The woman's silence was deafening. She stared at the young man whose eyes were full of questions and shock. And and then, as though fate's comedic timing, a strong gust of wind blew over them.
She spoke after a moment.
"This can't be..."
Then she scowled, which failed to intimidate him.
"It's not the time for such pranks, Alsten!"
When he offered nothing but silence as a response, she swallowed. He wasn't doing any sort of prank. The confusion in his eyes was as real as it could be.
Finally, he spoke.
"I really don't know who you are..." he said in a calm but cautious tone.
Her face paled, eyes widening. Slowly, a frown formed on her beautiful face, as though finally answering the mysteries in her mind. And then, a few words escaped her lips in a whisper.
"Your memory got erased..."
That wasn't exactly the case. Although he had no memories of her or this place, he remembered clearly who he was: a loser whom the world turned its back on. Still, this lady seemed to be talking to someone who is not the self he remembered. What was really going on? Even he didn't know, so, he kept his mouth shut, which had been the correct choice—for him, at least.
The woman mumbled to herself, subconsciously biting on her fingernails.
"Is this some kind of spell? A curse? We haven't fought witches or mages yet, though."
His eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Witches? Mage? Curse? What in the fantasy delusion was she talking about?
'Could it be that...'
Looking more closely, his eyes opened wide. He didn't notice it when he first saw the archer lady, but a pointy, pinkish peach-colored thing was poking out of the strands of her smooth, dark hair on both sides of her head. Upon further inspection, they resembled the human ears, except they were longer and pointy.
It didn't take a genius to realize what she was. The woman was an elf. His heart began to race as a certain possibility, a good one, loomed over him.
She looked up at his eyes and continued.
"Let's return to the camp for now.."
Unsure of what to do, he followed closely behind her. Past the trees, he saw a path by the side of the forest. A simple camp was situated not far ahead. Leaning on two long pieces of wood, a large surface of what looked like solid iron slab framed into an even sturdy material served as a crude lean-to tent. Beside it were leather travel bags and other unidentifiable objects just lying on the grass.
Upon seeing the three... "people" sitting by the camp, his suspicion was confirmed.
He tried his best to hide his bewilderment when a humanoid, white wolf spoke.
"Where'd you run off to, Alsten?"
His voice was deep and raspy, almost like a beastly growl. But the level of articulation was that of a human—of a street drunkard at least.
"Come on, you really buy that silly excuse?" an irregularly tall, muscular man butted in. He immediately reminded him of the absurdly huge body builders he'd seen on television, only that this man dwarfed them easily. By miles. Ironically, his voice sounded more monstrous than the beast sitting across from him.
"You just wanted to be alone with Lana, didn't you?"
The giant, the wolf, and a priest-looking old man laughed together.
The weapons, the armor, the creatures... he was sure of it.
'This is isekai!'
The archer clenched her hand to a fist and stomped her legs in protest.
"Guys! We've got a problem and it's no laughing matter."
Slowly after the laughter dispersed, the giant asked:
"What happened?"
She turned to the blonde, young man behind her and gave him a look of uncertainty before turning back to the party.
"His memory got wiped."
Immediately, silence washed over the group. Their faces mirrored shock and disbelief.
"...What?"
***
He was offered to sit down with the strange group and they gave him somber looks. None of them seemed to want to speak first so the female archer initiated.
"I immediately followed him after he ran off. He didn't get far. I saw him standing still in the middle of a clearing. And just like that, he said he doesn't know me. He doesn't remember anything."
The beast man sighed. Though he had eyes of an animal, a unique human seriousness could be seen deep in them. He looked at the young man and spoke.
"You really don't remember us?"
He shook his head.
The tall man crossed his arms and stayed silent. Meanwhile, the middle-aged priest raised his hand.
"Do you remember why we're here?" he asked calmly.
Again, to their disappointment, he shook his head.
"Hmm," the priest muttered, musing internally. "Could this be a curse? I've never seen something like this before."
The whole group sat in silence for a few seconds, trying to come up with an idea. And in that moment, a realization struck the young man.
He died that night. And then somehow, his soul, consciousness, or whatever you call it, had been transferred to the body of this man called Alsten.
But the group didn't seem to realize that. They were thinking that their friend's memory had simply been wiped by some curse. If he'd said anything more than he had, or if they asked him the questions any differently, this fact would have been known to them by now.
'What would they do to me if they find out?'
The silence was disrupted by a loud clap. The giant bald man cracked a laughter and then spoke.
"Welp, there's nothing we can do about it. Let's just bring this man up to speed for now."
The archer sighed.
"You're right. At least that's better than guessing aimlessly."
'But this world... is beautiful. What if they cast my consciousness away and bring back the real Alsten?'
He had no idea why or how his soul ended up inside this man's body. It's entirely possible that, at any moment, he would be dragged out as abruptly as he entered this world, and what would happen to him then was a mystery he almost didn't want to think about. But one thing was certain. Burning in hell, being reduced to nothingness, or living in a magical world—the best choice was pretty obvious.
'This must be my prize for enduring all those injustice. Yes, this must be it.'
He couldn't come up with any other reason why he was suddenly thrown into this world except that. In a sense, he could consider this as the universe getting even with him. Whether by accident or on purpose.
In that moment, he made a quick decision: No matter what happens, they can't know his real identity.
Pretending to be someone who had lost their memories should be pretty simple, right? He just had to act as if he didn't know anything about the people around him and this place which he thought would be fairly easy since it was the truth anyway. The only challenge was pretending to not have a sense of self. If even a tiny detail about his past life slips from his mouth, these people would realize it immediately. And he was pretty sure that they wouldn't just sit there and accept that their friend is being controlled by someone else's consciousness.
From now on, he is Alsten. The man without memories.
"Alright then," the beast man said, "Let's start with some introductions. My name's Yobu."
The giant pointed his thumb to his bulging, hard, bare chest, and then said:
"I'm Hetaphar. You always call me Het."
The priest raised his hand again.
"I'm Genler. I'm the healer and supervisor of this party."
He noted all the details that he could in his mind. This was more interesting than he'd thought it would be. And then lastly, it was her turn. He looked to his side where the archer sat.
"I'm Lana. We are the members of your party."
That was all she said. But despite her relaxed posture and calm tone, a hint of anxiety was present in her face.
His attention was drawn when Yobu twisted and shifted back, trying to take something from behind his log chair, reaching out to the pile of what looked like their belongings messily placed on the ground. He returned with a long and massive, metallic object in his furred hands.
"And now, it's your turn to know..."
Yobu bent forward and handed the object to Alsten. He received it and studied it carefully.
Its weight pressed his hands down perfectly. The heaviness felt more like a feature than a burden. The silver surface of the long metal reflected the sky flawlessly.
"...who you are."
It didn't take long for Alsten to realize what he was holding was a greatsword in its beautiful scabbard.
If the sheath itself was this pretty, he couldn't wait to see the actual sword. He pulled it out slowly, the metal sliding against the soft material of the scabbard produced a beautiful hum.
The sturdy but sharp, silvery sword revealed itself, shining brightly under the sun. Alsten raised it to the sky almost instinctively.
"Alsten, you are the hero who will save the world."