What Changes a Day Can Bring

Simon hadn't really considered how drastically a single day could change his life before, it had never seemed important really.
It had been less than a day since he'd been lying comfortably in his bed, lazily passing time browsing his phone.
It had been less than a day since he'd decided to go for a simple late night resupply at the corner store.
It had been less than a day since he'd found himself watching an old man getting robbed on his way home.
And it had been exactly twelve hours since he'd found himself bleeding on the pavement because he'd foolishly tried to intervene.

He found himself hard pressed to figure out a way life could really get worse from there in just twelve short hours, other than by dying that is - which he supposed he had also already done - yet life was certainly trying.

"So guys, sorry for being so out of the loop but could you explain why you're all rather threateningly pointing your swords at my neck? And, well, is there any way that I could possibly convince you to please not?"

Yes, it certainly was trying.

"No more words you Hethorian mutt! Now be a good pet, take that flashy little medallion necklace off your neck and throw it on the table there, before we show you just how sharp these blades really are." Simon really was confused. Somewhere in among walking into the tavern, asking and paying for a drink, and patiently waiting where he was told to by that strange woman who'd reincarnated him, he'd somehow offended these three rather terrifying soldiers into pointed violence. A part of him desperately wanted to ask for just a hint of what he'd done to wrong them, to get even a passing idea of what the situation was, but the swords really did do a good job of conveying their point.

Smiling weakly and ensuring he kept eye contact the entire time, he reached slowly to unfasten the clasp that held the foreign necklace in place. He missed it at first, his fingers sliding against smooth metal where he thought the clasp should be. His face growing more apologetic by the second, he fumbled along the necklace, desperately searching for the mechanism that held it in place.

"We're running out of patience pup. It's off with that necklace now, or it's off with your head! Decision's all yours!" The lead soldier poked his weapon forward as he spoke, eyes narrowing as he grew more suspicious.

Simon began to panic as his fingers continued to fumble and slide against nothing but the chains that laced the necklace. Where the hell was this damn clasp!? Seeing that the situation was only getting worse, he decided that staying silent was probably more dangerous than not at this point.

"Listen, I'm trying ok!? This damn thing just won't come off, I'm searching but I can't find the clasp, it's like it doesn't have one at all. Look for yourself!" He yanked the necklace around, pointing the back directly at the men that surrounded him. "See!?"

The men's eyes widened immediately, and their postures, previously confident and lax, immediately grew eager and attentive, prepared to strike at the slightest notice.

"Now would you look at that! We thought we'd cornered one of your little priests, trying to gather what pitiful followers he could, and here we find ourselves with a Knight instead! Ooh, we're going to be rewarded well for your head boy, maybe even get knighted ourselves. What, you must be the last one at this point, eh? Not many of your lot left anymore, and good riddance I say! Haha!" The other two men erupted in laughter alongside their leader, seemingly finding something incredibly funny about Simon's situation.

He tried to think of something to say in response, some way to deescalate the situation at all, yet everything he'd done so far had only made things worse. Wracking his brain he thought of every solution he could, acting brash and confident to fool them, submitting and pleading for mercy, or just downright denying anything they just said, yet before he could even begin to speak, the leaders sword reared back, ready to swing.

Simon immediately tried to jump back, escape now the only solution he could imagine, yet was immediately thwarted by the table behind him, clumsily sprawling onto his back. The first blow flew over him, slashing through the spot where he had once stood. The leader didn't hesitate, carrying the momentum of his slash over his head and swinging down to where Simon now lay sprawled.

Immediately, Simon rolled to the side, catapulting himself off the table and to the floor. He landed maladroitly, stumbling as he reached out for purchase on a nearby chair. A boot landed square on his back, sending him once again to the floor before he could recover. He tried to push himself off the floor but found himself unable to move, the boot now pressing down against his back.

"Ha, is this what the Hethorians have come to now? So weak that one of their Knights can't even fight back? Pathetic!" The man spat beside him, droplets of phlegm striking Simon's face. "Right then, let's make this fun at least. Why don't we show you the power of a real god, eh? A little final show courtesy of Varok, free on the house!"

"Wait! I don't know what you're talking about! Please, I'm not a Knight, you have to-"

Without warning, the force of the boot on his back increased immensely, pushing the air out of his lungs and silencing him immediately. The pressure was immense, pushing down far stronger than any human had the right to, it was like a boulder had pinned him down, and was slowly crushing him beneath it.

Excruciating jolts of pain began to flare in his spine and his ribs, as they began to compress and collapse under the sudden onslaught. He gasped for air, desperately trying to inflate his lungs under the weight that now crushed them, yet nothing would come. Unable to breath, he began to claw at the floor, trying desperately to find any purchase and push himself up, but the force was simply too great. 
"Graghhh!"

Simon tried to scream in pain but could only produce a gurgle. He'd already died once today, he'd felt similar pain, and suffered until it all went dark - there was no way he could let it happen again; he'd been promised a chance at a new life, he'd thought of it as a thank you for his heroic final act, a gift from a goddess that had promised him hope, yet here he was only twelve hours later, his bones being crushed for reasons couldn't even begin to understand, there was just no way he could let it end here.

Someone, anyone, miss goddess, Hethoria, whatever your name is, please help me! He screamed internally, quietly praying that his godly saviour would come to his aid again. He repeated the thought in his head, holding on to it as a last vestige of hope as the pain in his lungs and back grew more unbearable, as his vision began to fade.

The pressure disappeared from his back as suddenly as it had come. The sudden relief from pain unconsciously caused him to gasp for air, he breathed deeply and desperately, the rapid intake causing him to break out in cough. He was distantly aware of sounds of steel and a wetness on his chest and back, matting his clothes to his skin, but was too disoriented to think of why. He tried to stand, stumbling slightly before instead sitting himself on the chair he had previously reached for.

Simon leaned back, taking laboured breaths in amidst his coughs as he tried to reorient himself. He still couldn't see properly, tears blurring his vision even as he tried to blink them away. He could vaguely make out the silhouette of two silver figures moving back and forth, and a further two red stained figures lying limply on the ground.

The sounds of metal ended suddenly, replaced with a mans gurgle, the thump of something heavy hitting the wooden floor, and then silence. For the next few minutes the only things Simon could hear were the sounds of blood rushing through his body, and his own gradually subsiding coughing. He continued to try to correct his vision, rubbing his hand against his eyes and continuing to blink them as swiftly as he could.

It was around the time that his vision corrected itself that he heard metallic footsteps approach him. Immediately, he winced back and darted his eyes to the approaching sound, exceedingly wary after the two deathly experiences he had recently been through.

He was surprised to hear a woman's face when he looked up. Her long blonde hair was stained a deep red, tendrils of it matting her face in small rivers of red, the silver of her armour shone with the wet gleam of blood, yet amidst it all the most noticeable feature was her sheer calm. If she was perturbed by the bodies that now lay strewn around her, or the garish appearance she now wore, she did little to show it.

Simon found himself awestruck, this woman stood there, soaked head to toe in the blood of three men, and didn't even seem to flinch.
How could anyone possibly be so calm in a situation like this?

The woman stopped a few steps away from Simon, looking down on him as he continued to struggle to correct himself. For a passing moment Simon thought she would kill him like she had the others.
She kneeled before him, bowed her head and she spoke, her voice sharp and crystalline.
"My sincere apologies for being late Sir Knight, my name is Sonia Egret, at your service. I have been sent by Lady Hethoria herself to serve as your squire and steward until you are confident in your duties as the last Holy Knight of Hethoria. May I serve you well."

He had just almost died for the second time today, completely helpless to do even the smallest thing, then seen this woman kill his three assailants without batting an eyelash, and now here she knelt, swearing fealty to him as if he were some chosen lord.
Simon laughed at the sheer absurdity of it all.
Twelve hours ago he had been dead.
Twelve hours ago he had met a Goddess that offered him a new life.
Twelve hours ago he had found himself in a foreign world.
Twenty minutes ago he found himself facing death yet again.
Now he found himself serving as a Knight of a faith that he didn't even begin to understand.
Bemusedly he wondered just how drastically a day could change your life.