Welcome to Aethel: A User in the Fantasy World

Asimil arrived in a world without remembering anything of his past, bearing only a name that didn't feel like his own.

The world he saw around him was of an impossible beauty, like a dream rendered in high definition. The colors were too vibrant.

It was then that he realized he was no longer wearing his red sports clothes, but instead had something totally different that fit this world. He now wore a robe of an intense blue color, some joined stockings, and a set of light plate armor that covered his chest, shoulders, forearms, and hips. Yet, despite all that gear, Asimil felt light.

Asimil began to walk a little around the area in search of answers.

Suddenly, a group of small, slimy creatures, of a bright green color with bulging eyes, emerged from the ground. They were slimes. Small, ridiculous, and almost adorable… but they quickly lunged at him.

"W-what are these things?" stammered Asimil, stepping back.

The first slime hit him softly on the chest, and a sticky liquid clung to his clothing. Another pushed him, and another, until Asimil fell backward, slipping in the mud. For a moment, it all seemed comical and funny to Asimil, until one of the slimes, larger than the rest, let out a strange and menacing roar.

"That thing... could kill me!" he shouted while trying to get up, though unsuccessfully due to the intervention of the smaller slimes.

Before the larger slime could reach him, a solid thump was heard right in front of him. A tall, serious figure appeared, pushing the creatures back with a burst of luminous energy. The slimes were sent flying in all directions.

"Are you alright?" asked the figure in a firm, hard voice.

Asimil could barely nod, his heart racing a mile a minute. The figure approached, and his gaze was intense yet serene, like that of someone unfazed by danger.

"My name is Sacres, Sacres Fuuver," said the man, releasing Asimil's hand and scrutinizing the clearing with his gray eyes, alert to any new danger. "The Brotanimus Pits are a low-difficulty starter zone, but still dangerous for a us— I mean, for a newcomer."

Sacres paused abruptly, his eyes scanning Asimil's robe, his lack of equipment, his absolute vulnerability... "How did you get here alone, boy?"
"I... I don't know," confessed Asimil, feeling a slight pain in his chest. "I don't remember anything. I don't know where I come from."

Sacres showed no surprise. He only frowned slightly, as if he had witnessed this situation before.
"Hmm… this sounds like Threshold Amnesia to me," he murmured to himself, more as a diagnosis than an exclamation.

"At least you remember your name, don't you?" asked Sacres while momentarily inspecting the boy's head.

"It's… Asimil. Asimil Nagatomo."

"Very well, Asimil. We must leave this place. It's not safe to linger around these parts. The smell of the burst slime goo will attract other, less... friendly things," said Sacres, starting to walk toward the horizon. Asimil, still trembling, followed him without fully understanding why he trusted him.

Sacres led him along a winding path between giant trees to the capital of the region. Every step was filled with caution; Asimil could hardly believe he was alive.

Finally, the small group of adventurers reached the capital's gates. Floating orbs and luminescent lichen illuminated streets teeming with an incredible diversity of avatars: elves with ebony skin, dwarves with rune-braided beards, warriors in crystal armor. The air vibrated with a thousand conversations, the clanging of blacksmiths, and the aroma of exotic food.

"What is this place, Sacres?" asked Asimil, his voice still strained from the walk. He stopped instantly, his eyes fixed on the imposing tree that formed the base of the building and the stylized eye symbol at the entrance. He felt the relief of having arrived, but a deeper confusion invaded him upon seeing the eye symbol. It stirred a familiar unease in him, as if he had seen it a thousand times on a screen.

Sacres stood beside him, his upright posture contrasting with Asimil's evident fatigue. His gray eyes scanned the street and then focused on the rookie.

"This, boy, is Aethel, the capital of the Origin Region," said Sacres, with an authority that intimidated others. "And this structure is the main base of the Harmonia Clan."

"The… Harmonia Clan?" murmured Asimil, touching his clothing. "What is that, and what are we doing here?"

"The Harmonia Clan is one of the main factions that keep this world functioning," explained Sacres. His tone softened slightly, adopting a mentor's role. "We are a group of adventurers who aid and protect the weak, Asimil. We focus on energy, support, connection. Without us, the other clans of warriors and mages would fall into chaos."

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 was a carved symbol: a stylized eye within a harmonious circle. The Harmonia Clan.

Inside the clan hall, the atmosphere was warm and serene compared to the outside. A fire settled at the clan's center, surrounded by multiple groups of adventurers conversing in low voices, studying floating maps, or tuning instruments that emitted ethereal sounds. They all wore robes in shades of blue and red, the clan's colors.

An elf with long ears, pierced by copper rings, approached. "Sacres. You've brought a... new recruit, it seems," said the elf, arching an eyebrow with a smile that was less mocking and more curious.

"This boy..." declared Sacres, his voice resonating with an authority that silenced nearby conversations. "I found him in the Brotanimus Pits, on the outskirts of the citadel. He says he remembers nothing but his name, so he will be under my tutelage. He will learn our ways and become one of us."

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 deep in his gray eyes, Asimil thought he saw a glimmer of something that could be... approval.

"Come," said Sacres, putting a hand on Asimil's shoulder. "Your first lesson starts now. You will learn to fight. So that next time, you won't need anyone to save you from a few simple Slimes." As he walked through the halls of the Harmonia Clan headquarters, Asimil felt a strange pang in his mind. A blurry memory surfaced from nowhere: he was in a classroom, surrounded by classmates laughing at him. His backpack was on the floor and someone threw a notebook at him. He felt the humiliation, burning and sharp. But among the laughter, a foreign sensation crept in: a piercing cold in his side. The image of the classroom faded, leaving him with a real headache and a hand instinctively pressed to his ribs, where there was no wound.

"W-what's happening?" whispered Asimil, rubbing his head. "I don't remember it well... but, why does it hurt so much?"

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