When he first opened his eyes, he knew that something was off. Something was totally and utterly different. The powers he had been gifted had suited him well and adjusted far too quickly, but he noticed things he hadn't before. Things in the air that he was currently breathing in. It wasn't just pure gut instinct that told him he was far from home, far from those that he knew.

He did not recognize this place.

…But then again, he shouldn't have recognized it. Besides, as far as he knew, he wouldn't ever go back home. It was gone; he had left it because fate and destiny had thrown him in that path. He'd given his life for a greater consequence, and he didn't—couldn't nor wouldn't—regret it. If that was so, then how was he still able to breathe? Wasn't there supposed to be nothing after death? Perhaps, in the heavens, it was supposed to be as close to familiarity as possible? Interrupting his own thoughts, he saw another's face overhead; dark hair, short, male who wore glasses on his face. A human, not one he was familiar with—of course not, he was dead; why would they give a dead man something he knew in the afterlife—but he would have to make do with.

"You're awake," the unknown man spoke. He had a lighter voice, as if he hadn't fully grown but had reached far past the puberty stages. "We were starting to worry that you wouldn't wake at all."

"..."

He said nothing in response to the man, quietly observing him and the surroundings. Upon further inspection now that he was more aware, it was a house. There were two windows and two beds, and he was obviously lying in one. He also felt incredibly stiff, as if he'd ran across the world for hours nonstop.

"Are you able to sit up? Do you need any help?"

"..." More silence until, "...No." It was quiet and direct, but he wasn't crippled. After his adventures and constant journeys, he should be able to sit up despite his conditions. He gave all his limbs a slight test before actually moving to sit up. He knew he'd have to take it easy; he wasn't a machine running on Mana, after all. He took note that he was less than fully dressed. He spied his belongings sitting upon a chair in the room; his cloak, scarf, weapons and bags, hopefully containing all the items still inside them.

There were bandages around him though; his injuries from his last battle having come back to mind, the perpetrator responsible for it, and then—his disappearance thereafter. Just like many times before, his injuries had carried over with him and he hadn't the time to truly treat him due to the extreme necessity it was for him to complete his ultimate task.

Besides, where he was going, where he thought he was going, he wouldn't need to be healed. And yet, here he was.

It was peculiar. Strange, even.

Knowing that he couldn't remain silent forever, he fixed his gaze on the other occupant and quietly nodded in acknowledgement. "…Were you the one that helped me?" It was best to know, so he could repay his debt.

The man shook his head, "No. My friend Harley's the one that found you collapsed outside the town. He brought you in and, well, my sister and I couldn't turn a blind eye on him. Harley knows healing magic, so he had a hand in helping with your injuries." Hmm, so he owed this Harley his life. He'd need to locate him and question him, too. But first, he had some priorities to fulfill.

"…I see. Thank you. I want to find this Harley," he said, motioning to move his legs from the bed, sitting upright.

"Are you sure you should be up? I'm only a researcher, so…"

"I'm fine." He will be fine, actually. He had to be. "If you don't mind…" It was slow going for a moment, but he stood to his feet, balancing his weight on them once again for familiarity and began walking towards his belongings. His words had been the cue; the man had turned to exit to give him his privacy as he changed into his clothes. He saw that the holes and tears he'd acquired on his journeys had been mended. It wasn't entirely perfect, but the sewing skills were decent enough that it held the fabric together.

He dressed as quickly as possible and then fished through his bags to make sure everything was there, especially the important items. It seemed some had been shuffled or recently placed back into it—it seems they may have looked through to examine them, likely seeing if he was a threat or not. Thankfully, everything was accounted for and he tied the bags back before tying them around his belts to secure them in place. He sheathed his sword inside its scabbard that was held in place on the interior side of his shield, clicking when it was fully deposited. After a thorough movement examination, he was ready to go and headed down the stairs.

When he ventured down, footsteps quiet, he spied the man that had been in the room previously, a young woman that matched his physical description—likely a relative—and a man wearing a bandana that covered the majority of his red hair. At least, it looked red—perhaps lighter. Although the strangest thing was that this man had slightly pointed ears and the other two hadn't. Some other unidentified race he wasn't aware of, then?

"Linar was right; you are awake, that's wonderful," the woman greeted him when she spotted him. Her smile didn't reach her eyes, but he could tell she was being genuine. "How are you feeling?"

"Like I'm alive," he answered truthfully. There was no point in lying or telling half-truths. He, at least, owed it to these people that had housed and hospitalized him for who knew how long. Speaking of… "I assume this is your home, miss?"

She nodded. "Yes. I'm Aisha, and this young man here is Linar, my brother." The aforementioned young man from earlier inclined his head in acknowledgement, "And this here is Harley." The one in the bandana mimicked the gesture.

"Glad you're doing alright!" Harley said as he approached him, seemingly giving him a visual scan.

"I am, thank you. You're the one that found me, correct?"

"That's right. You were collapsed outside the town, not too far away mind, but any further and monsters would have eaten you for a snack." Ah, that wouldn't have been pleasant whatsoever. "You were just about finished regardless; your Mana had been nearly exhausted. It was a miracle that you hadn't died then and there."

…Hadn't died? But, wasn't he supposed to…? Never minding that, he refocused quickly. "…I see. I had been fighting a tough opponent beforehand. How long was I out?" He tried to sound as grateful as possible towards them. Harley nodded and stood back to give him some room.

"A week at most," Aisha responded this time, drawing his attention to her, a brow raised. That long, huh? He must have really, well, overworked himself. But now that he knew he was going to be relatively alright, he needed answers to questions he had. The first thing was figuring out where he was and go from there. The more he knew, the better he could figure it out on his own.

"Where am I?"

"Asgard, the City of Ruins," came Linar's reply. "It's quite a ways from Hakonesia Peak and the House of Salvation on the road. Not to mention, Luin in the—"

He'd stop listening there. This place, he didn't know an Asgard. Was it a new city, then? Or, someplace he'd never visited? After all, he'd been in the middle of a war and it had been coming to its final conclusion. But, he'd have heard about it while on his journeys in passing, he was sure. He'd also never heard of a 'Luin' either nor of a 'House of Salvation' or a 'Hakonesia Peak' too. This was getting more peculiar… Where was this? Was it further down south?

Perhaps, he should utilize his skills here to get the necessary information.

"…I'm sorry, I can't really remember much of anything." He'd had his memories wiped once, it wouldn't be too far of a stretch to apply it here as well, until he could get comfortable with his new location.

Aisha seemed to buy this tale and gasped. "You don't—remember anything? Like amnesia…?" She asked, genuinely worried. It had made him a tad guilty, but in his line of work, he'd have to soldier through.

"…I remember some things, but not all of it. I just don't recall an 'Asgard' or where this is." It wasn't a full lie after all, if he was bending the truth to his advantage. He wasn't doing it for malicious intent—as he said before, he owed his life to them at the very least. The three exchanged concerned looks with one another before coming to a silent consensus.

"We'll tell you everything we know about here and the other cities and villages," Linar jumped at the chance, smiling reassuringly. "But first, we need a name for you. We can't just call you 'hey' or other rude gestures. Do you remember your name, sir?"

Now that, he knew for sure. He'd fought through a slight identity crisis once he discovered it on his own. Sure, he never truly remembered all that had happened prior to his new life, but he appreciated that it still lingered. However, that old life and his new one had effectively merged, one slightly stronger than its counterpart, but neither couldn't exist without the other. Keeping his eyes on the trio, he acknowledged them and divulged his name.

"…Stocke."