The Masked Virtuoso-Chapter 105: A Riftborn in Ancient Times

The Struggle of Ancient Fashion (Ethan vs. Clothes – A Battle for Dignity)

Ethan Cross had rewritten existence itself. He had denied fate, punched out gods, and stood at the peak of creation.

But none of that prepared him for the soul-crushing experience of ancient fashion.

Inside the tailor’s shop—a **tiny, dimly lit wooden structure filled with musty cloth and suspiciously creaky floors—**Ethan stood like a prisoner waiting for execution.

The elderly tailor, a wrinkled old man with a permanent scowl, poked at Ethan’s shirt like it had personally offended him.

"This fabric..." The old man clicked his tongue. "It is like nothing I have ever seen."

Ethan crossed his arms. "That’s because it’s from the future. Ever heard of jeans?"

The old man squinted. "...Gene?"

Ethan sighed. "Never mind."

Kael, standing beside him with his usual unreadable expression, gestured toward a pile of rough, ancient-looking tunics and cloaks. "Choose one."

Ethan eyed the pile with deep distrust. The fabric looked stiff, itchy, and at least 70% made of sadness.

"...This feels like it was woven by the hands of pure suffering."

The tailor gave him a blank stare. "It is linen."

Ethan picked up a tunic and held it at arm’s length, his expression filled with regret. "Linen? You sure? Because this feels like something you’d use to scrub dirty floors."

Kael let out a slow breath. "It is the finest cloth available."

Ethan dramatically placed a hand on his heart. "If this is the finest, I fear for the worst."

The old tailor scowled. "Are you here to buy, or to complain?"

Ethan sighed. "You know what? Fine. Let’s get this over with."

Step 1: The Ancient Outfit Change

Ethan reluctantly pulled on the tunic, followed by a dark cloak draped over his shoulders. A thick belt wrapped around his waist, where a sword would go—if he actually had one.

He turned toward a bronze mirror propped against the wall.

Ethan’s reflection stared back.

"...Huh." He adjusted the belt. "Okay. I actually look kinda cool."

Kael nodded. "It is acceptable."

Ethan frowned. "That’s way too low-energy. Give me something better."

Kael blinked. "...You look like a warrior."

Ethan smirked. "That’s more like it."

Then—he frowned again. "But when I get my powers back, I’m burning this outfit first."

Kael sighed. "You complain too much."

Ethan folded his arms. "Kael, buddy, you don’t understand. My last outfit was made from cosmic threads, woven by the very essence of the Rift." He grabbed the tunic’s sleeve. "This feels like a medieval potato sack."

Kael ignored him and turned to the tailor. "We will take it."

The old man nodded. "Five silver coins."

Ethan’s smug confidence vanished instantly. "Wait. Hold up. Money?"

Kael frowned. "Did you think it was free?"

Ethan scowled. "I don’t know, man! I used to be a literal god. I never needed a budget."

Kael sighed. "I will pay."

Ethan beamed. "Kael, you’re a real one."

Kael didn’t respond.

Ethan turned to the tailor. "Do you do refunds?"

The tailor scowled. "Get out."

Ethan pouted. "Fine. But if this thing starts itching later, I’m coming back to haunt you."

The old man waved him away.

And just like that—Ethan was officially dressed for ancient times.

---

The Kingdom of Solmara – History 101 (Ethan Learns Why Everyone Sucks at Diplomacy)

Ethan adjusted his belt, trying to get used to the ancient gear, as he followed Kael through the crowded streets.

"So," Ethan said, ducking under a hanging row of dried fish. "Tell me about this kingdom. What kind of nightmare am I stuck in?"

Kael gave him a sideways glance. "The land is ruled by three major powers."

1. The Kingdom of Solmara – The strongest empire, ruled by King Aldric.

2. The Northern Tribes – A faction of warriors who worship the Rift, rumored to possess strange abilities.

3. The Dominion of Valtor – A rival nation ruled by an immortal king.

Ethan raised an eyebrow. "Immortal king?"

Kael nodded. "It is said he drank the blood of a god."

Ethan whistled. "Damn. Hardcore."

Kael ignored him. "Solmara has been at war with the Northern Tribes for decades."

Ethan frowned. "Okay, so let me guess. Nobody here understands diplomacy?"

Kael shook his head. "The strong survive. The weak perish."

Ethan sighed dramatically. "Man, history books left out the part where everyone sucked at negotiating."

Kael continued. "The Rift has divided the world for generations. The Northern Tribes believe it is a gift from the gods. Solmara sees it as a threat."

Ethan rolled his eyes. "Yeah, classic. Either worship it or destroy it. No in-between."

Kael nodded. "The King has ordered all Rift-related artifacts to be confiscated. Those who oppose are executed."

Ethan raised an eyebrow. "That’s not extreme at all."

Kael ignored the sarcasm. "You should be careful. If they learn where you truly came from..."

Ethan smirked. "They’ll probably try to burn me at the stake."

Kael didn’t deny it.

Ethan sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Alright, cool. Kingdom full of paranoid soldiers, an immortal blood-drinking king, and a bunch of cultists who think the Rift is divine. What could possibly go wrong?"

Kael glanced at him. "Everything."

Ethan grinned. "Oh, I like that energy. Keep it up."

Kael sighed.

---

Meeting Princess Lysara (And Immediately Regretting It)

As they turned a corner, Ethan bumped into someone.

A woman.

Her hand instantly went to the dagger at her waist.

Ethan raised his hands. "Whoa, easy! Don’t stab me. I’m allergic to dying."

The woman had raven-black hair tied into a braid, piercing emerald eyes, and a presence that screamed ’royalty.’ Her armor was far more ornate than Kael’s, and the soldiers behind her stood at attention.

Kael immediately bowed. "Princess Lysara."

Ethan paused.

Princess?

...Oh.

Oh no.

Lysara looked Ethan up and down, unimpressed. "Who is this?"

Kael remained formal. "He is my guest."

Lysara’s eyes narrowed. "And where did you find him? He dresses like a madman."

Ethan crossed his arms. "Wow. Rude."

Lysara tilted her head. "Is he dangerous?"

Ethan grinned. "Extremely."

Kael sighed. "He is not a threat."

Lysara didn’t look convinced. "Good. If he is, I will personally remove his head."

Ethan blinked. "Damn, y’all really just execute people over fashion choices, huh?"

Lysara didn’t answer. She simply turned to leave.

But before she walked away—

She shot Ethan one last look.

One of curiosity.

Then, she was gone.

Ethan exhaled. "Whew. Okay. Not dead. Yet."

Kael shook his head. "You should be careful around her."

Ethan smirked. "What, does she have a history of stabbing guys like me?"

Kael’s expression didn’t change. "No. She has a history of winning wars."

Ethan’s smirk faltered. "Oh. Well... good for her."

---

To Be Continued...