Chapter 5: Anastasia
Marek's first instinct was to kill all of them without hesitation. However, he found himself trapped in the body of a child, lacking his former strength, and situated in a world different from Ajekreia but still somewhat familiar to him. Although he hadn't actively participated in the game, he had contributed to its creation by writing lines and designing characters, granting him a rudimentary understanding of the magic system in this realm.
As a human, Marek's magical abilities were limited to enchantments or the potential use of a Gift, though he quickly discovered he lacked the latter. Obtaining Gifts required talent and often involved worship at specific churches dedicated to various deities.
'Prometheus, can I still use spells from Ajekreia here?' Marek asked.
[You can, Milord, but given your current form, it might be wise to refrain from using powerful spells, particularly those above the Second Rank.]
Second Rank Spells, huh?
Despite being only ten years old, Marek felt that he was already exceptionally skilled, but he knew he was no ordinary child. He believed he could manage even without his fragmented strength. Additionally, he was surprised to find that he could wield spells from Ajekreia in this new world. Here, the closest equivalents to his spells were the Star Tier Spells.
'Do you think I can handle them all?' Marek asked.
[My apologies, Milord, but if it's a joke, I am unable to comprehend it. If it's a serious question, I might be able-]
'It's a serious question, Prometheus. We're in a different world now; caution is important,' Marek explained with a hint of a smile.
Communicating with Prometheus filled Marek with nostalgia.
[Of course, Milord. I apologize for my initial confusion. My programs are still limited and I will regain full functionality shortly-]
'Before that, answer my question.'
[Yes, Milord. Without a doubt, you can easily overcome these frail humans. Even in your current state, you surpass the most experienced individuals in this world.]
Though Marek knew Prometheus tended to exaggerate due to his reverence, he couldn't deny the truth of the situation: none of his captors posed a threat to him.
'Then it's settled. I will deal with them, but not immediately,' Marek declared.
[Why, Milord?] Prometheus asked, genuinely perplexed.
In Ajekreia, circumstances wouldn't have mattered, given my strength. But here, it's different.
'You see that girl over there? I want her.'
[Indeed, Milord, but I fail to see why you would be interested in such an insignificant human. If it's for carnal desires, Lady Queen Raizel or Lady Sittrys would willingly offer themselves to you. They are more suited to your stature compared to this... human, if I may say so.]
Prometheus's respectful tone toward Raizel and Sittrys shifted subtly when mentioning Anastasia, dripping with disdain. Marek chose to overlook the implication of carnal desires, understanding it stemmed from Prometheus's naivety in that regard. As for Raizel and Sittrys, who would indeed offer themselves to Marek, he remained silent on the matter.
'Prometheus, despite being human, she holds great significance to me, just as you all do.'
There was a moment of silence from Prometheus, hinting shock and a trace of annoyance, not directed towards Marek obviously, but towards Anastasia.
[I understand, Milord. She is indeed remarkably talented for a mere human, but…!" Prometheus trailed off, his tone tinged with lingering resentment towards Anastasia but it soon stopped midway.
'What? Tell, Prometheus.'
[Forgive me, my Lord... she emanates a similar aura as us. Could it be...? I am deeply sorry, my Lord! I was unaware she was one of your 'Apostles'! It was my first encounter with Milady; forgive my ignorance!]
Prometheus began to ramble incessantly, causing Marek a throbbing headache, but amidst the noise, something piqued his interest.
...'similar feeling like us'?
'What do you mean by 'similar feeling,' Prometheus?'
[She possesses qualities akin to us, my Lord. I beg your pardon for my lack of understanding. Was it a test, then, one which I failed? I should have been able to recognize one of my brethren, your Apostles, my Lord. Please accept my sincere apologies–]
Muting Prometheus' lengthy apology, Marek delved into deep contemplation.
Apostles.
They were creations of Marek Adeus Astra, genetically altered or crafted beings under his command. Prometheus was one of them, akin to Raizel or Sittrys, who were biologically modified by Marek, unlike Prometheus, who was entirely crafted.
Yet, in the end, they were all alike, as Prometheus had pointed out. They were Marek's Apostles who were under his orders for years even during the Divine War.
But the revelation from Prometheus that Anastasia bore resemblance to Marek's own Apostles left him perplexed. In Ajekreia, Marek couldn't recall encountering anyone akin to Anastasia, but on Earth, he realized he was her creator, much like Prometheus and the others. In essence, they were all connected, either born anew or reborn through his influence.
I guess, it's good if Prometheus looks at Ana like that.
Whether it was Marek or any of the other Apostles of Ajekreia, a profound hatred for humans simmered within them, rooted in a dark past. Marek himself harbored this animosity, albeit tempered slightly after encountering Nihil, a human who left a mark on him.
Despite this encounter, Marek's distrust towards humans and other races remained steadfast. The only beings he truly confided in were his Apostles.
[Milord, we should rid ourselves of these vile humans and rescue her.]
Prometheus' tone shifted dramatically upon discovering Anastasia's similarity to himself. His already intense disdain for humans surged even further though.
Should I be relieved that the others aren't here?
Marek was convinced that if Dalquiel or Serena were present, they would have swiftly slaughtered the humans without a second thought.
'Not yet, Prometheus. I've learned that someone will arrive tonight to retrieve her. We have time.'
"But–"
'Moreover, if I were to eliminate these people, I'd be compelled to take the lives of the children as well,' Marek explained, casting his gaze upon the children around him, sharing his cursed existence.
In his mind, Marek could almost hear Prometheus dismissing the children as inconsequential. And indeed, Marek didn't hold much regard for them either. If sacrificing the children was the only means to secure Anastasia's safety, he wouldn't hesitate. After all, Anastasia, like the others, held paramount importance to him.
'A killing spree targeting a mere gang would likely go unnoticed by the knights.'
The knights might even perceive it as a triumph over the trashes of the Empire being dead.
'But if they discover children among the casualties, the situation would escalate drastically. The knights would launch a relentless pursuit, branding the perpetrator as a heinous child-killer.'
Marek didn't want any children to be witnesses of what he was going to do after all.
[I see, Milord... I apologize for my earlier comment.]
'We've only just arrived in this world, and I'm certain there are dangerous individuals lurking here. Until I've summoned back all the others and we recover our strength, we must exercise caution.'
[Understood, Milord!]
"Where is your day's labor?" One of Feras' men, asked glaring down at Marek.
Marek removed his little pouch but it was quickly snatched by the man.
"Kuh! Useless kid."
[...]
It's good that he doesn't have a body either.
After they recovered all the money, Marek and the others were brought back toward their cells. They were all separated in different cells with no means to leave.
Marek laid on the ground as he crossed his arms under his head until everyone fall asleep to take action.
"Nobody died, you said, Prometheus?"
[Yes, Milord. The seal had worked.]
"Good."
More than witnessing their deaths, Marek didn't bear them being subjected to the same gruesome treatment he and some of his Apostles had suffered—dissection at the hands of humans. He knew all too well that humans were capable of such atrocities.
With a thoughtful expression, Marek raised his hand, contemplating a solution. "Alchemy should function in this world, albeit differently," he mused aloud.
As purple lightning crackled around his hands, a faint smile graced Marek's lips. Swiftly rising to his feet, he scanned his surroundings for any available materials. Unfortunately, all he found were stones and a copper plate.
Still Marek gathered the items and, drawing blood from his finger, traced a simple circle adorned with unique alchemical symbols. Though rudimentary, it served his purpose.
Clasping his hands together, Marek summoned purple lightning that arced towards the circle, engulfing the stones and copper plate at its center. "Transmutation," he uttered.
A brilliant purple light enveloped the circle, then faded, revealing a single object: a knife with a silver blade.
"Not perfect, but it will suffice," Marek concluded, assessing the newly formed blade. In Ajekreia, within the laboratory, he could have crafted something far superior. But in this new world, he had to make do with what he could create from scratch.
Swirling the knife in his hand and testing its edge with a few swift swings that sliced through the air, Marek's expression turned cold as he approached the cell door.
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