序章三 . . . 000
@/mxtsuro | AO3 & Wattpad
Myrddin Emrys © 2025

﹒  ◠  METEMPSYCHOSIS    ⊹    ﹒
— “ reincarnation ” !
It may not be the life you imagined, but it’s your life. You came here for a reason. Is it time for you to go and begin again?
★ . Doug Cooper » +

೯⠀⁺ ⠀ 𖥻 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄 ⠀ᰋ
── ★ ˙ the star, watching through the midnight blues, heard the clank of steel and the grunts of thee  ̟ !!

Fuyuki City
1st of September 2004, 20:30 PM

          The narrow alley stretched before them like the gaping maw of some monstrous creature, dark and foreboding, the cool night air thick with the aftermath of the battle they had just witnessed. Galateya, pale and frail, clung to consciousness as the coppery tang of her nosebleed filled her senses. Her body felt weightless, barely tethered to reality, and the cloak-draped figure beside her was the only thing keeping her from collapsing into the cold grip of the cobblestone beneath her feet.

          The night had been a blur of terror, and her young mind struggled to grasp the enormity of what she had seen. The power, the magic, it was unlike anything she had ever imagined, as if the very fabric of the world had been torn open and set ablaze. She was still reeling from the shock, the disbelief lodged deep in her chest like a thorn. Their footsteps---his, rather, as the traveler moved with the silence of a phantom---echoed faintly in the distance, swallowed by the oppressive quiet of the city streets. The traveler was barefoot, his calloused feet gliding across the rough, broken stone with ease, as though the jagged terrain offered no resistance to him. Galateya stole a glance at him, her tiny hands clutching the folds of his cloak. He moved with the kind of grace that seemed otherworldly, his bare feet making no sound, leaving no trace. He was a shadow, a wraith moving through the dying city.

         Just as Galateya thought they had escaped the chaos, the air above them erupted in a violent storm of red light. She gasped, her small body stiffening in fear. Above them, the sky ignited with countless glowing projectiles---fiery red arrows streaking like comets through the night. Each one trailed a brilliant crimson arc, their light painting the heavens in a blood-drenched hue. She craned her neck, her wide eyes following the flaming descent of the arrows toward the distant street, the very place they had just fled from. The impact was inevitable, the storm of arrows descending like the wrath of an angry god.

          In the next instant, the world shook. A thunderous explosion rocked the ground beneath their feet. The air rippled with the force of the impact, and a shockwave blasted through the alleyway, sending debris and dust spiraling into the night like so much flotsam in a storm. The traveler moved without hesitation, his strong arms scooping Galateya up in a single, fluid motion. She barely had time to register the movement before he leapt forward, his body twisting with an impossible agility to avoid the cascading rubble.

          The walls of the alley crumbled as the shockwave tore through them. Bricks, glass, and chunks of concrete rained down around them, the air thick with dust and the acrid smell of destruction. The sound was deafening, a chorus of splintering wood and shattering stone, but the traveler moved as if guided by instinct. His bare feet seemed to find purchase on surfaces that would have sent others stumbling. He twisted, turned, ducked under falling beams, his cloak billowing out behind him like a second skin. Galateya held onto him with all the strength she could muster, her face buried in the rough fabric of his cloak, her heart pounding in her ears. She felt the vibrations of the falling debris, the shockwaves reverberating through the traveler’s body as he shielded her from the worst of the destruction. For a moment, it felt as though the world itself was crumbling, and all they could do was run, run from the ruin that chased them.

          When the chaos finally subsided, the traveler slowed his pace. He cast a glance back over his shoulder, his amber eyes narrowing as he surveyed the wreckage behind them. The alley had been reduced to a jagged ruin, walls crumbled to dust, the once-solid structures now nothing more than skeletal remains. Above them, the night sky still shimmered with the faint afterglow of magic, the fiery trails of Archer’s arrows lingering like distant embers. The traveler continued to move forward, his steps careful, deliberate. They had reached the end of the alley, where the street opened up before them, wide and eerily quiet. The silence was punctuated only by the faint clashing of steel in the distance, a grim reminder that the battle was far from over. Galateya lifted her gaze from the traveler’s cloak, her eyes drawn to the sky once more.

         There, silhouetted against the starless expanse of night, the two warriors battled like gods among men. Archer, his silver hair gleaming in the faint light, moved with deadly precision. His bow, glowing faintly with residual energy, was now in his hands, and he was airborne, his movements a blur of speed and power. Opposite him, Lancer darted through the air with terrifying grace, his red spear cutting through the night like a streak of blood. His movements were fluid, almost serpentine, as if the air itself bent to his will. The sound of their battle was distant yet sharp---the ringing clash of metal against metal, the hiss of arrows slicing through the air, the crackle of magic. The very sky seemed to ripple with the force of their blows, and the ground beneath them trembled with each impact. It was a duel between titans, and Galateya could feel the weight of their power pressing down on her, a force that made her bones ache with fear.

           As they emerged from the alley onto a broader street, Galateya’s gaze caught something on the pavement below. Archer had descended, his boot-covered feet touching the ground with a grace that seemed almost delicate compared to the fury of his earlier attacks. In his arms, cradled like a broken doll, was a spiky-haired redheaded boy. The boy’s clothes were torn and bloodied, his body limp and lifeless in the silver-haired warrior’s grip. The bow-wielding man laid him gently on the ground, his expression grim.

          The lance-wielding bloke landed just a few feet away, his red spear still in hand, but his posture had changed. The wild joy that had lit his eyes during the battle had faded, replaced by a look of cold calculation. The two men exchanged words, their voices too low to reach Galateya’s ears, but the tension between them was palpable, a thick, oppressive force that hung in the air. Lancer, his task seemingly complete, finally turned and bounded into the shadows, disappearing over the rooftops with a single powerful leap. His departure left the street eerily quiet, the only sound the faint, shallow breaths of the boy Archer had protected.

          Galateya tugged at the traveler’s cloak, her voice small and urgent. “We have to help him. He is dying.”

          The traveler did not answer, his gaze still fixed on the scene ahead. His silence was unnerving, and Galateya could feel her desperation rising. She was about to speak again when another figure emerged from the shadows---a girl, no older than a teenager, with twin-tails of chestnut-brown hair. Her uniform, pristine and formal, seemed out of place in the chaos of the battlefield, but her face was a mask of horror as she rushed to the fallen boy’s side. The girl knelt beside him, her hands trembling as she reached for the pendant hanging from her neck. Her voice was barely audible as she whispered a string of words, her fingers pressing against the blood-soaked fabric of the boy’s chest. A faint, golden light flickered from the pendant, its soft glow spreading over the boy’s wounds like a thin veil of warmth.

          Galateya watched in awe, her breath catching in her throat. The light, though faint, seemed to pulse with life. The boy’s chest, still weak and barely rising, shuddered under the influence of the girl’s magic. She could feel it---something ancient, something powerful---moving through the air, wrapping itself around the boy’s battered form.

          Galateya wanted to speak, to ask questions, to understand what was happening. But before she could, the traveler’s hand gently covered her mouth, his silent command clear. They were to remain hidden, unseen. The girl’s magic continued to weave its delicate thread, the glow from the pendant growing stronger as the night deepened. And there, in the silence of the street, she could only watch as the mysteries of this strange, terrifying world unfolded before her, each moment more impossible than the last. The weight of it pressed against her heart like a heavy stone, and she knew---deep down---that her life had irrevocably changed.

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ 𓈈 metempsychosis