Castor's eyes open, the pleasant dream of learning more about the stars here, seeming to end, rubbing his eyes and looking over at Polydeuces, sleeping soundly. Getting up, the simple sleepwear he was given feeling about as comfortable as guest sleepwear in a castle could feel as he walked over and grabbed a journal, a blank leathery dark red cover and back, it was a gift from Medea.

He'd almost considered tossing it earlier, now no longer tired and satisfied, no longer distracted by the ball, no longer distracted a dream and no longer distracted by anything. Looking out the window, the night sky was still present, a subtle chill in the air, closing in on fall maybe? A sigh escaped his lips, he grabbed, his socks and boots, Polydeuces' old cloak, a pencil and hesitating for a second. The journal, walking back to the window and muttering

"[Flight]" He silently and carefully flew out the window and into night sky slowly, but surely getting used to the spell, he wished he could've felt an elation akin to a comic book hero discovering they could fly! But he didn't, a muddied, jumbled and an almost hollow feeling mess in his mind. Castor couldn't see, but he knew that if could, his face would seem, lifeless, eyes dulled, eyelids half lidded and mouth even. In essence, emotionless, flying forward slowly and lowering down to get a better look around, he spotted an abandoned gazebo, sat perfectly in a park he'd passed by a few times in the past few days. Pulling up a tipped over old chair in front of an old looking desk that sat in the exact middle of the old gazebo, he looked up, the moon perfectly in position to stare back. An almost, foreboding, ominous and nearly silent melody of a piano began to play, the only one to hear it, was him, a child of The First Murderer, The First Executioner, Lord of Blood, The First Soldier and The Honored WarFather.

Larcray. His new "father", shaking his head he got his mind back on track, pulling the journal out, feelings he couldn't really understand, like they were second nature to him. Mind clearer than before, why did she do it? What was her plan? Why him? These feelings felt so natural, frustration, disappointment, anger, betrayal and sadness. Gently slamming him fist on the desk, he felt his teeth gritting, but no tears came. Heavy and slow breaths came out as he sat there, stewing and almost waiting for an answer, either out loud or in his head to help clear the feelings, but no answer came, nothing that felt satisfactory. Placing the journal on the desk and placing his hand on the cover, gently allowing his magic to flow on the book, the words

Journal

For Castor

Seemingly carved themselves onto the cover in black, a Gothic looking font, a large side profile of a lion's head sat in the middle, roaring, facing the spine and the lines filled in with the same black as the title. Running his fingers and hand across cover, cool to the touch, same as earlier, opening the book and on the first page, he immediately tore out, much as he loved books, he could barely stand thinking about what words she put in here, gently folding the torn out page and placing it in his pocket as he looked and saw no sign of a torn off page, just a fading glow and the next page, blank and ready to receive words. A humorless chuckle escaping his lips, magic, of. Fuckin'. Course.

His pencil, rather a piece of charcoal with a small wrapping and in the same general way a pencil looked, flat end on one side and point on the other, sat in between his fingers, almost touch the page, until a voice cleared its throat. Slightly jumping in his seat, he turned expecting to see Polydeuces or someone he knew, it wasn't, it was an older man, not as old as King Hadrict, but in his late 30s maybe? A head of short messy brown hair with a bang of white hair lazily sitting on the right side of his face , a pair of round glasses sat on his nose as he pushed them back up, his eyes, the color he could only describe as a gunmetal grey, age seeming kind to him, a healthy peach like complexion, a patient smile on his face, a tattered, navy blue scarf sat on his neck, covering a part of his chest, the faint sheen of black armor underneath along with a portion of the armor poking out from underneath the scarf and on his neck, a white and black dress coat with two small leather belts sat snugly on his arms, around the area of his elbows, similar looking black armor like on his chest covered both his hands, it didn't even look like they were under his sleeves. A plain pair of dark brown pants and black dress shoes with dark purple accents sat, at parade rest.

His posture was one he'd could forget, it was one of the few if only personal memories, that he felt like couldn't go away, he was once in a marching band for whatever school he was in, The Old Man, practically screaming his head off, a night sky, dead silence, a feeling of something done wrong and a feeling of disappointment in himself. Parade rest was something he'd felt stuck in his very core, this old man was executing it flawlessly, Castor found his voice. "Wh-Who are you? Why are you h-here?" A chuckle was the only answer he was met with for a moment, no malicious feelings, just an honest chuckle, like he found his question funny. A clearing of the throat and wiping away a tear. He responded.

"Well, you see my young man, I think I can answer that question, with a question of my own. Why are you here?" Castor didn't think his feelings right now could've stopped at all, but here they are, stopping as he asked internally, why was he here? Blinking a few times, an answer that felt so, so right to say in the moment.

"I'm here to write down my first journal entry and I didn't want to wake up my sister. That's why I'm here, what about you?" A hum of amusement, then a response.

"Well, I normally take a stroll through the old park at around this time, I've been doing this routine for the past, 4 years or so now. I cannot say I've seen you before, care to humor an old man and tell me your name? As a sign of good faith, Eustace Shtolehick, pleased to meet you...?" An armoredhand extended forward, that same smile, seeming less ominous and more earnest now, a small smile formed as Castor extended his hand and shook Eustace's.

"Castor Garella, pleased to meet you Mr. Shtolehick." He blinked for a second, he thought he meant to say Larcray, maybe [Lie Detector] would tell him he [Truth]....what? Okay, something for later and to tell Polydeuces. Before Eustace spoke, he'd almost expected to hear a similarly sickeningly sweet honeyed words covering up ill intentions and promises of good only to later betray him and send him and his sister most likely on a quest for Vengeance, he was in an isekai after all and everyone seemed to want to be the next big betrayal story, but all he was met with was truth, [Lie Detector] never proced with a [Lie] the entire time he spoke. Soon the handshake stopped and Castor awkwardly sat there in silence, before asking a pressing question in his head, Eustace cut him off.

"What I want, is to teach you, I have a, variation is the best way I can describe it of the skill [Mage Eyes] as I heard one of the Summoned Heroes describe it to me."

"You have a skill similar to Goro's?" Castor asked without thinking.

"I assume he's a friend of yours?" Castor gave a slow nod. Eustace gave a small hum and continued "Your spellwork is, sloppy if I'm generous, any half decent mage of any school could have easily dispelled your [Flight] and sent you hurtling to your death, I mean no disrespect, but a teacher who can think outside the box, especially in the world of spellcasters. I am getting ahead of myself though, see me tomorrow and I will explain my skill, I can tell you this right now. Wherever you apply your magical skills, whether you attempt to become a magical powerhouse, or simply use your magic to entertain, I will do my best to help guide you. Now then, I'll leave you to write, see you soon, Castor Garella." Seeing Eustace walk away, Castor turned back to his journal, the page still blank and his charcoal pencil, sitting on the desk next to the open book.

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Picking it up, he began to write, the words seeming to naturally form as he muttered them aloud.

Journal Entry 1

Aftermath of 1st Week

'This world is strange. Its people even more so.

Being told you're partly divine, your body molded by your new "parent". Feeling my new body, is a different experience entirely so far.

This whole time, I have been told my circumstances are both consistent and strange. Consistent in the fact that there has always been a Reincarnate alongside the Summoned Heroes, but Strange in the fact of my losing many memories and the categorization of very specific memories.

I only have information of media I've consumed beforehand, memory was never a massive issue. For many, it was a solution and key factor in their thriving communities and plans.

My own suspicions, after tonight and a recent meeting with an, interesting man. Have given a hypothesis of mine, some ground to stand on.

Even as I write, reading and saying the words, I can tell, the me before Castor and before Red. May have been a fearful or lonely person, a massive fear of heights, the dark and people's gazes and judgement, are all now minor fears or slight discomfort.

My evidence, is instinctive feelings, that have occurred in every instance of each fear. Fear of the dark, last night, only a moment of slight fear falling asleep.

Fear of heights, the other day, The Plunge. A few moments of hesitation, seeking encouragement from Polydeuces, then taking The Plunge.

Fear of people's gazes and judgment, 2nd day of the first week, breakfast and meet up with the Summoned Heroes. My arrival at the table, sitting next to Polydeuces and my hiding of my appearance allowed them to wonder and begin to speculate who I am. Meeting them and using my hood there had the same effect even after lowering it.

Another massive reason for this, is I can feel these worries, these fears and a slight hint of paranoia, fading and other instinctive feelings, becoming 2nd nature. I realize that my frustration with Medea, may be a previous frustration with family and/or friends.

I feel my personality slightly altering, I feel less nervous, I feel hints of wanderlust and while this feeling is not new, a deeper fascination with magic. I also feel a hunger, a hunger for something I cannot, determine yet. I can only come to a few conclusions and all seem as possible as the others, I have four I believe are the best and most possible currently with all my, limited knowledge and evidence.

Conclusion, the first. I am a regular Reincarnate, my circumstances may have been strange and led to strange possibilities about me, but I am no different than the last one and my hypothesis, is because of me living longer than most other known Reincarnates, Penelope, being the only hole in this conclusion, her never feeling the effects of Fracture or showing any know symptoms, perhaps her magic was already unlocked.

Conclusion, the 2nd. An outside force has interfered with my arrival and potentially Penelope's arrival, given the circumstances, media I've consumed about similar stories where the gods play in the world, perhaps a force, looking for its next champion. Perhaps looking for an interesting participant in its game, someone different.....than the rest. A more interesting test subject, a variable in their experiment. This conclusion can be both rock solid and flimsy as I have no real way to confirm the gods dispositions and personalities, I feel this one leads to an interesting question, do I fight my kidnappers? Do I just live? Why my memories? If I was as foolish as they'd think a mortal who came to this conclusion would be, I don't feel the desire to give them that. I will live and live the way I want, I will be as gentle as I want, I will be as rough as I want, I will be as kind as I want and I will be as cruel as I want. I am reminded of the quote "and the laughter of thirsting Gods." If I meet others like me and they seek to critique me, telling me what they would have done and would want to do, I will tell them to critique someone who wishes to listen, I am not a protagonist they can critique and hear no response, I am not them, they are not me and if they wish to babble uselessly about themselves, they can do it to someone who will listen.

I apologize, I seem to have let old feelings, creep into my conclusion.

Conclusion, the third. A Rogue spellcaster cast another spell and sought a creation, attempting to play the Gods Game. Perhaps they are seeking me out, scavenging the land, either for my corpse or me. Perhaps they wish to brand me, make me a slave, their puppet, a morbid conclusion, but one I must consider, given the genre and the strange amount of slavery in its stories. If they are an otherworlder like myself and the others, I fear I might or will never have enough strength, magically or physically or worse, both and my capture and subsequent forced servitude to them, will be a inevitable fate and if that does happen and you are reading this in the future, even a stranger, I hope your life will be a satisfactory one, regardless of the futility of my escape and/or struggle, I only hope, that my loved ones, will live and thrive after my capture, should this conclusion prove true.

Conclusion, the fourth. Final conclusion, similar to the 3rd conclusion, I am not a slave, but I am a weapon, a creature born and molded to fight, kill and conquer, my personality, being a defect, but hopefully not an unwelcome one. Like the 3rd conclusion, perhaps an inevitable capture awaits, or perhaps another poor soul, seeking to end their life, will not be as fortunate as I was. I can only hope, that my 3rd and 4th conclusions are wild speculation, but if conclusion the 3rd is at least slightly possible and a chance for me to fight and stop my summoner, I will kill them, destroy everything they have on summoning one like myself, I fear if others with even worse intentions, find the research and notes, many innocent lives will be pulled away from Heaven, but if they are the most horrid, depraved and vile souls damned for Hell, I hope their enslavement is punishing, their lives miserable and their stomachs, eternally starving for food.

I apologize again, my emotions and rapid thoughts have entered my conclusions, but, given all I have is knowledge of other worlds, other kinds of people, I fear this is all I can use and use to come to conclusions, my goal as the Saintess, will be to protect and serve the land, I will only have my discretion, my biases and my heart and feelings. If I am still alive and you are traveling with me, I hope I am still a kind person and if I am not, please, as these words are written, stop me, I already forgive you. I will write down the teachings of the Saintess, so at least a good one will come from my actions if I have fallen so low to be considered a roaming monster.'

-From, The Desk of The Abandoned Gazebo, Castor Garella

Castor set the charcoal pencil down and looked at the few pages of a 1st entry he made. Internally praying to God, if he could even hear him, that his 3rd and 4th conclusions are wild speculation at best and improbable at worst. Sighing he looked as he saw the moon had moved away from sight a while ago and seemingly, the first crack of dawn would be here soon. Recasting [Flight] and grabbing the journal, he flew off back to the castle, not tired, but certainly wishing to just sit alone and think for a while. Floating while looking for a place to sit and perhaps rest his eyes, he spotted a strange sight, a brown cloak moving through the garden of the castle, toward the castle. Penelope perhaps?

Realizing he floated to the balcony where he and Penelope were last night, he gently floated down and hid as best he could behind some plants, watching the brown cloak move closer....