Prospect For Reincarnation: From Common Fodder To Calamity

(A/N: This is the only chapter written in First Person).

"Please, I beg of you! Please spare my family! I'll do anything! I'll give you anything!" the man whom I presume is a husband to the quivering woman behind him, and a father to the ghastly pale boy of probably no more than ten years, clutching his arm viciously, screams.

I sigh.

There is nothing this man can offer me that can change his fate, after all, I am after his and his family's lives.

His pleas only make me grip my saber tighter.

Let me get this over with.

The longer they stare at me like this – with terror and dwindling hope – the more upset I become. But I do not show it with my face.

I raise my saber and take a step forward, an action that the man before me responds to by burning away the pathetic, torn visage he has had on all this time, and donning a feral one.

A desperate one.

He lunges at me while calling for his wife and son to escape, but his attempt, while admirable for a common man, does not amount to much.

I seize him by the neck of his tunic, knock him against the wall, and jam my saber violently into his chest.

The odd look he gives me now – one of shock – without a single word leaving his mouth, melts against the heartless demons that I carry. I have seen endless templates of the same face for twenty years.

I am numb to it.

Behind me, the man's wife lets out a blood-curdling screech at the sight of what I have done and heaves a wooden chair which she bashes into my back. She hits me repeatedly in the name of her husband, while her son backs away in horror, his eyes planted on his father's quivering figure.

I wish I can find enough sympathy to care, and reason enough to not deliver the same cruel fate on these two.

I don't.

The woman's head rolls a moment later, while her husband's body, no longer pinned to the wall by my saber, slumps to the floor.

The boy who remains is frozen stiff.

I imagine he can't quite process the image of his mother's head standing upright by the stump of its neck on the floor, staring him dead in the eye.

For a moment, I think he will go mad, but he doesn't. He sits motionlessly as I behead him too.

I sigh.

Am I to say "Job well done" now?

I set to leave the small house when a croaking voice calls out to me.

"C-curse y... you."

I turn my head.

The man. He still has breath enough to speak, though I can see that he is quickly fading.

"Curse you! Spawn... of evil!"

His words mean nothing to me. I've heard countless versions of them.

Before he passes, I give him the same response I've given to all those who came before him.

"Blame my King. I'm just a messenger."

As I make my exit, a fellow soldier, decked in the same unimpressive silver set of armor as me, gives me a nod, cackles with glee, and throws a flaming torch to the thatched roof of the house, setting it ablaze.

I watch for a moment, as greedy gold and crimson devours the shelter, before following the dozens from my platoon all around the village, killing and burning in a cycle that almost feels unending...

Inescapable.

*

We've returned to camp.

There wasn't much to do today.

No skilled warriors from our foes' side could have predicted that foot soldiers like me would be sent to eradicate small villages in their nation while they were forced to weather the tide of renowned warriors from our side.

To be honest, neither side cares for the 'general kind.'

His Majesty often rebukes taking prisoners.

That is an outlook you must adopt to thrive in his army.

I can't say I have been proud to soak it up as well. It's become a part of me, yet I'm different from my comrades, at least those who rank higher than me.

They are all bloodthirsty fiends that turn fierce in the presence of skilled enemies and innocents alike. It is as though evil spirits have replaced their souls.

I don't believe in the supernatural though.

That evil is all just human.

The stark difference between how most of them, arrive as recruits and how they devolve into madmen is nothing short of a miracle. I should know. I have served for twenty years in His Majesty's army without promotion.

It's all I have.

My life was nothing before this.

I grew up well, with loving parents.

I had friends, and ambitions, though nowadays I find it hard to recall what they were – both of them.

What I do know is that I lost everything I had one day and only got to keep my life intact.

I imagine that the same cruelty I just served hours ago was the cause – I can't quite remember – and perhaps I got devoured by it.

Is this my way of making up for it? Giving life a rude hand gesture by exacting the same fate on others?

Is it just me venting my worthlessness?

Perhaps not.

I feel nothing when I do it.

It's kill or be killed.

I am the King's servant, sworn to his service.

I've already made peace with the possibility of dying in battle.

Dying a worthless death.

I bear no animosity.

The camp is as messy, as rancid, and as disorderly as you can imagine. At least that is how it looks for a lowly foot soldier like me. I have no aptitude for growth, so I remain as a fifty-five-year-old veteran among younglings – with no name of his own, only several mocking monikers.

Still, I am quite knowledgeable. While thousands of the same rank have died, I have managed to master simple tactics and basic combat techniques that flirt best with Lady Luck.

All in all, it isn't that bad.

*

It's night.

The usual brawls can be spotted here and there.

I've eaten my bowl of the nasty goop that qualifies as a foot soldier's staple food.

I'm ready for bed.

Ready for another day in the cruel cycle.

I remember falling asleep, but something wakes me up. There's a noise, for one.

Then there's something heavy on top of me, and something sharp lodged into my throat.

One of the soldiers is lying on top of me, and his knife has found its way into my neck.

I start to choke.

The pain is as excruciating as I imagined it to be when I inflicted it on others.

I instinctively try to drag the knife out while pushing the soldier away. It's no good. The man is limp. He's dead.

Another soldier standing a few paces away turns and walks off.

I want to struggle.

I want to resist.

But what's the point?

I'm done for.

Besides, do I really want to wake up tomorrow and continue to carry out the ambitions of a wealthy, vicious man who doesn't give a damn about all that I do in his service?

No. I don't.

Ah, it hurts. It hurts so bad!

Blood spews from my mouth.

It tastes worse than I remember.

Well, I suppose it's a fitting end.

No glory. No honor.

I die as collateral to a stupid brawl.

I actually manage to let out a ridiculing laugh in this state.

What a worthless existence.

.

.

.

Something's setting off a bright light.

Is it the sun?

No.

I died.

I died, right?

Definitely.

I try to open my eyes.

I can't.

I don't think I have eyes, or a body for that matter.

There's only darkness and that flashing light over yonder.

What is this?

Then an answer comes.

This same flashing light broadens and an oddly inhumane voice cries joyously:

|Welcome to the carriage towards 'Prospect For Reincarnation'!|

|You will formally be referred to as 'Incarnate ^8001' from now on!|

|Please try to keep your wits, if you have any, and choose wisely as you pass along!|

|Happy trails!|

Incarnate ^8001.

He didn't know what that meant, but he was more concerned about the bizarre phenomenon happening around him.

What was that voice?

What was happening to him?

What was that light?

He wanted to speak, but it seemed his form of existence at present was too abstract. Not abstract enough for him to exist without emotion though.

He began to panic as a normal person placed in this situation would.

Thankfully, it didn't seem like he was trapped here.

The dark surroundings suddenly whirled, and by some identifiable metric, he managed to understand that he was moving. He was falling at a controlled speed.

A moment later, everything changed.

An odd space covered his entire view.

It was what seemed like a small room.

All of its dimensions – which assumed a perfect cubical shape together – spotted the same twilight fog hue, with no distinction from anything up, down, left, or right.

Bizarre.

Really bizarre.

There was only silence in this place for a while.

An uncomfortable silence that threatened to persist for eternity.

However, it was suddenly shattered when the oddly inhumane voice came again, speaking in a joyous tone.

|You have successfully passed into an 'Isolated Foyer of New Beginnings', an establishment within the 'Prospect For Reincarnation'!|

|'Incarnate ^8001', please listen carefully. Your fears and questions are about to be addressed|

|You have died and have been judged to be eligible for a process that is supported by this Universal Facility known as 'Reincarnation'|

|You currently exist as a pre-Incarnate while we inform and evaluate you. When all proceedings are completed, you will be given a body for the following processes, becoming a full Incarnate|

|For the process of Incarnation to proceed, a stringent set of deliberations has been to be conducted, and it hinges on what choices you will make|

There was a pause.

The one being addressed was stunned.

This was a lot to digest.

Reincarnation?

Incarnation?

The words were oddly presented in a way that allowed his existence to understand as soon as the odd voice made mention of them – after all his prior knowledge and context didn't suffice.

He also got an adequate appreciation of the nuance as well, though this did not aid his ability to believe how this was even possible.

This was the afterlife?

It was certainly not what he expected.

He expected something more... fiery.

Worse yet, he was promised a chance to gain a new life in another world!

But that only came after he incarnated into a new body, and faced some tests.

Was this all true?

Him? A lowly foot soldier? Gaining another chance?

|There is no partiality in 'Prospect For Reincarnation'. The contents of your past life are only taken into account for the choices that will be presented to you in the initial stages before Incarnation|

|After these choices are presented, and you have chosen your desired path among them, you will pass through TEN FLOORS from one of the infinite variety of Trial Towers that fits your desired path|

|Depending on what you choose, the challenges within the Trial Tower and by extension the Floors, may be predictable and easy, or vexing and impossible, yet they reward accordingly, using HOW you best them as a base|

There was another pause.

The strange voice addressing the new Incarnate seemed to value having those it addressed understand their circumstances and digest the information it gave.

The new Incarnate, stripped of everything from his old life except for vivid memories of it, merely gulped. Rather, he tried to.

What were these choices?

Right then, the voice spoke again.

|First compilation and consideration process ends...|

|What do you aspire to be in your next new life? Please choose from the limited options available:|

A gloating tablet, rather delightful to look at, emerged before the Incarnate's eyes, carrying writing he had never seen.

His vision blurred viciously in the next moment, and he was instantly able to understand it all.

Goodness!

Struck with immense surprise, he found himself reading the contents of the tablet as though they were written in a language from his previous world.

===

Dread Knight – a lone, skilled marauder in a magical world

--

Handsome Blonde Prince – an adored, rich, and envied figure in a natural world

--

Elder Lich – an unparalleled master of harrowing death in a warring world

--

Hateful Demon Tyrant – a powerful, loathed ruler in an ancient world

--

Heroic Ordained Demigod – a half-divine in an endless celestial plane

--

Master Farmer – an enchanter of all crops in a mana-rich world

--

Prodigious Young Master – a talented martial artist in a cultivation world

===

The options were laid out, seven in all.

He... Incarnate ^8001, looked over them, puzzled at first, but quickly getting enlightened by an unseen force for the concepts he wasn't familiar with.

He marveled.

When understanding set in, he became eager, yet also conflicted.

'I can become... any one of these?' he thought, a subtle feeling of exhilaration washing away his earlier fears.

There was the title of who he would be destined to become after 'Reincarnation', and the type of world he would be born into.

The new Incarnate had never even thought of there being different worlds.

Was all this real?

He would have thought he was dreaming, but his mind didn't have the capacity to conjure such an elaborate set-up, so he had no choice but to believe it!

He considered the options closely, afraid that they might disappear.

A Dread Knight? The idea of working alone was appealing at first, but he stripped it away. After twenty years of working with others, he couldn't see a vision of himself living alone, no matter how skilled. What would his purpose as a wandering knight be anyway? Wouldn't he be just as lost as he was in his previous life?

Elder Lich? Master of death? Even though the recurring odd sense of understanding helped him see that the power to use dead men as his warriors was rather powerful, he did not quite like it. He had spent his previous killing and losing comrades. The least he had learned from it was to let the dead rest in peace.

What would he killing here though?

Handsome Blonde Prince. The idea didn't particularly speak to the Incarnate. Sure, he would have a better life, but being who he was, he had seen a great number of envied, wealthy people die, even with powerful guards. Would he be able to protect himself? Without that guarantee, he rejected this one.

Hateful Demon Tyrant.

This... the new Incarnate considered.

A ruler? He would be like the King whom he left behind, sending his sworn to die for his ideals if he desired. Better yet, he would be powerful, and be able to fend for himself, which appealed to him a lot, despite the fact that he would be loathed.

But... is this what he really wanted?

Skimming over this, for now, he looked over Heroic Ordained Demigod. This was another enticing option, but it was weighed down when he was made to understand what the celestial plane meant. It related to the divine. Even in his world – normal as it was – there was belief in the divine. What would being born as a half-divine in a place likely to be filled with genuine divines accomplish? It didn't sound reassuring.

Master Farmer was instantly rejected by Incarnate ^8001. He didn't think he could weather trials about farming, something he had never done in his previous life.

Then the last option came into focus.

Much like Hateful Demon Tyrant, he considered it worth thinking about. Being born as a genius appealed to him. Different from what he was in his previous life, he could be something more than the average soldier who clung to and perfected basic skills. He could culture the power to defend himself even if news of his talent spread among enemies!

If he could speak, Incarnate ^8001 would have let out a yell of both frustration and zeal.

His choice didn't take long, however.

The better between the two – for him at least – was quite obvious.

He didn't even need a voice to select it. As soon as he made up his mind, the oddly inhumane voice returned.

|A splendid choice!|

|Thank you for your cooperation!|

|You will be granted your new body and be transported into 'Bahathraden, the Compound Demesne of Fallen Authorities' shortly|

...

|Now leaving the 'Isolated Foyer of New Beginnings'!|

Before the Incarnate could express marvel or surprise, the cubical room of twilight hue vanished as darkness swallowed him again.

The ambiance of an expanse registered.

Then a slight cool.

Something was prompted to react to the environment, which had a coolness to it.

Incarnate ^8001 awakened to the taste of dirt, and the ruthless pelting from grains of what felt like sand to his face.

He blinked a couple of times and then stood up from where he had been lying down.

He felt very stiff, and oddly restrained, as though he had gears that hadn't been oiled in a very long time. Of course, if you asked the new Incarnate what a gear was, he would wear a puzzled face. Perhaps to him, the better analogy would be, that he felt like unwashed armor, full of dirt at the joints.

He stretched subconsciously and found his condition to improve only slightly.

He was still so stiff.

"Why do I feel so...?" he had begun to speak when it finally smote him. "I have a body! I can speak!"

He looked frantically at his body and fondled every part of himself that didn't resist.

He indeed had a body, but it was unlike the one he had in his previous life.

He found himself to now have soft reddish skin that was unusually sensitive, and thin limbs that thankfully looked and felt like those of a human, though marred by dark fingernails and an excess of tendons around the forearms and thighs.

He felt quite tall, at least compared to his old self, but couldn't confirm it just yet. In fact, he couldn't confirm anything else related to him without a reflective surface.

Blinking a couple of times, he had begun to look around when the same glowing tablet from before appeared in his sight.

[Welcome, you have successfully reached 'Bahathraden, Compound Demesne of Fallen Authorities'!]

[You have arrived on the FIRST FLOOR, the Ruins of the Deserted King, Alabas]

"Ruins..." Incarnate ^8001 mouthed.

The Ruins of the Deserted King.

It was an ominous name.

Already, he could feel the reality of what he had learned previously.

Ten Floors.

He had arrived at the first.

As the odd voice had said, it seemed his choice for a path to follow in his new life matched with this place. A territory full of Authorities.

Kings. Emperors. Lords.

The new incarnate had chosen the path of the Demon Tyrant in the end, casting aside the Prodigious Young Master path because while there was the risk of being killed due to the attention, much like the Handsome Blonde Prince's path, he felt much promise in it.

The tag 'powerful' to the path he chose was more attractive to him than 'prodigious'. He had thought the opposite before but had recontextualized his thinking according to the type of world both paths presented.

The latter set him towards a 'cultivation' world, which he was given context to, as with everything else he was unfamiliar with, and he ended up denying the idea in favor of being a powerful ruler in an ancient world.

According to what he understood from the added clarity he gained, a cultivation world had no shortage of genius and prodigies, and while an ancient world would probably have no shortage of powerful people as well, he wasn't just going to be an anybody.

He was going to be a ruler in this ancient world.

Of course, Incarnate ^8001 did not want to be like his old King, but he quite liked the idea of seeing how he would do in a position of power even while loathed. If he had the power to defend himself, he had the luxury to explore everything he desired, right?

He wouldn't necessarily have to rely on his subjects either, and this ancient world he would be plunged into attracted him so much.

What would it hold?

As he dazedly thought of all this, the glowing tablet before him shifted what it displayed, and depicted a string of information that pertained to him.

===

Name : None (Incarnate ^8001)

Privilege : 1

Race : Hollow Demonling

---

Far Ji (Unique Quality) : None

---

STR : 1

AGI : 1

END : 1

---

-???- : 0

---

Kanva (Acquired Skill) :

None

---

SeiJo (Equipment) :

None

===

Incarnate ^8001 looked at the information displayed. He didn't have to dissect it all by himself. The moment he set his eyes on one aspect presented, he understood what it meant.

"So, I don't have a name. I see. Not that different from before," he said, a subtle sullen look on his face. "Hollow Demonling? So, I actually begin as an actual Demon? Well, the word means something different here, I imagine."

His physical attributes were given numerical form in order to easily keep track of them.

STR for physical strength, AGI for speed, and END for Endurance. The last attribute seemed to be inaccessible at the moment, which the new Incarnate found suspicious.

He had noticed this before, but he wasn't given nearly as much information as he would have wanted. Maybe he would be provided with it gradually the more he rose up the floors. Perhaps that's what 'Privilege' on the tablet entailed.

Far Ji, unique quality, confused the Incarnate a bit. What exactly counted as a unique quality? He would have to find out later on.

Kanva was easier to understand. As depicted, it meant acquired skill.

Skills were abilities attainable within the Compound Demesne of Fallen Authorities. It seemed surreal to the Incarnate that he could acquire supernatural abilities. It appeared so illogical and absurd.

How would he acquire these skills? That was, for now, unclear.

Equipment was straightforward. He had none.

Apparently, the lousy brown tunic made of cheap fabric over Incarnate ^8001's body didn't count.

"It's good to know," he said.

With a simple desire to look past the blockage in his vision, it disappeared, leaving him able to see what was ahead of him.

Thick, broken, off-white pillars, supporting nothing but a dark night sky created a corridor before him. Between them was immaculate yet worn stone tiling that abruptly ended to give way for a massive desert marred with broken and destroyed buildings much too large for the average human, as the Incarnate assessed.

They were much like the one he was in right now, though he had to say, the only thing more fascinating than their scale and the setting they sat in, was their beauty.

It was otherworldly.

Incarnate ^8001 walked forward.

Nothing he had seen in his previous life quite matched this.

The foundations of these countless, grand constructs which looked to have housed even more astounding beauty in their prime, before whatever fell and degraded them, were most of what was left.

Incarnate ^8001 stepped on the sand hesitantly.

In the night, it didn't assume its golden valor, but instead looked like a lumpy sea in between the constructs.

A heavy, cool wind walloped the Incarnate and he shivered.

'Cold...' he thought.

There was no moon above, but somehow, there was some dull highlight even for him to see.

He trudged forth, though with more than a little caution.

'It doesn't look like there's anything living here...' he thought, making sure to look in every direction every five seconds. When he could, he would walk through the innards of the broken structures, making sure to look for anything of value.

There was none.

There was no threat either.

This continued to hold true thirty minutes later, as Incarnate ^8001 moved aimlessly.

The only thing of note was that the sand rose higher and higher in the direction he chose to persist in.

'What am I supposed to do here? I imagined I would have to fight or find something,' he thought.

So far, there wasn't any indication that he would find so much as a fly, much less some ancient relic, which left the new Incarnate a little underwhelmed by his first magical experience.

He didn't continue to find the same odd, lifeless structures for long, however, because soon, as he trekked up a particularly high mound of sand two hundred meters from where he had been, while once again being peppered by a ruthless wind carrying silt-like grains, he witnessed a terrifying sight.

Behind the mound, a few paces away, was a massive, conical pit in the sand that ended with the same rugged stone tiling at its visible bottom. Trapped within and around it, were the ancient skeletal remains of hundreds of people – at least they resembled human remains – some wearing tunics much like his, only hideously worn out.

Others were adorned in sets of armour with peculiar branding on their chest plates, or luxurious robes and cloaks.

Many of the skeletons weren't fully intact, as what remained of others were what used to be hands, and for some, heads.

Those among the hundreds with their limbs still attached, had their hands raised, their mouths agape, as though they had died calling for something.

The view of this collective somehow made goosebumps appear on the Hollow Demonling's skin.

'What happened here?' he thought with shock, awe, and an overwhelming sensation of fear.

But this wasn't the worst of it.

There was something on the other side of the pit.

Something he only managed to distinguish from the surroundings after a while.

It was a great statue.

It was quite large, looking to be made of granite, shaped into the form of a fat man with nine, lively eyes on his face which was paused in eternal laughter.

Its body grew from fat to wholly bulbous past the depiction of incredibly thick arms which were locked together and formed at the bottom, not feet, but the base of an egg, which sat on the sand, casting a shadow down into the pit.

The moment the new Incarnate gazed fully upon this great statue, he felt incredibly weak, and discovered for the first time, that he had three hearts when they beat loudly in his chest, creating a rhythmic noise that only he could hear.