It was as if the world painted itself out to him. Lustrous lands of golden grass stretched endlessly within the bounds of a breathtaking, radiant sky. Shades of violet, red and even pink encompassed the horizon as mountainous peaks rose on the outskirts. Each mountain stood like a fearsome guardian of the lands above, with its council of five rulers, the five stars forming the constellation of Cassiopeia, gracing the lands with their warm embrace.
From the central plains, ashes appeared from the golden grass as a large portion suddenly shrunk back down into the ground as if it had never grown, pools of dried blood surging up like a toxic sludge, before becoming fresh, and then absorbed back into corpses that weren't ever seen there. The ashes then started to pile up, reforming beams of wood that rose from collapse, reanimating from pure flames what slowly turned into a comfortable village.
From the northern distance, close to the mountainous region, the sound of a massive bell seemed to arrive from all other angles, before a sea of forestry rose as the sound seemed to rush into one place, travelling backwards. At the point in which the sound finally coalesced, a mighty, black wood castle started to rise, as a slash of pure gold energy pulled back, reconstructing what it had seemed to destroy of the titanic castle.
Day turned into night, or was it that it day turned back to night?
The question presented itself to the spectator, Paper, as shades of blue, green and white painted the grounds, the trees rustling while footsteps were heard progressing back from the castle towards the village. He heard the clash of blades, the howls of beasts, and the screams of pain slowly rewinding, sending him for a loop.
Soon, it was day once more, with an army of fifty villagers, armed with rakes and spears and blades, dressed in leather armors and Chainmail which seemed thinned and frail, walked backwards before grouping up, looking expectantly at someone. That person wore majestic armor that seemed to protect the most important parts while offering more than enough flexibility. It seemed all of them were led by an armored individual who carried themselves with the confidence of a warrior bred for combat.
And then day turned back to night once more, and he felt sensation return to his body as his view was suddenly forcibly retracted, practically zooming into... a body.
The boy sat up with a start.
'...Oh?'
He glanced down at his surroundings, focusing on his body. It felt strangely uncomfortable yet... he was just as thin as before, just as malnourished, with his black hair coming down in waves. Though, the way he was dressed in proper fabrics? Or well, as proper as it'd get for fabrics to the poor. It was patchworked off of multiple different fabrics of brown and reds, some darker while others were more pale and light. Some even would have matched his skin tone had he gotten a tan and a healthy diet.
He was on a bed with grey bed sheets stretched taut with minor tears across their seams, the mattress rough and uncomfortably spongy.
To him, however, it was akin to a perfect place of rest.
Street rats like him never had the chance to sleep on beds for long, especially with parents like he had - moving from flat to house to alleyway shack, it was hard to come to terms with it.
But he had to. He was within the trial... not as someone who aspired for more, not as a standard challenger, but in fact... an Assailant.
He glanced around the room. A lone mirror reflected his gaunt features, unchanged mostly outside of his eye-color becoming black, nailed into the wall, just to the left of the door. Next to his bed was a tattered white drawer, that conveniently held a notebook he resolved to check out in a moment.
When put into the first trial, typically people would be blessed with a random ability - One that was typically useful, ranging from combat to utility to divination. They were the three big focuses that most abilities could fall into, with any that somehow break that mold or fit all three falling into the "Outlier" category.
Issue was, however, was that people declared Assailants didn't get any sort of information from the Trial. The fact he had seen the world move backwards was already confusing enough, as that had felt like information. Despite that, they had no ability to call upon their Star and understand what it was, unlike the original challengers of the Orbs.
Thanks to no other sort of preparation too, as well as the fact he knew no more than the general public (if not less) about Assailants, he had zero idea on what to do.
He picked up the notebook, opening it. Inside was his name within the Orb: Aster Oakley.
'...Surprisingly not Paper for a name. Who'd ever have thought my name was abnormal?' He rolled his eyes.
'This guy does have better parents than mine, clearly.'
The first words he had read from the notebook were a slap to the face however.
"I HATE THIS POOR EXCUSE OF A MOTHER!"
Okay. Lesson learnt. Apparently he wasn't as good as he thought when it came to reading people.
"THE CRAZY DOG TRIED TO GET ME INTO THE SIEGE AGAINST THAT VILE DORMANT MARAUDER. I'M ONLY 16!WHY IS SHE SENDING ME TO DIE, HUH!? DO I LOOK LIKE I HAVE HONOR TO HER!? HONOR DOES NOTHING BUT TAKE LIVES!"
Paper coughed with an unimpressed look on face. So the person he was right now... was an asshole. It only took him a little bit of thought to nod along. It certainly fit him, as he was quite the asshole, wasn't he?
'I did cause the death of my parents. I think I'm a bit more than an asshole.' He chuckled dryly at the thought.
'It'd be a lot easier if I just became agreeable and asked to join the Army. It seems the Orb's trial is to slay a Dormant Marauder... not the worst challenge.'
A Dormant creature was the weakest of creatures, yet a Marauder was nearing the centerpoint in terms of powers. A Marauder actually held minimal intelligence, so the army of fifty mundane farmers would be enough if they outsmarted it.
If.
Both were individual rankings, one considered the amount of Stars it possessed, while the other representing its bond with the Stars.
"Marauder... a strong connection with a star. How typical. I thought it'd be harder."
Paper thought outloud, walking out of his room. The wooden floorboards creaked under his step as he turned to a lengthy hallway... could it be called a hallway? He'd never been in a house where there was an actually spacious living room that was just infront of his room. Let alone one with a room door.
In the living room was a plush yet tattered red couch, with splodges of purple that seemed to have come from the woman sitting atop it, crushing grapes with her bare hands. She had looked even more frail than he did, the poor thing, with scruffy brown hair brushed back to have some semblance of order, with a mismatched yellow dress that had long since gone murky from constant handwashes.
"Aster, darling, can you get me some extra grapes? We need to get as much fermented as possible..."
She called out over the chirping of the birds and the burning of the fireplace, without looking up. Her voice was jovial despite her posture seeming hunched and withdrawn, her feet in fluffy socks that seemed to fiddle with eachother.
'She looks strangely uncomfortable. Fear? Who is this Aster person? Is he an abusive father?'
Paper didn't pay her much, if any, mind and kept looking around, trying to figure out what to do.
'How do I figure out my power?'
"...Aster... please?" She looked up at him, but he didn't even seem to recognise the name.
Still, no response.
"Aster... Look, I know your mad about me asking for you to join the siege but- I promise its all for your... for our own benefit." She paused slightly, making eye contact with him. She had hollow brown eyes, seemingly haunted yet shining with light.
"For us."
Aster... Aster... who is this Aster? He paled for a second.
He was Aster!
Well, in Aster's body. An uninvited guest. He quickly turned to the woman, frowning slightly as he tried to accommodate the name in his mind.
'She called to him so gently...? I don't understand half his insults. She's better than my mother was.'
"...Right. I'll get you some grapes."
Her eyes sparkled with joy at his agreement, and he felt his heart tighten up slightly.
He had never felt so uncomfortable.
His own mother had never looked at him with adoration, yet this one... she seemed to hold her son in high regards despite Aster's clearly aggressive approach in handling her.
'A side effect of being an Assailant...? I didn't know I'd get put into another person's body, and I didn't even know I'd be with connections. All I knew was that my body would get translated into the trial.'
The fastest way forward for him here was to get himself into that siege mission, clearly. He had to find the Noble and figure out how to kill them, then how to kill the Dormant Marauder.
Or maybe, he kills the Dormant Marauder first then the Noble?
He lingered slightly, before walking up to her and looking down at her. She wiped her left hand off on the couch quickly, before raising her hand and tentatively reaching out for his cheek. He didn't move away, letting her caress it gently, and he heard her whisper under her breath, despite the embers sputters, despite the constant chatter, and despite his own shallow, strangled breathing...
"My beautiful boy."
Him.
Beautiful.
...It was touching. He liked the feeling of being loved, for once. The only person who loved him at all unconditionally was his younger sister. So, almost mindlessly speaking, he wanted to correct Aster's wrong.
'Maybe I can fix his relationship with his mother and I'd get some information? Almost like some of the games I see advertisements for. Do something weird and get rewarded.'
Trying to flash her a geniune smile, he spoke with a bit of a strained voice.
"I'll join the army. I'm sorry for... coming off so aggressively last time, mom."
He expected a soft coo. Maybe a laugh. Maybe a "Don't worry, dear, it's okay. I love you." Maybe even just a wider smile.
He didn't expect her touch to turn cold. He didn't expect her to stop. He didn't expect her posture to turn rigid.
He didn't expect for the birds to stop chirping, for the flames to stop burning, and for the people to stop blabbering.
She looked at him with eyes that had lost any mirth, joy or beauty, instead seeming as hollow as the hole he had jumped into, Or the grave he had seemed to have dug for himself.
He didn't speak at all, his mouth going dry as his heart leaped into his throat. What happened? What went wrong? Why was she looking at him like that?
"Who are you?"
He felt the blood rush out of his face as he slowly came to recognise the mistake he made.
He had to play Aster's role, didn't he? And Aster's role... was someone who didn't want to enter the army. Wasn't it?
'Shit.'