"Fucking hell, what kind of shithole is this?"
That was probably Leo's first coherent thought upon waking. He found himself lying on damp straw reeking of vomit and despair. His head throbbed like it was about to split open, and that damn blue light flickered before his eyes—they called it "Stardust." Apparently, after getting pulverized by a truck in his past life, he'd gotten a one-way ticket straight to this lousy medieval world, complete with a garbage-tier superpower: Time Rewind.
The kicker? Every time he used the damn thing, he lost one of his senses. Sight, hearing... At this rate, he'd end up a tasteless, odorless rock too dumb to know it was a rock. Fucking fantastic.
"New fish?" A raspy, drawn-out voice came from the opposite corner. A woman sat cross-legged, wiping a knife with a greasy rag. "Look kinda fancy. What'd ya do? Mouth off to a holy man? Or piss on the garrison wall?"
Leo tried to answer, but his throat was desert-dry, only managing a gurgle.
"Tch. Welcome to Aethelgard, chum," she scoffed. "Here, the smallest fuckup can get you killed. Name's Ada. If you want to avoid a noose around your neck come dawn, you'd best listen good."
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Leo's Journal, Night 1 (Probably):
Ada yammered all night. Seems this world's got three kinds of players:
The Lumina Zealots. Robed nutjobs who talk to light and love frying brains. Their specialty? Making you see shit that ain't there. Ada says they once convinced a guy he was drowning in a lake while they burned him alive as a human torch. Makes me wanna puke.The Valerian Knights. Hypocrites in sweaty armor. Claim they protect the people, really just protect their coin. Their toy? Some kinda machine that deafens you and eats your memories. Ada calls 'em "Widowmakers." Nice. Well, them. The "Resistance." A buncha starving bastards trying not to get crushed by the first two. HQ? A dump called the "Lily Bell" tavern. Plan? No plan. Survive another day.
Oh, apparently I got a gift. Time Rewind. Like a fucking game save. But every time I save, this damn game takes a bite outta me. My right eye's already shot. Blurry as hell, like looking through shit.
I wanna go home.
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Interrogation Report Delta-7, Subject (Leo), Purifier Anselm Log:
Subject persists with absurd claims: "from another world," "died in a vehicle collision." Mentions "user interface" and "program errors." Delusional? Or some manner of code?
His reaction to Stardust... unusual. He does not pray. He "calculates." Like a craftsman appraising wood. Calls our "Luminous Vision" "shitty optical effects." Blasphemous, certainly. Yet... intriguing.
When we presented the Vael Sylvi as "a beast to be tamed," he spat in the brother's face. Said: "You're just kids playing with matches."
Perhaps not heresy. Perhaps something new. Requires continued observation.
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Phoenix Order Knight Gloria, Memoir Excerpt:
Saw the man they call Leo today. Resembled no demon from the sermons. Sat on a barrel, cursing at a hunk of moldy cheese he was trying to melt with an uncalibrated Stardust crystal.
"Fuck! What a piece of crap!" he complained. "The thermal conductivity on this thing is garbage!"
Crude words. Yet the frustration behind them... I know it well. The sight of potential wasted.
When I offered aid, he eyed me warily. "Your Order... isn't it the one that specializes in silencing people?"
I felt shame. He was right. But we are not all like that. I will prove it to him.
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Estevan Trade League Internal Memo, Priority: High
Subject: Target "Leo" Acquisition Proposal
Designated target "Leo" exhibits Stardust interaction patterns beyond all known doctrine. He does not pray. Does not supplicate. He "tinkers." Calls our sacred artifacts "little gadgets," our formulae "shitty algorithms."
This is an opportunity. Or a threat.
Approved approach: Dispatch Bella. Young, irritating. Her disdain for authority may provide a connection point. Offer coffee. Known to be desperately craved.
Standard offer: Protection, resources, technology. Exchange: He helps us figure out why our shit keeps breaking.
If refused... Well, no one needs an uncontrolled innovator.
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Overheard Dialogue at "Lily Bell" Tavern:
Ada: Alright, lads, the plan's simple. Sneak in, grab the schematics, sneak out.
Leo: "Simple"? Ada, your plan's got more holes than my ex's spaghetti code. Their security runs on harmonic Stardust circuits. One wrong step, the alarms'll scream louder than a ship's horn.
Maeve: ...Ship's what?
Leo: ...Nevermind. Look, I need to recalc. Give me ten minutes.
Ada: No ten minutes! Move now!
Leo: Fuck! Fine! But if we die, I'm gonna chew you out next timeline!
Later, a roar in the darkness:
"Maeve! No! Goddamn no—!"
The grating shriek of metal on metal. Silence.
Then... a sharp intake of breath. Reset. A new beginning.
Leo jolted awake, back on the straw. He raised a hand to his face. His right eye's sight was back. But he knew. He remembered.
He'd lost his sense of smell.
He could no longer smell the straw, the sweat, or the scent of Maeve's favorite burnt toast.
He stood up, fists clenched. "Ada," his voice was colder, calmer. "We go again. But this time, we do it my fucking plan."
This world could go to hell. He'd bend it back into shape.
One sense at a time.