The recent newspaper stated that the well-known explorer, Orion Dante, had gone missing.
It was a small town, and news got around quickly. It had caused quite a ruckus, with people and fans demanding an explanation from his brother.
He had accompanied Orion on his trip to the northern areas of Hazeland, to explore the villages abandoned centuries ago. It was a hobby of his, and his brother didn’t mind where they went as long as they came back with souvenirs to earn enough money to get by. Not to mention all their fans, whose mere tips were quite the amount.
However, with Orion’s disappearance, the people did not seem happy. Particularly with his brother, who brought back nothing but his own injured body, and scraps of ripped clothes barely covering him.
Said brother was currently sitting in the office, bathed and refreshed and clad in fresh, clean clothes, sipping a cup of iced orange juice to cool himself down while his nephew paced back and forth in the small office.
“What do you possibly mean, he just disappeared? How could he just…disappear??”
Amber Dante sighed. “That’s what happened. We were looking around this one particular house, and when I turned around for one second, he was suddenly gone.”
The young man made a frustrated sound, speeding up his pace.
“Schizo, your old man will not be summoned back by you pacing around like that.”
“I know that! I just…” Schizo paused, his uncle’s words settling in his mind and causing the tiniest spark of an idea to form.
Amber didn’t pay any more attention to him, rubbing his temples and trying to make sense of all that had happened.
He hadn’t lied. Orion really did disappear when he turned around to look around the shore, but when he searched for Orion, a weird thing happened.
He got attacked. By who, or by what, he was absolutely clueless, but he was attacked. And whatever it was, it had claws. Sharp, big claws. That would explain the scratches on his body.
Or maybe, a part of his mind would whisper occasionally, maybe they were just tree branches. Maybe he was just hallucinating, maybe he wasn’t really attacked.
Maybe Orion had simply fallen into a pit and gotten knocked out, and Amber had freaked out too much and instead of being of help to Orion, he ended up getting himself injured too.
But at least he got to come back.
Orion didn’t.
The thought that Orion could be out there, lying in a pit helplessly, with no traces of humanity in thousands of kilometers.
His breathing sped up, drops of cold sweat forming on his forehead. His eyes reddened slightly.
The thought that maybe he had let his exhaustion eat him up to the point that he’d hallucinate, and leave his brother out there, shivering in the cold, all alone, like a sacrifice laid out in the open waiting for claws of death to slowly creep up his body and swallow him into the ground.
Amber’s eyes opened wide, trying to calm his uneven and harsh breathing and hope his nephew won’t notice how abnormally sweaty he was, even for this hot and humid weather.
The thought that he just might have just caused the death of his own brother.
It was driving him insane.
He was going insane.
He…
“Uncle?”
Schizo’s voice brought him back, and he gritted his teeth, steeling his expression and looking up as if nothing was ever wrong.
“Did you hear what I said? Maybe we could try and summon a…” Schizo didn’t seem to have noticed anything, for he continued blabbering on and on about whatever it was he was blabbering about. Amber’s mind was too far away, too detached to hear it clearly.
◇○○○◇
It was oddly lonely.
His father had always locked himself up in his room, either playing around and scribbling on his endless maps or examining an object or another.
He had never been around the house. But even then, his absence was too hard to ignore. The fact that he was gone was too hard to ignore.
And just like that, a sense of estrangement coiled deep in Schizo’s gut.
His father was gone.
He had disappeared, but the world still kept going.
People complained, worried, mourned, but their lives didn’t stop.
Sounds of laughter and clinking of dishes drifted into his rather silent and soundless house, reminding him that in the end, the world always keeps moving.
It will keep moving, regardless of who’s gone or what’s happened.
And for a moment, everything stilled. His surroundings were so quiet, unmoving, as if he was stuck inside a painting, but he simultaneously felt as if he could feel the earth moving.
Rotating, floating, not waiting for anyone or anything.
He was less than a particle in this vast universe, and time would not wait for him to grief or mourn.
He lay down on his bed, staring up at his ceiling.
He thought back to his conversation with his uncle today.
He had suggested they do try and summon something, maybe it would work.
We’re sorry for MTLers or people who like using reading mode, but our translations keep getting stolen by aggregators so we’re going to bring back the copy protection. If you need to MTL please retype the gibberish parts.
Although he himself had never personally tried these sorts of things, he had heard tales and stories.
Vmtlhb jr j mtliv tjv wjcs fzqfglfcmfr, jcv wbgf atjc tjio atf alwf cb bcf kbeiv yfilfnf tlw.
“That’s such a ridiculous joke,” They would say. Accuse him of trying to fool them.
Lf kjr nfgs ojwliljg klat yflcu jmmerfv bo islcu.
Ccv rb, tf gfoerfv ab beagluta vfcs atbrf qfbqif ktb rjlv atfs tjv reqfgcjaegji fzqfglfcmfr.
Vb ktja lo la rbecvfv glvlmeiber?
Ktf ktbif tewjc qbqeijalbc lr qgjmalmjiis ilnlcu bc j qlfmf bo vslcu gbmx oibjalcu wlv-rqjmf.
That’s their whole world.
That’s their whole life.
Life was already so absurd, what’s a few more ridiculous stories?
So maybe he should give it a try.
Maybe he’d manage to summon a friendly demon who would help him find his father.
Worst case scenario was death.
And when has that ever bothered him?
And so, with a refreshed determination burning in his heart, he got off the bed and started looking around the house.
He took the jar of cinnabar from the shelf, a stick, a needle, and the book he had bought hoarding tales with ambiguous authenticity.
He removed his carpet, cleared all the cluster and clothes from the ground until there was a large expanse of concrete.
With the book serving as his guide, he dipped the stick in the cinnabar ash and drew a large array, in the end piercing his finger with the needle and dripping three drops of his blood in the center.
He waited.
A beat passed.
He waited.
Another beat passed.
He waited…
Nothing.
It had merely been a minute, he should wait more.
Five minutes passed.
Nothing.
Thirty minutes passed.
Nothing.
One hour….
His eyes suddenly snapped open.
Rays of sunlight poured in from the window, illuminating his room in a soft golden hue. Chirps of birds rang out, and a knock was heard at his door. He groggily looked at the array, stains of dried blood and cinnabar still on the ground.
The sleepy haze gradually dissipated from his mind, and he sighed, getting up.
Maybe he was a little foolish after all.
◇○○○◇
Schizo was standing in front of his house’s main entrance, looking back at it.
A backpack hung loosely on his shoulder, and he was dressed in a t-shirt and pants, with a long coat.
Why he was wearing a long coat in such hot weather, he had no idea. People were out roaming shirtless, and here he was.
It would have earned him a few weird looks, but the townspeople were used to his weirdness.
No one spared a glance, everyone going about their day as they would.
No one asked after him.
About his father.
Or why he was all dressed up, and where he was heading.
He had always been a misfit, but he could never quite figure out why.
Not that it mattered anymore, anyway.
There was a man standing next to him.
His name was Arce. He was a tall, well-built man, with handsome features and a perfect fashion sense. Schizo never really understood why this man approached him as frequently as he did, but whatever.
He had come to his house this morning, and suggested they go together to look for his father.
Schizo had already made plans to go anyway.
But at the very last minute, here he was, listening to the handsome man’s apologetic rambling about how he couldn’t come, and had to stay back to take care of his sick mother or something.
Schizo had already made plans to go anyway.
Alone.
Throwing one last glance towards his house, he set out and walked in the opposite direction, not bothering the other with a reply. Not like the latter cared.
He knew the routes his father used well, at least up until a certain point.
Farther from that, he had to navigate from a map, which he made sure not to forget.
It would take him approximately two days to reach the furthest village he knew, and from then on how long it’d take him to reach his destination, he had no idea.
But whatever, he had brought three weeks’ worth of food.
With the thought in mind, he started his journey.
At days, he would walk, and walk, and walk, then stop for a while to rest and refill his stomach, then start walking again after a short nap.
At nights, he would camp in empty caves or abandoned houses, folding his coat to cushion his head.
Wherever he went, water was abundant, as were fruits. And so, he had the luxury of choosing whether he wanted to have some wild fruits or canned food.
Two days later, as expected, he arrived at a town on the northern side of Hazeland.
It was yet another desolate place, devoid of any human soul.
He decided to take a short rest before deciding his next course of action.
His journey was all planned thus far, but from now on he would have to figure things out on his own, decide where to search and how to search. What he was even searching for, he had no clue.
He had come without a plan, and was now lying on the ground and staring up at the sky, feeling lost.
The sky was pitch black, with a hint of blue spread out and stretching as far as his eyes could see, dusted with stars of all sizes, all sparkling brightly and painting a beautiful view.
Whatever it was, it could wait till tomorrow.
He’d figure it all out tomorrow.
Staring at the sky, his mind slowly drifted, lulling and coaxing him to bury himself deep and comfortably in the warm and welcoming embrace of sleep.
That night, he slept well after days.
The next morning, Schizo finally got down to business.
He first searched around the area a bit further away, though he was sure the duo had gone farther than that.
Gradually, he ended up at the edge of a cliff, with a bridge leading to the other side.
He had never come here before, and it was a curious place, intriguing him.
Not to mention his uncle had told him they had crossed several bridges.
This might be one of them.
At the other side of the bridge, he came across a forest, with a trail leading uphill.
He walked.
It was a quiet evening, the only sounds being his own panting and the soft crunch of gravel under his shoes.
He walked, and he walked.
Finally, he arrived at the end of the trail. From here on, the path uphill was too rocky, and it had a wooden path with railings built, leading higher.
And so, he climbed, and kept walking.
The path had started at almost the end of the hill, so he arrived at the top in no time.
From here, he had a clear view of everything that was in front of him.
At the foot of the hill there was another forest, but he could see where the trees gradually scarcened.
After that it was a small clearing, with a lake.
There was a porch leading from the shore to the middle of the lake, where a basic house was located.
That was the house his father had gone to.
Patting himself in the back for arriving exactly where he was supposed to, he decided to take a break, as the sky was darkening.
With the sunset painting the sky a fiery orange, it really served as a breathtaking view.
He sat down, and took out his water bottle and a can of baked beans, and started eating.
At night, he laid out his coat under him and slept, serving as a shield from all the tiny branches and whatnot.
The next day, he arose at dawn, and set out after a brief breakfast.
He travelled downhill, and by noon, he was walking in the forest. By the time he arrived at the clearing, the sun had risen up high, scorching bright and extremely hot.
He first looked around, examining the place before finding nothing of interest and walking towards the porch.
Mist surrounded the house above the lake.
Wasn’t the sun shining brightly just a minute ago?
He walked to the doors of the house, and after hesitating for a second, he pushed it.
It opened with a creak, dust rising in the air from the disturbance.
He sneezed once, then twice, and then stepped inside.
The house had no windows, and the only source of light was the patch of sunshine from the doorway, outlining his silhouette on the ground.
He turned on his torch, and looked around.
There was a worn out and moldy bed in the corner, and a table and some chairs.
However, something on the ground caught his attention.
An array was painted, not different from the one he had tried back in his room, and there was a lone rock lying in the middle of it.
Out of curiosity, he stepped towards it, and examined it from a distance.
Suddenly, a creak sounded behind him, followed by a loud thud, and then the room was plunged in pitch black darkness.
“Ah!” Schizo freaked out for a second, before his brain helpfully provided that it must’ve been the wind.
He sighed, and moved to take out his torch.
He fished around in his bag for a while before remembering that he had already taken out his torch when he had entered.
Huh? Where’d it go then?
That’s weird….
He shook his head, then got up to open the door.
He pulled it.
It didn’t budge.
He pushed it.
It didn’t budge.
…
Five minutes of messing around with the door proved that it was a rather stubborn piece of wood, and would not budge no matter what he did.
By now, his eyes had somewhat adjusted to the darkness.
He looked back at the array, and kicked the rock in the center in frustration.
It tumbled to the side pitifully, the sound echoing in the house, and lay there in a corner, staring back at him.
Schizo heaved out a heavy sigh and looked back at the array, before deciding it would be better to keep kicking at the door.
It would have to give up at some point, no matter how stubborn it was.
He got up, and turned around towards the door.
What came in front of him instead was a stone wall.
“…”
He turned around again.
He was no longer in the house.
His surroundings looked awfully familiar to a cave.
ML has made his appearance! Can you guess who he is?
Intriguing start!
Well the novel isn’t tagged incest, so it’s the only other guy that got introduced I’m guessing.