> “The world we see is exactly what we know.

>

> So why limit our horizon and say there is nothing more?”

>

>  

A new world materializes before me.

At some point I realize my eyes are already open. Pain. Flaring through my entire perception is a headache felt like bolts of lightning inside my skull. Memories chaotically mix within my consciousness, adding confusion to my perception. I try to focus my vision on the room, but the mental pain jumbles my thoughts till focus is near impossible. Putting one arm on something metal, I bend over grasping for breath.

Through my spinning vision there is a dimly lit cave/safehouse, with some complicated metal contraptions/beacons, along with scattered living arrangements/my furnishings. Ugh, this isn’t right. Beads of sweat cover my skin while my stomach does somersaults.

I need to get out. Get out. I’m not sure what exactly I’ll gain by doing so. I can go somewhere where I can get help from someone. I move towards a staircase hidden around a corner. How did I know that was here? I throw some stacks of paper/my research out of the way and climb.

One step at a time.

Right foot forward, drag my left up, catch my breath, and repeat. I ascend the spiral staircase in complete darkness. Every step feels like my feet are heavier as yet even more stairs reveal themselves.

When looking back, repetitive tasks always seem to blur together. But in the present, with the combination of uncertainty and confusion, there is no difference between this and eternity. I just need to take one more step forward.

I can tangibly feel my consciousness fading as my head hits a solid roof. If I want to get out, I should touch the sensor on the left to have it recognize my energy. How did I—ah whatever. I shakily move my hand to the metallic pad. As it touches, the ceiling turns to dust, leaving another ceiling with a ladder to it. My blurry vision detects pinpricks of light above. I climb and try to push myself through it.

With one lunge I make it crumble, hurting my shoulder and collapsing onto the ground as blinding multicolor light fills my vision. I attempt to stand but end up slipping on my own sweat, crashing into the smooth floor again. My stomach compresses, and I pant out of breath. At this point I have zero reason to go forward and continue moving, but I do anyway.

I clutch a wall with one hand and my stomach with my other. My senses all blur together in an array of confusion. I keep pushing forward.

“-----!”

I vaguely recognize a human voice and the color red as everything fades to black. I should really stop doing this so often.

*****

“----- ----?”

“---.”

I take a deep breath in.

I take a deep breath out.

I am alright.

Right now, I lay on a cushioned bed with my eyes closed. People surround me, speaking a language completely foreign to me. It sounds vaguely European in terms of syllables but is unlike anything I know or have heard before. There are two of them talking—a low toned male and a mid-high-pitched female with maybe one or two more who are silent. The reverberation of their voices indicates a medium sized enclosed area, maybe equivalent to a large hospital room.

I piece together recent events that led me to this. First, I accepted the offer of the lady calling herself the Goddess of Power. After which, I was in that underground room and climbed my way to the surface before losing consciousness. The most reasonable situation would be that someone found me and brought me to receive medical care. Evidence toward that is the fact that my body feels completely refreshed—far too refreshed, actually. Any normal treatment would at least leave bruising or soreness. How long was I out for?

Either way, I’m glad that experience is over.

I agree. A feminine voice says inside my head.

Goddess of Power, I presume? I ask the voice mentally.

Who else?

Somehow, I can easily envision her sitting on her throne in the same room I met her, sarcastically replying with a raised eyebrow.

What was that back there?

The Goddess massages her temples before answering. Hmm, I’ll take full blame for that. The method I used was much more… violent than I anticipated. I was intending for my consciousness to simply tag along with yours, but they ended up combining. While you were asleep, I separated my consciousness into something like a bubble inside yours. I can assure you that right now our current states are stable.

You can explain more later. Right now, can you understand the language they’re speaking?

I can. They’re speaking Western Standard—my native tongue.

Would you mind translating?

I might as well… even though I’m still recovering from that experience too, she adds with a hint of a groan.

I stop feigning sleep and prop myself up on the bed to get a better look at my surroundings. I’m in an infirmary with several empty beds lined beside mine. The escape routes are a pair of windows behind me and a door at the opposite end. The marble room is in pristine condition, with no particular smell as if it is new or recently cleaned. As I move, I attract the attention of the other three people with me. Well, I assume ‘people’—one of them has wings behind her back.

Short, sky-blue hair in a wavy bob cut with bangs frames her face. Her deep blue eyes radiate comfort and competence. On her body is a well-fitted white robe with a few colorful patterns for personal flare. Her right wrist has a pink bracelet wrapped around it. If I had to guess, I would say she looks to be in her mid-twenties. She has a moderately short stature, below modern average female height. Behind her, and not quite touching her back, are a pair of turquoise wings, with complex white lines laced in. They are made of something solid and specular, definitely not feathers. They stretch to her sides, a bit further than her reach. Interestingly, they seem to be completely unmoving as if a separate entity from the girl in front of me. As she turns towards me, her face reveals slight curiosity and exasperation.

“----- --?” she questions me.

She asked if you’re alright, the Goddess of Power translates.

How do I say that I am fine?

She responds with words that sound like plain gibberish to me. Regardless, I relay them verbally to the others in the room.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

She is an angel. All of them that are alive today are soldiers of my sister. She infuses them with her god energy, which allows them to have a wing construct, enabling them to fly along and stopping them from aging. Meaning that she could be old, and you wouldn’t know it. I came up with the idea first, but my sister rudely stole the concept. She didn’t even bother changing the names.

I can vividly feel the bitterness in her voice. Voice? Is she technically even speaking?

Noted.

The angel turns to one of others and says a few words. The one being spoken to is a guy around my age. He has swept back, dark silver hair and intricate rectangle glasses in front of sharp amber eyes. The frame of the glasses is made of a metallic material with moving, flowing lines embedded in them, making it seem alive. He has a lean build with sleek muscle, helping him give off a brain-over-brawn look. His clothes are vaguely similar to a t-shirt and shorts but in an entirely different style. He regards the blue-haired angel with respect as he replies too fast for my translator to keep up.

The girl with wings turns back to me and asks another question.

She is informing you that the glasses one, named Certain Future, is going to ask you some questions about why you are radiating god energy.

Is that… a normal name here?

Names are usually based on the ability of the person. If anything, naming people based on ancestors is weird. Why should a person be named something arbitrary before they are even born?

Mention of abilities aside, how did you know how people from my world are named?

Hmm, I can somewhat glean some information from our connection. Same way we can communicate in the first place.

This feels like it has the potential for complete invasion of privacy, but that’s not what I need to be focusing on. The others in the room stare as they wait for my answer.

We’ll talk later. Could you tell me how to say, “Sorry, I’m feeling very disoriented”?

I once more relay the words the Goddess of Power gives me. Immediately after I do, the guy apparently named Certain Future touches his glasses and says something in reply.

He called your lie, she relays tensely. It’s probably his ability.

My heart skips a beat as multiple thoughts race through my mind all at once. First, it’s important to know that situations like this are possible in the first place. Second, I need to come up with a truthful excuse to make my last statement seem innocent and divert attention from the implications of it being caught. Losing my cool here—in probably the heart of the enemy—is the worst possible outcome. At very least, it’s better to know I need to closely watch my words now rather than later.

Quickly, I tell the goddess what to translate and speak to the others as she tells me what to say. “Sorry, I’m very uncertain of my situation right now. It feels as if I’ve never seen the light of this sun.”

Nice.

Not wanting another hard question to be asked, I continue with what I hope is the right move to make here. “More so, I have important news. I can personally confirm that the Goddess of Power is physically destroyed.”

As the words leave my mouth, the others in the room recoil in shock. The angel says something to the lie detector guy, and he solemnly nods. I don’t need to understand them to know that he just confirmed my half-truth. I wouldn’t be able to pull off such a statement lacking proof unless he clears it.

The third and final person in the room speaks up, asking a question. She is on the left side of the bed along with Certain Future. She has the same angled amber eyes as him as well. Along with her posture towards him, I can assume that they related. Maybe siblings? They do look around the same age. She has long, flame colored hair dangling down to her lower back. Her face is in a curious smile as she casually wraps her arms around her torso. A thick velvet red cloak with many pockets drapes her shoulders and hangs to her ankles. Occasionally she steals a glance at the angel, not out of nervousness but something else? I vaguely remember her as being the one I saw before losing consciousness.

She asked how you know I’m dead, the goddess translates bemusedly. Never thought I would say that.

While I plan my story, I need to: make them not suspicious, not lie, do it with almost no information about this world, and also do it through a translator. It wouldn’t be fun if it were easy. However, I do have the advantage that they probably want to believe my lie of the goddess being dead. They are her enemies after all. My best move should be to play the victim. I can do it if I convey the right emotions.

I spin my half-lies as the Goddess of Power continues translating my words. “I’m not sure exactly how much time I spent in her lair—it could have been quite a while, and I wouldn’t know for sure. What I do know absolutely is that she was working towards some sort of secret project that she needed me for. She put me through a lot of pain in the process. And at some point, when she was near completion, her body was destroyed. It was after that when I managed to escape to where you found me.”

The angel and I look at Certain Future for confirmation. He nods, muttering words to himself. The angel smiles widely and has a brief exchange with the red-haired girl.

Impressive. I probably would’ve tried to brute force my way out. Along with her words, she projects an image of her idly twirling her hair as she boredly acts as an intermediary. Oh, and blue one said something positive about my demise. I won’t let that slide.

The red-haired girl’s smile fades to sympathy as she asks me a question while the other two are conversing.

“The guy and the angel are talking about the implications of this happening before the opening of some academy. The red one asked how long you spent in there with me.”

That’s a difficult question to answer. I can assume it was probably less than a day, but I’m not sure. Obviously, I can’t say that, meaning one reasonable answer is to reply saying that ‘I don’t know exactly’, which is true, but I can get more out of this exchange. She looks like she’s asking to find out how much I suffered. I can use this to also cover up my inherently odd behavior.

I ask for my goddess to translate the words I want to say before saying them slowly with feign reluctance, looking away. “She mentioned 60 years recently… although, I don’t know for sure. She has the power to prolong life. I don’t know much about this modern world in general actually.” It’s distasteful to deceive her like this, but I need to do everything I can to stabilize my situation.

She looks at me with profound pity in her eyes, and the angel turns around to give a quick look of sympathy. Certain Future stares at me as if he’s thinking, probably still suspicious.

He looks me in the eyes, commanding something flatly.

Before his words can be translated, the red-haired girl interjects passionately, saying something to him with her back to me.

He told you to flatly say once more that I died; the girl defended us.

I don’t break eye contact and tell him as my words get translated, “I say with complete certainty she left this world.” She just came back afterwards.

That I did. She curls an amused smile at my internal comment.

He looks down, biting his lip, as if judging my words.

The red-haired girl says something to the glasses guy before turning to me with a pleasant expression, gesturing to herself while speaking. She then gestures to Certain Future next to her, and he says some of the same words. I can assume they’re introducing themselves. Following, the angel says most of the same words while bowing slightly, sighing.

They’re introducing themselves to you. The red one is named Aspiring Blowout but insists you call her Blowout, and is the younger sister of the other guy. Glasses is still named Certain Future; it hasn’t changed. The angel’s name is Healing Devotion. Hmm, I think I’ve heard that name somewhere before.

They look at me expectantly.

What would be an average name, like the John Doe of this world? Something that blends in easy.

There really isn’t. Every name is supposed to represent the unique qualities or abilities of a person, unless things changed since I left, which I doubt. I would recommend saying something along the lines that your old name doesn’t represent you anymore, and that you’ll find a new one soon. The way you say that is: ‘--------- ------ --’.

As I relay the words, silence reigns the room. I feel bad at lying to people I don’t know, but it’s necessary. I take the opportunity to get up from the bed and test that I can move my body normally. I can confirm it works as it should, even feeling lighter than I can remember.

The angel calling herself Healing Devotion says something to Certain Future. He pauses before nodding and heading out the room, taking one last look at me.

The angel told Glasses to report to the Goddess of Justice because she would be quoting him anyway.

Turning towards both me and Blowout, the angel exasperatedly speaks while sighing.

She said something along the lines of ‘I’m glad you called me here to heal him, but it’s still my day off. There are other capable healers you know’. She then affirmed that they would be investigating my hideout—which is annoying, but nothing in there will impact us now.

Blowout respectfully bows to Devotion, probably apologizing. She turns to me with bright eyes, speaking while gesturing a hand to me as if giving an offer.

She assumes that we have nowhere else to go and offers for us to stay at her apartment.

I get a better look at Blowout’s face and re-examine her. She seems to be an honestly good person. It unsettles me to take advantage of her. But it would be very useful to get information that isn’t 60 years out of date. Not to mention it would help to be on good terms with someone connected to a justice angel.

I accept after learning the words for ‘thank you’. Devotion glances at the two of us before leaving while waving with the back of her hand.

Blowout flashes an encouraging smile before gracefully moving to guide me through the door.

The Goddess leans forward, now interested in what’s happening. Finally. Let’s see what the world looks like after all this time.