Crimson & Light: Starting Over In A World Isn't As Easy As It Seems

"Here we are!" Berethia announced cheerfully, leading Changra into a cozy room bathed in the soft glow of floating orbs. She motioned for him to sit, and he obliged, sinking into a cushion that felt disconcertingly like a giant marshmallow.

Great, Changra thought, now even the furniture is weird. What's next? Talking teapots?

He glanced around, trying to make sense of his surroundings. The walls seemed to pulse with a gentle light, and the air had a faint, sweet scent—like a mix of lavender and something he couldn't quite place. Is that... cotton candy? he wondered, sniffing the air discreetly.

The silence stretched on, growing more awkward by the second. Changra's mind raced. Should I say something? Ask about the weather? Do they even have weather here?

Just as he was about to comment on the pleasant aroma, Berethia broke the silence. "You must have many questions about Elakia," she said, her eyes twinkling.

Oh, you have no idea, Changra thought, but he simply nodded, eager for any information that might make sense of this bizarre world.

Changra shifted in his seat, the cushion beneath him feeling like a giant marshmallow threatening to swallow him whole. He glanced at Berethia, who seemed perfectly at ease, her serene demeanor only amplifying his own confusion.

"I do have a simple one," Changra began, trying to steady his voice. "How does magic work here? How do people know if they have any?"

Berethia's eyes sparkled with interest. "Magic in Elakia is the lifeblood of our world," she explained. "It's an energy that flows through everything—nature, creatures, and people. Some are born with a natural affinity for it, while others may never touch its essence."

Changra nodded slowly, trying to process this. Great, so it's like a mystical Wi-Fi, and I'm not sure if I have the password.

"Those with the gift often discover it in childhood," Berethia continued. "It might manifest through unexplainable events or an innate ability to influence the world around them. Training and study can enhance these abilities, but the initial spark is usually something one is born with."

Changra's mind raced. So, it's like being born with a talent for juggling flaming swords—either you've got it, or you don't. And here I am, probably destined to be the guy who holds the coats.

"For those without innate magic," Berethia added, "there are artifacts and tools that can channel magical energy, though using them requires practice and caution."

He glanced at the Crimson Dagger resting beside him, its surface gleaming faintly. So, this thing is like a magical training wheel? Fantastic. Let's hope it doesn't come with a cursed user manual.

"Does that help clarify things?" Berethia asked, her smile warm and patient.

"Yeah," Changra replied, forcing a grin. "Crystal clear. Just need to figure out if I'm a wizard or a muggle in this scenario."

Berethia tilted her head, clearly not understanding the reference, but she chuckled softly nonetheless.

Note to self: Pop culture jokes are a no-go here. Focus on not accidentally blowing anything up with mysterious magic daggers.

As the conversation lulled, Changra couldn't shake the feeling that he was in way over his head. But with Berethia's guidance, maybe—just maybe—he'd find his footing in this bewildering new world.

Changra shifted in his seat, the cushion beneath him feeling like a giant marshmallow threatening to swallow him whole. He glanced at Berethia, who seemed perfectly at ease, her serene demeanor only amplifying his own confusion.

"I have an idea," Berethia said, her tone turning serious. "Tomorrow, let's get you appraised. It's an easy way to determine if you have any magic and to assess your rank."

"Rank?" Changra echoed, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes," she replied. "We classify magical abilities into ranks: F, D, C, B, A, and M."

Changra scratched his head, a puzzled expression crossing his face. "That's odd. Usually, games have systems like that."

Berethia tilted her head, curiosity gleaming in her eyes. "Games?"

"Uh, never mind," Changra said, waving his hand dismissively. "So, are there levels here?"

Berethia chuckled softly. "Not in the way you're thinking. While individuals can improve their magical abilities through training and experience, we don't assign numerical levels. It's more about personal growth and mastery."

Changra nodded slowly, absorbing the information. Great, so no XP grinding. But how do I even know if I have magic?

As if reading his thoughts, Berethia added, "The appraisal will reveal your innate magical potential and your affinity toward specific elements or disciplines."

"Affinity?" Changra asked, intrigued.

"Yes," she replied. "Some people have a natural connection to certain types of magic—like fire, water, healing, or even more specialized forms."

Changra's mind raced with possibilities. Please let it be something cool like dragon summoning or teleportation. Knowing my luck, it'll be the power to make plants grow slightly faster.

"Don't worry," Berethia said, her voice gentle. "Whatever the outcome, we'll figure it out together."

Changra offered a grateful smile. "Thanks, Berethia. I appreciate your help."

"It's my pleasure," she replied warmly. "Now, let's get some rest. Tomorrow will be a big day."

As they prepared for the night, Changra couldn't help but feel a mix of excitement and apprehension about the appraisal. Here's hoping I don't end up with the magical equivalent of dishwashing skills.

Changra had drifted off in the plush chair, its marshmallow-like softness lulling him into an unexpectedly deep sleep. He awoke to the sensation of something brushing against his side, right where the mysterious dagger rested. Instinctively, he jolted upright, eyes wide with alarm.

"Whoa, easy there!" Berethia exclaimed, stepping back with her hands raised in a placating gesture. "Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you."

Blinking away the remnants of sleep, Changra rubbed his eyes. "What... what were you doing?" he mumbled, still groggy.

"Your clothing material caught my eye," she explained, a curious glint in her eyes. "It's unlike anything we have here. Then I noticed the dagger and got a bit... intrigued."

Changra glanced down at his attire, realizing it must seem foreign in this world. Great, not only am I the new guy, but I'm also the fashion weirdo.

Berethia offered an apologetic smile. "I didn't mean to invade your space. Shall we head to the appraisal?"

"Yeah, sure," Changra replied, shaking off the last vestiges of sleep. Nothing like a morning of magical evaluations to start the day.

They stepped outside into the crisp morning air, the sun casting a golden hue over the village. The path to the appraisal site meandered through a serene forest, where sunlight filtered through the canopy, creating dappled patterns on the ground. Birds chirped melodiously, and the occasional rustle hinted at unseen woodland creatures.

As they walked, Changra couldn't help but marvel at the vibrant flora—flowers in hues he'd never seen, and trees with leaves that shimmered as if kissed by stardust. This place is like a fairy tale on steroids.

"The appraisal is conducted at our local church," Berethia explained, breaking the comfortable silence. "It's a place of both worship and community gatherings."

"A church, huh?" Changra mused. "So, do they, like, pray for magical insight?"

Berethia chuckled softly. "Not quite. The church houses a sacred artifact that reveals one's magical potential. It's been a tradition for generations."

Sacred artifact? Changra thought, a mix of curiosity and apprehension bubbling within him. Let's hope it doesn't decide I'm magically inept.

As they approached the church, its towering spires came into view, piercing the sky with an air of ancient majesty. The stone facade was adorned with intricate carvings depicting scenes of valor and mysticism. Stained glass windows glinted in the sunlight, casting colorful mosaics on the ground.

"Here we are," Berethia announced, leading him up the stone steps. The heavy wooden doors creaked open, revealing a vast interior bathed in a warm, ethereal light. Rows of pews lined the nave, leading up to an ornate altar at the far end.

Changra took a deep breath, the scent of incense filling his lungs. Alright, time to see if I've got any magic mojo or if I'm just a regular Joe in a mystical world.

Berethia guided him toward a side chamber, where the appraisal would take place. With each step, Changra's anticipation grew, his mind racing with possibilities and questions.

Here's hoping I don't end up with the magical equivalent of dishwashing skills.

Changra and Berethia stepped into the dimly lit chamber, the air thick with the scent of aged parchment and incense. At the center stood a stout figure, barely reaching Changra's chest, with a beard that seemed to have a life of its own, curling and twisting like ivy.

Unable to filter his thoughts, Changra blurted out, "Bro, you're adorable!"

Berethia stifled a laugh, her eyes dancing with amusement, before delivering a playful punch to Changra's shoulder.

The dwarf's eyes narrowed, his expression a mix of irritation and disdain. "Charmed," he muttered sarcastically. "Let's get this over with. Place your hand here," he instructed, pointing to a smooth, obsidian stone on a pedestal. "And for your sake, I hope it's good news."

Changra hesitated, then placed his hand on the cool surface. The stone pulsed with a faint light, casting eerie shadows on the walls. After a tense moment, the glow faded, leaving the room in heavy silence.

The dwarf examined the stone, his frown deepening. "Rank F," he announced flatly.

"F?" Changra repeated, his heart sinking. "As in... fantastic?"

"As in failure," the dwarf retorted. "The lowest rank. Minimal magical potential."

Changra's shoulders slumped. Great. I'm the magical equivalent of a paperweight.

He glanced at Berethia, seeking some form of reassurance. But instead of her usual warmth, he caught a fleeting glimpse of something unsettling in her eyes—a sharp, calculating look that sent a chill down his spine. It vanished as quickly as it appeared, replaced by her familiar, comforting smile.

"Don't worry, Changra," she said softly. "We'll find a way to work with this."

He forced a smile in return, but unease gnawed at him. Did I just imagine that? Or is there more to Berethia than she's letting on?

As they left the chamber, Changra couldn't shake the feeling that his arrival in Elakia had set events into motion that he was only beginning to comprehend.

And apparently, I'm facing them with all the magical prowess of a damp sponge.

Changra and Berethia exited the appraisal chamber, the weight of his Rank F designation pressing heavily on his shoulders. He trudged alongside her, eyes fixed on the ground, his mind a whirlwind of self-doubt.

"There's somewhere I want to take you," Berethia said, her voice lacking its usual warmth.

Changra glanced up, noting the subtle shift in her demeanor. "Okay," he stammered, uncertainty lacing his tone.

They arrived at an unassuming building that reminded Changra of a pet store from back on Earth. Berethia hurried ahead to open the door, but as it swung wide, a towering figure filled the doorway—a hulking man with a menacing presence.

Before Changra could react, the giant lunged at him, knocking him to the ground. "What the—?" Changra gasped, struggling beneath the man's weight. The Crimson Dagger at his side seemed to vibrate, a high-pitched hum resonating in his ears, as if sensing imminent danger.

Driven by instinct, Changra's hand shot to the dagger, drawing it in a swift motion and thrusting upward. The blade met the man's flesh, but he deflected it with surprising agility, his eyes narrowing as he assessed Changra.

"Not too bad for a sacrifice," the man sneered, rising to his feet and drawing a massive sword. He advanced on Changra, the blade gleaming ominously.

Panic surged through Changra as the man swung the sword, the edge slicing into his arm. A searing pain shot through him, the reality of the situation crashing down. This is real. That pain is real. Maybe this isn't some coma after all. It hurts. It really hurts. I've never felt pain like this before. Changra began to panic and his breathing increased.

Amidst the chaos, a voice echoed in his mind:

Use me.

A sudden surge of energy coursed through Changra's veins, originating from the Crimson Dagger. His vision tinged with red as an overwhelming force took hold. With newfound strength and agility, he launched himself at the giant, the dagger an extension of his will.

He drove the blade into the man's chest, the impact staggering his opponent but failing to bring him down. The giant roared in anger, swinging his sword in a wide arc. Changra ducked and weaved with uncanny precision, each movement guided by the dagger's influence.

Seizing an opening, Changra slashed at the man's legs, causing him to falter. With a guttural cry, he plunged the dagger into the giant's neck, the blade sinking deep. The man's eyes widened in shock before the life drained from them, his massive form collapsing to the ground.

Breathing heavily, Changra stood over the fallen adversary, the adrenaline ebbing away. The crimson hue faded from his vision, leaving him disoriented. His arm throbbed where the sword had cut, blood seeping through his fingers.

He turned to Berethia, seeking answers, but his vision blurred, the edges darkening. The last thing he saw was her face—a complex mix of relief and something darker, a glint of intrigue in her eyes.

Then, everything went black.