Year 4094 since the Great Assembly
Swallowed Sun Castle, 1:21
“You mustn’t let anyone know what I am about to tell you, nanny. Not even Eldest Sis. Swear upon her faithful lady’s name.”
Avah dropped the first bomb on Larah, his nanny who had been caring for him since birth. The woman’s eyes ever so slightly widened for a moment, a reaction Avah might have missed if he hadn’t been scrutinizing her for any thoughts that could leak out through her eyes. This would not have been so surprising if he had not mentioned his eldest sister.
Before Arissa was the heiress of the duchy, she was Avah’s eldest sister, who knew him better than their mother. She was the only one who could manage and control the youngest son of the duke when even their father, the current duke, failed to do so. She was the second person to hold him after he was born and had been keeping a close eye on him ever since. Everyone knew she was the person Avah respected the most.
“Not even the eldest miss…” Even going through his 23 years’ worth of memories belonging to the Avah Striken in this world, he wouldn’t find his nanny, Larah, looking as unsure as she did at this moment.
“I was chosen as the Whisperer of her faithful lady, Pfanya.”
To be the Whisperer of Pfanya, Archangel of Time, was to know a piece of the future of this world. Normally, if someone decided to spout such a lie in a world where Gods and their Divinity were more than real, they would suffer divine punishments before convincing anyone.
But Avah was sure he would not be punished. ‘I do know the future of this world, even if it is only a few chapters worth.’ Right, this world he found himself in turned out to be inside the novel he had just picked up a few days ago. As someone who would choose to read over eating and sleeping, he had read over hundreds of books, and even both hands were not enough to count the number of novels he knew by heart from start to end. Out of all those novels, he had transmigrated into one he had just started reading.
‘Ha… what a joke.’
Letting out the breath she didn’t realize she was holding, Larah had no choice but to believe what Avah just said; Avah would not joke around at the cost of his life. Even still, such a statement was hard to digest.
“I was not planning to tell you either, nanny. You know better than me what kind of situation this is. Unfortunately, it has come to this, and I end up owing you an explanation…”
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.
Knowing the future would be a wonderful miracle, but others knowing that fact that you know the future was a far cry from good. Despite their faith, no one truly wished to be the Whisperer of Pfanya, for that would mean your freedom would be chained to those in power, your life no longer yours. Once news went out that a Whisperer had been found, people from not just the Ponian Empire or Time’s continent that Avah’s family lives in, but those from all over the world would demand him. The last Whisperer was found around a thousand years old, and her story ended miserably as she herself not only faced a helpless death just two days later but this consequently caused the Year 3333 World War exactly as she foresaw. How ironic, was it?
“Young master Avah Striken, this woman, Larah, swears upon her faithful lady, Pfanya, eldest of six archangels of Benevolence as the Espy of time. Larah swears that what you have told me will not leave my humble self in any form under any circumstances.”
Swearing upon the angel’s name was more than a life vow. It was a binding of one’s soul once broken would result in an eternity worth of punishment.
Without waiting for Avah’s reply, Larah left the room in a calm manner only betrayed by her own disobediently shaking hands. She did not ask about how or why Avah became a Whisperer, nor did she ask about his late-night blood soaking. If not for Larah’s unwavering loyalty towards the Striken Duchy, Avah would not have racked his brain to think of such a plausible excuse. He would have made up something, whether she believed him or not.
‘Haa…'
Avah let out a sigh for the unknownth time of the night, his hand reaching up to his neck which was just slashed upon a moment ago. He was back to being as weak and helpless as the day rifts had appeared on Earth. While he looked the same as before, he was no longer the Avah ‘Strongest awakened on Earth’ Striken, but he had become the spoiled youngest son of Duke Striken. The calluses of his hands that had been building up over the years were lost, as they became as soft as that of a maiden. The scars on his body, proofs of his strengths along with his awakened ability, all had been lost. Maybe not completely lost, though, as he could still feel a faint connection towards the power he had wielded for ten whole years. Even if he could not find a way to gain back his ability, he would have to use every bit of information he had and become at least half as strong as he used to be if he wanted to live a long life in this world. After all, the main genres of the novel <
‘I remember Avah Striken, a minor character in the novel because he had the same name as me. I did not expect the Avah of this world to look exactly like me, too.’
Even if both Avahs from the two worlds had a similar manner of speech and attitude, he still would have to keep up his performance. After all, their lifestyle, the environment they were raised in, not to mention the fact that he was an only child, unlike this Avah with two elder sisters.
‘Sure, the freshly transmigrated period is always about sorting out all sorts of info dumps… but I can do it tomorrow, right? Avah is not an important character for as far as I have read, so it should be fine if I give myself a few days or so to adjust.’
As he made excuses for himself, Avah went to bed, and much counter-intuitively, he had a rather peaceful first night’s sleep in a world where his own soul and body were the only things he was familiar with.
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Year 4094 since the Great Assembly
Unknown location
The glow of the red moon hanging in the sky dimmed, and its reach narrowed as it had no choice but to leave the scene unwillingly, letting the Sun overtake its glory as a new day began. Facing East, the front of the young man sitting on a dilapidated stone bridge was painted by the red of the rising back, while on his back was that of the setting moon. The man contributed a weird scene, wearing a black cloak that made it impossible to recognize who he was.
Holding carefully with both of his hands was a messy half-eaten sandwich, two slices of bread between which were mostly different color meats coated in sauces that stained his expensive-looking gloves. This made the man look less mysterious but more peculiar.
‘Umm..’
He couldn’t help but let out a satisfied groan, unbeknownst whether it was due to the sandwich in his hands or the beautiful scenery in front of him. Or, maybe, it was because he had found someone he had been looking for.