Magic. It came in the form of a magic circle. An intangible light that demanded respect to its divinity.

“This should do it.” The old woman let go of my face.

“How were the injuries?” asked the man, who I figured to be my father.

“He’ll be fine now,” replied the nun.

When I fell, that girl’s forehead smashed into my chin which damaged it—I had probably dislocated it. The man who was there rushed me to some church. The only thing I could remember was the sight of the floor shifting from green grass to paved stone.

It only took a couple seconds for the pain in my jaws to subside. It was both a miracle and a horror. A miracle in that magic could heal like an overpowered medical tool. And at the same time, a tragedy for all the misdeeds it could do.

[The Host has advanced to level one.]

I was going to grasp that power for myself.

[Received: 100 Merit Points.]

[The Host has grown strong enough to be measured in numerical values.]

[Skill: Dragon Hearted (Epic); has started to take effect.]

~~~~~~~~~~

Name: Daniel

Race: Human

Title: Masochist

System: Crouching Dragon System (Mythical)

Merit Points: 900

Life Force: 80/80 (8 years)

Strength: 1

Physique: Conditioned Physique - Lvl.1

Techniques: Draconic Swordsmanship (Rare - Lvl.0), Draconic Thrust (Rare - Lvl.0), Draconic Sense (Epic - Lvl.0)

Active Skills: Blurred Eyes (Epic)

Passive Skills: Dragon Hearted (Epic)

Curse: Unnoticed Potential (Legendary)

~~~~~~~~~~

‘Conditioned Physique level 1?’

I didn’t understand this sudden level up. I did not kill anything. And I don’t even think there was an experience bar or any indicator for that matter.

[The Host gained a point in Strength from repeated abuse to the body. The Host is classified by the names humans have designated for certain intervals of strength. The Host currently qualifies for a Conditioned Physique.]

“Are you okay, Daniel?” asked the girl. She was a strange one. I had assumptions as to her being my sister, but it was hard to tell for sure. If we were siblings, it would explain the audacity of her brute-forcing my head open.

“Yeah.”

She also kept quiet about my memory. I couldn’t tell if it was a lapse in judgment or if she was scared of telling my father that she used me like a piñata. She was not the intelligent type, that’s for sure.

A silence filled the room for a moment before my father concluded, “Thank you ma'am. I’ll make sure we pay our respects to Argon this year.”

“No no, the pleasure is mine. May you all have a blessed day.”

“You too.”

My father grabbed me by the hand and led us outside.

As we walked—presumably home—no one uttered a word.

Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

There were only houses in every direction with a spare amount that were buildings such as churches. The houses themselves weren’t in that bad of a condition and were surprisingly tidy-looking. Some laid in a fresh coat of paint while others were simply habitable. There wasn't too huge of a distinction between this world’s architecture and the one I used to live in. These houses were barn-like excluding the red colors. Life must have been more luxurious than I was led to believe. Perhaps it is the result of a society that grew along with magic; in a way, it was a sort of science.

“Alright… See you.” The girl separated from us and waltzed into a house.

I was thinking if I should say my goodbyes too, but she had already reached the door by the time I made up my mind. It would be weird if I said anything at all considering I did not know her name.

“Where you walking?”

I turned my head to the voice and realized the man who had been walking beside me disappeared. My father was at the front door of the house right next to that girl’s house.

‘So the girl is a neighbor.’

“We’re home!” he grumbled as he opened the door.

“Dinner will be ready in a moment!” replied another voice—my mother probably.

“Go tidy up, you’re dirty,” said my father as he closed the door.

In front of me were three boxes with a pair of shoes in one of them. It looked to serve as a sort of shoe rack.

I placed my shoes in a box and walked into the main floor of the house. My attention first went to the ceilings, and then around the floor. What I was looking for was a light source. If it was a candle, that suggested light bulbs were either expensive or did not yet exist. If it were a light bulb, that meant this world had probably industrialized.

It was important to know whichever it was. But I didn’t see anything at all. The windows were positioned in a way that allowed for maximum sunlight to enter the house even at dark hours. There could be something else, but the insides of the house were lit just enough to see, but not enough to see intricate details.

There was little to nothing of anything. All that decorated the house were the chairs that went with the table. No fancy carpentry. No fancy technology. The only variance was the doorframe that led to the kitchen and the staircase.

Upstairs, multiple entrances greeted me. The first was a door that opened to a moderately sized room with a mediocre bed at the corner. The second was a larger room with a larger bed that could fit about two people. The third door greeted me with a loud creak, showing me a room filled with a bunch of random things, like swords, wooden poles, cabinets, and a couple boxes. The stale air in the room had a strange smell to it, prompting me to close it. And the fourth room looked to be a bathroom.

There was a cloth bag on the floor with some dirty clothes in it. A laundry bag.

There was also a toilet on the side next to a sink, suggesting there was some sort of plumbing system that brought water up to high places.

Having taken off my clothes, I stepped in the shower and pulled a handle. Almost immediately, hot water flowed out from the showerhead—the water heater was actually superior to the one on Earth. While no lighting existed, the people here had showers, baths, and toilets all figured out. This was certainly no medieval fantasy with dungeons and dragons.

There was a bar of soap that I attempted to use, but it was much too rough and did not mend well with my skin.

Once all that was done, I went to the room I suspected to be mine. It only made sense for it to be the first room since the other room’s bed was too large.

Sure enough, there was a cabinet in the room that had my clothes.

Some of the fabric was flimsy and cloth-like, while others were leather-based.

The attire wasn’t anything to scoff at as it was pretty standard and could even be worn back on Earth…

More evidence to crush my fantasy.

My room too, was lackluster. Anyone who spent half their lives shut in their rooms would know the age-old saying, “A home is nothing other than a good wall.”

It’s precisely for that reason that wall-artists exist. That is, to instill a spiritual being into the walls to hear their every cry. It was a therapeutic experience not limited to the nearby psychedelic ward. A rebellion that anyone could partake, but only so few chose to. A community of wonder, inspiration, a beautiful naivety… They were hospital guys. It wasn’t fair—and it wasn’t a fair assessment to say they were ignorant…

Point being, such people could see the intricacies behind a wall and its many layers. Some were like onions that cried with every peel. Others went mad at first base. Even the inhumane ones with impenetrable walls. The only thing that separated them was a room…

“Dinner’s ready!”

Navigating my way down the stairs, I was greeted with the fresh steaming fragrance of something. I did not recognize it. The waft of meat on the other hand was something I was all too familiar with.

On the table were three plates all of which were filled to the brim except one. Since my father and my mother had taken a seat already, there was only one other seat that could be mine.

There were rocks of cubed meat to one side, some plant on the other side, and a starchy grain that could not be mistaken for anything other than the one and only legendary grain, rice.

I ate quietly, shoveling the food in my mouth with the small spoon.

Maybe it was because I ate like a Little Savage that the atmosphere around the table was established further. It was bland like the food. Bland like the house. A bland family.

‘It’s the same.’

“Oh sweetie, you want seconds?” said my mother, the first who broke the silence.

“I’m full.”

“You can leave the plate there, I’ll clean it up.”

My father minded his own business as he sat there like an ogre guarding a door. His body was here, but his mind was occupied.

I took one more glance at him, and then my mother, before taking off.

The door had no lock, but it was asking to be shut.

I crouched down to find my grip on the floorboard.

Breathe.

Straight arms.

‘Do ten.’