I see an ocean before me, an ocean of lights and ant-like moving objects. It's a busy evening. People are going to bars, they are driving home, some are walking and talking on their phones. I don't know how I even managed to get on top of this building. The security officer didn't see me walk right past him, all the doors I thought I would need to pick were already opened, and the winds which made the whole skyscraper wobble when I made my way up the stairs have completely stopped when I carefully poked my head out.
I wasn't nervous. It didn't even take me twenty steps to get to the ledge, to the last thing my feet would touch before I eventually jump. I sat down, my feet dangling off the edge, and I just took the scenery in. All things considered, it was beautiful. Was it beautiful enough to make me reconsider my decision? Not really. I pulled out my phone and I looked at the black rectangle, my reflection in it distorted and cut into different parts. It was an old phone with a broken screen I never bothered to get fixed. I unlocked it and sent just one message. It was to my parents. I wrote that I'm sorry and it's a goodbye.
The fate is often cruel. I watch as the circle next to the message spins and spins, loading to see if it even goes through. A red excalamation mark pops up. No internet connection, really? Aren't I as high as it goes? Aren't I supposed to have the best access to the internet up here? I don't even know. I tossed the phone to the side and sighed out, my breath turning into a cloud of fog. Despite it being so cold outside, I didn't feel any discomfort. There was no ceremony. There was no fanfare. One second I was sitting, another I was falling down. I didn't feel afraid. It was quite freeing, actually. I saw the pavement closing in and I closed my eyes, knowing I'm about to hit the cold ground.
When nothing happens and I feel as if I have been suspended mid air, something inside me almost hopes for some sort of magical moment. Have I awakened some sort of powers and it's prevented me from dying? It was impossible, this sort of thing happened only in the novels. I opened my eyes slowly and found myself in a classroom. My arms are crossed over my chest, my eyelids sluggish and the high pitched sound gives way to someone talking. I look up, a wave of exhaustion washing off, and I see everyone else focused on the person standing at a small podium in front of a huge blackboard. She... is not using her hand to write on it, she is using some sort of... light? It looked like sparkles carried the chalk and wrote the main points of whatever she was saying.
I shake my head and I finally start to come back to it. The classroom resembles an auditorium almost, a huge glass ceiling providing so much light it felt like a greenhouse. I look to the side and out the window, focusing more on my reflection: no longer shattered, but I am not the person I remembered I was. A simple face. Nothing crazy. My eyes and hair are the same color, pure black, and the light from the sun above bounces off of the darkness, making it look almost like I'm shimmering. I crack my neck a little when I turn back to look at the class, which is still ongoing. Has it just started? Everyone is different than me. They have colorful hair, some look crazy with their hot pink ponytails and some look like models straight out of TV, and this applies to both men and women.
I gulp, maybe a little too audibly since a few people look my way, only to quickly stare the other way with obvious disgust in their eyes. I'm tucked away in the corner of the many rows of seats, each one empty next to me; even the girl sitting away at least three seats from me, which is the closest one to me by the way, has contorted her body to be as far as it is possible from me. I... do not smell, do I? Worrying about it, I gave myself a curious sniff. No, I smell like nothing. It isn't one of these things when a person has lived in their filth for so long they can't smell it anymore, is it!? A cold sensation washes over me when the teacher looks my way and points her finger at me. Her voice, despite being so far away, felt like it was right next to me.
— Silas Edevane. Do you have a question? — she asks, without any emotion in her voice. I was confused just for one second before noticing I have my arm fully up after smelling myself. Hesistant to say anything, I just slowly lower it and feel my legs shaking from all the stares piercing right into me. I'm sure they are seconds away from exploding with complaints about how dare I stop the lecture to ask an insignificant question. Gulping again, I stand up abruptly which makes the whole room go silent.
— I... uh... I, uh... I have to go to the bathroom — only this comes out of my mouth. I grab the little tote bag hanging off the hook by my desk and just bolt out of the room. I don't even know where I'm going but my legs carry me forward. Muscle memory it seems like! I powerwalk all the way to what looks like a dormitory, albeit a little rundown one, and enter one of the rooms. It's small, dark, and the only window in it has an hole in it covered with a piece of cardboard. I laugh to myself, my legs turning into jelly and I fall onto the wooden floor. What the FUCK is going on?
I feel a panic attack setting in. My heart is beating fast, my palms get cold and sweatier than they were before, my vision becomes blurry, I have a hard time trying to catch a breath. I close my eyes shut and bite down on my lower lip with enough force behind it to cause a small bleed, pulling me out and into the reality. Can it be even called reality? I crawl on all fours to a dirty mattress and lay on top of it, looking at the ceiling. I feel tears gathering at the edges of my eyes and I have to put my arm over them before I fully start sobbing. I don't know if I'm about to cry from happiness or from frustration.
I know where I am. I know what happened. Is this the thing people experience before they die? They are already long dead but their brain wants to make the situation as gentle as possible? No, that's not it. This feels too real. The panic attack seconds ago proved it. I let out a shaky breath and sit up, looking around. The room is a mess. Black mold in the corners, dust collecting on the shelves, absolutely no heating present, something what looks to be a cockroach scurrying to get into the small crack under the cabinet. I know it will fall apart when I try to open one of the drawers. This is not the life of a protagonist.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
You would think your role wouldn't be just a random extra in a fantasy setting if you were to reincarnate. I stand before a mirror and just look at myself. Clearly malnourished, far too skinny, plain looking, pale skin, black eyes and hair. The bags under my eyes make me look like I haven't had a good sleep in all of my life. I know I'm in my favorite novel. The teacher that pointed at me? It was Lady of the Red Hunt, Cecilia Solace. She is one of the teachers at the Magic Academy who cares little for the status. All she wants from her students is evidence they have what it takes to pass her grade. She is stern but loving. There hasn't been a trip to hunt the Red Dragon without Cecilia Solace at the very front, this is where she got her title.
But I had no idea who I was. I never heard of this character. The world in "Where The Crows Scream" has magic in it. Everyone has access to it, everyone knows how to use it, but your main elements are determined when you turn ten years old. Everyone is born with dark hair and eyes, and that changes only after they receive their element. For example, if your main element is Lightning and your sub element is Fire, your hair would turn flash yellow and your eyes would brighten into a red coloration. Of course, that is explained very broadly, but that's the easiest way to explain it. There are exceptions to this rule. If the main element is Earth but the hair turns slightly green or pink, they should be better at handling magic that connects them with plants. It is unknown that someone hasn't received their element. But here I am.
— Even if I'm here all alone... — I gulp. I open my mouth and close it a few times, groaning. The words finally come out of my mouth after what feels like forever — S-Status...? — A black screen pops up before my eyes. It's adorned with golden threads that cut through the rim and it displays information about me.
NAME: Silas Ian Edevane
GENDER: Male
TITLE: Loser of the Academy
ELEMENT (MAIN): &5839275(*%57u9
ELEMENT (SUB): $%7tu8395ut0495
STR: ???
DEX: ???
CON: ???
INT: ???
CHA: ???
MANA: ???
LUCK: -1
This puts me in a loop. The title I can understand, the missing stats too, but what is with my elements? Your stats are shown to you after you are given your elements. You yourself, of course, know your body and know if you are strong or not, but if you are feeling fine and something like your CON shows as low than average, it might mean you have an illness you don't know about yet. The status screen is private and can be seen only by the owner. There are some ways to go around it. If you are sold into slavery and you have a Slave Mark burned into you, your owner would then be able to see your status. I look at my status window for a couple more seconds, maybe hoping something would change... but no. Nothing does. I wave a hand through it and it disappears. What the hell do I do now?
Not only have I just run away from the classroom, I'm in a situation without any information. Don't losers like this guy I'm now usually have diaries? I could try looking around, but... where do I start? My heart starts beating with an increased pace. An idea just came to me. Even people without an element, kids before they turn ten years old, still have access to magic, but it's not offensive magic or anything of the sort. It's the simplest of spells and one of them is to clean the area around you. Am I really about to use magic? I gulp and focus, closing my eyes. Something warm tickles my fingertips and release this sensation by flicking my fingers outward. Slowly opening at least one eye, I can see a weave of magic travel through the dirty room. It picks up dirt and grime, leaving behind clean surface. It does a round around the room... then again, finishing the cleaning and disappears together with it.
Magic is tied directly to the space beyond what humans understand. Fairies, elementals, spirits; they are the owners of magic and we, humans, just take parts of it. If someone were to come in contact with an actual spirit and receive their blessing, they would be immediately considered something else than just human. From what I read, legends say that the royal family has access to spirit magic and that's how they stay so powerful. The simple cleaning spell I just cast is supposed to summon a pixie to help with the cleaning. Despite being annoying pranksters, cleaning is their hobby. Since they don't really make a mess where they come from, when someone asks for their help with cleaning they show up and leave the place spotless.
I let out a sigh of relief. It's good to know this boy has mana. To use spells, you need mana. It's basically like giving an offering to a spirit in order to use their power. In order to get stronger magic, you need more mana to give to the spirit. Everyone has their own mana pool and it's hard to grow it. It takes years of hard work to expand it and, from what I read, it's awfully painful. I shake my head and remember something. I say the word to summon my status window and take a closer look.
(...)
MANA: ???
LUCK: -1
What? Luck? This is not a stat I remember. It wasn't in the novel at all. I even read the "Helpful Guide to Where The Crows Scream" provided by the author herself and it wasn't there, I would for sure remember it if it was! God, who the hell is this boy!? I walk through the window screen and it disappears. Sitting down on the bed again, I put my head in my hands. At least the room doesn't have the musty stink in it. I look at the broken window. It looks as if someone has tossed a stone in through it. Considering how people looked at me in the classroom, no wonder there are those who would do something like this. There is another spell I can use to fix this. I focus again, gathering mana into my palms and slowly put them together as if I'm about to pray. Feeling the warmth leave my hands, I open my eyes to see the glass slowly reconstructing itself. This is the work of a gnome. Small little guys that like to take things apart and put them together again. It's said they're descendands of the dwarves. I can only make out a small outline of hands working on the window, nothing else. When I raise my WIS stat, I should continue to see more and more of the spirits.
Alright, well, this part is done. I should probably go out and see if I can find any information on who I am... I doubt I'll be able to ask the students, but it shouldn't hurt to ask the teachers, right?