Conqueror Of Reality

NORVENIA UNFOLDS

Walking through desolate grounds— its floors were barely covered with trees, and the little of the sand was so black it blended with the night.

Graham and Hale had been silent.

One followed confidently behind, and the former, a little more uneasy.

Hale long felt the atmosphere with Graham.

From the beginning, it felt obvious that the lad had good respect for him as he always tried to speak politely.

However, starting since they left the vicinity of the manor, the lad looked pretty distressed.

Unfortunately, Hale couldn't bring himself down to ask.

Finally, Hale caught the light bleeding from the street lamp. As with the shadows of a few people who still walked across the street.

Graham stopped, taking a long gaze at the street ahead before he turned to Hale.

"Slave Master, you know how popular you are. So please, try to avoid meeting anyone directly,

For your own sake and of the Hellstriders."

After a little bow, he quickly stepped back, "I'll have my way now Slave Master. Try not to get caught."

Hale watched silently as the young man paced off, bathed in his sweat.

'But what's making him so terrified?'

Even Hale was beginning to feel the goosebumps on his skin.

In a few minutes, he would be walking into something that could completely ruin him.

And all the while, without a single idea how he might escape.

"But I'd have to do it anyway."

To have died and found himself in this new world, he had to know at least the culture of these people.

Especially since he wasn't one to exist comfortably under something he didn't understand.

'I'd have to remain hidden though.'

Hale rubbed a bit at his metallic jaw. These things could reflect light crazily well especially under isolated light.

Best he found at least a cloak that would protect his identity a little.

Hale roamed across the borderlines of the forest for a while, taking in the sight of the small but enticing farms, quite complicated structures of the civilization, and the surface of houses whose layouts were quite interesting.

Back in the manor, he would have concluded this world was more like a medieval setting, or at least like the Renaissance.

However, these layouts were far from anything in Norway or its old history books.

It was a mash of classic, if not even post-modern layouts and designs— if it were all without technology.

"The heroes?"

Hale watched carefully as a small gathering of people ran deeper into the streets.

They seemed excited, and luckily, their unhushed voices gave out the reason.

"Looks like I'll get to see the heroes of this world." Hale finally felt like he was living the purpose.

Norvenia, from the Slave Master's point of view, was projected under the control of only one goddess.

And since other gods or deities were prohibited from worship, the heroes had to be employed.

Especially where other gods and their instruments— people such as the Slave Master consistently tried to evade the regulation.

"It's been more than four weeks now."

"The Slave Master must have been slain."

Tailing behind the small crowd, Hale made sure to listen carefully for the few chats the people made.

Finally, they reached what looked to be the front of a bustling bar. And there, the people had immediately gone into uncontrollable chatter.

As if the night was a normal afternoon, the voices of the people were unhinged, and some of the women shrieked with excitement.

Standing before the entryway of the bar, the cause of the commotion stood.

Two tall men fitted into light armour. Each with a beer mug on their palms.

"Oh yes! The Slave Master might be gone. But remember, he and his group were only one of the hundreds of other groups that try to present their false gods."

"No-No Stanley! You and the other heroes should learn to give yourselves enough credit. The—"

From the opposite building of the bar, Hale watched the people surrounding the two heroes leaning on the door.

"So that is the Stanley," Hale muttered.

He couldn't help but figure out the man's distinct gaze and chiselled chin.

Though he held a large beer mug, Hale bet he was drunk the slightest; especially when every of his words came off too precise and eloquent.

The other young man looked the least indulged with the crowd as he only seeped from his beer from time to time.

His stare was roaming but nonchalant —more like a man who wanted to leave that place.

"Constantine isn't it?"

Hale remembered his split blue and white hair.

He would usually stand closer to another of their fellow hero called Ryn, but it looked like she decided to miss this gathering.

"Stanley pierced his sword right through the heart of that bastard," Constantine had spoken for the first time, as the crowd listened attentively for his words,

"If by a great luck it missed, then the poisoned blade would kill him."

"So your attacks were mostly like a double-edged sword then." The gathering wowed.

Meanwhile, Hale found himself swallowing hard.

For such a mass of people to want to hear the tale of how the Slave Master was killed and take great interest in it? Hale felt goosebumps.

Even the heroes were nonchalant of their words. Spilling them as though they were mere stories.

"Enough to kill Turpin West? True." Hale mused, "Unfortunately, I was the next best-suiting soul."

Hale wanted to listen more to the conversation; however, for a split second, he thought he and Constantine had met gaze.

The latter had naturally roaming eyes, but while Hale hoped he wouldn't notice. He understood he was currently at risk.

"You all excuse me."

Seeing Constantine vastly approach him, Hale opted for a quick run.

One twist and turn around these pathways would serve as an assured escape.

Turpin West might have been dead, but this body sure wasn't.

Hale didn't know how far he had run into Norvenia, but the atmosphere around here was calm and serene.

Unfortunately, it didn't help him much.

He had come out to explore what Norvenia was like. Not enjoy the silent darkness.

Hale stopped at the front of an average house moments later.

The relentless beating of chairs and clangs of iron reminded him a lot of something from his past life.

Now he didn't even need to check to know what was going on in there.

But he was still curious though— at least to know whoever was behind those doors.

"Bruce Wellings! Get out of this house."

Suddenly, the house door flung open, and with it, a boy crashed onto the wooden pavement of the outside.

Standing only meters before the house, Hale's only shield was the darkness— albeit feigned by the farther night lamps.

"You are killing your father and I—"

"It was an accident. Mom, please-"

"Get out!"

The lady slammed the door enough the bolt would have loosened.

"Please! Mom? Dad." The latter ended up leaning to the door. His cries sank the once silence of the street.

Meanwhile, Hale only watched the situation unfold. Even as the light from the house turned off.

'Just like my good old days.'

Rather than a soothing compassion for the young man, Hale felt himself only more intrigued.

'So people like this still do exist.'

At his early age in Norway, this sort of abuse was probably the least of his worries.

And yet, he'd barely shed more than a tear back then. Especially when he looked to be the age of this young man.

"This is barely the tip of the iceberg little man. Don't be a dick."

This young man was pissing him off beyond measure.

This world had the ultimate form of self-defence, magic, and yet the lad chose to let those adults treat him like scum.

If he had that back in Norway, perhaps his parents wouldn't do half the torment they met on him.

Hale decided he had had enough exploration for one night.

He was getting tensed up. And under his weird rashness during the past hours, he didn't want to end up doing something reckless.