Crackle.
The world around me was nothing but darkness.
Am I dead? I thought. Bitten by a wolf that size—death seemed like the only logical outcome. Unless, by some miracle, a god took pity on me.
Crackle.
But maybe miracles don't happen twice. Maybe that god revealed my magic power only to let me die anyway. A cruel, fleeting tease of hope.
Crackle.
Wait… that crackling sound. Am I actually dead? Or… am I just unconscious?
If I was somehow alive, it would be a miracle in itself. But as I lay there, mulling over my fate, a strange sensation crept over my skin.
My face feels… hot?
The darkness around me shifted, tinged with red. My face grew warmer, almost uncomfortably so. 'What's happening? Why does it feel like my skin is burning?'
"Agh! My face! It's hot! Aaaa—!"
"Wake up already, you sleepyhead!"
Something hard and wooden struck the left side of my head.
"Ouch!" I shouted in pain.
My eyes shot open, blinking furiously as a harsh light flooded my vision, washing out the world in a blur of shapes and colors. As my eyes slowly adjusted to the sudden rush of heat and light, a campfire came into focus. It danced and popped, sending brilliant embers drifting up into the night sky. I instinctively raised a hand to shield my face from the glare.
"Having a bad dream or something?"
I turned toward the source of the voice. A middle-aged man was sitting on a log, watching me with a cold look. He was built broad and muscular, with jet-black hair and a thick beard. He wore a dark brown shirt and trousers beneath a stark white coat, completed by a pair of worn, sturdy black boots.
"How are you feeling?" He asked, though the question sounded polite, his expression betrayed the intention as he was more annoyed than concerned.
"I… I think I'm alright?" I replied, tilting my head, as the fog in my mind cleared.
How am I still alive? The question echoed in my mind.
I looked down, frantically scanning my body—especially my shoulder—for any sign of the gruesome injuries I remembered. There was nothing. No blood, no torn flesh. Even my clothes were in perfect condition. Bewildered, I looked back at the man, who was now studying me intently.
"Excuse me, but… who are you?"
The man held my gaze, his eyes dark and inscrutable. Finally, he replied, "The person asking should introduce themselves first."
"Oh, sorry, I… I don't remem—" I paused, a strange sensation welling up in me.
"Emilia. My name is Emilia."
…Emilia? The name tasted foreign on my tongue, yet it had slipped past my lips before I could even think. Who was Emilia? Was that really me?
I pressed a hand to my mouth, wondering if my lips had somehow acted on their own, but everything felt completely normal.
"Emilia, huh." The man gave a slow, deliberate nod.
"My name's Ethan. Nice to meet you." He said, his face remaining entirely stoic.
"So, Emilia, let me ask you something." Ethan said as he tossed the stick into the burning campfire. The flames flared briefly as they consumed the dry wood.
"What are you doing in a place like this?" He asked, a slight note of curiosity slipping into his voice.
His eyes scanned every inch of my body before landing squarely on my face, eagerly studying my expression and reaction. I could feel the sheer weight of his gaze—he wasn't even trying to hide it. Regardless, I swallowed my nerves and answered.
"I... I don't know. I woke up and suddenly I was in the middle of a forest, in the middle of nowhere. I was so confused. Heck, I don't even remember who I am!" I yelped in frustration.
Thinking back, the absolute absurdity of it all irritated me. I had suddenly woken up in the middle of god-knows-where with zero recollections. I had a vague inkling that I originally came from a place called Earth, but I had absolutely none of this current body's memories to fill in the blanks about the world I was now standing in.
To make matters worse, the massive vault of knowledge neatly organized inside my head felt completely useless. I knew all kinds of advanced concepts and information, yet I didn't actually understand any of it, let alone know how to utilize it. It just sat there, out of reach.
I could feel a vein throbbing on my forehead from pure frustration.
I wasn't even greeted by anyone or anything after waking up! No system notifications, no god's revelation, nothing. Instead, I was met by a monstrous wolf that bit half my body off. Although... I still don't know how I survived that.
My eyes snapped back to Ethan. "Excuse me, but... can I know exactly what kind of condition you found me in?"
Ethan stared back. He stared for so long that if looks could pierce, a massive hole would have opened up in my chest all over again. A cold shiver ran down my spine as the phantom pain of the wolf attack flared up.
At last, Ethan finally opened his mouth. "Well, your situation at the time was... bizarre. I was gathering water on the opposite side of the stream and hid when I noticed you approaching. Your blood sprayed out like a fountain when the Gala bit you."
So the wolf is called a Gala. I noted internally.
"After you fell into the stream and the wolf left, I came out from my hiding spot," Ethan continued. "You were certainly dead at that point. Your eyes were completely lifeless, and well... your body was a grotesque mess. But a moment later, something happened."
Ethan paused, a deep hesitation flickering in his eyes. A second later, his posture grew rigid, as if he were forcing himself to find a sudden burst of courage.
"Just to clarify... does the name 'Inkless' ring any bells to you?" Ethan asked. His fists clenched tightly at his sides, as if he were preparing himself for the worst possible outcome.
My head tilted, entirely confused by the question. I rubbed my temples, repeating the name over and over in my mind, hoping to trigger a sudden burst of memory. If there was even anything there to trigger.
Concluding my search, I shrugged to show him the name was completely alien to me. "No, I don't know it. Does that name mean something?"
Ethan's eye twitched slightly.
"Well, they're just the name of a certain fanatic group that you really don't want to find yourself involved with," he said, his tone a dangerous blend of uncertainty and deep disgust. He let out a slow nod, a visible hint of relief washing over his features. "Seems like you really aren't involved with them, then."
My eyebrows furrowed. What did my survival have to do with a bunch of fanatics? Did a member of their group show up while I was unconscious and revive me?
"You're probably wondering what relation they could possibly have to you right now,"
Ethan said, reading my expression perfectly.
Oh, how correct you are. I thought sarcastically, letting out a dark laugh inside my head.
"It's because you rose from the dead right after that," Ethan said flatly. "Literally."