FIRST STEPS IN ALTVERSE

The air was damp and thick. A light mist covered the ground, making every sound feel closer. Asimil opened his eyes slowly, remembering nothing. Not his name, nor how he had gotten there. He only knew that he was alone... and that something wasn't right.

Suddenly, a group of small, bright green, googly-eyed, slimy creatures emerged from the ground. They were slimes. Small, ridiculous and almost adorable... but they quickly pounced on him.

— What... what are...? — Asimil stammered, backing away.

The first slime hit him gently in the chest, and a sticky liquid stuck to him. Another one pushed him and Asimil fell backwards, sliding in the mud. For a moment, everything seemed comical, until one of the slimes, larger than the others, let out a strange, menacing roar.

— This... can kill me! — he shouted, as he tried to get up.

Before the larger slime could reach it, a thud resounded. A tall, serious-looking figure appeared, pushing the creatures with a blast of light energy. The slimes were blasted in all directions.

— Are you all right? — asked the figure, in a firm voice.

Asimil could barely nod, his heart pounding a mile a minute. The figure approached, and his gaze was intense but calm, like that of someone who does not flinch in the face of danger.

— My name is Sacres — said the man, releasing his hand and scanning the clearing with his gray eyes, alert to any new danger. —The Wells of Brotanimus are a dangerous place for someone who...—  He paused, his gaze sweeping over Asimil's simple robe, his lack of equipment, his utter vulnerability. — ...for someone who looks like a newcomer. How did you get here, boy? —

— I... I don't know — Asimil confessed, and the admission hurt him more than he expected. — I don't remember anything. Not even my name. —

Sacres showed no surprise. Just a slight frown, as if he had seen this situation before.

— Threshold Amnesia — he muttered to himself, more as a diagnosis than an exclamation, — Come. It's not safe to stay here. The smell of fear and burst slime will attract other, less... kind things. —

Asimil, still trembling, followed him without fully understanding why he trusted him. Sacres led him along a path winding through giant trees to the capital of the region. Every step was filled with caution; Asimil could hardly believe he was alive.

Finally, they arrived at the gates of the capital. Floating orbs, luminescent lichens illuminated streets filled with an incredible diversity of avatars: ebony-skinned elves, dwarves with rune-braided beards, warriors in data crystal armor. The air hummed with a thousand conversations, the tinkling of virtual smithies and the aroma of exotic foods and stardust.

Sacres guided him without hesitation to a quieter district, where a large tree, wider than it was tall, served as the base for a structure of wood and light. Above the entrance, a symbol was carved: a stylized eye within a harmonic circle, the same one Asimil wore on his tunic. Clan Harmonia.

Inside, the atmosphere was warm and serene. A holographic fire crackled in a central hearth, surrounded by groups of players conversing in hushed tones, studying floating maps or tuning instruments that emitted ethereal sounds. All wore robes in shades of blue and red, the colors of the clan.

An elf with long ears pierced by copper rings approached.— Sacres. You have brought a... recruit — he said, with an arched eyebrow and a smile that was not so much mocking as curious.

— This boy... — Sacres declared, and his voice resounded with an authority that silenced nearby conversations. — He will be under my tutelage. He will learn our ways. Here he will find refuge and purpose. —

All eyes turned to Asimil. He felt naked, exposed.

He lifted his chin, a small but significant gesture.

Sacres nodded, almost imperceptibly. It wasn't a smile, but in the depths of his gray eyes, Asimil thought he saw a glimmer of something that might be... approval.

— Come — said Sacres, placing a firm hand on his shoulder. — Your first lesson begins now. You will learn how to fight. So that next time, you won't need anyone to save you from a few simple slimes. —

While walking down the corridors of the harmonia clan headquarters, Asimil felt a strange throbbing in his mind. A blurred memory came out of nowhere: he was in a classroom, surrounded by classmates laughing at him. His backpack was lying on the floor, and someone was throwing a notebook at him. The humiliation was palpable, though the details were mixed with shadows.

— ...What is it? — Asimil whispered, rubbing his head, — I don't remember well... but it hurts. —

Asimil had the first memory of his past life, but unfortunately it was not a pleasant one for him.