With the sun glaring at him no more, the young man’s body cooled down. As a soldier, he was no stranger to being drenched in sweat. Then again, being unbothered wasn’t the same as preferring the wet and sticky sensation all over his skin. Rather than feeling trapped in a cocoon, he preferred to be free. 

Noticing his discomfort, she had said: “It will take some time to prepare the food, so why don’t you wash yourself first? But please be careful, the water is quite cold.”

Thus, at this same minute, the young man found himself in a small-sized bathroom. It would be the size of him stretching both of his arms, something impossible for him to do now. Instead of wood, layers of bricks became the surrounding wall, damping the sound further, almost like a sacred place.

As expected, he was naked. At first, he didn’t know what to wear afterwards, but the young lady insisted she had clothes for him to borrow. Considering he had woken up dressed in clothes that weren’t his, he didn’t follow through with another question and instead thanked her. Still, it begged the question. 

“Is there someone else living here?”

He muttered those words while taking a scoop of water from the basin in front and dumping it from above his head. The splashing sound that echoed across the room steadied his breath and eased his shoulders. As said by the young lady, the water bit him down to his bones. Harsh and unforgiving, but he had never felt so rejuvenated before as heat soon enveloped his body once again. The process began and ended each time he doused his body until the water no longer froze him, yet still freshened his entire existence. 

Another object that drew his attention was a box-shaped item placed on the ground. This cube was smaller than his palm. It appeared to be crystal with clear hollow spaces within it to let the light pass through, but not so clear with some parts obstructing the view on the respective opposite side. 

If that young lady hadn’t mentioned it to him seconds before his feet touched the bathroom floor, he wouldn’t have dared to touch it. Simply put, the cube contained a magic mirror, the kind that supposedly emerged after it was activated. The unfamiliarity of these tools contributed to the young man’s skepticism. Similar to a coin, however–be it corroded in rust or coated in perfection–skepticism had a curiosity as its other side, and it seemed the latter had a slight edge occupying his mind. 

He gulped, preparing for what was about to come if the situation went south. Gliding across the space, his left hand–his only hand–came in contact with the cube. Upon the incoming contact, a rectangular mirror formed before his eyes. It floated above the cube, right where there was a magic circle on its upper side, staying in stasis until someone would move it to their heart’s desire. Its flat surface reflected the image of a young man just as a mirror usually worked.

“As I expected….”

His hunch was proven correct. The fact that he–a person who had no Mana, Sigil, or Lumen–could activate the cube, it was none other than a magic item, either an Artifact or a Relic though he heavily leant on the latter. He dared to touch it no more, as a single Relic could value up to multiple good coins. 

Deciding to leave it as it was, the young man continued to gaze at the mirror. He furrowed his eyebrows at the sight.    

His wet, ashen-black hair bowed gracefully, with bangs that almost covered his forehead; some of those strands were just a few millimeters away from caressing his vulnerable grayish eyes. Everything was pretty much the same, except for several white streaks painting the area near his right eye. Those weren’t there before the last time he checked, or at least his hair had always been black-hued since his life began in this world, so this change worried him, as if his age had just decided to accelerate without asking for a consent. 

“Even though I just turned 22….” he mumbled, fingers rubbing those strands before letting go. 

His physique was on the leaner side with well-toned muscles. As he observed closer, there was another mark that hadn’t been on his body before. It stretched from his left shoulder to his abdomen, gnawing at one-third of his entire body. In contrast to his beige skin, the mark–now better resembled a scar–appeared to be darker in tone, whether red, purple, or between those two colors. 

“Could it be….”

Burn marks, seared by the enemy’s magic which had rained upon him. The scar must be the result. After all, such scars weren’t uncommon in wars. From the look of it, that mark planned to stay on his body, inflicting no more pain, which should have been a miracle on its own. But….

“....”

….All of a sudden, a heavy lump weighed his stomach, trying to push him down until he collapsed on the cold floor. When he attempted to stand up, his body rejected his plea, and before he realized it, his left hand was trembling. All of his fingers were stuck in their positions, unable to be bent down. His breathing also got affected, rapidly inhaling and exhaling only to feel his insides being tossed upside down, as if the air itself were mercilessly drowning him. 

Then, a flood of nightmarish images rushed into his senses. The warm sensation of blood was clinging to his skin. On the entire battlefield were his allies and enemies, all of whom had been reduced to mere remains of a person. That sight had burned itself into the young man’s retinas. Along with it, the scent his nose picked up was of a pungent and suffocating one, while at the same time his tongue tasted the lingering metallic in the air, which made him gag. Screams of death reverberated, orchestrated by the devil himself.

As he tried to compose himself, the terror returned to him all at once. It twisted his guts, then slowly crept to his chest and neck like an invisible hand, trying to strangle him until his next breath became his last. 

The next thing he knew, he had already vomited. Clear liquid was all that came out of his digestive system, and along the way also scratched his throat with a hot and painful sensation. His already empty stomach felt emptier now. Gazing up, he saw the pathetic state he was in the mirror–colors vanished from his expression, leaving only moving meat and bones. 

He understood it clearly. Although his body had survived the battle, his soul was left with permanent scars.

With trembling hands, he placed his left arm on the nearest wall. It supported his crumbling weight. 

“....Pitiful, am I?”