Loneliness is an addiction. You'll find solace in the solitude. It is a place where you are immune to the hurt the world can give. This was Tom's mantra ever since he had a hard time fitting in with the crowd. But that changed three months prior when he found someone that pulled him from that darkness. Hugh may be a douche, but he's the good kind of douche. He speaks loud but his words are nothing but encouragement. For the first time in his life, Tom has a reason to turn better. With Hugh's help, he started eating well and even went through grueling exercises. The pain was all worth it when he saw the changes in his body. He's become somewhat brighter. He smiles a lot and depression is a thing of the past.
In Tom's new fresh experiences, another first in a series is that he finally bought a set of clothes on his own. Granted, these clothes are second-hand since his current part-time job at a convenience store pays little.
"Nice pick, young man." The sole senior clerk at the store said. "A Japanese colleague of mine gave that shirt to the store. Oh, I wonder where he is now?"
The old man continued to ramble on his own while Tom wore the shirt. It's a nice fit and it accentuates the transformations of his body. Since he's about to meet Hugh today, he decided to keep the shirt on. This 'first' is a cause for another celebration. Tom decided that maybe, he could invite Hugh to the movies.
While lost in thought in the middle of the road, Tom failed to realize that a white truck is speeding up to where he is. The truck's brake system was tampered with by a recently fired employee, and the poor truck driver on shift tried his best to control the stampeding vehicle. Tried as he might, the 8-ton truck is unstoppable. The last thought on Tom's mind as the truck launched him at 100 kilometers per hour, is Hugh's smiling face while his mouth is stuffed with popcorn. Death is instantaneous. Mercy for a person whose head exploded at the moment of impact, the limbs launched across a whole block for the entire crowd to see with shock across their faces.
Tom is dead… or so he thought.
Tom remembered a sudden flash then boom! Darkness enclosed his very existence then there was nothing. And within that nothing came the light. A breath of life. He awoke with start. Tom is drowned in an ocean of pillows and blankets. Amidst the struggle, he realized that his limbs have somehow grown shorter which made the fight against this fabric more arduous than he originally thought.
Tom expected that he'd wake up in a hospital. He lost consciousness in the middle of the road which means a car must have hit him. Instead, he woke up in this strange palace of cream-colored walls and golden mold inlays. The furniture is equally grand and elegant. He may have business as a major but he recognized the architectural design as French Baroque. That's one perk of having Hugh, a historical architecture nerd buff, as a close friend.
"Master Maxell!" a boy launched himself from the side of the bed and hugged Tom tight. "Finally, you're awake. I thought you wouldn't wake up from that sleep. You had us worried."
Tom looked around to see who this Master Maxwell is but it seems that the two of them are the only person in the room. While he was looking around, one thing about French Baroque architecture is that mirrors are a permanent fixture in the style. In one such mirror, a familiar stranger stared in the reflection. A reflection that looks different than Tom's appearance but is recognized as his own. The reflection is a boy, no older than ten. His hair is white as snow with a streak of black down the middle. His face is juvenile with cheeks as smooth as a baby's bum. His eyes are gold like the fixtures of this place.
"Who is that!?" Tom pointed in the mirror.
The servant looked at you with bewilderment, "Seriously, you jest master Maxwell," Upon seeing the seriousness in your face, his confusion turned to worry. "Do you not remember anything?"
What Tom remembers is getting hit by something in the middle of the road and waking up in here. He remembers Hugh who must be worried sick right now. He remembers how his sorry life changed for the better. He remembers how he is the son of Deidrick Vanderbilt, the Marquis of Andorre. Their family has held this land bordering the country of Acland. Their family has to keep the borders well-guarded against the enemy of the state and to proliferate their business in physical and magical armament production. Recalling these memories, Tom realized the strange absurdity of it. He knows which memories are his, and he knows the memories of another are mixed into his own. It takes time to sift which is which.
"Oh, my." The boy servant gasped. "It seems that marking ceremony must have confounded your mind master. Should I summon the healing mages?"
"What healing mages?" Everything about this is confusing Tom. "And what's this Marking Ceremony you talked about?"
"Oh, dear. The Marking Ceremony is where people of noble birth are branded with a connection from a pantheon god. The Vanderbilt line has an unwavering connection to the god of war, Pytherious - granting your family to wield fire and related elements. Upon nearing your eighth birthday, you have undergone the Marking Ceremony. I am not allowed in the ritual grounds but I saw a bright flash of light in the temple. Then I saw the priests carrying you out, unconscious and barely breathing."
Looking back at his memories, Tom remembers glimpses of it but nothing concrete. What struck him from the memories is that one byproduct of a successful marking ceremony is the ability to open an illusionary window - a panel that gives a glimpse of a person's powers. "Status Window, open!"
There was a whisper of air. A gust of wind rustled the servant's butler attire. In front of Tom is a floating window of light with strange markings which he could recognize with ease.
Name: Maxwell von Vanderbilt
Title: [Noble] [Reincarnate] [Knowledge from Another World] [Blessing of Pytherious] [Blessing of Aquerious] [Blessing of Arderious] [Blessing of Fahircious] [Blessing of the Old Pantheon]
LVL: 7
HP: 5000/5000
MP: 2000/2000
Race: Human
Sex: Male
Age: 7
Attributes:
Elemental Resistance LV10
Swordsmanship LV10
Durability LV10
Strength LV10
Magic:
Fire Magic LV10
Water Magic LV10
Earth Magic LV10
Wind Magic LV10
Space Magic LV10
Possession Magic LV10
Flesh Manipulation Magic LV10
Soul Magic LV10
Bonus:
EXP Bonus x1000
Regen Bonus x1000
"Whoa! Master Maxwell, do my eyes deceive me!?" the servant said.
Maxwell looked at his servant, the confusion of the two now bounced back to him. Then as he gazed back at the status window and saw that it actually appeared, amazement dawned on his face. Status windows don't just appear out of thin air. This means that magic is real. It's fucking real. This must be a dream. It must be. It should be. Maxwell pinched himself in the wrist, closed his eyes, and expected to wake up from this fever dream. He opened his lids to see his servant still in a breathless gasp in the amazement of the status window.
"Court mages of the Royal Palace barely have an eighth of the mana you have. And look! You are blessed by four different gods. A first among firsts. Not only that, but you have minor talents in Possession magic? Flesh Manipulation magic and then there's Soul? Minor talents are rare but I am sure that the ones you have are truly unique. I implore you, we must inform your father of this at once."
Tom has seen and heard this cliché before. Show fangs to the world and the world snap back in fear that you'll come to bite them. "Please, do not tell anyone about this." Tom is new to this world and he lacks the ability on whom he could trust or avoid.
"If that is what you wish," The servant, whose name Tom now remembers as Alexander, said. "At the least, I should inform your father that you woke up from your coma."
Tom agreed.