"You're telling me you were a gladiator—an actual gladiator—and fought in the pits of some colosseum just a few days ago?!" Theo exclaimed, eyes practically bulging in excitement and disbelief.
Gaius shifted uneasily and let out a sigh, leveling an accusatory look at Darin. "Yes, that's right…"
"Wait… that's two thousand years ago!" Theo pressed, mind racing. "How's that even possible?!"
Darin, looking just as animated, raised both hands in a show of astonishment, finally someone to share his enthusiasm with. "I know, right? It means he literally time-skipped. How are we the only ones freaking out about this?" He shot a glance at his companions, as though baffled that they weren't similarly astonished.Aera, the voice of reason among Gaius's group, chimed in next. "This place is already… beyond belief. What's one more impossibility?" She cast a wry look around the clearing. "I was shocked too at first, but—maybe it's just another rule of this world we don't understand."
Gaius cleared his throat. "I'm guessing none of you have… time-skipped?"
The term sounded awkward on his tongue. His gaze roamed across the camp, landing last on Kurai, who stood a short distance away, arms folded and brow knitted.
Kurai barely moved, yet inwardly he bristled. A different time… Strange items, unknown words and titles… A hollow realization tugged at him, setting his heart racing. If Gaius truly came from centuries past—what did that mean for Kurai's own era?
His voice was taut when he finally spoke. "I was born in Nihon, during Oei 21. Do any of you recognize that?"
A moment of confusion followed. "Oei 21…" Mira echoed under her breath, her brow creasing. Then sudden recognition lit her eyes. "That's one of the old Japanese eras, right? Nengō, I think they call their system of ages."
Theo brightened in understanding. "That's right! Except… I don't recall hearing of Oei 21 specifically."
Darin perked up, glancing at Kurai. "Any well-known rulers from your time? An emperor or shogun? I know a thing or two about history."
The question stung more than Kurai cared to admit. Naming them feels like calling forth a curse. But at last he answered, "Ashikaga Yoshinori was shogun. The emperor was Go-Hanazono.
"Darin's eyes widened. He pressed a hand to his chin, mentally sorting through dates. "The Ashikaga clan… that would place you around the 1400s or 1500s, I think. Japan's Muromachi period—five hundred years ago."
Everyone went still, the weight of that revelation settling like a stone. Theo's mouth fell open as he let out a low whistle. "You're… an actual samurai?"
The word had an immediate effect on Kurai, darkening his expression. Theo, belatedly remembering the last time that topic came up, blanched at the sight of Kurai's thunderous face. Kurai knuckled his spear, and for a moment Theo feared he was about to lash out. Instead, he turned on his heel and stalked away in silence.
A heavy hush blanketed the group. Darin and Theo exchanged glances, their earlier excitement tempered by confusion. "So that makes two time-skippers, then," Darin ventured softly. "No wonder Kurai's so skilled with that spear—he's had a lifetime of practice.
"Gaius and the others, still gathered near the fire, could only watch Kurai's retreating form. Eventually, Mira murmured, "I wonder what happened to him… before all this."
Jace, still reeling from the news, kept his voice low. "We'll never know unless he wants to tell us. And I don't see that happening."
Out of earshot, Kurai halted, wrestling with a flood of emotions. Dead. Every one of them must be gone. He gripped his spear until the wood threatened to splinter beneath his palm. How am I supposed to get my revenge now? All this power… it means nothing if I can't return.
He thought of the vow he'd carried for so long. In this brutal place, he'd envisioned honing himself into a blade of vengeance. But if centuries had passed, then his enemies had turned to dust long ago.
Unless we're somehow sent back… The possibility flickered briefly in his mind, kindling a shred of hope. But the same savage intuition that had kept him alive told him that once history was written, it couldn't simply be undone.
Kurai glanced upward. Through the thick canopy, pale slivers of sunlight filtered in, indifferent to his turmoil. What am I supposed to do now? he wondered, a hollow ache lodged in his chest. Yet there was no answer but the distant rustle of leaves and the relentless hum of insects, and beasts roaring in the distance.
***
Time passed slowly by as Gaius, Aera, Darin, and Joran busied themselves within the camp. They soon realized Kurai was absent. It was clear, at least to Gaius, that Kurai had gone out for the day—likely to wrestle with his own thoughts. Gaius figured that was for the best for now. Instead, he was curious about how the others here operated in battle and how they managed this notion of "points" and "Aether."
This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it
Elias, Jace, Mira, and Theo were initially guarded when Gaius suggested they join forces for a hunt. But the logic was simple: more people meant more security—especially if points and Aether were the only things that held real value in this harsh world. They agreed, and with that, they spent most of the day venturing out in small parties, watching each other's backs as they took down a few prowlers and reptilian beasts.
Nightfall came swiftly enough, accompanied by the jungle's chorus of distant roars and shrieks. The group—minus Kurai—gathered around a modest campfire, devouring the fruits of their combined efforts. A subdued kind of satisfaction lingered in the air; no one had been gravely injured, and they'd earned more points than they'd hoped.
Just as they settled down to rest, Kurai reappeared. His arrival was abrupt and startling: he trudged into the firelight, spattered with blood and covered in fresh cuts, dragging two large, humanoid corpses behind him. In his hands, Gaius spotted a gleaming polearm—steel-bladed and unlike any basic spear they'd fashioned before.
"You should harvest their chitinous armour for spears" Kurai said flatly, dropping the creatures with a sickening thud. "I'll be right outside camp."
Alarmed, Mira stood as if to tend to his wounds. "Kurai—wait, you're—"
He shook his head, tone firm but not unkind.
"Thank you, Mira. I just need some time. Don't worry." With that, he turned on his heel, walking out of the glow of the firelight before anyone could argue.
A puzzled hush fell over the camp. Most of them wore traces of concern, but after an exchange of uncertain looks, they turned to the bodies Kurai had brought in. No point in letting valuable material go to waste.
A short distance beyond camp, Kurai settled in the dim glow of the moon. For reasons none of them fully understood, this particular area seemed strangely devoid of prowlers and other horrors. Perhaps the creatures sensed the gathering strength of the camp—or perhaps something else warded them away.
Kurai exhaled slowly, closing his eyes to steady his swirling thoughts. All day, he had done what he knew best: pushed deeper into hostile territory, battling ever more dangerous creatures. The new steel naginata in his grasp had helped him carve through fourteen of them. He'd felt their Aether pouring into him, saturating his body with power.
He had spent 400 points on the naginata, and after fourteen kills worth ten points each, he now sat at 160 points. By right, he should have felt triumphant. But with every kill came that hollow reminder: any vengeance he'd once sought was moot in a world that had erased his time. And yet… that old, honed discipline in him refused to give in. Self-pity was a luxury he'd long ago learned to forgo.
So be it, he thought grimly, remembering the teachings of the Aether Manual. If he couldn't chase his old goals, he would at least perfect this new power.
Crossing his legs, Kurai steadied his breathing. The Manual spoke of forging an Aether Core—to gather and compress all the Aether in one's body until it coalesced into a single, concentrated seed of power. Control was key, but in the wake of this day's battles, he felt his reserves practically overflowing.
He began slowly, summoning each thread of Aether from his limbs, guiding it toward his center. At first, the process felt like trying to herd mist—scattered, elusive. Then, particle by particle, the energy responded. Threads gathered into strands, strands merged into currents, and currents surged into something like a raging flood.
The pressure was immense. Pain flared in every muscle, sweat trickling down his temples. His shoulders shook under the strain. Yet he pressed on, forcing the swirling tides of Aether to compact, layer by layer, within a single focal point near his core.
His breath hitched. The agony mounted until, finally, with a sensation not unlike a cramp that rippled through his entire being, the energies snapped together. At the center of his body's energy pathways formed a small, glowing orb—dull bronze, but thrumming with potent life.
Kurai gasped, dropping his head forward as the pain abruptly retreated. In its place was an odd emptiness, as if the reservoir of energy that once flooded his veins had been drawn into that single, condensed marble of aether. Slowly, he raised a hand to press against his abdomen, sensing the faint hum of power.
Exhausted, but strangely at peace, he let the night's humid air wash over him. The vow that once drove him—revenge and all the anger it entailed—might no longer hold meaning. But he had found a different path in this brutal world.
If there is no returning to the past, he thought, then I'll wield this new strength here. One step at a time.