Reincarnated As The Side Character

The rabbit half beastkin leaned in, her amber eyes observing Maxwell with an intensity that felt almost piercing. After a moment, she snapped her fingers, summoning a small portal above her hand. From it, a strange looking tablet dropped into her hands. Juno caught it effortlessly and began fiddling with the device.

Director of Regione Novem, echoed in Maxwell's mind. He could only assume that Juno held a position of importance. However, what caught his attention even more were her distinct rabbit features. Despite her human appearance, the tall, twitching rabbit ears atop her head stood out, making her seem like a perfect blend of human and rabbit.

"He doesn't have amnesia. In fact, he's perfectly healthy," Juno said confidently, snapping her fingers once more. The portal reappeared, taking the tablet as it vanished from sight.

"Huh, really? That's odd. He doesn't remember anything except waking up in the plains outside of Calla Lily," Sidgroth said.

"But there's one thing that stands out," Juno said with a sigh, her tone shifting to one of curiosity. "You see, all of us have a distinct energy frequency—it's essentially a marker of where we originate from. For example, the energy frequency for people in this world is typically low, around one hundred. However, his frequency and his little monster's is in the hundreds of thousands."

"Are you saying he's not from this world?" Sidgroth asked.

"That's one theory," Juno added, her tone thoughtful. "But considering his brain activity is no different from a baby's, it suggests that he has no memories at all—almost as if he only just started living and breathing moments ago."

"But how come I remember my name and Gladiolus's name?" Maxwell interjected, his voice filled with confusion. "Also, I had a strange vision not long ago," Maxwell continued. "I saw someone who looked like me, but older, and I heard this weird voice."

"Well, then you should probably head to the nearest nuthouse and stay there," Juno said with a smirk. "But seriously," Juno said, adjusting her glasses, "like Sidgroth mentioned earlier, you're not from this world. In fact, you're from a completely different universe."

"A completely different universe?!" Sidgroth exclaimed in disbelief.

"That's right," Juno replied, "I'll keep it brief. You see, in the Winterlands, there are two anomalies that exist. My mother called them the Crucible and the Rift."

"The Rift serves as a boundary between different universes—or even inaccessible realms within our own," Juno explained, her voice steady. "It acts as a barrier, preventing worlds from intermingling."

She paused for a moment, then continued, "The Crucible, on the other hand, seems to function like a key or gateway to the Rift. It's a means of accessing and traversing between these realms."

"So, I'm not from this world... or even this universe?" Maxwell asked, still trying to process the information.

"That's definitely the case," Juno replied. Her amber eyes scanned Maxwell as if trying to unravel the mystery of his existence. "Of course, there's always the possibility that you're just some sort of anomaly, a freak with an entirely unique energy frequency for no apparent reason, but who knows?" She sighed.

"And if you'd prefer," Juno added with a smirk, her tone light but sharp, "I could always throw you right into the rift. See if another universe suits you better. Might be an upgrade—who knows?" She leaned back slightly, clearly amused by the idea, but her tone suggested she was only half-joking.

"Don't mind her, that's just how she is," Sidgroth said with a chuckle, shaking his head at Juno's antics. He turned back to Maxwell, his tone more serious. "But, kid, what are your plans now? And before you ask, Juno here is one of the smartest people on this planet. If she says something, I believe it to be true." He glanced over at Juno with a nod of respect, making it clear that he trusted her insight without question.

"I don't know," Maxwell admitted. "What am I supposed to be doing now?" He looked at Sidgroth, then at Juno, his look searching for some kind of guidance. "I don't even know who I am, where I belong, or why I'm here. How am I supposed to figure out what to do next?"

"Kid, I don't know why you were brought here," Sidgroth began, his tone firm but not unkind, "but maybe, this is a second chance, a gift from the deities themselves." He placed a strong, reassuring hand on Maxwell's shoulder. "Who you decide to be, what path you choose to take, that's all on you. No one else can make that call for you. This is your life, Maxwell, and it's up to you to make it worth something."

Tears welled up in Maxwell's eyes, falling down his cheeks as a sense of nostalgia swept over him. The feeling was distant yet familiar, as though it was from a life he could no longer fully remember. His voice trembled slightly as he spoke. "I understand, Sidgroth," he said, wiping his face with the back of his hand. "If it's not too much to ask, I'd like to stay with you for a while... at least until I figure out what I'm meant to do."

Sidgroth nodded, his expression softening. "You're welcome to stay as long as you need, kid. We'll figure things out together."

Juno interjected with a smirk, "and while we're at it, how about I take that monster of yours for a bit? It's practically a brand-new species on this planet, and I'd love to study it up close."

Gladiolus growled low, instinctively stepping closer to Maxwell as if understanding the implication.

Sidgroth rubbed his temples and sighed. "Juno, I appreciate your help, but this isn't the time. Thanks for everything, but I think it's best if you leave now."

"Very well, " she said, waving a hand dismissively. "But don't come crying to me when you're overrun with questions you can't answer." She turned around and headed for the door. "Good luck, Maxwell," she added, glancing over her shoulder with a sly grin. "You're going to need it in this unforgiving universe of ours."

With that, she disappeared out the door, leaving the room.

The next morning, Sidgroth woke up early as was his routine. He dressed quickly, strapping on his gear for another day of patrolling Calla Lily. The quiet streets would soon awaken and as the town's protector, he would make sure everything was in order.

Meanwhile, in the guest room, Maxwell remained asleep. Gladiolus lay curled up on the floor beside him, his large body rising and falling with each breath, ever vigilant even in its sleep. A rare moment of peace in a world that was still so foreign to Maxwell.

Sidgroth walked into the room, his heavy boots thudding against the wooden floor as he dropped his warhammer with a echoing clang. The sudden noise jolted both Maxwell and Gladiolus awake. Maxwell sat up groggily, rubbing his eyes, while Gladiolus let out a low growl, his ears twitching in irritation.

"Kid," Sidgroth began, his tone as gruff as ever, "I'm heading out to do my usual patrol. You can join me later if you feel like it. Though, I'd strongly suggest you spend some time figuring out how to use your Ornament at even the most basic level. The power to influence luck? That sounds like it could be incredibly strong, if you learn how to control it."

He hoisted his warhammer onto his back, before heading toward the door.

After lying in bed for about half an hour, Maxwell finally decided to get up. He had spent enough time staring at the ceiling, trying to make sense of everything that had happened to him. With a quiet sigh, he pushed himself up from the bed and swung his legs to the side, his feet hitting the cool wooden floor.

He looked around the room again, taking in the strange yet welcoming surroundings. Sidgroth's house, large and well-maintained. Maxwell stretched, his muscles still stiff from the previous day's events, and slowly made his way to the door. He needed a change of scenery. He needed to clear his head.

Stepping outside into the backyard, the yard itself was large, filled with patches of vibrant grass and wildflowers. His eyes wandered across the backyard until they landed on a building at the very end of the yard that stood out among its surroundings. The structure resembled a warehouse, with large wooden beams supporting a heavy, slanted roof. Maxwell walked towards it, the dirt path crunching under his feet as he made his way inside.

The interior was spacious and bare, with tall walls lined with training equipment and tools scattered around. It didn't take long for Maxwell to realize this was likely where Sidgroth trained, probably when he wasn't busy defending Calla Lily or dealing with other matters. Heavy punching bags hung from the ceiling, some of them worn from years of use. Weapons, from simple wooden staffs to much more intimidating blades, leaned against the walls. A large, marked training mat took up the center of the room.

Maxwell stepped further inside, hoping to find something that might give him a clue on how to unlock his own potential.

Maxwell's gaze shifted from the scattered training equipment to a particular object in the corner of the room. A mace, a heavy, spiked weapon that looked strikingly similar to Sidgroth's warhammer, though this one had its own unique design. Its dark, steel head glinted in the dim light as if calling to him. There was something about its design, its weight, that drew Maxwell closer, an instinctive pull deep within him.

Without thinking, Maxwell reached out and grasped the weapon's handle. The moment his hands closed around it, a wave of familiarity swept over him. The weight of the mace felt natural in his grip, as though he had wielded one countless times before. The handle, worn and smooth, seemed to fit his hand like a glove. The cold steel of the spiked head sent a chill up his arm, but it wasn't uncomfortable. No, there was a strange, almost comforting sense to it.

His fingers tightened around the grip as if it were second nature. He swung the mace through the air in an arc, the motion fluid, effortless. Maxwell paused, his breath catching in his chest. The sensation was so vivid, so real, as though his body remembered how to use the weapon without his conscious mind directing it.

There was no logical explanation for it, no reason why a mace should feel so familiar to him. He had never trained with such a weapon before—at least, not in this life. But the memory, the muscle memory, it was all there. The weight, the balance, the way the mace moved with him, it was as though he had wielded it in a previous life, long before he found himself in this unfamiliar world.

Maxwell lowered the mace, staring at it in wonder. His mind filled with questions that seemed impossible to answer. Why does this feel so familiar? He wondered. Could this be another piece of my past, a part of me that's somehow carried over from another time, another life?

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of Gladiolus's soft growl from the doorway. The large creature stood there, watching him intently with glowing yellow eyes, as if sensing the change in Maxwell's demeanor.

"I don't know what this means, Gladiolus," he muttered under his breath, still holding the mace. "But this... this feels right. Like I've done this before."

Maxwell's yellow aura engulfed the mace in its energy, his Ornament infusing with it. "Looks like my body agrees, this is the weapon for me. But now what to name my Ornament." He paused, considering.

"The Color of Luck..."