“The thing holding most people from doing what they need to do is their dignity and the comforts of modern life” - quote from a sage

The next time Andros awoke, he wasn’t alone. There were eight other people dressed in the same rough clothes and had their hands bound just like he did. There was a new addition to his prisoner outfit: a rag had been wrapped around his mouth, preventing him from speaking. Something that he had also shared with the others. The cell itself perhaps had room for 20 people, but had no upkeep. Rotting straw sparsely covered a floor of rough stone. The smell of blood and sweat gave Andros a wave of intense nausea as his poor nose tried to adjust to the stench. Iron bars split the room into two sections with the other side being solely furnished by an old wooden table and a few chairs. Light came in the form of smokeless, burning torches on the far wall. After taking more moments to adjust, Andros scanned the other prisoners in more detail. They were in various states of fear and wariness. He had no idea how long they had all been there, but since they were all sitting and spaced out, he imagined they had been there for at least a few hours.

They were all a mix of different heights, skin tones, but some had unnatural hair colors. A teen with dark green hair had claimed one of the corners, while a girl with bright, scarlet locks was leaning against the bars. Suddenly, the door to the room swung open to reveal two medieval guards holding another prisoner by the arms. They wore a mix of fine brown cloth and metal plates, like a combination of a priest’s robe and a soldier’s uniform. Around their necks was a large medallion with a golden symbol of the sun behind a sword’s blade and an eye on its hilt. One of the guards opens the cell and they toss the newcomer in. They walked back to the door and stood at attention on either side, a man with graying hair and more elaborate uniform came through with a woman clad in similar robes to that of the old bastard that had attacked Andros. Albeit hers was dark black with a few pink swirls. Two more guards followed them in and closed the door behind them with a heavy thud. The officer moved closer to the bars with a smug expression on his face. He turned towards the woman and gestured towards the confused and nervous prisoners. With a nod, she pulled a slender, wooden rod from within her sleeve. The top of which held a pale pink crystal that began to glow as she started to chant. Had the prisoners been without gags, screams would have echoed throughout the chamber as they felt as if someone was using a rusty drill to bore into their heads. Instead, to the ones in uniform, the muffled cries transformed their masks of professionalism into stifled grins.

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Inquisitor Octavius P.O.V.

Octavius had overseen the Devil’s Tongue ceremony dozens of times, but he never tired of seeing the skin thieves in pain. The glow from the magus’s wand faded as she finished casting her spell.

“Thank you, Madam Rosalia”, Inquisitor said, “That will be all”

Octavius studied the dazed prisoners, 4 of which had actually survived the ritual. The rest had succumbed to the pressure of the knowledge transfer. Their still open eyes leaked of blood. He clapped his hands to get the survivors’ attention back on him.

“Sinners! The Radiant Lord has deemed you worthy of a chance to repent. As of this moment on, the first day of your borrowed lives begins” Octavius’s voice boomed, “You will now have your opportunity to prove your worth to the kingdom of Solternium.”

Andros P.O.V.

The guards escorted each of the prisoners to a separate room. Andros found himself sitting across from a tired looking man in simple clothing. He scratched the back of his head and Andros a weak smile. There was a big stack of papers in front of him.

“Greetings, my name is Frederick, and years ago, I was sitting where you are now.”, he began, “I’ve been assigned to help you transition.”

Andros’s eyes widened in shock.

“H-how can I understand you.”, Andros stammered, “Was it because of that… spell?”

Frederick nodded, “The Devil’s Tongue ceremony, the first of many times that the kingdom weeds out those unworthy of repenting.”

“Repenting? For what, I didn’t do anything wrong!” Andros shouted, “I’m not who you think I am. When I woke up, I looked like this.” He gestured to his new appearance.

“That’s the problem, when you died in your world, your soul possessed a citizen of this kingdom.”, he responded, “Something that is viewed as a major sin.”

“I died?”Andros thought.

The last thing he remembered before waking in the scary world was a sharp pain and then darkness.

“Holy shit, was I murdered?”