Whenever I delve into a book from this world, I discover something new. This world is a lot like mine. In addition to fourteen supercontinents, there are many island nations. This continent, Rura, is the third largest of the five supercontinents. Aside from magic, this world's technology is between the bronze and medieval ages. Any technology that seems out of place directly results from other worlds. If I'm to survive in this world. I need all the information I can get. Then there are my magical abilities. I have four types. Compression and decompression, an unspecified fire type, creation, and one unknown type. Leaving me little to go on, unlike Cathy. I used compression and decompression, alright, with my revolver. The feel of using this type is unique. I memorized the feeling. Maybe I can do the same with the fire-based type. I have no clue what I can use my creation type for or this unknown type. 'How would I even determine what it is?' Perhaps another specialist can help. Another task to complete once we get to Felicity's Shelter. I should try getting a second revolver while I'm there. Having two pistols is better than one.
Looking at my left hand and arm, they were still wrapped in bandages. I felt no pain at all. Almost like it's completely healed. The E.D.I.O.S system. Created by the race behind the breaches. We don't know who they are or what, but this system caused many casualties. Alongside Aeon Anathema, these weapons infected our people and turned them against us. For everything I saw during the war. I should be beyond hope at this point. Yet, here I am. This isn't normal at all. I can't get what Helena Hellesivg said out of my mind. 'Was she a ghost or a memory?' An E.D.I.O.S ghost doesn't have any higher brain functions. 'When a ghost dies, is it possible for the parasite symbiote to infect another host?' We never came close to answering these questions. 'Maybe Doctor Spencer knows more about this issue.' I hold my wrist with my watch out. Already getting late. I better get some rest. Looks like Cathy already called it quits. I remember how she studied harder than anyone else when she was in college. Her intelligence helped her graduate high school and college earlier than most. Something we have in common. I yarn and put down the books. Time to get some rest.
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I found my room on the third floor. A corner bedroom that faced the southeast, towards Serenity's Asylum. The door was ajar a bit. 'Is someone inside? Did I read the layout of the mansion wrong?' I push it open a bit but see no one. Then, nudging it more, the door fully opens. Sitting on the bed are Cathy and Lucianne. Both wear all-white garments better suited for nightgowns and, of course, see-thru to top it off. Cathy was looking away with a rosy red face. Lucianne tapped her on the shoulder, and they both crossed their legs. Something was definitely off. The two were at odds just a few hours ago in the library. Now they were here in my room, almost naked. I better get to the bottom of this before something outlandish happens.
"May I inquire as to what is going on here?" I said, pushing my glasses up snugly.
"W-w-we're here to find you who you prefer more...," Cathay stuttered.
"I believe you should hold a contest to see which of us is more suited to you...," Lucianne said.
"Where is this coming from? I don't usually get this kind of attention. Why go to such lengths all of a sudden?" I asked.
"You almost died...," they both said.
"From the moment I first saw you, I knew I wanted to be with you. No one has ever made me feel that way. Not even my late husband-to-be," Lucianne revealed.
"I've always loved you... I just never knew how to approach you...," Cathy revealed. "Before you even bring Minah up, she loves you too, and I think she knows I did too. So, this might be my only chance to...," Cathay explained.
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Domirella: The Surreal Succubi
AdventureJohn Thomas is the typical thirty-something nobody. He spent most of his life growing up being the underdog. From his time in elementary to his high school years, he endured the ridicule of bullies or being the ass end of someone's joke. To say he's...