Capítulo 320: Across History (Cultist Simulator Self Insert) by Witherbrine26
Cultist Simulator fics are not common a sı fic about that particular fiction even more so let's see where this goes
Words: 16k+
Links: https://forums.spacebattles.com/threads/across-history-cultist-simulator-self-insert.1133401/
(In which a young man is dragged across History into a world he has seen before and must explore the House of the Sun)
A New World and Old Time
I was walking the streets of Vienna, a smile on my lips as I breathed in the cool air. It was Christmas time, and I had talked to my parents and managed to get a day free on the streets of this city.
It was simply beautiful. I didn't understand the intricacies of architecture, but I could find joy in the sheer age of these buildings and how they stood the test of time.
I checked my red hoodie's pocket to ensure my phone was still there. I didn't expect it to be gone, but at this point, it was a habit to run a thumb across the back every few minutes.
I had some money in case I needed it, but I wasn't expecting to buy anything except maybe a cup of hot chocolate. My extended family had pointed out a reasonably good place to buy drinks the other day, and a warm drink was always lovely.
Making up my mind, I started heading towards that cafe. I was forced to double back and check street signs a few more times than I would admit when talking about this later, but I eventually managed to find my way.
Stepping inside, I smiled at how the heat caused my fingertips to tingle as I joined the small line that formed. A few minutes later, I spoke in halting German and, after exchanging some money, had a nice cup of hot chocolate.
I wasn't the best at German but knew enough to get by, even if casual conversation was difficult. Heading back outside, I sat at one of the tables and leaned back in the chair.
Taking a sip of the steaming drink, I coughed slightly. It was hot, and I tended to drink such things too fast. Taking in a breath of cold air, I set the drink down; a minute or two of cold air should have it warm instead of steaming hot.
Sticking my hands in my pockets, I found my gaze trailing over the people in the street when I noticed something. It was a figure dressed in brilliant magenta robes looking around in confusion. He seemed baffled and confused, so I picked up my drink and walked over. There was no reason why I couldn't offer a bit of help, even if he was somewhat weird.
"Hello, can I help you, sir?" I asked in German, to which he blinked up at me, seemingly noticing me only as I spoke to him. "ah, what day is it?" he asked in broken German.
"21st of December," I told him, and it was only at that moment that I noticed his hands, which he had carefully been keeping in his pockets, slipped out and were stained with a red fluid that looked like blood.
As the man snarled to himself and swore in a language I didn't know, French, maybe, I took steps back. I didn't know who he was, but talking to somebody who had blood on their hands was terrible news.
He then looked up at me, slowly backing away, and furrowed his brow in confusion before looking down at his hands. He then sighed, and as I turned around, I heard a strange noise that almost sounded like the fluttering of nascent wings, and everything went black.
I woke up to a dry mouth and a pain across my wrists. Blinking my eyes, I saw the magenta-robed main flipping through a well-worn book as he drew on my now bare chest.
"Please, I didn't do anything," I whimpered as I tried to free my wrists from the rope used to tie my hands to this chair. I didn't know all that much about ropework, but from how I was picking at them and it was working, I assumed he was likely not expecting to be working for long.
As his words in some older language sped up, I caught faint half-remembered words of Latin and sped up, trying to free my hands. I didn't know what the hell was going on, but I didn't want to get involved with some cultist.
As his voice peaked and he moved the elegant dagger just above my chest, I managed to free my hands. Stumbling to my feet, heedless of the dagger now drawing blood on my bare chest, I took a swing; while I was no fighter, I had a few inches on him, and so my fist took him in the face.
Stumbling back, he shouted in the earlier language he had sworn in and clenched his nose. I couldn't feel any pain in my chest from the dagger as I reached down and picked it up; lunging forward with it, I buried it in his ribs.
As his blood rushed out, I felt bile climb up my throat. My hands were stained, but the man, while injured, was not dead or incapacitated. He tried to wrestle the knife away from me as he shouted in what I suspected to be Latin.
We fought over the knife for what felt like hours but was likely only a few seconds, slicing up my arms while he was protected by his robes, but I managed to gain the upper hand and slam the dagger in his heart.
Twisting it sideways, bile rose in my throat as his warm lifeblood stained my bare chest, and the room seemed to swim around me. It was only as I pushed myself to my shaky feet and noticed that we were not in Veinna and heard the screams of people seeing the dead body that I realized something might be up with that cultist garb he was wearing.
The next few hours were a blur as the cops soon arrived, and I was hauled away still in a daze. One thing I did remember was throwing up my breakfast on one of the officer's shoes, which he did not like, and beyond the ones needed to haul me into the back of some old-timey car.
I simply lay slumped in the back seat, my arm and chest bandaged with my mind in a fog. I was broken out of it when an older fellow sat across the table I was cuffed to and sighed.
"Greetings," he said, a hint of compassion in his eyes as he removed his somewhat ridiculous hat. I had managed to connect a few of the clues on the drive over and was starting to think that I was no longer in Vienna or in 2022.
"Given that you are the victim, no charges will be pressed," he stated, causing me to look up and blink at him, confused. "I killed him, though?" I asked, my voice raspy, to which he waved his hand as if brushing that aside.
"Self-defense," he stated in a tone that told me the manner had been settled. "Now, do you know anything about the man?" he asked, leading me to close my eyes and think what I could remember about him.
"He seemed confused and spoke in another language, French and Latin, maybe?" I told him, causing him to nod as he scribbled that down in a little notebook. "Anything else?" he asked to which I shook my head no. He sighed in a manner that suggested he suspected such a thing.
"Very well then, you're free to go. I would recommend staying with a friend," he said, unlocking my handcuffs. I kept my mouth shut because mentioning that I was from another country or, even worse, another year was likely to end poorly.
The next few minutes were filled with the paperwork that involved signing me out, and soon enough, I was out on the streets wearing my sweatpants, sneakers, and nothing else.
The weather was cold, and I knew if I tried to stay out at night, I would likely end up dead. However, I didn't know anybody here in what I was coming to suspect was London.
Taking a deep breath of cold air, I closed my eyes; I would try to wander about for a bit and see if I could find a place to stay for the night. I wandered through the darkening streets of London, my fingers growing colder as my eyes and ears grew red, until I nearly ran into a woman closing up what appeared to be a bookstore.
She looked to be in her mid-fifties with her grey hair tied up in a bun. She wore a simple blouse and long skirt, both a drab grey and a pair of well-made glasses perched on her nose.
"Oh, dear," she said, shaking her head as she grabbed my numb hand, "Come inside, and I'll get you something warm to drink," she told me, too cold to argue. I stumbled after her and soon ended up nearly swallowed by a plush seat and drinking warm tea.
"Going by your dress, I assume you don't have anywhere to stay?" she asked as she took a sip from her cup of tea. My slowly warming hands were clasped around my tea.
"Yes," I told her, nearly inhaling the tea as the hot liquid traveled down my throat and into my stomach, where it warmed me from the inside. Smiling, I sank further into the seat as I watched the lady. I didn't think she would try anything, but I had already been attacked once today and bore the wounds to prove it, so I wanted to be safe.
"In light of that, I am willing to offer you a place to stay and some work until you are able to get on your feet," she said, setting down her tea cup with a soft clink as she looked me dead on.
I coughed slightly on my drink in response before thumping my hand on my chest twice to clear any leftover drink. "Why?" I asked, setting my own drink down.
She only smiled softly, "Why should I not help somebody if I am able? Besides, I am getting on in my years and could use some help," she told me, and I eyed her somewhat skeptically.
However, I didn't really have any other choice; I wasn't all that good at manual labor, and trying to get another job in London would likely not pan out well.
In addition, I was known to the cops. While it was unlikely they remembered me all that much about me, given how apathetic they seemed, I didn't want to be caught attempting to steal anything, which is very likely how I would end up if I refused her offer.
"Very well," I said, provoking a smile as she reached out a hand to seal the deal. "Morland," she said as we shook hands, a small smile curling up on her face. "Aidan, it is a pleasure, Ms. Morland," I replied.
"Now, let's get you settled in. You'll need a new shirt, and I do believe I have a few spares," she said, leading me upstairs. The next thirty minutes were spent with her, making sure I had enough clothes and ensuring what was clearly a long unused room was properly cleaned for me to sleep in.
"Now you'll eat with me in the morning. The shop opens at eight, and you'll be manning the counter. If somebody asks for me by name, just ring the bell. You'll close at eight, and then we will have dinner. You'll be paid every Sunday. Do you have any questions?" she rattled off, and when I shook my head, she nodded.
"Wonderful, now get some sleep. Tomorrow's going to be a busy day." She said before turning around and heading to her own room. Walking back inside my own small room, I closed the door behind me and sat down, dropping my head in my hands.
I was in what I assumed to be London very clearly, at least a hundred years in the past. There was some form of magic, given that the magenta-robed man had managed this entire deal in the first place.
I also had nothing from home except my sweatpants, shoes, and socks, given that the man had stolen my shirt, hoodie, and phone, which also held my money.
I didn't know how deep this magic went, but I needed to get a bit of money before I started poking around, and Ms. Morland was nice enough to give me a place to stay.
Unfortunately, I didn't have anything to jam under the door in this room, and I didn't think heading out to grab something for that purpose would be a good idea. That meant I would have to just sleep lightly so she wouldn't be able to jump me if she planned anything.
Crawling under the covers, I rolled so I faced the door and shut my eyes. I would need to get sleep tonight if I wanted to work well in the morning; however, sleep that night was hard to find.
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