Endless Death, Britain?

'How many deaths has it been?'

Ten?

Twenty?

The thin black lines in front of him counted precisely how many lives he had 'lived'. And he was instinctively about to add the next mark to the tally. Yet at some point, it became a routine rather than something that was created with the purpose to 'count' something. 

Everything was a numb, monotonous repeat of dying, trying to make a place for himself, then dying once more.

His 'apartment' had also drastically changed since the first few times he had been in there. There was no more furniture, no more beds and no more frozen people.

His 'apartment' had transformed into a large white box that was perfectly symmetrical on all sides.

'Twenty-seven…'

Another tally mark joins itself with the rest of the black marks on the wall.

He found that he could somewhat control the environment around himself, though it felt real, none of it actually was. His clothes would revert to what he wore the previous world, but there was a particular set of rules that stood out.

If he carried something within his hands or was on himself, once he died, those items would follow him, allowing himself to use this frighteningly bright white room as a storage of sorts.

But if he changed his surroundings, the place where the items sat always showed the true nature of the fake room, a large bright white room that looked endless due to how clean it was.

He wanted power, desperately so.

Every world he went to, he never survived for more than a month. Sometimes it was magic, other times a zombie apocalypse, in short, he always died early.

His sole identity held him together like scotch tape.

■■■ didn't look forward to it, his only truly lucky encounter was with the kind soldier Lon. But Oni had killed him in a single strike only after a day.

'I guess it's time…'

He didn't look forward to it. Endless death, no escape, and a bright white room that could make someone mad from staring for too long.

The situation was 'unfavorable' to put it lightly.

"Hah…"

He sighed deeply, it was filled with loss of strength and lack of determination.

His supplies were miniscule, his body always felt energized after leaving but it was nothing compared to his mental health which kept declining.

'Another death… here I come…!'

"Yay…"

He tried cheering himself up but it only made him feel more pathetic.

Going to a corner of the room, he grabbed the bare essentials that would allow him to barely survive for a week.

'Lets go…'

Upon placing his hand on the wall in front of him, a bright white light filled his vision and an unexplainable sensation of 'traveling' overcame his body.

* * *

As the light faded, he came into sight with a damp and dirty alleyway. Something was different about this place, but he couldn't wrap his head around what it was. It was strange, like something was ■■■■■.

'...?'

'...What was that…?'

Shaking off his strange thoughts from the moment before, his thoughts headed toward his current surroundings.

'...This is… new…?'

Unlike the medieval or modern settings he was used to, he was within what appeared to be a mid-to-late 1800's London.

'I guess I won't stand out too much…'

Whenever he was within medieval worlds, he was a peasant and in modern times he was a beggar…

'Huh…? I guess I don't really stand out as much as I thought…?'

He always had an identity within every world… though not as anything good. The only pro was that his identity remained consistent, no worry about strange clothes when all you had were rags.

'Not good…' 

Looking around his surroundings, he was within a slum. This was one of if not the worst 'spawning points' for him since he had no power to defend himself.

'I have to get out… quick…'

His usually muddled mind had temporarily been reborn anew, something he came to use to the fullest before the day came to an end, and when his mind fogged over like morning dew.

With a slightly quickened pace, he headed for the wealthier parts of the city, a place where the overwhelming silence of the slums couldn't overshadow with its depression, and rather leaked in like a devil's deal.

But for him it was better than the chance of dying and losing his hard earned supplies from the previous twenty-seven deaths.

'Information… I need information…'

Just like the old saying: 'Knowledge is power', he too only had the only advantage of knowledge and experience, nothing else.

"...Hello?"

He tapped a dirty child's arm, in hopes of waking them up.

'...Malnutrition…'

He noted. The malnutrition was bad to the point of starvation, at least even he didn't come into these wretched worlds with an empty stomach. But because of the malnutrition, he couldn't tell if the child in front of himself was a male or female.

Thankfully, through the strange phenomena that ruined his life in the first place, there were small boons, just like this one.

"W-Who are you?"

He understood the common languages of whatever world he was in, it only went up to his understanding of his own language but that was far more than enough.

"I'm here to make a trade. Do you want to listen?"

The child was wary, shifting their eyes looking around his body and behind him in danger. It was too early in the morning.

"...Alright…"

He reached into his sack, but the child had an alarming expression of their face.

"...Don't worry, I'm not going to do anything." He tore off a small piece of bread and handed it over to the child. "Here, eat this."

"..."

Yet another emotion shown on the child's face, as clear as day. Confliction.

'Children shouldn't be in this cruel environment…'

"What? You don't want it?"

Gurgle~

"Ah? I heard that you know?" 

Even though he had a somewhat welcoming expression on his face, inwardly he knew he couldn't waste too much time.

"If you don't want it… I guess I'll eat it…! Ahhh"

"W-Wait!"

The child scrambled to their feet, reaching for the piece of stale bread.

"Here."

The child grabbed the piece of bread and ate it in haste.

"Ah…"

Were they shocked by how quickly they ate the bread, or was it because their guard broke down? He couldn't tell.

Going back into his sack, he tore off half a loaf of bread and waved it to the child.

"Here's my deal, I'll give you this half loaf and in exchange you tell me everything you know about the city and the world in general… got it?"

It hurt giving up such a large portions of rations, but if he was right, this world could help him gather even more rations and he could always commit suicide to the next world.

The child looked somewhat confused but with the allure of bread, they nodded their head in rapid succession.

"Here."

They greedily ate around half before keeping the rest in their hands.

'Smart kid…'

Not eating could help the child last longer… but if the local gang got word they could be beaten to death. Always an equivalent exchange between things.

"I would recommend eating the rest, it's better to move with a full stomach that can't be stolen rather than a half full one with such a large piece of bread."

Realizing the dangers of just holding the bread, they looked conflicted before eating the rest in small bites.

He had specifically chosen the child because of how out of way and hidden the location was.

"All right, now my end of the bargain."

Words poured out like water. From the current location being London and the time period being somewhere in the late-1800's… More and more information came out before the child finished speaking.

'I guess I was right about the time period…'

He knew it was a setting with some kind of steampunk-esque mixture in it, he wasn't sure if it was another version of Earth or some fantasy world instead.

Ruffling the child's hair he said, "Thanks kid."

The child looked a bit skittish.

"If I survive long enough, I'll come and find you and give you some food."

A hope that was most likely not going to be accomplished. He had made the same promise to at least seven… no… eight children? He broke the same promise eight times… what's one more to the pile of regrets?

'Let's survive for over a month this time…'

He held the straps of his sack tightly and started walking through the dark alleyways of the slums.

'Whitechapel…'

It reminded himself of the famous murders in his original world. The famous 'Jack the Ripper' along with his victims were an impossibility to solve in modern times due to lack of evidence. A perfect crime so to speak.

The dirty alleyways were covered in filth but he pressed onwards.

'...It doesn't affect me as much.'

He could feel the illness he gained on accident in one of the other worlds he had traveled to was calm and stable.

It was a strange illness with no cure.

'...I don't even know how many times I died due to this damned thing…'

From the original residents, the illness was called 'Oripathy' a strange disease upon catching has a 100% mortality rate. He had also gained access to 'magic', though he would rather not as that would both spread the illness onto people who had no need of this Bubonic Plague equivalent and the pain was unfathomable.

What the illness did was simple, it slowly turned him into a mineral called 'Originium'. The process would be sped up if he used his so-called 'magic'.

Even now he was in constant pain being turned into it, but he had already long grown used to dying which was still more painful than turning into the mineral.

'...Even though this is London, isn't this too filthy?'

He was astonished at the fact that back in these times, the smog and filth of the English was this horrible.

The smog became the sky and the filth became the ground, no matter if it was up or down, both were hell on Earth.

'...I need to find out about August Detective Academy…'

A famed institute where the most prized and genius detectives were born and raised, the Academy came up multiple times from the long explanation of the orphan from before.

'Also… is Sherlock Holmes genderbent?'

A wry smile came upon his face, laughing in his mind at the absurdness of his situation.

Another one of the topics the child went over was the most famous and prized detective in London, Charlotte Holmes. She was the one who had cracked cases with ease and was praised as a genius.

No mention of 'Sherlock' a male, only 'Charlotte' the female remained.

'...Which means…'

Thinking about his situation a bit further, he came to the horrid realization of the mismatched 'genres' of the world.

'...Fantasy…Mystery…Detective…Genderbent…'

With the addition of fantasy races such as vampires and demi-humans… It was indeed a world where one would assume a degenerate had thought of in a moment of euphoria.

Stopping every so often to avoid the clearly arrogant gang members, he thought of yet another 'joke'.

'...Since I'm in such a world… Doesn't it make sense to have an identity fitting of the world?'

'Hmm…'

Thinking of an alias to go under by, a couple names had sprung up in his head.

'Yes… How about 'Alvis Quinn'?'

The name meant an assortment of things, but he thought since a 'Sherlock' didn't exist though a female version did, why not pretend to be the all-wise detective?

Of course it was all for games inside his head, he was nowhere smart nor clever enough to even become a standard detective. Not even mentioning the mind bending of Sherlock's wits and the 'cheats' of perfect memory.

"I guess my name for this world is 'Alvis Quinn'..."

Alvis muttered, smiling once more.

"W-Wai-!"

Alvis froze.

The sound was clear as day, a murder was being committed right in front of him just around the corner.

'...I think I should leave…'

"Oh? To think somebody could catch me during a crime… Who are you?"

A woman's voice was just behind him.

'How did she move so fast!?'

"..."

"Silence won't give you anything in this situation, you better speak before my patience runs thin…"

"...My name is Alvis Quinn…"

"Hmm… Nothing else? Nothing…"

The woman's voice trailed off before Alvis suddenly came face-to-face with her.

She had black hair and black eyes. That was all he could truly figure out, there seemed to be something blocking his vision.

"...Like your true identity?"

'!?'

After the words flowed out of her mouth, Alvis had nothing to say. His senses suddenly felt as if they were just a tiny bit more clear, like morning dew had passed.

With a smile, Alvis answered, "What might you be talking about, miss? You make quite the funny remark saying that my name wasn't truly my name."

His smile wasn't perfect, he had, after all, heard a murder happening right next to him. His cheeks twitched as his lips made an obvious fake smile.

"My, you are quite good at keeping your cool in this kind of situation. Are you a beggar perhaps? You did just witness a murder yet to think that you could keep rational thought is commendable."

Her voice was clear and frigid. She spoke as if she was talking to herself and not at him.

Even though the sun was high and the sky was gray, her face was concealed in some kind of imperceivable disguise that even finding out her hair color and eye color was a hard task.

If anything, she had a gaze that stirred unknown feelings within Alvis, it wasn't fear like just a second prior… 

"..."

All he could do was stay silent. Within the next moment, an arm swung around his shoulder.

Alvis' sense of touch seemed to enhance as a thin blade caressed his neck. Sweat was starting to form as he tried to move the slightest bit further away, but the woman's grip was like rigid stone and didn't move no matter how much force was put in.

'...This god-forsaken rotten luck killed me so many times. But this might be a new record for the shittiest encounter yet.'

Alvis could only cry in his mind at how unlucky his perilous journey had been thus far. Catching an incurable disease that put a time limit on him, dying within the first month of every world he had been to. And now, he had met a serial killer in the first two hours of being within this world.

"This is a very interesting opportunity indeed."

He heard her murmur to herself.

"...What do you plan on doing to me?"

Alvis squeaked out.

The woman's arm was around his shoulder, a weapon held against his neck. For ordinary bystanders this could have been just an overly friendly meet up between friends or perhaps lovers. But it couldn't have been further from the truth, especially since their current location was infamous as Hell on Earth in the current time period. Not to mention their strange meeting place with a rotting corpse just around the corner within an alleyway.

Watching her head turn toward his face, she replied, "What do I do? Should I kill you? Behead you and use your head as a trophy? Perhaps enslave you using contract magic to become my pet?"

If not for the intensity of the situation, Alvis' jaw would have dropped open at the absurd remarks the woman had given out.

"The possibilities are as endless as the vastness of the smog of London. What do you think 'friend'? How would you like to be treated?"

The tip of the weapon felt particularly close to his neck, with one wrong answer Alvis could tell it would be shoved into his throat and he would be silenced and he would continue his journey onto another world.

"..."

The woman's gaze stayed on him as he tried formulating an answer for her question.

'...What do I do…'

Truly, any direction to take from here was an unknown path that each had the chance of his immediate death.

"...I would much rather not die for a start."

He answered, his voice unwavering.

"A straightforward answer."

With a flick of the wrist the weapons' presence disappeared. The only uncomfortable part of the exchange was now the lingering arm around his shoulder.

A slow stream of blood came into view from around the corner.

"...Do you want to see? Oh, but, we will need to leave soon as possible as the hounds of London will chase us if we don't. I certainly won't get caught, but you?"

It was almost insulting, but Alvis knew the woman was right. If the police came, he would most likely be caught from his frail and (for now) slightly sickly body.

"...I would rather not see the cold corpse."

"Hmm… Is it too stimulating for you? Would you puke after seeing the body?"

She asked with an almost childlike curiosity.

"...Rather than throw up, I think I would rather get slightly displeased."

"I suppose that makes sense. Whitechapel is after all, a horrid place where crime and sin breed in an almost infinite manner. So even beggars must have gotten used to the murders here."

She said, reaching her own conclusions without Alvis having to say a word. Although the conversation flowed in a calm manner, Alvis inside tried thinking of any possible ways to leave or escape.

"...I may not be a psychic, but it isn't very hard to see that you are trying to plot and escape. Now, that's quite rude for a guest, is it not?"

Alvis involuntarily flinched, showing his answer to the woman's accusations.

"My… You could have at the very least tried to convince me otherwise. But to think you were so easy to read…"

She commented, a dark gaze resting on his body, making it feel as if his body's weight had somehow doubled or even tripled.

"Kghh…"

Under such an oppressive force, Alvis could do nothing as the woman in front of him played with his body like a puppet to a puppeteer.

"Feign ignorance all you want mister 'Alvis', but know that you aren't perfect and that I know you are acting."

'...Why is she explaining this to me? She could have just killed me several times at this point.'

Alvis looked at the woman, incredulous at this seemingly useless power play as he accepted his forthcoming death as a matter of fact.

"Do you know who I am?"

The pressure disappeared as fast it came. The woman with her blurred face came up to Alvis, leaning her face in front of him as his body shook from the aftermath of the pressure.

With her hands placed behind her back and her upper body leaning at Alvis for an answer, the woman patiently waited.

But her curiosity seemingly vanished as her monologue went on without his answer.

"Whitechapel. The place where scum and sin drive out the pure and white. If it doesn't drive out, it festers and corrodes anything pure to its most primal state of desire."

He stood, his body covered in cold sweat and at random intervals, twitched from the strange pressure from before.

"A place where no man can come out unharmed. Isn't it ironic that London holds the most prestigious minds across Europe in an academy yet can't find a way to destroy such a place?"

From the words from the woman, Alvis felt like he understood her to an extent. She was rational yet at the same time, insane. A paradoxical state of mind that perfectly represents the concept of yin and yang.

"..."

"From the discovery and existence of mana some odd years ago, various races previously thought of as mere fiction and folklore were proven with this new path of 'science'."

"...You. You hold something interesting which I wish to explore. The urge to kill you is so immense that I can't kill you. I want to see you writhe in pain and squeal in horror at the methods I would display onto you. Yet, because of this preciousness you represent, I want to cherish you like a skimper does to money."

Cold.

Her hands covered his face. Although her hands were covered in black gloves as dark as the midnight sky; Alvis could feel the icy coldness of her hands through the gloves that almost made him think what he was currently facing was not human but rather a cold-blooded lizard.

"Aaahh… What should I do? What should I do… should I kill you? Should I take your face to live as your existence? My mind twirls and becomes dizzy as it goes in an endless loop."

The 'fogginess' of her face let out a tinge of red where her cheeks would have been, her face was flushed from excitement, Alvis realized.

'...Was my judgment right?' He questioned his earlier thought before it went on, 'She, rather than rationality within madness, seems more like insanity covered in madness…'

She was 'flawed'. She was not a 'cold-blooded lizard'. As even lizards had their instincts of family and kinship to an extent. She was the epitome of chaos. The more he tried to understand, the less he understood and in its place, unanswerable questions would be left making Alvis feel hollow. Her presence alone had an 'orbit' that swayed and pulled all in its path.

"Yes… Yes, I understand now. You'll help me. Just like how Whitechapel corrupts all that is pure, I too shall corrupt you and dye you in my 'color' before killing you."

"Come, my dear assistant, your training starts now."

With her inhuman strength, the woman in black took Alvis' hand and raced through the alleyways, like two sonorous lovers dancing through the night.

* * *

His entire body writhed with immense pain.

As Alvis desperately held onto the woman's arm as th black smoke ran faster than an average car, his body had been hit many times due to her negligence.

"P-Please, stop!"

If it wasn't for the slight fortitude and willpower he had accumulated throughout his journey, he was certain that he would have died through this so-called 'run'.

As the black smoke eventually formed the black-haired woman, she looked displeased with Alvis.

"My… To think you were so fragile. Don't you have mana? At the very leasts I had thought that you would be able to hold on. Yet you refuse to use your mana. Why?"

Alvis' body laid flat on the ground, unable to move as various bruises and injuries made him incapable of speaking.

The woman grasped his hair meeting her eyes.

"Respond. Why do you refuse to use your mana?"

'...So she knows that as well…'

Alvis wryly smiled and responded, "I would rather not…"

But a grimace soon found its way onto Alvis' face as the woman's grip grew tighter.

"Do you think this is a game, assistant? Just because of my indecisiveness doesn't mean the scale won't tilt to one side or the other, explain."

Alvis sighed inside his mind as he prepared to explain.

"Whenever I use mana my entire being turns into an unknown mineral. The reason I don't use it is because if I do, I'll eventually die. Even now without using mana my body is slowly being turned into this mineral."

"Do you understand now?"

The grip loosened.

"Hmm… How interesting. Very well, I won't pursue this matter any longer."

Within this world, magic was a new and unknown path of science. Although fictional races lived, mana was still a very unknown and mysterious source of energy. Even now from what Alvis had heard, mana was still being fervently being researched upon.

Because of this 'unknown' within mana, even the woman in front of him wouldn't be able to know if what he said was a lie or the truth.

'...Though what I said wasn't a lie.'

As he forced his body to stand, Alvis looked at the woman whose face was blurred and hidden behind black smoke, darker than the gray smog overhead.

"Shall we look for my next victim?"