Chapter 5
Please, let this be real
Adom sat in the train compartment, his gaze fixed on the mysterious blue box hovering before him. Despite his attempts to dismiss it, the hologram remained, its details sharp and unyielding. He tapped, swiped, even tried to shoo it away like an obstinate fly, but it stayed, a constant reminder of the surreal turn his life had taken.
Lost in thought, Adom hardly noticed the gentle knock at his cabin door until it opened. The food attendant, a middle-aged woman with a friendly smile, peeked in. "Hi there, would you like to buy anything from the cart?" she asked, her eyes bright and oblivious to the floating enigma in front of Adom.
Adom blinked, his attention snapping back to reality – or whatever semblance of it he was in. The realization that the attendant couldn't see the blue box left him momentarily speechless. He stared at her, trying to process this new piece of the puzzle.
The attendant, mistaking his silence for indecision, repeated her question with a curious tilt of her head. Adom, now aware that he had been staring, quickly composed himself. "Uh, yes," he replied, his voice slightly off-kilter. "I'll have a chocolate muffin, a large cup of coffee, an omelette with cheese, and a salmon avocado bagel sandwich, please."
"Coming right up!" she beamed, jotting down his order. "Give me about ten minutes." With that, she closed the door, leaving Adom alone again with his thoughts and the unwavering blue box.
As the train rumbled along, the landscape outside his window a blur of greens and browns, Adom contemplated the box's persistence. It was like a glitch in this dream world, a piece of a different puzzle that had mistakenly found its way into his narrative. What was its purpose? Was it a guide, a tracker, or something else entirely?
He tried interacting with it again, scrolling through the information. The words 'Level 1,' 'Health 5,' and 'Immortal' stood out starkly. They seemed like terms from a game, yet here they were, in what felt like a very real experience. The 'Entity Encounter' notation brought back the memory of the mysterious woman on the beach, her enigmatic offer, and the faint sense of dread that lingered in the back of his mind.
Adom's musings were interrupted by the return of the attendant, carrying a tray with his order. She set it down with a cheerful, "Here you go! Enjoy your meal."
As she left, Adom turned his attention to the food. The aroma of the coffee was comforting, familiar. He took a sip, savoring the warmth and bitterness. The muffin, omelette, and bagel sandwich were exactly as he'd hoped – a small slice of normalcy in an otherwise abnormal situation.
Eating gave him time to think. This world, with its perfect replication of Mandrake and the people he knew, the supernatural abilities he'd suddenly acquired, and now this blue box – it was all too structured, too intentional. It was as if someone, or something, had crafted this reality with specific rules and a narrative in mind. But to what end?
As Adom continued to eat, his focus shifted back to the blue box. Despite its persistence, he found himself increasingly curious about its contents. Clicking on the 'Hp' section, it expanded to reveal that he had gained +5 hp for running. A small sense of accomplishment flickered within him, though he couldn't help but wonder about the mechanics governing this unexpected reward.
Moving to the 'Level' section, he saw 'Level 1' displayed prominently. A note attached to it mockingly suggested his current weakness. Adom frowned at this; the notion of being categorized and evaluated like that was both unsettling and intriguing. It was a stark reminder that he was playing by unfamiliar rules in this 'dream'.
Biting into the chocolate muffin, Adom was transported back to his youth. The familiar taste, one he hadn't experienced since his permanent admission to the hospital at 14, was a vivid reminder of lost pleasures. Even the sensation of riding the famous mana powered Bullet Train of Mandrake, a marvel that had been destroyed during the Tygris Kingdom invasion when he was 16, added layers to his nostalgia. These details, so precisely replicated, made it harder for him to dismiss this world as mere illusion.
His gaze then fell on the 'Cured' status of his illness, Shadowfade Syndrome. The condition, known for its incurability, was a central part of his identity and struggles. Yet here, in this blue box that had accurately listed everything else about him, it claimed he was cured. The impossibility of it gnawed at him, raising more questions than answers.
Shifting his attention, Adom explored the rest of the interface, trying to piece together the logic of this world. Each detail, each statistic felt like a clue, yet the overall picture remained elusive. It was the 'Immortality' status that particularly caught his eye. Did it mean he was truly immortal in this reality, unable to die no matter what? Or was it a symbolic representation of something else? The ambiguity of it was both fascinating and disconcerting.
Finishing his meal, Adom gazed out the window, his mind a whirlpool of theories and questions. The landscape had shifted to rolling hills and scattered trees, signaling his approach to Kati. The thought of seeing his parents brought a mix of excitement and apprehension. Would they be as he remembered? Would this world hold true to his memories of them?
Slowly but surely, the train eased into Kati, coming to a gentle stop. As Adom stepped onto the platform, he paused, taking a deep breath. The familiar salty tang of the sea air mingled with the bustling sounds of the station, evoking a flood of memories. It was exactly as he remembered – the vibrant atmosphere, the busy throng of people hurrying about, vendors calling out to passersby, advertising their wares with enthusiastic shouts.
Adom allowed himself a moment to simply stand and soak in the scene. The nostalgia was overwhelming, a poignant reminder of a past he thought he'd lost forever. But here, in this enigmatic reality, it was all alive again, just as vibrant and colorful as in his memories.
As he walked through the town, the sights and sounds of Kati's festival day surrounded him. Orc children played boisterously in a nearby park, their laughter ringing through the air. Elves, dressed in their finery, conducted business in the commercial district, their conversations a melodious blend of business and pleasure. In the distance, giants worked tirelessly, constructing towering structures that seemed to touch the sky. Above, sorcerers glided on brooms, their robes billowing behind them as they soared through the air.
The town was alive with excitement and activity, everyone seemingly caught up in the festive spirit. Adom remembered how, back when this world was his reality, he looked forward to this day all year. His father, Amadu, would be particularly enthusiastic, always participating in the annual biggest pumpkin competition. It was a tradition in their family – nurturing a single pumpkin throughout the year, hoping it would be the largest at the festival.
Adom wandered the streets of Kati, telling himself he was just reminiscing. But deep down, he knew the truth. He was delaying the inevitable. The thought of going home, of facing the possibility that this entire experience was just a figment of his imagination, was too daunting. What if his family was not there? What if they were different from his memories? The uncertainty was paralyzing.
So, he strolled, taking in every detail of the town. The vibrant market stalls, the children running around with balloons, the music and laughter that filled the air – it was all so real, so tangible. Yet, the blue box that still hovered in his vision was a constant reminder of the surreal nature of his situation.
As the day wore on, the festival's energy grew. Performers took to the streets, showcasing their talents, from magic tricks to acrobatics. The aroma of delicious food filled the air, and Adom found himself drawn to a stall selling grilled fish – a favorite of his from years past. He savored each bite, the flavors igniting memories of festivals gone by.
Amidst the vibrant streets, the jubilant festival air took a grim turn as royal soldiers escorted a figure through the throng. This man, a 'Branded' sorcerer marked for death due to his use of forbidden magic, moved in silence, a stark contrast to the surrounding festivities. Shackled at hands and feet, his mouth was sealed with a muzzle, and an essentia suppression collar clung to his neck, reducing him to less than human in the eyes of the onlookers.
As he was paraded through the crowd, the festive air morphed into one of morbid entertainment. Public executions, though abhorred in the distant, progressive lands of Neo-Earth, were a spectacle relished by many in this part of the world. The crowd's laughter and jeers painted a grotesque picture of a society that, despite its advancements, reveled in the primal allure of bloodshed.
A boy, barely ten, propelled a rotten fruit towards the condemned, striking his face with a squelch. "Die, you piece of shit!" he yelled, basking in the approving laughter of the crowd. The boy's presumed father offered a pat of approval, a gesture that swelled the boy's chest with pride. But pride turned to fear as the Branded's gaze met the boy's. Even bound and muzzled, the intensity in the man's eyes spoke volumes, silencing the crowd with the unspoken threat of his glare.
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The moment of eerie silence was shattered as a soldier struck the Branded's head with a cudgel. Blood trickled down his temple, a crimson line against his pallid skin, as the soldier barked at him to keep moving. The crowd, momentarily cowed, soon resumed their jeers, though some faces among them now bore traces of unease.
Adom, a silent observer amidst the chaos, felt a cold knot in his stomach. Witnessing the raw, unmasked cruelty of his world's nature laid bare before him, he pondered the thin veneer of civilization that so easily peeled away to reveal the barbarism beneath. The juxtaposition of the day's earlier festivities with the current scene of inhumanity painted a jarring picture, one that highlighted the complex duality of the world he inhabited.
The spectacle before him was more than a display of justice; it was a mirror reflecting the darkest facets of society, a society that could find joy in the suffering of others. Adom's thoughts churned as he considered the implications of this reality, the ease with which joy could turn to bloodlust, and the thin line that separated celebration from savagery. The Branded, regardless of his crimes, had become a mere object of entertainment, his humanity stripped away as completely as his magic.
Adom watched in silence as the crowd jeered and heckled the condemned man, their taunts escalating into physical assault as they began to hurl remnants of food and other detritus at him. Amidst this chaos, a burly figure approached Adom, a mischievous glint in his eyes, and offered him a tomato. "Here, lad," the man said, his voice a blend of encouragement and mockery, "have a go at the bastard."
Adom, however, felt no inclination to join in the mob's cruel revelry. He declined the offer with a polite, yet firm tone, his disdain for the spectacle before him clear in his eyes. The man, persistent, tried to goad Adom further, but Adom's patience was wearing thin. With a calm, measured voice that belied his young appearance, Adom issued a subtle warning, his words laced with an undercurrent of threat that was not to be taken lightly. "I suggest you move along," Adom said, his eyes locking with the man's in a silent challenge.
The man, taken aback by the resolve and intensity emanating from someone so young, hesitated for a moment before nodding meekly and retreating back into the crowd. Adom's aversion to such barbaric displays of 'justice' was palpable. To him, the entire ordeal of public executions was a grotesque theater—a man had transgressed the law, so why not administer justice swiftly and with dignity? Why subject him to this prolonged spectacle of humiliation and pain?
As the man made his final steps towards the execution platform, the crowd's fervor reached a feverish pitch. Adom observed the condemned's resigned acceptance of his fate, noting the way he positioned himself on the block with a certain stoic grace. Beheading, despite its brutality, remained a favored method of execution in this ironically advanced world, its finality both a grim spectacle and a stark reminder of the law's unyielding nature.
As the sorcerer reached the scaffold and placed his neck upon the block, his gaze found Adom's in the sea of faces. It was a look of piercing intensity, a silent communication that seemed to drown out the cacophony of the crowd. In that moment, the world narrowed to just the two of them, the rest fading into a distant murmur.
The executioner's blade fell, and the crowd erupted into a macabre chorus of cheers and laughter as the man's life was abruptly severed. A soldier lifted the severed head for the crowd to see, its eyes still hauntingly alive, locked onto Adom as if in silent accusation or perhaps a final plea.
Adom remained detached, his expression unreadable amidst the revelry. The spectacle of death, the crowd's hunger for vengeance and entertainment, all of it seemed a sad commentary on this world's condition. And as the cheers and dances of the crowd swelled around him, Adom couldn't help but feel a deepening sense of isolation, a stark reminder of the chasm between his ideals and the world's harsh realities.
Eventually, as the sun began to dip below the horizon, casting a warm glow over the town, Adom knew he couldn't delay any longer. It was time to face whatever awaited him at his family home. With a mixture of apprehension and longing, he started making his way through the familiar streets, each step a journey back into the depths of his heart.
The familiar path to his family's farm was etched in his memory. As he walked, the sounds of the festival faded into a gentle hum in the background. His heart pounded with a mix of fear and hope. What would he find? Would this magical dream extend to his family home, or would it shatter the illusion, revealing the true nature of this world?
Adom made his way through the familiar terrain of the farm, each step a journey through a landscape drenched in memories. The sight of Pegasus horses soaring gracefully in the sky, the cows and sheep safely nestled in their enclosures, and the tranquil sound of the nearby river all painted a picture of serene rural life. The lights from the Akyles' house, his neighbors, flickered in the distance, a comforting sign of normalcy.
As he neared the main house, his heart pounded against his chest, a tumultuous rhythm of hope and fear. His hands were slick with sweat, and a slight tremble coursed through his body. It felt surreal, standing there at the doorstep of his childhood home, a place he hadn't seen for years.
Leaning against the door for support, Adom closed his eyes for a moment, gathering his courage. A silent prayer escaped his lips, a plea to whatever forces had brought him to this point. He asked for this moment to be real, for the chance to see his parents again, to hear their voices, feel their embrace. The very thought of this all being an illusion was unbearable – the potential heartbreak too immense to contemplate.
Adom's mind was a whirlpool of emotions. The fear of loss, the pain of past years spent away from his family due to his illness, their premature deaths, and the overwhelming desire to reconnect with them, even if just for a brief moment in this dreamlike reality, all collided within him.
Taking a deep breath, he steeled himself. The familiar texture of the doorknob under his fingers grounded him in the moment. Slowly, he turned it, the familiar creak of the hinges sounding like a herald to his deepest wish.
The door swung open, revealing the warm, welcoming interior of his childhood home. The familiar scents of cooking and the cozy ambiance enveloped him like a long-lost embrace. His eyes scanned the room, heart racing, as he stepped inside.
In that moment, time seemed to stand still. The memories of laughter, arguments, celebrations, and quiet evenings flooded back, each one a poignant reminder of what had been and what could have been. Adom's breath caught in his throat as he waited, waited for the sight he had longed for all these years.
The sound of footsteps drew his attention. From the depths of the house, figures emerged, their features becoming clearer as they approached. His parents – his mother with her kind eyes and gentle smile, his father with his sturdy build and comforting presence – stood before him, just as he remembered.
Frozen in place, Adom watched his parents, their expressions a one of surprise and concern. He stood motionless, a whirlwind of emotions surging within him, struggling to maintain composure. His face, however, betrayed the turmoil inside. His eyes began to sting, his lips twitched involuntarily, and his entire body tensed with the overwhelming rush of feelings.
The sight of them, alive and well, clashed violently with the haunting memories that had burrowed deep into his psyche. He recalled, with visceral clarity, the last time he had seen them— not as the loving, vibrant figures before him, but as lifeless forms, cruelly mutilated by the merciless hand of fate.
The sterile chill of the morgue's air lingered in his mind, a cold reminder of the day he was summoned to identify their remains. The harrowing walk through the morgue's silent corridors, the suffocating anticipation building with each step, led to a moment frozen in time. The heavy drape was pulled back, and the reality of loss was laid bare before him. His father had been reduced to a fragmented shell, his lower half lost to the ravages of the explosion that had claimed their lives. The injuries were so severe, so utterly disfiguring, that the man he had revered and loved was barely recognizable.
Beside him, his mother's form was a testament to the fire's cruel embrace. Her features, once soft and nurturing, were now obscured by the brutal aftermath of the flames. Identification had been a process of elimination, a reliance on dental records to confirm the unthinkable. The woman who had been his constant source of comfort and love was rendered indistinguishable, her identity confirmed only through the cold, clinical analysis of her remains.
And yet, here they stood before him, as if the horrors of that fateful day had never transpired. The juxtaposition of past and present, of memory and reality, was a storm of confusion and disbelief. Adom was caught in the grip of a surreal paradox, the joy of their presence battling the ghostly echoes of a trauma that lingered in the recesses of his mind.
His mother was the first to react, her voice laced with worry. "Adom? What are you doing here? Has something happened in the academy? Are you okay, my love?" she exclaimed, rushing toward him with open arms.
His father followed close behind, his voice filled with a similar blend of excitement and concern. "Son! Are you okay?" he called out, his strong features softened with fatherly love.
As their hands reached out and touched Adom, tears streamed down his face, unrestrained and cathartic. He wrapped his arms around them, pulling them into a tight embrace, crying unabatedly like a child. His body shook with sobs, each one releasing years of pent-up longing and pain.
His parents, bewildered and alarmed, tried to soothe him, their hands patting his back gently. "What's the matter, Adom? Tell us, son," his mother whispered, her voice quivering with concern.
"Is it your illness? Has it gotten worse?" his father asked, his worry evident in his tone.
Adom could barely speak through his tears. The relief of being in their arms, the realization that, for now, this moment was real – it was all too much. He just held them, savoring the feeling of being home, being loved.
By the time he had entered the house, the blue box had disappeared. But in that moment, it didn't matter. The questions it posed, the mystery of his situation – all of it faded into the background. All that mattered was the warmth of his parents' embrace, the sound of their voices, the unmistakable sense of belonging.
Gradually, his sobs subsided, giving way to a bittersweet calm. He pulled back slightly, looking into their eyes. "Mom, Dad," he managed to say, his voice hoarse with emotion. "I just... I missed you both so much."
His parents exchanged a look of relief and understanding. They knew the hardships Adom had faced, the isolation his illness had imposed on him. This unexpected visit, while surprising, was a gift they hadn't realized how much they needed.
"We missed you too, son," his father said, his voice thick with emotion.
"You're always welcome here, my little boy. This is your home," his mother added, her eyes glistening with tears.
In the comfort of his family's home, with the love he had yearned for enveloping him, Adom felt a peace he hadn't known in years. The mysteries of the world he found himself in, the questions about his reality – they could wait. For now, he was home, and that was all that mattered.