The first thing he knew was the Sun.
Hero wanted to kill it. He wasn't sure how, but the idea comforted him.
It stung his eyes as they opened, as if it was the first time he had seen it.
The setting Sun illuminated the forest before him in a golden glow. It filtered through the crimson and yellow leaves. The way they blew reminded him of the crackling of a flame.
He breathed in the air through his nose. It smelt fresh and alive.
"Ngh..." He groaned, low and guttural.
His body doesn't agree, it felt like his joints had been replaced with rusted hinges as he shifted his legs, his muscles ache, his head hurts.
'Where am I? Who... What?' Were his first thoughts, or rather questions, looking over the endless treetops as he sat upon the hill.
And that's when he realized, he cannot remember.
Not his name. Not a single face. Nor any words of what he is or where he's from.
He only knew the view that was in front of him, and the silence around him.
His gaze falls to his lap, he sees a longsword, silver and spotless. He stares as his right hand brushes the flat of it's blade.
Nothing is clear to him, but he feels a connection with this weapon he can hardly explain.
'My sword.'
He sighs, leaning back against the trees as he drags his hands over his face in dismay. His dull grey eyes once more look over the impossible forest, he shakes his head.
His throat is dry, his body feels empty, and yet he has no clue of even the name of this body.
"Who the fuck am I?" He frowns.
Of course, he wasn't expecting an answer.
The forest certainly wouldn't.
But something else does.
A chuckle, low, high, too close but too far slides into his ear from nowhere and everywhere at once. "Ho... to think you've forgotten even your name. Even when they are so precious to your kind."
Hero freezes, every hair on his body rose.
He swallowed his saliva, grabbing the hilt of his blade tightly. "Who's there? State your name."
The voice slithered around his head, "Hmhm," It smacks its lips. "Quite impudent. For one to ask a name when they have none to give."
His head swivelled, he couldn't see what was talking to him and it unnerved him. Only a pressure and a voice told him that he was speaking to something.
Hero's eyes narrowed, his lips curl into something resembling a smirk. "Then you do have one."
The wind blows in brief silence. "Perhaps. Perhaps it is long forgotten by even myself." A pause, a hint of mirth in his tone. "But for now... you can call me the Watcher."
He raised his eyebrow. "Watcher of what?"
"Of you," the voice echoed, slipping through the leaves around him. "Until the day you prove not worth watching."
"I am a God, boy." He declares.
'Congratulations.'
"I am a God who likes to watch universes unfold in unexpected ways, I say God, but I more see myself as a spectator, I let the other Gods have their fun."
His next words were chosen carefully, "Then my name... who I am. Do you know?"
"Of course." The voice booms, "I know everything about you, I was the one who brought you here after all."
Hero's eyes widened, "You brought me here? Why?"
The Watcher chuckles, "I told you. I like to see universes unfold in unexpected ways, for fun, essentially."
Something told him that wasn't the whole truth.
He gritted his teeth wanting to complain, yet he didn't really know what he was complaining about, he doesn't even know what he's been taken away from.
"Hero. That is your name." Said the Watcher.
The sound of the name slammed into his chest. His heart beat loud as heat seared through his veins, every nerve lit like fire. His dull grey eyes filled with a crimson hue. His stiff joints loosened, as if all the rust had disappeared.
Hero staggered upright with the help of his sword. "What... what just happened?"
"You got your name back." The watcher said as if it was a given.
'Helpful.' He lampooned.
"Listen closely Hero, I'm only going to tell you the bare minimum, because frankly, it is far more entertaining to watch you struggle than succeed, but this information is as important as your life so focus."
Hero nodded dumbly, flexing his fingers and stretching his body whilst listening intently, curious about the world around him.
"You're far from home, though you wouldn't even remember it if I had told you. Here is the stage you are about to perform upon. This world is Yule, and it is barely hanging on before you even got here."
'Just what I want to hear.' He thought.
"It wasn't always like this, once simple. Five kingdoms scattered across three continents. They fought dragons warred with each other, and traded spices, praying to gods who never listened. Mortals thought themselves masters of fate, as usual. But then the crypts came - holes in the barrier between this plane and the underworld. Out spilled undead horrors, demonic nightmares, and evil spirits. It started small, petty goblins, orcs, trolls, skeleton graveyards, zombies. Enough to frighten villages, not topple continents."
'That's not so bad...'
"Oh but they got worse. So much worse. Stronger, hungrier, monstrous. All until one Nightmare-class crypt appeared in the northmost continent of Hjaland, home of dragon peaks and slayers, proudest and most powerful humans. In a week, they were ash, the survivors forced to flee to the central continent, Poros. What stepped out from that crypt was none other than The Ruler of Death himself, who covets the extinction of all life, desiring to bring everyone into his embrace. He crushed humanity underfoot with his undead monstrosities."
'A week? At least it was quick.' He thought.
"But the precious human gods took offense at the gall of the Ruler of Death. They descended, for the first time ever Gods appeared before humans. For a year, they fought the Ruler of Death on the continent of Hjaland, forcing their march to stagnate. It was then a pact was made, where the war would be taken to proxies, where the divine were oathsworn to never descend again. Ruler of Death included."
"Hjaland is gone, now the domain of Death himself. In the southern and central continents, humans continue the fight. But they do not fight alone anymore, the humans found that a certain kind of crypt appeared every few decades, hailing the remnants of defeated worlds. The Dwarves came first, fleeing from a hivemind of insects that ran rampant through their underground cities. They aided the humans with their ingenuity, magic equipment, and their greatest invention, the 'System' rune, turning feats of strength into numbers and letters, a catalyst for the gods to grant them power."
"Then came the Elves, whose world collapsed under a storm of parasites, bringing their knowledge of magic and fondness of nature."
"Then the Beastmen, the finest Demon Hunters, who were trampled by Demon General Belius, who almost annhilated the southmost continent before the Beastmen arrived and fought alongside the allied races, pushing back General Belius and his slaughter demons.
"Finally the Bloodspawn- your kin, though not your kin. Blood mages who sneer at the gods, and think themselves the pinnacle. Powerful, yes, but very fractured. They fled after the Ruler of Death overpowered their own Blood Ancestor, Sanguine, turned him into his own puppet, and sent him to slaughter his own kind. And there you have this shitty world called Yule and it's ongoing cosmic refugee crisis as worlds crumble under the pressure of this war." The Watcher concludes.
"What a beautiful world." He said with apathy.
It was hard to feel bad for a world he has no attachment to, where he knows no one, has no family, or even a place to call home.
'Especially when I don't even know where I am. What's the point of thinking about a celestial war.' He sighed internally.
"Look at the back of your right hand, you'll notice a runestone embedded into it." The Watcher said.
He raised the back of his hand and saw the stone with red engravings all over embedded into the back of his hand. "Not another problem hopefully."
"Your everything." There was no play in the Watcher's tone.
"That is a piece of Dwarven ingenuity that gives this world a fighting chance. Pierce your hand and give it a drop of blood to awaken it."
Hero blindly followed his words, nicking his index finger of his left hand and let the blood drip onto the stone.
The red engravings lit up, he felt his blood stir before settling, slowly a floating sheet appeared in front of him with a red transparent background.
[Identity]
Title: None
Name: Hero
Race: True Vampire
Affiliation: None
Lineage: ???
Bloodline: ???
Class: None | Path: None | Blessing: None
Tier: 0
AP: 0 | SP: 0
Satiety: Starved (Dormant)
[Attributes:]
Stamina: low-novice
Strength: high-novice
Speed: mid-novice
Magic: low-apprentice
[Skills]
Blood Manipulation: low-apprentice
Blood Drain: low-apprentice