Light.
Bright blue.
Everything I saw was blue.
What?
Instantly, I got up from a lying-down position into a sitting one as a splitting headache rocked my head. It took a while, but once coherent thoughts could be made, I automatically looked down at my clothing to see if the mystic code was there. The sand around me showed signs of a struggle as my heart pounded like someone searching their pockets for desperately their phone.
Beige trench coat, a large red bow tie, white collared shirt, reddish brown puffy pants, and tall brown boots, everything was in place as it should be.
I let out a barely audible sigh of relief. Thankfully the mystic code I—
I...
I paused in my thought as a fog of confusion made recalling my past seemingly impossible, like someone heading home during a whiteout.
I... who was I? I... Flashes of memories that felt foreign to me stormed through my mind like lightning during a thunderstorm. Using them as touchstones, I started recalling more and more about myself.
My name... I am Lorelei, Lorelei Barthomeloi, the current head and the last remaining member of the Barthomeloi family, a family that used to be the most powerful and influential in all of the Clock Tower. We were the leader of the Aristocratic faction, we were unrivaled, even by the other two of the Three Great Noble Families, the Trambelio and the Valualeta.
But we... my chest had a feeling of indescribable pain and sadness as I remember how helpless I felt when I saw every Barthomelois get murdered by fucking DEAD APOSTLES!
I mentally screamed out those bloodsucker's names. Quickly, my cloudy mind was filled with a storm of unbridled rage and hatred at the thought of those things walking around, still existing.
My father had gathered all the Barthomeloi and their branch families on that day for an announcement, what it was I could not know, but it doesn't matter since Altrouge and her entire faction within the 27 Dead Apostle Ancestors showed up and massacred everyone.
Thankfully, the actual smell of sea salt overpowered the phantom smell of iron coming from my nose.
Instinctively, I raised my right fist and smashed it down into... the sand?
The unexpected surprise I felt at hitting sand had snapped me out of my rage.
Oh, right, there's sand all around me.
Looking down, I found my right hand encapsulated inside a metal shell: a gauntlet— I recognized it as a mystic code. The first mystic code I've ever created, and one I've continuously improved on.
My focus then shifted to the sand I was sitting on. Using that as a starting point, my sights trailed upward until I took in my entire surroundings.
I saw that I was sitting on a beach at the bottom of a massive cliff at least several hundred meters tall. Focusing on my ears, I could make out the distinct sounds of a distant waterfall from the noisy waves.
The sun was beating down on my skin, but due to the mystic code I'm wearing, the heat couldn't reach me.
As my gaze swiped across the beautiful blue ocean, more and more of my past became clear to me. After the massacre, I had to fend off other mage families until the Director became my guardian, I practiced my magecraft and manners under his watch, and I abandoned... my past life...
My gaze fell to the sand. A feeling of disconnected sadness permeated my body. The memories of my supposed past life feel extremely distant, I can barely make out any discerning details beyond shapes and colors.
I had a past life?
What came next was a blur of myself reading different books about magecraft and just studying.
At the age of 16, I was the youngest to achieve the Grand rank within the Clock Tower and graduated extremely early. At 18, I established the Extermination Brigade. At 19 I was officially recognized by the Director as the most powerful magus of the modern era. The Trambelio's Heir challenged my position before I embarrassed them in combat, earning me plenty of credibility with the members of the Aristocratic faction.
It was then I was granted the position of Vice Director. I couldn't yet return to being one of the Twelve Lords considering I'm not the head of a Department yet, but that's mostly just formalities.
A year later, I took in Noel... Who?
A teen, brown hair, brown eyes, French in nationality, younger than me.
Ah, her, my apprentice who chose to abandon a normal life to embrace the magical side of things.
Noel... who was she to me? I felt extremely conflicted when it came to my apprentice. Whenever she failed, it felt like I had personally failed.
I then remembered how she refused to speak, to use her voice to talk because of the trauma the girl endured during the French Incident. It took me a while, but Noel finally became comfortable enough to speak to me, and then later, to members of the Extermination Brigade.
Then my mind recalled the last few memories I have before waking up here.
Altrouge Brunestud.
Every muscle in my body tensed at that name. The hatred I had for Dead Apostles made a resurgence several times stronger than the last. My hands clenched together so hard that my left hand, the one without a gauntlet, started to hurt as the nails bites into the skin.
That bitch bypassed all my defenses like it was nothing!
Elegance, dignity, and Noble mannerism were thrown out the window with the white-hot burning injustice I felt. Altrouge somehow took me out of the fight before I could throw a single damn spell! And what the hell was that golden chalice in her hands?
For some reason, whenever my mind focused on that golden chalice, I couldn't help but feel a sense of nostalgic familiarity.
Looking back on it now, Altrouge appeared out of nowhere as if she had teleported, but that can't be the case since teleportation is on the level of True Magic. As the Vice-Director of the Clock Tower, I would be one of the first to know if there was a new Magician.
A frightening thought crossed my mind despite how impossible it seemed.
Was that the Holy Grail? Could that be the actual Holy Grail? But I thought that the Grail went to Heaven after Galahad had acquired it during a section of King Arthur's reign! Moreover, the Holy Grail is arguably the holiest thing in the world aside from the Son himself. Holier than even a piece of the True Cross, even holier than the Spear of Destiny, so if she had it, how was the hybrid even touching it—
She wasn't. She wasn't touching the Grail.
Altrouge was using a severed human hand as some kind of insulator or a glove to ensure her skin never comes into contact with the Holy Grail.
But that raises the question of how the hell did Altrouge get ahold of the holiest artifact in human history?
Or was it a false Holy Grail? Like that thing, the Einzberns, Matou, and Tohsaka tried to make 200 years before I was born? Could the Grail, instead of harboring Heaven's Feel contain instead another True Magic?
"..." I decided to terminate this line of thinking. I don't have enough information to conjure up an explanation, and there are too many unknown variables where even if I used Memory Partition and create four separate rooms in my mind, I'll just be chasing shadows.
A more pressing matter:
"How am I still alive then?" I asked out loud before licking my teeth and finding none have grown into fangs. So I'm still human at least. Good. Though even if I was turned into a Dead Apostle, I can just stab myself with the True Cross.
I tried to recall more stuff, only to come up blank for the period of time between Altrouge showing up and waking up here on this beach. My memories have definitely not been altered, I know that's for sure.
Did Altrouge let me go then? If so, for what reason? She's the type to sing a tune as her demonic dog slaughters an entire town, with blood raining down upon her form as she sat in the middle of the town square.
I expected that if I fail, I would suffer the same fate as the rest of my family, or one even worse.
Questions, so many questions. So many questions that I can't answer. Thus instead of wasting time, I tried asking a question that I could answer: where am I?
I got up, and particles of sand fell off like things thrown down a waterfall as none could grab onto anything.
The clothing I'm wearing would be easily considered as a Supreme Mystic Code if it fell in the hands of any of the Twelve Lords of the Clock Tower, if mere particles of sand or droplets of water could cling onto the fabric it would be a grave insult to my ability as a magus.
Imagining an urge to kill, my body's internal temperature instantly rose by several degrees as my magic circuits were active.
My left hand extended outward, palm facing the bright blue sky. Sharp and elegant movements, my training as a Barthomeloi easily took over like a second skin.
Utilizing projection magecraft, I materialized a pencil and—
"Ah!" I dropped the pencil as though it were a piece of hot iron and instantly backed up until I'm at least four meters away.
Such an overblown act might make other people give me odd looks, but I would advocate that it's an understatement.
If possible I would've liked to place that pencil in at least three dozen layers of Bounded Fields, since it wasn't disappearing.
That projection wasn't disappearing.
That projection wasn't DISAPPEARING.
A pencil phantasm was persisting like it was a real pencil instead of something created using magecraft.
Projection magecraft is considered mostly useless for the older families of the Clock Tower. Only the younger families who practice Formalcraft are seen using it. There's even a derogatory name used to describe mages who specializes in such a useless field: Fakers.
Normally, whenever one projects an object into reality, Gaia would try to reject them, so unless the object is constantly sustained by magical energy, it will fade away. Another factor that makes projection magecraft almost useless is the copy is always much inferior compared to the original. I once had high hopes for projection magecraft, thinking if I could project trace amounts of fissile materials like uranium or god-forbid, antimatter, I could eliminate any Dead Apostles I find.
The hope was crushed, and research and testing led to nowhere. I could project antimatter, but the projected antimatter, when it reacts with normal matter, explodes with much less energy than E=mc^2 would have you believe. The antimatter projection releases less energy than even fertilizer explosives.
The projected item is always conceptually lesser than the real thing. Such was a fundamental truth of Projection magecraft.
But this, the pencil that's currently standing upright, its tip having stabbed into the sand, wasn't fading at all. Sure, it is conceptually weaker, but it. Isn't. Fading.
"How...?" I planned to use that pencil and craft it into flying familiars that would sweep the ground all around me for any threats or interests, but somehow, Gaia isn't trying to remove the projected pencil.
Just what the hell happened while I was unconscious?!
Am I on the Reverse Side of the World? Because the last time that magecraft was this strong was back during the Age of Gods.
I continued to stare at the pencil as though it was the most interesting thing in the world, which it might as well be. A projection that's as strong as the original.
Then, I felt the magical energy I used to project that pencil return, confirming that indeed, I projected a permanent thing into reality.
Impossible.
It was an impossibility.
Only True Magic could do the impossible—
Occam's Razor would suggest I just performed True Magic.
That thought made less of an impact on me than I would've thought. I imagined a eureka moment when I inevitably discover True Magic, but right now all I'm feeling is an immeasurable disappointment.
I performed True Magic.
I performed True Magic using magecraft. Projection magecraft no less.
I violated the conservation of mass and energy.
It feels underwhelming. Like, I achieved True Magic just like that. With a single spell. No epic journey, quests, or items. I achieved it just like that. It's like becoming omnipotent just because you ran a marathon. What a letdown.
I could still feel a connection with that pencil, thus with a single thought of willing it away, the pencil disappeared from reality.
Perhaps it's better to say I cheated the conservation of mass and energy.
Thought Acceleration was active in full force as I thought about the possibilities. The world seemed to almost go quiet with how fast my mind was moving. Passively, I started chewing on my fingers.
It's a bad habit I developed whenever I go into deep thought.
As I was in the middle of coming up with a viable perpetual motion machine utilizing magecrafts, I realized the only logical explanation for my current situation was either time travel or dimensional displacement.
Either I've been thrown back into the Age of Gods, or I'm in an entirely new world. I don't think you can still achieve True Magic with normal magecraft even if you're on the Reverse Side of the World.
Did Zelretch save me at the last second?
"Hrk!" I gagged as the thought provoked such strong feelings of revulsion I almost puked. Saved? By a Dead Apostle Ancestor? Ridiculous, I'd kill myself before I allow a Dead Apostle Ancestor to save me, the highest law of the Grand Order wherein a Magus must not kill themselves can go to hell.
The First Magician's heir definitely didn't. They're barely alive. Though Yumina would've been useful during the massacre.
Through the process of elimination, I concluded it must be the Fifth Magician, the sister of that one woman whom the Director had personally asked me to enforce a Seal Designation on; Aoko Aozaki.
I've only met the woman once during one of my Dead Apostle Ancestor hunts. She was an eccentric, free-spirited, and aloof person who is the Diogenes to my Alexander. Despite being more powerful than me due to her True Magic, Aoko travels freely around the world, carrying only a suitcase whereas I have an entire Workshop hidden within my dress.
Admittedly, it was mostly due to her display of raw power during the hunt that made me second-guess my plans for the eventual assassination of Zelretch. It seems to kill a Magician, one needs to be another Magician.
That raises another question.
Where is she then? Aoko Aozaki is the type of person to save someone and then ask for pointless things like simple praises or a free meal at a local fast food restaurant! I don't get that woman!
I felt a headache from the resurfacing of buried frustrations I had of the Magician. She's like a mosquito that you just can't get rid of, just constantly yammering away even as she's slaying an Ancestor.
I took a few deep breaths. My back went ramrod, my eyes focused, and my mannerism changed. I no longer look like a lost human, instead, I look like someone who's in absolute control of their situation.
If I am in the Age of Gods, it's probably best that I have a Magician as a companion no matter how eccentric they might be. What's more, it's probably best if I stay in the area and wait for Magic Blue to come back for me. What remains of my past life's memory did tell me after a plane crash, it's best for the survivors to stay near the crash site.
Thus, I used my fingers and carved a magic circle on the ground. Pouring magical energy into it, I felt something much stronger than I anticipated wash over me.
What should've been an alert-based Bounded Field the size of a baseball field was now nine city blocks in radius. Such a feat is possible for me, but I'll need half an hour at least to construct the field.
I did this in a minute!
Is this what Age of Gods' mages are capable of all the time?!
I stared down at my hands, then at the magical circle.
An uncontrollable smile formed on my face. I can see why so many mages fear the further weakening of magecraft so much. If this is what's possible with a simple Bounded Field, the potential... I thought of all the possibilities now that Gaia no longer suppresses magecraft.
I let out a chuckle.
This is everything I've ever wanted! I'll become the next Merlin, and acquire a True Magic before hunting down all Dead Apostles to extinction. Since I'm in the past before the Common Era, I'll finally get the opportunity to hunt down rogue True Ancestors known as Demon Lords.
That chuckle became loud laughter. I laughed like never before. If anyone who knows of my reputation were to see me, they'll think I was an identical sister of Lorelei with how differently I'm acting.
It took a minute for me to calm down by taking a deep breath. Even still, I felt giddy inside.
I looked around me. The sun was at its zenith. I closed my eyes and listened to the sounds of waves crashing onto the sandy banks. It was refreshing, and the smell of salty seawater.
I'll wait for Magic Blue here.
In the meantime, "Let's get started shall we?"
The first thing any magus would do, if they're in an unknown situation, is to see what kind of resources are available to them.
Therefore, the first thing I did was take off the beige trench coat I've always worn and laid it down on the sandy beach, spreading it out.
I feel a profound sense of vulnerability without the mystic code I've always worn, so I decided to do this quickly.
That is, I took out all the artifacts, smaller mystic codes, magical materials, and tools and spread them out in an orderly fashion.
Using Imaginary Numbers, otherwise known as 'Hollow' to the old purist mages, I created what are basically pocket dimensions— containers where the inside is bigger than the outside. I stretched this principle to the very limit, and I made the Walking Workshop, a literal mobile workshop that I wear around my body at almost all times.
One of the first places that Altrouge attacked was the Barthomeloi manor's workshop during the massacre. With the primary workshop destroyed a lot of what would've been extremely useful mystic codes against Dead Apostles were gone.
I thought I could make that an impossibility by making redundancy, but clearly, it was a waste of time if Altrouge could somehow bypass all my defenses.
The Walking Workshop is even considered by the Director to be the ultimate defensive mystic code. Altrouge still somehow bypassed everything as if they didn't exist.
The bitterness I have for the injustice is enough that not even my training could hide it anymore.
"Enough dwelling on the past," I grumbled to myself, trying to swallow the injustice. My attention now turned fully onto the tools in front of me; it seems that nothing is missing.
I crouched down to pick up something I could use to make familiars with when I sensed something the size of a 4-year-old human entering the Bounded Field I have in place.
Since the direction was out in the open ocean, I thought nothing of the intruder. I would've dismissed it as a fish or shark before I noticed how it's the shape of a human child.
What's a child doing out there? I wondered as I got up to stare in the direction where the intruder should be.
Placing a hand above my eyes to provide my eyes with some shade, I dramatically Reinforced them with magecraft. Off in the distance, I spotted a child floundering about in the water. Due to the splashes created by their wildly swinging arms, I could only tell that they were struggling to stay afloat. I couldn't discern their features beyond that they have white hair.
Not my problem. I returned to examining the many items laid on the ground. However, before my focus returns fully, my mind reminded me of a crucial detail: I don't really have any information about where am I.
That child floundering about out there likely fell off a boat, which means that they're the child of a merchant or a sea captain; or at least, someone who could tell me the general area where they are.
I can't really tell where I am based on the temperature alone. I'll need to wait until night and look for the stars and constellations for positioning, except that can only tell me whether I'm in the northern or southern hemisphere, not an exact position.
Decisions made, I imagined an urge to kill as I started hovering off the ground. Once I'm several feet in the air I flew to where the child should be.
Taking off at 500 kilometers an hour, I quickly reached the place where the child is situated.
A single snap of my left hand, "Sine Pondere."
The child stopped floundering about and started floating upward. The suddenness of this act was lost on the child because they were still floundering about as if they were still drowning.
Another casting of "Sequi," and the child followed closely behind as I flew to shore.
I stood tall as I carefully laid the child in front of me. They were lying on all fours on the ground and consistently coughing out water.
I crossed my arms as I stared at the fallen child. My back stood straight, my eyes sharp, and my head was raised high: my posture was impeccable. Elegance and sophistication radiated out of my well-practiced form.
Since I was focused on directing where I'm going during the flight, I wasn't able to get a good look at the mysterious drowning child. Now that they were in front of me, I noticed how they wore a long-sleeved white jumper with a cape embroidered with stars flowing out of their neck.
What's most interesting, however, was that they have a crown of rose gold in the shape of a halo above their head. Overall, their clothing reminded me of an angel.
Are they an angel then? No, that can't be right, angels wouldn't be drowning in an ocean when they could fly, and this child doesn't have wings either. Besides, angels are monstrous in appearance, not humanoid like the child in front of me.
"Ugh," the child groaned out as they started hovering above the ground, "phew, Paimon thanks you for saving Paimon."
The child— Paimon— was now floating a few feet up in the air. I sensed no usage of any magical energy, so it's likely something akin to a Divine Authority.
But their name— "are you a demon?"
The child blinked several times in confusion. "What? Paimon isn't a demon! Paimon is Paimon."
The child's words gave me no further insight into who she was. Although, she does resemble a Fey creature of ancient England or the Celts, so perhaps I've been sent back to before the time of King Arthur? Since Fairies are nature spirits that went to the Reverse Side of the World after the coming of the Age of Man, and with how strong my magecrafts are, I simply must be in the Age of Gods, a time before King Arthur.
If Paimon is a Fairy, one can easily infer they're in the British Isles. Or perhaps ancient Ireland? Paimon being a fairy would certainly explain how she's speaking modern English. My eyebrows furrowed at the further realization that I meet my own ancestors.
What kind of temporal paradoxes could I cause if I were to teach my Ancestors modern magecraft? Or perhaps give them a part of the Barthomeloi's magic crest?
"Do you know today's date?" I asked, hoping to at least establish just how far in the past I am.
"Hmmm, Paimon doesn't know exactly what today's date is. But what Paimon does know is that it's been 500 years since the Cataclysm of Khaenri'ah."
"Khaenri'ah?" I recalled my historic lessons about the world and I couldn't find any references to 'Khaenri'ah' anywhere in my memories. Admittedly, it is quite possible that there are civilizations that have been lost to the sands of time, but using the destruction of an entire civilization as a benchmark for measuring time suggests that said civilization must have a high degree of notoriety.
And that said civilization must have ended extremely quickly, sort of like Atlantis if it did exist.
Just how far in the past am I?!
"Paimon, does the word 'Roman' means anything to you?"
The fairy placed a finger on her chin and took on the appearance of being in deep thought, "Paimon has never heard of this 'Roman' before. Is that a type of food?"
Right, so I'm before the founding of the Roman Empire. The Romans were such a dominating force right after their founding because of their position in the middle of the Mediterranean, that their traders likely were all over Europe and the entirety of Northern Africa. If this Fairy has never heard of them, then it's quite likely either I'm in England before their founding, or I'm a bit after.
That means the earliest I can be at is in 500 BCE, with a margin of error of possibly 50 years later at 450 BCE. I then infer I couldn't also be later than 1000 BCE since Magecraft Foundations only came into existence because of Solomon, the King of Mages.
I can't help but wonder why the hell did the Aozaki sister send me so far back?
The quick clapping of Paimon's hands drew me out of my befuddlement, "anyway, you're clearly a stranger, so in exchange for saving Paimon, I've decided I'm going to be your guide to Teyvat! What's your name by the way?"
Teyvat? Is that what the Feys call ancient Britain? Within my studies of fairies, it is said that humans are seen as an indispensable source of nourishment for them, supposedly being near one causes them to feel a sense of spiritual fulfillment. They are playful beings unlike the vast majority of phantasmal creatures. In fact, my ancestors supposedly grieved for the loss of the Fairies when they went to the Reverse Side of the World.
A fairy guiding me through ancient pre-Roman Britain, now that's an opportunity I think most mages would kill for, literally. The younger generations would likely sacrifice their entire families for this chance.
Since I saw no need for disguising magecraft, I went with my full introduction;
My arms uncrossed themselves and moved in such a way as if they were unwrinkling a cape. Hands pointing to the sky, arms outstretched, I looked like a Pianist who's just about to bow after they've finished their masterpiece and is currently receiving thunderous applause from their audience.
Then, my right hand descended until it's covering the large red bowtie on my chest while my left went behind my back. My body remained ever rigid.
"I am Barthomeloi Lorelei, the last remaining member and head of the Barthomeloi family. I am the Vice Director of the Clock Tower and the leader of the Extermination Brigade. I am known as The Queen: the Supreme Magus of the Modern Era, and the Slayer of close to a dozen Dead Apostle Ancestors."
The tone of my voice was clear, my movement was crisp, and not a word was stumbled upon because of just how well-practiced my introduction was. Just as how it should be, no mistakes.
My father once said to me 'anyone who must say that they are superior, is not superior', thus one of the earliest things he had me work on was a way of properly introducing myself to others.
Theatrics, dramatics, pride, elegance, discipline, nobility, and dignity; all of these must be incorporated into my very essence. It must become second nature for me or else I'd become an embarrassment for the Barthomeloi family.
Other people must recognize that I am superior to them without me saying it, and so with weeks of grueling, almost backbreaking effort, only then was I able to achieve a mere satisfactory rating from my father. I was in a fit of immature rage, and so I was locked in a specialized 'sealing room' to think about my actions.
With that introduction, I should now have complete control of the conversation—
"Huh? Wow, I didn't get off that, could you please repeat it? What's your name?" Paimon said as she tilted her head while staring at me with a dumbfounded look.
Or maybe not.
While my face remained perfectly still, I was insulted by Paimon's words.
The disrespect is enough to almost cause me to abandon Paimon before I reminded me this is a Fey creature, the same species as Vivian who had given King Arthur his Excalibur. If the cost to study a Fey is a little bit of disrespect, the magus in me would take that offer wholeheartedly.
A shorter, simpler introduction then. One that even a simpleton could understand.
With a firm and unshakable tone, I introduced myself; "I am Lorelei, Lorelei Barthomeloi."
"Alright, then Lorelei!" Paimon clapped her hands together cheerfully.
My mouth turned into an almost imperceptible frown at the familiarity in her words, acting as if we'd known each other for years. If Paimon had been a normal human, I'd have admonished her harshly, but since she's a Fey, a creature that exists only on the Reverse Side of the World, I allowed it.
"You're not from around here are you?" Paimon asked, then she glanced at those magical tools and materials on the ground, "are you a merchant that got lost?"
Doesn't she know a mage's workshop when she sees one? Interesting, so does she not know magi?
"I am what's known as a magus, a mage that practices magecraft," I said as I put on the beige trench coat once more, my voice crisp and impeccable, "I was waiting for someone when I saw some splashing out in the ocean and, well, here we are." I gestured to our surroundings.
Before I fully clip on the trench coat, however, I started collecting the tools and materials on the ground and placing them inside the Imaginary Numbers pocket once more.
Paimon visibly recoiled when I grabbed a sealed jar containing a pair of eyeballs suspended in a sickly greenish liquid. The eyes were a pair I harvested from this one Stage VIII Greater Dead Apostle who specialized in mystic eyes.
If I simply channel a bit of magical energy into these eyes I can activate them without having to replace my current ones, effectively, these eyes become a potent concealed assassination weapon.
"What the...?" That revulsion quickly turned into confusion when after I stuffed that jar into my trench coat, there was no visible bulge of any kind as if the jar had disappeared.
Paimon watched on in fascination as I continuously placed my tools and materials into my trench coat with the apparent pocket not getting any bigger. Does the fairy not know of Imaginary Number techniques? If she were a magus I'd understand, since this technique is a specialty from an extinct branch of the Barthomelois but surely for someone like Paimon, they'd have to have seen a mage from the Age of Gods perform similar feats?
"How did you do that?!" Paimon asked with sparkles in her eyes, "are you a magician?"
The flying fairy then flew around me, checking out my body like a child checking out a candy store.
While for a normal person, being stared at like such may cause them to become embarrassed, Paimon's action doesn't faze me at all. I remained entirely impervious, my mannerism and pride as an aristocrat demands nothing less.
What's more, an opportunity to take control of the conversation arises once more.
"I am not a Magician. And that was merely an application of Imaginary Numbers." Although the former will be changing soon.
Paimon then looked at the position of the sun before turning back to me, "we should probably get going. Based on the size of that cliff, we're probably at the base of Starsnatch's Cliff."
I looked at the cliff in question. The thing looked like a giant slab of stone jutting out of the ground, at its highest point, the cliff was easily taller than even Big Ben.
More importantly, it seems the fairy is well-informed in the area. I remember reading how fairies are rarely alone, so I opened my mouth to ask, "are your companions near?"
Paimon tilted her small head to the side once more with a look of confusion in her eyes.
"Companions? I only have you."
... What?
I blinked several times with my jaw hung a bit ajar.
That was so surprising it shattered my impervious front by actually getting a reaction out of me. It was completely out of the left field, so much so that even as a perfectionist who thought of numerous ways this conversation can go, her words completely took me by surprise.
I have no pre-prepared response, so my reply came a few moments too late.
"Don't you have any friends? Other humans, that you've met?"
"Um, no, I... can't remember my past."
Amnesia?
My left hand covered my chin as I entered into deep thought. With Thought Acceleration being active, I can perceive and think things much faster.
An amnesic fairy that just so happens to enter into my Bounded Field of detection? That seems to be too much of a coincidence.
One has to know when they're being lied to and manipulated if they want to go into Clock Tower politics.
Being in the Age of Gods, my mind immediately wondered if there was a higher power at work here.
I felt an uncontrollable chill run down my back. Those who have the favors or even any interactions with gods never tend to end well. I have a means of killing the unkillable, but I don't know whether or not the Barrel Replica in my possession is strong enough. Even if it's a conceptual weapon capable of murdering Nrvnqsr Chaos in a single shot, could it really affect a God during the Age of Gods? When they're at their strongest?
Incidentally, since my left index finger was so close to my teeth, I bit into them in frustration as my brows furrowed.
Damn you Aozaki! Is this why you're not contacting me? Because I've now gained the attention of a God? Couldn't you have at least told me which God? With the few interactions I've had with the woman, Aoko Aozaki didn't seem to be the type of person who'd just throw random people into the past.
Despite my intense hatred for all Dead Apostles, I'd admit that Zelretch is a responsible individual who takes his job seriously. And that makes me hate him all the more. He could've easily saved the Barthomeloi family from their grisly fate.
Hell, after a particularly frightening encounter with an assassin before the Director took me under his wings, I, Lorelei, the last member of the Barthomeloi family, a family that's known for their unyielding pride, and a family who would be the very definition of aristocracy, begged.
I begged.
I begged Zelretch, a Dead Apostle Ancestor, to take me on as his apprentice because that way at least I'm afforded some protection.
I asked for protection from a member of the 27 Dead Apostle Ancestors.
I was extremely desperate, weak, and young at the time; I genuinely thought that I was going to die tomorrow.
He refused. He had the audacity, the bloody arrogance, and pompous presumptuousness to say it's for my own damned good.
'To be a magus is to walk with death.' He says.
Just thinking about that period of my past caused so much shame, rage, and hatred to boil up to the surface that reality became meaningless. Elegance and dignity were thrown out the proverbial window.
"—Lorelei! Lorelei! Stop you're hurting yourself!"
The tip of my tongue tasted iron.
Looking down at the sharp pain in my fingers, I found that I bit down hard enough for it to start to bleed profusely.
"Ah!" Paimon seemed extremely worried, in contrast to myself who merely looked annoyed.
Seconds later, a black liquid emerged from deep within the chewed flesh like a bathtub filling up with water. Once the tiny crevasses made by my teeth are filled, the black liquid receded akin to tides and was absorbed into fresh, untouched skin.
The only evidence of any wounds was the blood that had bled out before.
"Woah..." Paimon looked at my healed fingers with awe in her eyes.
I took out a self-cleaning handkerchief and started wiping away the blood.
As I do, however, my gaze was locked on the healed finger. The Director said that the clothing I'm wearing was supposed to be the ultimate defensive mystic code, yet somehow, Altrouge still managed to bypass all that so quickly I couldn't even perceive her.
That thought restarted an originally terminated line of thought: the Holy Grail. If it's not the real Holy Grail then did Altrouge somehow turn her demonic dog, Primate Murder, into a Grail?
I would have rejected that hypothesis outright had Altrouge not just bypassed all my defenses like they didn't exist. Primate Murder did show the capacity to ignore human magecraft during my family's massacre, as though it had an absolute, irrefutable right in killing humans.
"How did you do that?"
I paused the line of thought to answer Paimon coolly, "special equipment of mine. It heals any wounds I gain rapidly."
Answering Paimon has caused my mind to return to the original topic before: if I gained the attention of a God, and if this hypothetical god has nudged me to follow this fairy, then it's probably best to follow the script given to me for now. Despite what some books would have you believe, gods aren't all-powerful, otherwise, the Age of Gods would've extended to the modern day.
Accordingly, if I can't beat the god in a battle, then I'll just outlast them. The Third Magic would automatically grant their wielder true immortality and infinite magical energy, though personally, I would want Genesis in Magic form: The First Magic— Denial of Nothingness.
Since this is before AD, Yumina of the First hasn't been born yet.
I stopped before I could ponder the ontological implications of acquiring a Magic before their fated time, and the paradoxical effect present if the established wielder weren't able to acquire the Magic. My family has always respected the First Magician heavily, but I'm honestly indifferent.
Folding the handkerchief and placing them into the Imaginary Numbers pocket once more, a small booklet appeared in my right hand as I pulled out
Flipping open the book to a random page, I scribbled out a coded message in Esperanto.
Esperanto is an amalgamation of multiple other Indo-European languages, meaning that unless someone knows Neo-Latin and Germanic languages, it's just going to look like jibberish.
I think Esperanto is overkill. Modern English would already be indecipherable to people of a thousand years ago, just imagine how different it must be if that time gap is increased to 2500.
"What are you writing about?"
Still, as a perfectionist, there's a chance that modern English could be deciphered and translated, thus, Esperanto shall remain.
Ripping out that page, I dropped the slip onto the sandy beach before mumbling out a time capsule spell causing the sand to move and congregate around that slip of white paper, consuming it.
The tall mount of sand then became smaller as it hardened into a rock— a super-condensed sandstone time capsule, the Red Aozaki should be able to instantly recognize it.
"A message." I then turned away from the sandstone and towards Paimon, "since you're supposed to be my guide to Brit— Teyvat... shall we go?"
I gestured towards Paimon as she started to shake excitedly.
The fairy then started moving down the beach to the left side of the cliff face. "Come on, let's go!"
AN: in this chapter, we get to see how a magus would first react to being thrown into an entirely new world, a bit more of Lorelei's past and her hatred for Zelretch expanded upon. There won't be too much angst in this story.
13 Followers and 12 Favorites, well I honestly expected worse considering how dead the Tsukihime fandom is.