Before all else I should first know myself, where I stand in the world and who I am. This tenet is a pure one, and feels right and true. Without a set point how can I truly know what is around me?

Still sitting on the cold ground I reach out with a hand and touch the other, glad after a moment that I do seem to have hands. Each finger is long and straight, with no calluses or scars that I can feel. I feel that they are large but not massive, strong but still pliant and graceful.

After a moment I run my hands up my arms, memorising the flow of movement as I form a mental image of my body.

Two arms, good, though I feel silly for that thought a moment later. It should have been expected after noting two hands after all.

I note that my arms are strong and muscular, but not swollen with unnecessary muscle but firm and with reasonable definition. I also realise I am hairless and my skin is soft, smooth like a child but with a solidity and surety that suggests adulthood and masculinity.

My chest is just as defined, but also as smooth and scarless as my arms. This seems wrong somehow but like my other memories I am unsure why and I allow it to fall into the rest of the confusion over the situation.

I touch my face, finding a strong chin with cheekbones that could cut glass. Like the rest of me my face lacks hair and a swipe against my cheek shows that I lack even the faint stubble of the recently shaved.

Sliding my hands up further I feel my scalp, and am glad to find hair. Trying to pull out a strand to measure its length I find it tied up elaborately. I loosen what I assume is a braid with some difficulty and find it stretches surprisingly long, reaching the floor where I sit and perhaps a bit further. Each strand is silky and smooth but when I yank at a strand I fail to remove even a bit, suggesting surprising strength.

Travelling down now I feel my lower abdomen, flat with a ripple of abs, before finding sign of manhood that is hard to ignore. It is as hairless as the rest of me, which fills me with a slight sense of discomfort before the realisation that I am completely naked comes to mind.

I steadfastly put that thought aside for now though, not having finished exploring my form nor having any way to rectify the situation anyway.

My legs hold no secrets, matching my arms and torso in their strength and strange smoothness.

From my position sitting on the ground I lift my left foot, stretching it easily to where I would be looking at the underside should there be light to see it, my fingers travelling over it like feelers. Like my hands it utterly lacks the callouses of hard work or even daily life, even the small tough parts that mere walking would normally create are simply missing.

Lowering my food I ponder what I have learned of myself.

Clearly I come from some wealth or pleasure, or I would not lack the signs of hard work. However this contradicts with the fact that my body is defined and strong, things that only that very work would normally gain it. It is also smoother than I feel it should be even then, lacking the small nicks and scars that normally come with life.

Does this mean… it hasn’t had any life to live so far? Could I be some kind of newborn? A construct of some kind formed from magic?

Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.

No moment of clarity comes at this, and so after a time I decide to stand and continue my investigation.

Perhaps in movement I can learn more of myself?

At the thought of movement I instinctively think of battle and training, and fall into a basic stance, standing seemingly at rest with my left hand forward and held as though it were a blade. Belying the casual look I feel my insides twist and prepare, each line of my body perfectly enhancing what is to come.

After a moment to center and without thought I step forward, my hand moving down in a slicing motion that is at once slow and fast. It strikes toward an invisible foe before me. After this moment it turns in mid air, my body twisting to the left as my right leg rises facilitating a stab across my torso with the same arm, one that would come at a difficult to avoid angle.

Another slash, a thrust and a leap backward! In mid air I allow myself to spin into an effortless flip before landing on the balls of my feet with hand still extended as if to counter a blow before turning the counter into a full body thrust!

It all feels… smooth and natural. A set of actions that have been performed before and often, to the point where even ‘muscle memory’ is too mild a word to suggest how innately they are a part of my being.

I continue the set of moves, each feeling easy and slow but also… lacking something. I also feel myself growing sore and tired, the moves that were so easy before clearly beginning to put strain on this body of mine.

But I shall not stop due to such a thing, for that is not who I am. Instead I respond to the pain by increasing the speed and power of the blows, slicing the air with my extended arm, dodging increasingly powerful illusory foes!

… and then my leg cramps, my arm fails to enter its intended capacity and I am overcome by the harshness of a leap. The entire set of movements collapse and I fall, a tangle of painful and sweaty limbs as I collapse to the floor.

I land hard, scraping myself on the cold floor of the lightless room and sliding what I assume to be several feet.

Panting for a moment I just lie there in a moment of shock and suffering. I touch my left side and arm, the location that took the brunt of the fall, and feel a trickle of blood on my fingers. I feel the tatters of torn skin, no longer smooth.

I feel indignant, that my body would collapse after only this much! That merely tripping would cause me to hurt! To bleed!

The humiliation…

I return to a seated position, feeling the slight dampness on the cold ground, a warm damn contrast to the dry chill of this place.

Centering myself, I again try to take stock.

I am naked, strong and fragile at the same time and male. I am not who I was before, a fact I know despite lacking knowledge of who I longer seem to be. I am skilled in a martial art that I am simultaneously unable to properly use and have no memory of learning.

And the event that was to come… has still failed to come to pass.

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Three votes. That is three more than I feared I would get, so I have no complaints. :)

Sadly no Blue Boxes so far. But who knows, they could come?