tier inched forward, slowly and painfully, but X didn’t react. Sheathing Whisper, Tier used the scabbard to give X a cautious little poke.
No reaction.
This is not good, Tier thought. Definitely. Not. Good.
He paused to think, then hastily slapped blood stopping spells on the worst of his wounds, and pushed himself up. He stopped to breathe, leaning on Whisper, and waited for the dark spots to clear from his vision. Fortunately, Tier’s body was strong, and soon enough, he was able to move without passing out. Unfortunately, he didn’t know any pain-killing spells, but gritting his teeth, he pushed through it with strength of will he never knew he had.
Or maybe it was all thanks to Tier 1.0’s body, he thought, but he couldn’t stop now.
Somehow, sparing no effort, Tier managed to haul X into the trees. Making sure they couldn’t be seen form the road, he propped his dear (future) husband against a tree, then returned to cover their tracks. He contemplated whether he should try and clear the bodies too, but since it was impossible for him to wash away the blood, it seemed like a waste of effort.
So, he returned to the situation at hand. Namely, what the hell X?
Alright, Tier thought, first things first.
X was still breathing and there were no visible wounds on him. So what was it? One moment he was fighting with ease, and the next he just collapsed?
Tier leaned back on his heels, folding his arms on his chest as he thought. He should try and remove X’s clothes to see if he was wounded somewhere, but that felt like it’d be too soon in their relationship. Instead he settled for bashfully patting him down, but discovered nothing but a seemingly intact body underneath.
Ahh, this was going nowhere. Maybe he was just out of energy? Searching through Tier’s memories, he found a way to check for energy levels – mana – running through living people. But knowing the method was one thing when the memories didn’t carry over how it was supposed to feel. Holding X’s wrist between his fingers he definitely felt something, but with nothing to compare it to it was impossible to tell if it was normal or not. He settled for feeling X’s pulse instead, which seemed steady enough.
What was he supposed to do now? Wake X up with a kiss? Or did that only work on princesses? Either way, it was definitely too soon in their relationship for that.
He finally remembered the energy boosters Rel had given him. Thankfully, the bag was in one piece and its contents safe, even if his outer robe had been slashed through.
Inside the bag were a few handfuls of dark red dried – berries? Whatever they were, they had a smell so sharp that Tier had to close the bag again just to breathe. For a moment, he had no idea what they were supposed to be, until a dim memory surfaced: siraberries. A natural source of energy, some of the disciples had relied on them to get through guard duty on night-shifts.
Alright, that should do it, Tier thought, but how many were too many? Tier 1.0 had, according to his memories, never eaten even one. His body was strong enough as it was, damn him. Maybe I should try one now, just to see, he thought reluctantly, but the strong, piercing smell didn’t exactly work up his appetite.
Registry, he thought, will siraberries kill him?
[There is no registered data on siraberries] the Registry said.
Oh, what the hell, Tier thought, and shoved a handful in X’s mouth.
For a moment, nothing happened. Then X’s eyes flew wide open, and his hand shot up to grab Tier’s wrist.
Still holding on to Tier, X leaned to the side and spat out what he could of the bitter, dried mess, tears streaming down his face. Wiping his eyes and mouth on his sleeve, he said, in a voice little more than a whisper:
“My dear beauty, I just saved your life, why are you trying to poison me?”
First of all–
“Who’s your dear beauty?” Tier said, feeling this sort of nonsense was best nipped in the bud, although, in hindsight, perhaps it wasn’t the biggest issue here. Pulling his hand out of X’s grip, he backed of a few paces, knelt properly on the ground and said with great dignity:
“I wasn’t trying to poison you. Those were just siraberries.”
X grimaced. “You know you’re not supposed to eat more than two at once, right?” he said in a hoarse voice, searching through his travel pouch for a flask of water.
Oh. Well. Live and learn! Tier thought, smoothing down his torn robe. The blood from his wounds was starting to dry into a sticky mess, blotting the light gray fabric with dark red. There’s no saving it, was there? All cut up and bloodied. I should probably just burn it, he thought, very definitely not trying to avoid looking back at the dashing hero.
X’s murderous aura had more or less dissipated, but unfortunately his good looks had not. Dear sir DemonMaster, did you really have to go so over the top with that face? Did he really have to be this handsome? Tier sighed in his heart.
X managed to find his flask, washed the bitter taste from his mouth, and leaned back against the tree. He’d traveled fast over the past week, with too few hours of sleep and missing a meal or four. The fight now had been the fourth since he’d reached the region two days ago, and it looked like his stamina had finally run out.
He took a better look at his kind poisoner. Rescuer? It didn’t seem like his intentions were ill, though his still burning mouth and eyes were inclined to disagree. Pretty face and slim figure aside, he had managed to get them off the road, wounded as he was.
“So,” he said after a pause. “What happened?”
“You fainted,” Tier replied.
“That much I had gathered,” X said, then “I meant before. You walked into an ambush, didn’t you?”
Tier nodded. “I was on my way to the capital. I’m from the shrine at the end of the road,” he said.
“The Vartia shrine?” X said. “Let me guess: you’re Tier Vartia, the sword dancer in training?”
Tier stared at him. First of all, how the hell? Thanks to his still remaining knowledge of The Autumn Leaves Have Fallen On Glory’s Path he naturally knew X – his cursed mission hinged on it – but how did X know who he was?
Wait.
“The Records?” he said, as the memory surfaced. Of course, the King’s archives kept extensive records on pretty much anything and everything, including the locations, gods, and disciples of each and every major shrine in all of Marros. If something about him gave away his position as a sword dancer – posture, a move he used – combined with a list of names and specializations of each disciple in Vartia shrine, it wouldn’t be too hard to figure out his identity.
X smiled, and Tier had to look away. There it is, he thought, the famous smile.
“I assume someone didn’t want you to reach the capital?” X said.
Tier nodded.
“Any idea who that someone was?”
Tier shook his head, and briefly laid out the events of the past few weeks, starting from the attacks and ending with his illness. “Did you know of the attacks already?” he asked at last. “Did the King send you here?”
X sighed and rubbed his face. “Only after a fashion,” he said. “The first I heard of the attacks here was when I walked into one two days ago. There’s no word of this in the capital, or if there is, it hasn’t reached my ears.”
Then why are you here? Tier wanted to ask, but instead, a little belatedly said, “May I know your name?”
“You can call me X, if you wish,” X said and smiled.
—–
You have reached the end of the free sample!