Chapter 4: Ritual

Klein's mind was still reeling from the fortune teller's words as he made his way back through the bustling market. The warmth of the freshly baked bread seeped through its cloth wrapping, offering a comforting constant amidst the whirlwind of his thoughts. The market buzzed around him—merchants hawking their wares, children darting between stalls, and the mingling scents of spices and roasting meat filling the air. As he navigated through the crowd, a fragment of conversation caught his attention.

"Did you hear about the fortune teller?" a man's voice carried over the market's din.

"What about her?" his companion asked.

"Turns out she's not the real deal. The actual fortune teller got injured last night – some sort of accident with one of the circus animals. This one's just some animal trainer filling in."

Klein’s heart skipped a beat, his legs rooted to the cobblestone street as the words washed over him. He turned, staring back at the colourful tent where he'd just had his fortune read. A memory stirred, elusive at first, then snapped into focus with startling clarity.

He'd read this. In the novel.

The realisation sent a shiver down his spine. It wasn't just that he'd read about a similar scene—it was an almost identical scenario, down to the absent fortune teller and the animal trainer replacement. But as he tried to recall more details, his memory faltered. It was as if parts of it were shrouded in an impenetrable mist.

Klein resumed walking, his steps mechanical as his mind raced. Why couldn't he remember everything? It was as if something was actively blocking parts of his memory, allowing only select pieces to surface.

Another fragment of memory emerged: a ritual. In the novel, there had been a way for the protagonist to return... return where? The details were fuzzy, but Klein was certain there had been a specific ritual described for going back. To the original world? To a different time?

But then a troubling thought occurred to him. He hadn't performed any ritual to get here. Unlike the novel's protagonist, his journey to this world hadn't been of his own volition. So would such a ritual even work for him? And more importantly, did he even want to go back?

The streets seemed to stretch endlessly before him, much like the uncertain path of his new life. With each step, Klein felt the weight of his dual identities, his fractured memories, and the looming sense that he was part of a story much larger than himself.

Finally reaching home, Klein’s movements were automatic as he placed the bread on the kitchen table. His mind was elsewhere, frantically trying to piece together the fragments of the ritual he half-remembered from the novel.

He glanced at the clock. Soon, the house would be empty. His sister would leave for school, and the other occupants would depart for work. Klein himself didn't have to worry about that yet; he was between studies and had a job interview in two days.

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As the sounds of morning routines and departures faded, Klein found himself alone in the quiet house. The silence seemed to amplify the urgency of his thoughts. He closed his eyes, focusing intently on the memory of the ritual.

Slowly, the details began to coalesce in his mind. The steps, the words, the necessary components—they all came into focus with surprising clarity. Klein's eyes snapped open. He had to try it.

But first, he needed to check something. Concentrating, Klein focused on accessing his status window.

```

Name: Klein Moretti (Dipak)

Age: 22

Date: 5th of April, 1349

Sequence: N/A

Spiritual Power: 50%

System Points: 0/5

Strength: 6

Agility: 5

Constitution: 7

Intelligence: 8

Spirituality: 3

Luck:?

Skills:

- Talisman Making (Novice)

- History (Intermediate)

- Occult Knowledge (Beginner)

Condition: Very Excited

```

Klein’s eyes widened at the sight of his spirituality score. It was just 50%. A wave of doubt washed over him, but he pushed it aside. He had come too far to back out now.

With newfound determination, Klein began to prepare for the ritual. He took out four loaves of rye bread he had purchased earlier, placing them carefully around the room: one in the corner where the coal stove used to be, another at the bottom inner side of the dressing mirror, a third at the top of the cupboard where two walls met, and the last at the right side of the study table cluttered with miscellaneous items.

Taking a deep breath, Klein moved to the centre of the room. The air seemed to thicken as he spent several minutes calming himself, trying to quiet the storm of thoughts in his mind. Then, with a solemn step forward, he began to move in a counter-clockwise direction, forming a square with his path.

At the first step, he chanted in a low whisper, "Blessings Stem From The Immortal Lord of Heaven and Earth."

With the second step, he sincerely intoned, "Blessings Stem From The Sky Lord of Heaven and Earth."

On the third step, Klein breathed out a whisper, "Blessings Stem From The Exalted Thearch of Heaven and Earth."

At the fourth and final step, he spat out a foul breath and meditated in concentration, "Blessings Stem From The Celestial Worthy of Heaven and Earth."

Returning to his original spot, Klein closed his eyes and waited, his body tense with anticipation. A whirlwind of emotions coursed through him—hope, unease, fear, and a desperate longing for understanding.

Could he make it back? Would there be any effect at all? Or would something unexpected happen?

The unknown loomed before him, tinged with the crimson light of hope. Klein’s thoughts swirled in his head, refusing to be quelled.

It was then that he felt it—the air around him seemed to still, becoming thick and mysterious. The faint scent of burnt bread mingled with the metallic tang of anticipation as the hair on the back of his neck stood on end. He sensed a shift in the atmosphere.

Suddenly, a low whisper brushed against his ears. It was a sound unlike anything he had ever heard before—at times real, at times sharp, at times imaginary. It was alluring yet maniacal, enticing yet terrifying. The whisper seemed to dance on the edge of madness, its words indistinct but filled with otherworldly power.

Klein’s eyes snapped open, his heart pounding in his chest. The room around him seemed to waver as if viewed through a heat haze. The loaves of bread at the corners of the room had begun to emit a faint, pulsating glow.

As the whispers crescendoed, their intensity pressing against the edges of his sanity, Klein felt a tugging sensation in his mind. Fragments of memories, both his own and not, flashed before his eyes. He saw glimpses of a world both familiar and utterly alien, of cosmic horrors and divine mysteries.

The room began to spin around him, the whispers reaching a fevered pitch. Klein felt as if he were being pulled in a thousand directions at once, his very essence stretching to its limits.

And then, just as suddenly as it had begun, everything stopped.

The silence that followed was deafening. Klein stood frozen in place, afraid to move, afraid to even breathe. Had it worked? Had anything changed?

Slowly, cautiously, he opened his eyes...

Everything looked the same. The room was unchanged, the loaves of bread still in place, the faint glow now completely gone. The oppressive atmosphere had lifted, leaving behind only an eerie stillness.

Klein’s heart sank. Had the ritual failed? Or had something else entirely happened? He was left with a mix of confusion, disappointment, and... relief. The implications of that unexpected emotion were just beginning to sink in when a heavy fog began to surround him.

The mist swirled around his feet, climbing higher with each passing second. It was unlike any fog Klein had ever seen—it seemed to shimmer with an inner light, and he could have sworn he saw shapes moving within its depths.

As the fog enveloped him completely, Klein felt a strange sensation, as if he were floating in a vast, unknowable space. The whispers returned, but this time they were clearer, more focused. They spoke of ancient secrets, of powers beyond mortal comprehension, of a world where reality itself was malleable.