Arin woke up face-down on stone and immediately decided two things:
First, he was not dead.
Second, if this was a dream, his brain had terrible interior design taste.
The floor was cold. Not "morning tiles in winter" cold, but "this stone has never known comfort" cold. The air smelled like dust, old water, and something faintly metallic.
He pushed himself up with a groan.
"Okay," he muttered. "Either I drank something illegal… or I skipped several steps in my life."
The ceiling above him was not a ceiling. It was a fractured dome, broken in places where pale mountain light poured through. Massive pillars surrounded him in a wide circular hall, each carved with patterns so worn they looked like ghosts of designs rather than real engravings.
Statues lined the walls.
All of them were kneeling.
Not praying.
Not worshipping.
Protecting.
Their stone arms were outstretched, shields raised—not toward the center of the hall, but outward, like they were guarding something that no longer existed.
Arin stood slowly.
His body felt fine.
Too fine.
No dizziness. No pain. No stiffness. He had fallen asleep in his bed last night. Now he was standing barefoot in what looked like the world's most abandoned historical monument.
He checked himself.
No phone.
No wallet.
No shoes.
"Fantastic," he said. "I finally travel to a new place and forget everything important."
He took a step.
The stone beneath his foot vibrated.
Not a tremor. Not an earthquake.
More like recognition.
Arin froze.
"Yeah, no," he whispered. "I'm
not doing haunted floors today."
The vibration stopped.
The hall was silent again.
That's when the voice spoke.
[ You are awake ]
It didn't echo.
It didn't come from any direction.
It didn't feel external.
It felt like a thought that wasn't his.
Arin blinked.
"Alright. So this is how it happens. Either I finally lost it, or this place comes with built-in narration."
[ You are not hallucinating ]
"Bold claim."
[ You are conscious, stable, and alive ]
"Less bold, more reassuring. Who are you?"
[ A fragment.]
Arin waited.
The voice did not continue.
"A fragment of what?"
[ Of you ]
He stared at the air.
"…You're going to need to use more words than that."
A pause.
Not hesitation.
Processing.
[ I am a preserved cognitive construct designed to assist you in a controlled reincarnation environment.]
Arin rubbed his face with both hands.
"Okay. Let me rephrase. Are you a ghost, a god, or a really weird inner monologue?"
[ All classifications are inaccurate.]
"Great. So you're the fourth thing."
Arin looked around again. The statues. The broken dome. The fact that the stone floor reacted to him like it had a pulse.
"Where am I?"
[A pre-collapse ritual structure.
Classification: temple.]
"Whose temple?"
Silence.
Then:
[That information is restricted.]
Arin squinted. "Restricted by who?"
[ By you.]
That… did not feel comforting.
He walked toward the nearest statue. Its face had been eroded beyond recognition, but its posture was careful, almost gentle. The shield it held was cracked down the middle, like it had failed its purpose.
Arin reached out and touched it.
The stone pulsed again.
This time stronger.
The air thickened. Not with pressure, but with something subtler—like the world had leaned closer to listen.
[ Do not interact with structural anchors,]
the fragment said quickly.
[ Your presence is destabilizing.]
"Excuse me?"
[ Your existence does not align with current historical frameworks.]
Arin lowered his hand.
"I don't even know what that sentence means, but I hate it already."
He turned in a slow circle, scanning the hall. There were no doors. No signs. No obvious exit.
"Am I trapped?"
[ No.]
"Then how do I leave?"
[ By walking out.]
"…Through where?"
A pause.
[The direction you arrived from.]
"That's helpful if I remembered that part."
The fragment did not respond.
Arin sighed and picked a random gap in the collapsed dome where light spilled in. He walked toward it, climbing over broken stone and half-buried pillars.
As he moved, he noticed something strange.
His body adjusted perfectly.
Every step landed where it should.
Every climb used just enough strength.
No slipping. No misjudgment.
It felt less like moving and more like being moved.
"I shouldn't be this coordinated,"
he muttered.
[ Your motor efficiency exceeds baseline human averages.]
"Human?"
[ Yes.]
Arin stopped.
"Define baseline."
[ This world's standard biological parameters.]
"…This world."
Another phrase he didn't like.
He reached the edge of the ruin and looked out.
Mountains.
Not hills. Not cliffs.
Mountains so massive they looked like frozen waves in a stone ocean. Mist curled around their peaks. Forests stretched endlessly below.
No roads.
No buildings.
No signs of civilization.
Just wilderness.
Arin stared.
Then laughed.
Not hysterically. Not nervously.
Just a small, tired laugh.
"Alright," he said. "I'm officially lost in a fantasy novel."
[Your assessment is statistically inaccurate.]
"Of course it is."
He stepped out into the cold mountain air. Wind hit his skin immediately, sharp and clean. It felt real. Too real.
"Tell me the basics,"
he said.
"Magic, monsters, gods, evil empires. Pick a category."
[ Arcane energy exists. Biological threats are common. Divine entities are real. Political structures are unstable.]
"…That's all the worst options."
[Correct.]
Arin exhaled slowly.
"Do I have magic?"
[ No.]
"Fantastic."
[Your arcane pathways are sealed.]
"Even better."
He started walking downhill, following a narrow natural path between rocks.
"So what can I do?"
The fragment paused.
Then answered carefully.
[You can survive.]
Arin considered that.
Then smiled faintly.
"Alright," he said.
"Low expectations. I can work with that."
He took another step.
Far below, in the forest, something moved.
Not a shadow.
Not an animal.
Something that noticed him.
Arin felt it.
Not fear.
Attention.
The fragment spoke again, quieter this time.
[ Your presence is being registered.]
"By what?"
[ By systems that should not remember you.]
Arin swallowed.
"Are those systems friendly?"
A longer pause.
[ No.]
He nodded.
"Good," he said. "Would've been suspicious if they were."
Arin had the sudden, irrational feeling that he had arrived somewhere he wasn't supposed to be.
Not late.
Just… unaccounted for.
Behind him, the ruined temple blended into the mountain face so well it was almost invisible.
From a distance, it looked like nothing.
A scar that forgot it was a wound.