"Hm, where am I?"
Astis regained consciousness, his head spinning from the combined effects of blood loss, fatigue, and stress. He fainted shortly after Ivansia William had left his side.
And now a dull ache throbbed in his temples.
As his vision cleared, he began to take stock of his surroundings. A grey-painted wall loomed around him, and an almirah stood in one corner beside a small table. The blanket that covered him was white—neither too thin nor too thick, just adequate for warmth. The room felt quite small in comparison to his own.
'Did I faint and get brought here like a sleeping princess in need of tender care? Though, I must say, this room is rather modest for royalty. Oh, should I say a prince?'
Astis lay in bed, his heart heavy with disappointment as he struggled to feel his left hand, and after some time, he pulled aside the blanket by swiping his hand. Once more, disappointment washed over him.
"It's gone. My poor hand,"
He murmured, pulling the blanket back over himself and sinking into deep contemplation.
'Calm down and think, Astis. What have you learned so far?'
He scanned the entire room, but there was no clock in sight, or rather, maybe it had not been invented yet.
The room contained no noticeable or useful objects, kept only for the bare minimum necessities. He couldn't move freely, unwilling to take any risks before he had made up his mind.
He closed his eyes, pretending to be deeply asleep to avoid arousing suspicion if anyone entered the room.
'Well, the fact that I'm alive means I'm being cared for—but why?'
Suddenly, an image of a pale blonde-haired girl wielding a sword flashed in his mind, nearly making him choke.
'Hard to admit, but she must be the reason I'm still alive. I'm indebted to her. Tch, how terrifying.'
He shuddered at the thought of owing Ivansia William.
'Is she planning to use me? Or is it because I gained a Sigil?'
'I want to throw a party with Mom, Penelope, Araya, and maybe even invite that sleeping freak Lucretia to drink—though I'd rather not drink.'
His heart softened slightly, though his face remained expressionless.
'Well, first things first—I have many matters to sort out.'
'Only those who receive a unique Sigil undergo an ordeal immediately after it's bestowed. That trial takes place within the recipient's subconscious.'
'If that's true, then all of this must be happening within my subconsciousness, most probably.'
What he thought was correct, though his means of acquiring the Sigil were unnatural, so complications were bound to follow—something he had yet to realize.
'First, my Sigil is capable of summoning portals. Second, using it is rather complicated. Third, I now know who Ivansia Williams is—what a formidable presence she has. I want to settle the score with her, heh heh heh.'
Excitement surged within him, yet he remained motionless, like a lifeless doll.
'Fourth, there are corrupted beasts here just like in my world, well they are termed better there, the Hingcha, how menacing. Although I've only heard whispers of their existence, they are exceedingly rare in my world today. Yet, I suppose that's only natural since I've returned before the Genesis, a time when the Great Pillars had not yet established their dominance.'
'It wrote that the ordeal is taking place in the timeline before the first Descent. Hmm, wait, when exactly was the first Descent? There is no official data for the first Ascent.'
First decent refers to the first ever opening of a gate that brought in the existence of Hingcha. Hingcha were creatures that invaded solely for the purpose of destruction since ancient ages. Nothing much was known about them rather than the fact they were terrifying threat to the Constellation.
'Then was that large portal the gate for the first Descent?'
Suddenly, he heard the sound of footsteps outside the room he was currently in.
'I must not make a sound, there might be someone outside the door. I shall not be found out,... for now atleast.'
Indeed, it was a wise move not to make any fuss about waking from a coma since he didn't know anything about the place, including its pros and cons.
'At least once, they will come to see me if I have regained consciousness or not. Well, when they have to pretend to be unconscious and hope for them to godamn spill their beans.'
Just reviewing had brainstormed his mind to exhaustion, which was quite common when he had done it numerous times, envying others.
'Whatever I am going to take a long nap. Yohoho.'
At that moment, a chill crept over him as the wind slipped through the open window, piercing the blanket like icy fingers.
'Is the window open? Strange, I saw it closed a while ago, or am I getting haunted again?'
'Fine, haunt me all you want, I am not opening my eyes.'
His expression changed, bearing the unmistakable signs of discontent, a furrowed brow and downturned lip, a painting of his displeasure.
Then a sound of fluttering pages caught his attention.
'Who is reading a book now? How rude of you to disturb a patient in a coma. Tch, tch no manners at all.'
Suddenly his headache worsened, making him press his forehead with his hands.
'Ugh, whatever cerebellum haemorrhage I am having, it needs to be stopped. My head is exploding.'
Whispers flooded his mind, harassment, eerie, and impossible to decipher.
'Fuck, speak English, will ya?'
Then, to his growing unease, phantom hands seemed to wrap around him—and with a jolt of shock, he shot upright in bed.
'Wow, although I am a boy, isn't sexual harassment a bit too far?'
He glanced around his surroundings, but everything remained unchanged—until a sudden, eerie sound broke the stillness.
Creak. Creak.
The door inched open.
Astis watched intently.
"Oh great, should I close it?"
He wondered.
Suddenly, a hand gripped the edge of the grey, six-foot-high door. For a tense moment, only its fingers were visible to him.
Astis's heart pounded faster and louder, his eyes locked on the fingers gripping the door, unable to look away despite his fear.
'I swear you guys are taking exception to creepiness too far.'
Suddenly, a face emerged—the owner of those fingers. Astis froze, utterly awestruck at the owner of the face.
Crimson eyes and black hair, his bangs long enough to brush his neck. Pale skin.
The face was his own except for the smile it gave. A doppelganger stood before him, its smile unnervingly playful, as though indulging in a child's gam,e of hide and seek.
With a slow, deliberate motion,... doppelgangera, frustrating another hand, holding out a letter.
Astis began to tremble.
'A letter'
'Is it meant to be a clue—but it could be a dangerous trap?'
'If I don't get the letter, maybe I will fail the trial, or if it is a trap, then... damn, it is a frustrating game of resolve.'
Compelled beyond his fear, he placed one foot on the floor, edging toward the apparition.
Fine, he thought.
Each step was agonizingly slow, heavy with suspicion and dread. His throat had gone dry, as if some immense, invisible weight pressed down upon him. Bandages wound around his body while he was unconscious, but he paid them no heed even when his left arm's wound began to open.
Finally, he was close enough to seize the letter.
Throughout the entire approach, the doppelganger remained perfectly still, carrying the same childlike creepy smile.
'Is it just a dumb clone? Whatever. I'll grab the letter and slam the door shut.'
Reaching out, Astis gripped the letter and pulled—only to feel a sudden agony as blood burst from his arm like water from a ruptured pipe.
'Wbackwardsew it, it was a trap to mess with me.'
He stared in horror. His right hand still clutched the letter, suspended in midair, while the rest of his arm ended in a gory chunk of flesh.
'Fuck…'
Astis collapsed to the floor, scrambling backwards, feet sliding and kicking frantically.
'Hhh… argh… arh…'
'It's a dream. Oi Astis, wake up. Wake up!'
The doppelganger remained motionless, its smile twisting into one of ecstasy.
Astis sucked in a ragged breath.
"Save meee!"
He screamed.
*
The world spun, and suddenly he found himself back in bed, two figures in priest's robes gazing down at him.
He spun his head furiously around the room, eyes wide with shock, spotting unfamiliar figures. Instinctively, he pulled the blanket tightly around himself for protection.
"Are you okay?" one of them asked.
He trembled, drenched in sweat, before finally exhaling in near relief.
"Yeah, it was just a dream."
The two priests' faces were pale, as if all life had been drained from them by terror.
One had brown eyes and was slightly taller; the other had blue eyes.
'To think I would be relieved by seeing some complete strangers. Wow, I am getting old.'
The priest with brown eyes looked at him with concern.
"You're awake... did you have a nightmare?"
But the blue-eyed priest interrupted, grabbing Astis's head and shouting.
"That's not important now. Get up, boy—we're under attack."
'Attack? Has the Descent been completed?'
"The corrupted beasts are attacking."
'Well, that... is slightly better than the Descent.'
Astis smirked.
Annoyed, the priest pulled him back down onto the floor.
"You can use divine power, right? Come help us."
'Yeah, yeah, I swear I'll make you pay, you goddamn NPCs.'
He then furiously looked up.
Just then, his gaze landed on a figure in black robes near the door.
Astis's eyes widened.
'How lucky I am.'
The figure had brown hair, but what held his attention were her eyes—literally stitched shut with threads right through the pupils. Astis wondered how brave, or how cruel, someone would have to be to actually stitch their own eyes closed.
The very girl he had seen in his vision, other than Ivansia Williams, had finally revealed herself.