Magic and Mayhem

"I don't know this ceiling." The wind was blowing through the afternoon scenery of trees and life. The sun was above, casting a warm glow across the environment. A man who looked to be in his early twenties, about 23, was on a bed in a cell. He looked around in confusion, his face pale. Of course, he had every reason to be, since he had no idea how he ended up here. With his eyes shaking with fear, he recalled a memory as he sat up. In the memory, he had just had a fight with his parents and left the house. After some considerable movement, as it was late, he got jumped by a serial killer. Although he did make it and was rushed to the hospital, where he saw his parents, he ultimately died as a result of a strange disease which could only be gotten through s****l contact. Recollecting himself from the painful memory of his life, he looked at his hand, with the illumination of the rays of the sun penetrating the windows of the cell. At that moment, in the silence, a noise began to be heard. Badump. Badump. Badump. It was the sound of his heart beating rapidly. His chest was rising and falling. "I don't know, I don't know, I don't know this ceiling. I don't know this room. The hell?Where am I? Where are the cameras? This isn't funny. My dad can literally buy your building!" He screamed as he began to look frantically around the peacefully illuminated cell. As he looked around, he saw some words written on the walls with blood. Seeing that, the young man's pupils extended even further. From his line of sight, the words could be made clear. "4 years, four more years! I wish I had known! The Southern Conclave Church... how dangerous they were. They used some kind of black magic to make me look like the culprit. Fire! Fire! Everything was on fire!" As Damien saw those words, he froze as his mind was filled with memories. In the memory, it was nighttime, with the pale moon illuminating the grounds. From above, it could be considered peaceful, but from below, raging flames swallowed the town. And from a line of sight, a man wearing a white robe that also covered the top of his head was in front of the man, holding a white book. From the man's line of sight, the figure had the same features and appearance Damien had now, only with shock on his face, whilst the man looked at the young man with a smile. ... At that moment, Damien broke free from his reverie as a pounding headache pierced his skull, and his body echoed as though it had gone through a shock. He kept his hands on his head as his head bulged with veins and sweat dripped down his features. Through it all, he had begun to gain considerable information. The original owner was in some kind of assassination group known as the White Helmit, but something happened, and during a day, there was a breakout between the two factions of the Southern Conclave Church, in which their methods were mysterious and they were a very dangerous religious group. He was gaining a lot of information, but as he did, his skull felt as though it wanted to rupture. To stop the flow of memories for the meantime, Damien retracted his head, leaned back to face the bed railing, and brought his head down, hitting it on the railing repeatedly. Clank. Clank. Clank. He didn't stop until blood gushed out. He had never been the type to do such a thing. Through him and his actions, it could be told that the matter was rather serious. He had always been the type to get angry when his parents talked to him about a job, a future, and a life. He had always lived off his parents, living the life of a second-generation Japanese adult of 29, getting with girls and ultimately getting the deadly disease. He was the half-committed type, lazy and unambitious. The only thing he had committed himself to was writing novels. Even that, he could only manage until Chapter 97, missing his landmark of 100. Still reeling from the shock of the absurdity of the situation, Damien was now in silence once more. He had no idea what was happening. He had no idea where he was. His lips quivered and quivered in a crooked manner, as his expression gave him that of someone that was meant to be kept in an asylum. Phew. Phew. Phew... Some breaths of air left his mouth as his mouth opened wider and wider, with a smile as though he wanted to laugh, now giving him a senile look. "Ahhh!" In a matter of seconds, his mouth fully opened as Damien let out a piercing scream, one that reverberated around the cells and walls. He screamed and screamed until his windpipe gave way. The scream caused some of the prisoners in their cells to look his way, in awe and confusion. "..." Silence. The surroundings were silent after the earlier scream. At that moment, a tap immediately began to be heard. Tap. Tap. Tap. They were the sound of footsteps. Tap. Tap. Tap. A moment later, a man wearing a long black coat that had a cross behind it, alongside a knight in white armor, could be seen as their once-black silhouettes came out the other end of the building, now being illuminated by the afternoon sun. After a short moment of footsteps, shockingly enough, the man approached Damien's cell. He looked at Damien through his golden glasses and white gloves before adjusting his glasses and saying a sentence with much respect. "Mr. Arthur, your sentence is done, and you may be free to go." ... A moment later, Damien, with a complicated expression, was out of the cell and walking alongside the man with glasses. Tap. Tap. Tap. Their footsteps echoed through the cells as they finally reached a door and entered the next room. In front of him was another door, and they were in an empty room. The man with glasses, who was wearing a long black coat that was akin to what knights wore, with a sword by his right, turned to Damien and said, "4 years? Four years are over. Oh dear, how did the years go by? Almost like yesterday when it happened..." He paused between his statement and placed a hand on Damien's shoulder before leaning forward and saying a word into Damien's ear. "Sisisure." Quickly after Damien heard it, his body tensed up as a cold sweat broke across his back. For some reason, he feared the word. The man tapped his shoulder, and from his point of view, Damien's appearance had changed from the original Arthur to a young man with black, slightly curly hair, decent but not all that good-looking, and orange eyes. "This can let you stay low for a bit." He smiled and removed his hand as he waved and gave a voice that was not high-pitched but not deep as he said a word. "Bye-bye." Damien looked at the man and slowly turned before heading away and leaving the building. When he left the building, the shock came back to him as he recalled the term "Sisisure." He stood at the front of the building, holding a briefcase in a daze, as people wearing long coats of various colors passed by him. From the flashes of memories he could see, Sisisure was a term used to categorize the people belonging to the White Helmit. It was also used to form a "point of connection," informing fellow bloodlines of members and used for creating dead vows of protection. In such a way, the assassin "vows" with the world that he must protect whoever he made the vow with, or he would ultimately lose his life. That could mean one thing. The man was a member of the White Helmit. But what was he doing here? Were they part of something important? Did he involve him? Whilst all those thoughts flashed through his mind, he felt a grip on his shoulder, making him immediately shudder. He felt that state of echoing shock again as his heart skipped a beat. He slowly turned to look in the direction and saw a man wearing a long black coat, not akin to knights, holding a brown book at his side. He had a moustache and glasses. "Young sir, it seems you're a newcomer and don't know this place quite well." Damien looked at the man's hand, then his face, before saying, "Where am I? Where's this place?" The man removed his hand from Damien's shoulder and turned towards the town before saying, "This is a land of sorcery and opportunities, a land kept away from the Curagea forces, a land of peace and danger. Welcome to Filhen, the Capital of Harmonia." He said as he extended his hand, showcasing the buildings and the surroundings full of people and carriages, and single horses, with ravens flying above in the sky.