[The Narrator has rewritten the story]
Confused I may have been at the system's statement, I could not be stuck with my thoughts any further.
The chic man named George was first to depart from the train, which landed roughly, the train's carts stacked on top of each other.
We were lucky that we had even survived.
George said:
"Follow me."
We followed suit.
Around us was a dim-lit cave of dirt and stone, with torches on each side that did not even help with enlightening the cave. Once in a while, one of us would trip on the crevices of the rocky ground.
George began, "The seven of us will, of course," he rubbed his itchy nose with the flat of his finger as he said so, "struggle in communicating with this nephilim but it will be all worth it. The Art of Languages will help you in the long run."
The Art of Languages.
I was now aware where we were headed to.
But, I wasn't sure if it had already been taken by a certain Junhan Jang.
See, Junhan grew up illiterate and only learned how to read and write through his comrades in The Federation. So, while he may be a great leader, he had a hard time memorizing sayings. Though, that was before he went blind.
So, with the help of the manuscript, Art of Languages, he is able to learn sayings in a more swift manner.
The thing is, from what I recall from my writing, he had already taken it before Ben descended from the moon to earth.
That doesn't mean that this journey will have been fruitless, though.
This nephilim held two types of language manuscripts.
One is mainly for verbal sayings, but with the addition of learning language quickly. That is the Art of Languages.
The other is the Art of Runic Codes, wherein the bearer of the manuscript can understand the most common of code-style languages like morse code.
This specific manuscript is what I'm hoping to get.
What's more is that the bearer of Art of Runic Codes can manifest their own code language, such as the tapping of rain. If the bearer can hear the rhythm of the rain, they can manifest their own comprehension into the tapping sound if that makes sense.
Whispers of curiosity spread like waves among us.
A brown-haired man raised his arm like a schoolboy.
"Uncle George, you are mistaken. Benedict isn't with us, so there should only be six of us."
This perked the interest of mine and the others.
The old man coughed and rubbed his neck.
"My mistake." Then, he counted our heads. "One, two, three…That's strange. Benedict isn't with us and yet there are seven of us."
The same brown-haired man stood away from the crowd. Then he pointed to himself, "Chris, Harriet, Richard, Beatrice, George, Reverie, and Jack."
Now, I was even more interested.
I had thought that the system that I received from my being first to join the rounds was nothing but useless junk that narrated my story.
But, was I actually wrong?
Though I did not understand the extent of its abilities, one thing is for certain, the Narrator is not against me, but is actually on my side.
I just hope that I won't collapse or have another panic attack like I did the first time I heard its voice.
But, never mind that, this brown-haired boy knew of my name.
Did the resurrected Justin tell him? But he had no chance as to how fast the pacing of our journey was.
"We've been under your care since junior high, Uncle George," said the unfamiliar Chris, the brown-haired male. "Perhaps your age is getting to you?"
George took a gulp of saliva.
Then he muttered, as if intending the words for him only.
"No, no. I was certain that there were only six of us, not including Benedict."
The Narrator, I assumed, had altered their memories to include me.
As the writer of Imperfect Knight, even I did not recall every character.
But now, both fictional and real life stood in front of me, making me wonder if I'd always been part of the story or was the reality I once experienced was phony and just another ability of the Narrator.
I was bewildered, to put it simply, and a little annoyed.
People I don't know were acting as though we have known each other for decades.
—Chris, who stood in front and whom Reverie had been classmates with since elementary, looked behind him to take a glance at his companions.
It was as though the Narrator was convincing itself that I was part of the story.
When I was not.
It was unsettling and creepy.
From the hole we had made, I saw an orange beam of light, crickets cooed.
It must have been noon by now. According to a dead religion, noon time was when the demons wander.
After a few meters of walking, we stopped in front of a five-meter silver-blue door.
George knocked on it but it only left craters of his knuckles.
Before it, sunken ancient hieroglyphics were hollowed out.
The torches began to be lit brighter. To the point that the soft metal door with a low melting point liquified into the hollowed letters, revealing a wooden door of the same height.
I could not speak as I stared at the letters while a ring resounded from the system.
[You have unlocked an attribute!]
My past course before shifting to nursing had been linguistics, but I had never questioned why I didn't have the attribute while I had [Nurse].
[The rare attribute, Linguist, has been given]
The characters were unfamiliar to me, that is the truth.
But for some reason, mainly due to the attribute I had received, I had managed to read it.
It was the opening line of Imperfections of a Knight.
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User
↳ Reverie Vickroy Schneider
Attributes
↳ Nurse (Uncommon), Ghostwriter (Rare), Linguist (Rare)
Sayings
↳ An eye for an eye, a leg for a leg
-When using this saying, you must sacrifice something of your own. This saying enlarges any body part and gives either physical strength or mental strength. It will also give you points depending on the part sacrificed.
Anomaly
↳
Skills
↳ Strength Level 15
↳ Agility Level 3
↳ Endurance Level 6
↳ Word Level 17
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