A New Beginning

Warm water hit his throat, and with a gasp he sat upright. Richard looked at the fireplace before his eyes with relief. A dream, it was all a dream!

Then his eyes focused again.

He was wrapped in a fur blanket. The fireplace wasn't his study fireplace, but one in a log cabin. He wasn't asleep in his armchair, but was lying prone on a couch- if it could be called that by modern standards.

"You're awake! Finally, that was the most tense three hours I've ever spent!" Declan sat in a chair next to Richard. "I sincerely thought you weren't going to make it, friend. It's a relief to see that food, water, and warmth was enough to bring you round."

Richard blinked at the boy next to him. He realized that his life had been saved, but what he couldn't fathom was that the words coming out of the boy's mouth were not in English. It sounded like a cross between Russian, German, and... perhaps Scandinavian? Whatever it was, he couldn't make heads or tails of it.

Regardless, he felt he better thank his rescuer, "Thank you, young man. I nearly died in the snow and cold! I'm in your debt."

The boy's eyes widened in surprise. He thought for a moment and then said in heavily accented English, "You... talk... Britalordski?!"

That was at least a bit better, Richard thought, "Yes, Britalordski!" That must be what they call English. How the bloody hell did I end up in a remote area with immigrants that don't even speak English? It was quite confusing to Richard. With the bomb, he assumed, even a large blast couldn't have sent him sailing hundreds of miles... he'd have amounted to no more than a bloody scorch mark somewhere if that had been the case. This obviously wasn't Manchester. The edges of his deepest subconscious mind had begun to suspect that he wasn't even in England at this point. But that made even less logical sense, so his conscious mind suppressed the thought prior to it even beginning.

"Boy, where am I?" Richard posed the only question likely to help with his immediate endeavors.

The boy thought for a moment as he pondered and translated the words to the best of his abilities, "You... in... Frostlinkin?"

Frostlinkin? He'd never heard of it. Richard frowned, but before he could formulate a follow-up question the boy asked another question.

"Why... call... me... boy?" Declan was quite confused. Even if the young man before him was a noble, he'd have been trained to respect his elders. Why was he being disrespected?

"Well, that's obvious? Because..." Richard hesitated. There was something very wrong here, and his mind couldn't quite grasp what it was. He was sixty five. Shouldn't that be obvious? He felt his blood pressure rise into his cheeks. "Um... might I borrow a mirror?"

"Mir...ror?" It was Declan's turn to be confused. "Oh! Glasse!" He rushed over to a chest near a wall and dug out a small mirror. It was his mother's mirror. She kept it for the rare occasion that they had company or she needed to pretty up for an important event.

He carefully handed the mirror to Richard. He hoped that through his actions he would make it known that the mirror was quite precious and to be careful with the delicate piece of smoked glass. Thankfully, Richard received the mirror and appeared to handle it carefully.

"Well... d#$%..." Richard looked in the mirror and froze. That wasn't what he looked like at all. He was less than 16 years old. Had he travelled in time? No, this wasn't even what he looked like as a youth. He thought for a moment while he looked in consternation at the mirror and ran a hand over his, now, wrinkle-free skin.

*Ding!*

*Congratulations! By discovering your new identity, you have unlocked the system. Activating previous biosystem. Syncing memories with new identity. Simplifying memory catalog to the primary events in original host's life. All memories will be loaded into host, but primary points of character development are clarified for host's convenience.*

A flood of memories flashed through his mind. They weren't his memories, and even more surprising, they seemed to line up with Richard's new appearance.

His first memory was as a five year. He was huddled around a small fire in a remote alley in some sort of primitive town. There were many others around. He, for some reason, was upset at an older boy across the fire. The older boy ate an apple, and he distinctly felt the apple was his by right. Anger flooded through him.

More memories of a dismal life flooded through his consciousness. His next clear memory was of himself as a ten year old boy. He had been fleeing a market stall with the owners in hot pursuit. He distinctly remembered that he had stolen a loaf of bread. While fleeing, he had forced his way through a sudden crowd only to trip in the street. A large carriage covered in ornate gold had been forced to stop. To his terror, nearby soldiers had immediately grabbed him. He was thrown in jail for two days. After those two days, he was brutally whipped and beaten in front of a laughing crowd. Then he was released. Ironically, they let him keep the bread. His crime had been halting a noble's carriage. The bread was filling, but turned to ashes in his mouth. He sneered at the memory of the noble's face in sheer hatred.

His next memory was of the day before. At fourteen, he had been sick of his life. He had been sick of the mages with power, the nobles with their wealth and privilege, sick of the merchants with their wealth and corruption. He was sick of sleeping in alleyways and eating scraps. He was angry, and enough was enough. There was only one way to ensure his future and rise from his station. Even if it cost his life, he'd see it through. He had departed the town and ventured into the woods. It was mere days before the outbreak of winter in the region, but he knew his future was at stake. He wouldn't let anything stop him from succeeding.

The only way to ensure his future was to overcome the odds. He needed to venture into the nearby woods, kill a monster, and survive the consumption of its core. Only one in a hundred would dare venture into the woods. Only one in a thousand would manage to kill a monster with no training or weaponry. Only one in a hundred thousand would manage to consume the lethal core and subsequently unlock their hidden abilities.

He strode into the woods with determination. He used his wits to find a monstrous boar's tracks. He follow the boar's tracks.

Unfortunately, before he found the boar, the boar had found him. The snow had set in merely a day after he left the town. In less than half a day, all tracks were gone. Snow banks formed around him, and cold assaulted him. After the morning of the first day, the boar burst through a snow bank in the middle of a snow storm and gored his leg. He fell into a snowbank and appeared to bleed out. The boar had run off.

Richard gasped in shock. What the hell was happening to him?

*Transmigration and integration successful. The universal reincarnation fund wishes you well on your new journey. Good luck!*

In his mind, text suddenly appeared in his mind.

-Particle System Unlocked-

Name: Alf Strouski

Age: 14

Level: 1 (0/10 Experience)

Available status points: 0

Status:

Strength: 10

Dexterity: 10

Vitality: 10

Spirit: 10

Intelligence: 10

Health: 2/10

Skills:

Elementary Compression (Active), Level 1

Elementary Decompression (Active), Level 1

Potential: You haven't even scratched the surface. Good luck on you new life, and on your new journey!

Richard, no... his name was Alf? He blinked to clear his head.

Who am I? He felt odd, like he was both a sixty-five year old retired British colonel named Richard, as well as a fourteen year old boy named Alf. From the mirror in his hands, his age was obviously fourteen. From his mind, he was obviously a retired soldier and felt wiser than any fourteen year old had a right to be.

Who am I? He felt he must start with a name. Neither name felt correct anymore. Hmm. How about a combination of the two? Alchard? No, that sounded too pretentious. Ralf? Yes. That felt right. Ralf Strouski. That would work. Yes, that felt good in fact.

"My name is Ralf. Who are you?" Richard and Declan both were suddenly surprised. Ralf had just spoken in a language that he hadn't learned, at least not in his life as an Englishman.

"Oh! You speak Skulik, as well?" Declan beamed from ear to ear, "It's nice to meet you, Ralf! My name is Declan. How'd you end up injured and passed out in the snow?"

Ralf hesitated. What should he tell this stranger?