He touched his face. The black mustache he had was cut to perfection. Oiled and well groomed. A head of hair made for a Bollywood star. It was combed backwards and let to hang gracefully, reaching his shoulders. For all intents and purposes, he was the absolutely handsome.
Drop dead so. Fishing would be as easy as smiling.
I am so screwed.
Alex touched the small scar to the right of his eye. A cut that shaped the person he currently stared at on the mirror. He had just gotten home just an hour ago, falling asleep in his work clothes. Now he stood wishing he had rather died into blackness or what constituted as a hereafter than having be placed where he stood now.
[Name: Luther Morgan Bellham]
[Skills:
[Heavy Strike]
[Adept Battle Awareness]
[Novice Swordsmen]
[Fledgling Pyromancer]
[Fledgling Mana Control]
[Fledgling Pyrokinesis]]
[Traits:
[Contemptuous]
[Sesquipedalian]
[Pertinacious]
[Merciless]
[Supercilious]
[Overbearing]
[Dignified August]]
[Mana: 0/734]
[Skill points: 32]
Luther Morgan Bellham. A villain in the worst possible game he could have transmigrated in. A cruel bastard that did some of the most heinous crimes before the complete collapse. Whenever the narrative needed someone to show how good the main players and characters were he was put up to the task to destroy their perceptions. Even with how little he played the game. He never enjoyed the masochistic thrall it had on the majority of the gaming community
He was a monstrosity in a game called ‘Everlasting Fire and Ice’. An open world role playing game that was known for its unusually large world. The free roam and agency that breathed life into the game became the very draw that had people rushing to play it.
Not mentioning the difficulty it had shown the world. Players were turned into celebrities over night for beating Bosses. Their names were etched into a hall of fame made to last the entire digital age. You had one month game time to prepare your character in a medieval setting filled with Magic and Swords for an endless battle.
But dungeon running and finding Boss lairs were not its only draw. If you were willing to put in the time, you could get deep into the world and people. The one that mattered most right now to him was one he had finished not to long ago. A quest that ends with the beheading of an evil count for his heartless crimes. All in that one month span of time before the total collapse. Even if no player participated.
But, the image he stared at looked younger, and without a massive scar that marked the villain in the game. A burn mark that covered half of his face from some experiment. The burn mark that was supposed to have occurred instead of his soul being replaced. Luther had tried to assimilate a dragon heart and failed, spectacularly. It wasn’t meant to go so wild, but it did and it left him with a partial boost. In the shape of 32 skill points.
“Luther Bellham.” He tasted the words.
His back straightened, body moving on its own. His chin rose as a feeling of pride coarsed through his entire body. It was an arrogance that was foreign to Alex. A sensation that he found not only odd but almost inherently wrong.
Luther took a deep breath. He tried to let the vain smirk and look of better-than-thou fade from his face, but found it impossible. His entire body and soul fought against him. It was what was natural, what he was as a person.
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[Traits:
[Contemptuous]
[Sesquipedalian]
[Pertinacious]
[Merciless]
[Supercilious]
[Overbearing]
[Dignified August]]
[Mana: 0/734]
[Skill points: 32]
He looked back at his status menu. Luther was utterly screwed in so many ways, he couldn’t even begin to rationalize it. These traits were some of the worst he could have had in any character, but all together they were a calamity waiting to happen.
Alex wanted to freak out, to feel scared, nervous, anxious, anything at all at his situation. But there was nothing. Just a cold silence in his chest and an unwavering stoicism that promised him success no matter the odds. He couldn’t help but scoff out loud—it was so posh he nearly cringed—at how helpful that had been for the previous Luther.
His Pertinaciousness certainly did not help him in escaping the guillotine or the Marquis’s wrath. Tortured then beheaded. A gruesome way to go and he was on the fast track to it.
How fast, that was something he needed to figure out as soon as possible without anyone getting an inkling of suspicion that he was not who he was. Luther spun on his heels, his tall muscular body felt so light he nearly bounced forward instead of walked. The athletic abilities that jumped out his body was a sudden shock he had not expected. Alex had never been the most gifted, especially not after tearing an ACL. A surgery he had kept on delaying.
But his body kept him in check. Decorum. Dignity. Everything needed to be perfect in its presentation, and that included him. His silver and gold suit shone wealth and power in spades, shoes clinking in rhythm to an unheard military cadence. He stepped around a large, black, wooden desk that screamed villainous. Luther sat down with a flourish and took a deep breath.
Would his speech still be similar to the original? Would his mannerisms be perfectly made out like he had experienced so far? What would happen if he was caught? The Bellham family was not known to be merciful to those that harm it, much less be the possible death of it current Patriarch.
He let out the air from his lungs. Alex was here now, the calm in his mind steadied him. It was unnatural. He wanted to scream, complain, to do anything but simply sit there with that confidence.
A knock woke him. This was it, the very first moment.
“Enter.” He called out.
The door squeaked open. It was a glorious piece made of fine wood and inlaid with carvings by a master. It looked to heavy to move.
An old man walked in wearing what could only be described as a black suit. A familiar face that Luther recalled. His most loyal servant, a man that had been there for three entire generations of Bellham Patriarchs.
Luther decided that saying less the better. He was unclear on the strength of the butler, but someone capable enough to serve his father must have been something to behold. “Baldwin.”
The butler bowed. A full ninety degrees with a hand folded in front and another behind him. He rose up and surveyed the room. Eyes narrowing. Luther felt his heart catch. Had he been found out already? So quickly? He hadn’t even had time to say a single word in, much less get to preparing his survival.
How was that even possible?
“I-”
“Forgive me, My Lord. It seems the servants did not prepare your orders as demanded. I will see to it now.” He spun on his heels and left the room leaving Luther internally stunned.
His stoic face never twitched at his mental breakdown, for that he thanked God. He could already imagine the subsequent fall out of his butler beating the ever living tar out of him. Dragging him out to hang and dispose of in a mere moments of time. Luther was renowned for not being able to do much compared to those around him.
Many strong people surrounded him, but that in itself was his demise. In the game, the final battle occurred when nearly the whole estate and soldiers turn against him. His second brother would also be here to deal with the situation. The angelic, holy knight that sacrifices his fame and livelihood for the betterment of the poor.
From all those that Luther had in his employ only four stood by his side until the very end. Each dying a terrible death to the hands of those that smiled and talked extensively with them not even a day prior. He closed his eyes, a bitter taste filled his mouth.
Betrayal. It was okay for him to do it, he was an existence better than the rest, but for others, it was a crime worth flogging and the most humiliating death.
His butler - Baldwin Muot.
The head servant - An old woman with a massive scar running down her face.
A knight - Garidiegh ‘The Cold Blade’
And lastly a man that wielded a spear. He seemed by far the weakest of them. Neil ‘The Strong’.
Luther planned to get them closer to him. To give them more than he could dream of for their loyalty. He knew who stood with him at the very last moment, regardless of the pledges they swore under oath. He couldn’t feel anything other than the bitter taste when he thought of any other person or name. Even the servants could not escape it, but to a much lesser degree since they were so weak.
Baldwin returned with a pile of books, engraved in them was gold and silver. Five books each as thick as his arm. The butler placed them on the desk to Luther’s left. Then took a few steps off to the side and stood there silent. Waiting for a command.
‘Memoirs of an Aspiring Flame Mage’
’The Seven Steps of Marulian Grafter - Flames of Renown’
‘Mana Control - A Detailed Study and Breakdown’
‘What to do if you fail to Advance in Pyromancy’
He closed his eyes. Of the few things he remembered, none were more clear to him than the last moments of this villain. The unadulterated hope and confidence that he would become a master mage, or at least have the potential of one. The steps he took to insure it would be possible.
It made sense why he still looked whole now. The man had attempted to absorb a Dragon’s core into his own soul. Hoping it would give him an affinity with Pyromancy. He had been following some ancient, difficult to decipher ritual to ‘commune’ with the spirits and grow stronger. It failed spectacularly.
As in, burned his face off badly. Or in this case, killed the original Luther and placed him in the original body. The man had failed in almost all his endeavors, even his streak in crime which he actually showed talent for ended up in abject disappointment.
But that was beside the point. Right now, he needed to figure out the current date. For all he knew, his execution could be just around the corner and he was completely oblivious. He needed to prepare properly, and somehow prevent it.
“Baldwin,” He called, voice filled with a deep power unbefitting of him. “You may leave.”