《Reverend Agony》


 Prologue

    If the gods really existed, don''t you think they would envy us?


    This was the question I had while looking at the ceiling of my apartment. I woke up in a cluttered little room, my eyes still heavy with sleep. As I stretched out my arms, I felt the discomfort of sleeping on my cheap mattress. When I turned around, I saw piles of unwashed clothes scattered on the floor, empty food containers and soda cans on the desk, and a thick layer of dust covering every surface.


    When I tried to get out of bed, I tripped over a pile of clothes, causing me to lose my balance and fall face-first to the floor.


    Despite the pain, I just let out a pathetic moan and rubbed my head, feeling the omen and the weight of the day already bearing down on me.


    The sun streamed in through the small bedroom window, illuminating the dust motes in the air, which only served to accentuate the mess around me.


    When I made my way to the kitchen, I realized that it was in no better condition than my bedroom. The sink was full of dirty dishes, and the smell of rotting food emanated from the refrigerator.


    Opening the fridge, I found nothing but a carton of expired milk, a few vegetables, and a packet of instant noodles. I grabbed the noodles with a sigh, realizing that this would be my breakfast, like every day.


    As I sipped my breakfast, I thought about the brand of cigarettes I was going to smoke today. But without realizing it, tears began to fall down my face, involuntarily creating a very embarrassing and humiliating expression of melancholy and fear.


    A feeling of hopelessness washed over me and I hugged the packet of noodles as if it were a creature of flesh and blood, and wept. I cried like I cried every day for the last four years of my life. It was all a constant cycle of waking up, going to class, coming home to this dirty, disorganized apartment, and sleeping. I had no friends, no hobbies, no passions. Some time ago I was forced to accept that this was all there was in my life. This was not a stage, because I did not have the desire or the strength to move forward. The only thing I was doing at this moment was existing under the orders of my brain system that refused to die. Because in soul and spirit, I was already dead. But for now, my brain was telling me that I had to brace myself for another day of monotony, knowing that nothing would change day by day.


    Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.


    When I opened the door to my apartment, I was greeted by the sight of a gray and cloudy day. The sky was heavy with thick clouds and there was a cool air that filtered through my thin jacket. On my face, I could feel a light rain falling that was mixed with my tears, as if to keep them company. The streets and sidewalks were slippery and shiny, glistening in the rays of the coming storm.


    Looking over the railing on my fourth floor I saw the usual hustle and bustle of the city. Cars honking, people running to work or school, and the occasional stray dog ??urinating on the sidewalk. The monotonous and dreary weather seemed to have dampened everyone''s spirits as most of the people had their heads down and rushed by without a second glance.


    I really didn''t hate rainy days, because my emotions consumed too much mental energy to give me the privilege of hating something. But if I could say that it was not pleasant when a Saturday was overshadowed by rain.


    Bracing my jacket over my thin shoulders from my poor diet, I headed down the stairs of the apartment complex and made my way to the parking spot.


    For today I was scheduled to play a new game of my favorite videogame saga. But for that, I first had to go to the nearest electronics store, since at the moment there were no automated robots that would do the shopping for you.


    However, it seemed that fate had different plans for my life.


    As soon as I set foot on the sidewalk, I could see a small figure in a red dress, blue hose, and a yellow hat. When I saw her let go of her mother''s hand to run after the balloon that had escaped from her hand, I instinctively looked in the direction from which the vehicles were coming. Only to find a soda truck and its driver asleep.


    By the time I realized it, my legs were running. By the time my brain realized that after three years I was running, it remembered cramping my right leg excruciatingly and adding unpleasant weight to my weak knees. Still, something in me forbade me to stop. It seemed like someone was controlling my body and ignoring the pain, pushing me closer and closer to the kindergartner.


    Suddenly, I was so close to her that my arm lifted itself to push the girl''s back out of the way. However, when I push her away from me, I take her place. Closing my eyes, I only remember seeing the bright yellow light from the truck, then an unpleasant sound and thunder.


    When I opened my eyes I saw the girl''s mother next to me, she was holding my hand on her chest as the expression on her face told me that she was yelling something at me. But her concern was irrelevant, because when I looked towards my feet and saw the yellow tip of a hat, I knew my miserable existence had been for a purpose.


    And just like that, my life came to an end.

 The Posibilities of Being in Another World

    Reading web novels, watching anime and researching reincarnation on my own, more than once I came to the tragic conclusion that evidently the afterlife was nothing more than another farce created by some idealist or philosopher with airs of greatness.


    With my more than one suicide attempt, I naturally searched endlessly about transmigration, soul summoning to another plane, and reincarnation through the cycle of life in an animal depending on how well you''ve done in life. But all I found were spiritual forms of meditation and phone lines for psychologists. In denier, conspiracy and hippie forums, I was often insulted for not taking their theories seriously, while others simply recommended me drugs for depression.


    In short, I never believed in reincarnation.


    So... if I wasn''t dead, I was alive. But, if I was in this place, was I dead? Or is this place a limbo? Perhaps this is hell, or the paradise that is talked about so much in multiple religions.


    ¡ªThough it certainly doesn''t look very idyllic...


    The darkness was so absolute that I couldn''t even see my own hand in front of my face. It was like being submerged in a pool of ink, only that there was no liquid, only emptiness. Despite the lack of light, I could sense that the ground was made of rough stone, and that there were pillars scattered around me, rising up into the darkness.


    I couldn''t remember anything before waking up here. I didn''t know where I was or how I had ended up in this place of darkness. My mind was blank, as if all my memories had been erased. I tried to recall something, anything, but my efforts were in vain. It was as if my mind was trapped in a void, unable to retrieve any information.


    As I stood at the edge of the abyss, I noticed a faint glow in the distance. It was a dim light, barely visible, but it was there. I felt drawn to it, as if it was a beacon of hope in the midst of the darkness. With each step I took, the light grew brighter, until it became a torch held by a hooded figure.


    ¡ªWho are you? ¡ªI asked, surprised by the sudden appearance of another person in this desolate place.


    The figure remained silent, but gestured for me to follow. Without hesitation, I trailed behind the hooded stranger, curious about where they were leading me.


    As we walked, I noticed that the darkness began to recede, replaced by a dim, gray light. The ground became smoother, and I could hear the sound of water dripping from somewhere nearby. The air felt damp, and a faint smell of musty earth filled my nostrils.


    Eventually, we arrived at a small, circular chamber, lit by a flickering torch. In the center of the chamber stood a pedestal, upon which rested a small, glowing crystal.


    ¡ªTake it ¡ªthe hooded figure said, gesturing to the crystal.


    I hesitated, unsure of what the crystal was or what its purpose was. But something inside me urged me to take it, to grasp it in my hand and feel its warmth.


    As soon as I touched the crystal, a flood of memories rushed into my mind. I remembered who I was, where I came from, and why I was here. The darkness that had surrounded me dissipated, replaced by the light of the crystal.


    I looked up at the hooded figure, but they had already vanished, leaving me alone with the crystal and my newfound memories.


    ¡ªHow many years have I not felt?


    But these questions were absurd at this point, because my only real concern at the moment was how to get out of here. But then, I asked.


    ¡ªWhy do I want to get out of here?


    Initially, as I found myself in this new and strange place, I was struck by the utter lack of physical sensations. There was no hunger or thirst, no need for distractions or entertainment. Instead, a sense of tranquility had settled over me, and the silence was so comfortable that it made me want to speak freely, without any sense of obligation or restraint.


    As I explored this new world, I couldn''t help but feel that the advantages here were far greater than anything I had experienced in my previous life. The possibilities seemed endless, and there was a sense of freedom that I had never known before. It was as if I had been unshackled from the constraints of my old life and set free to explore the vast expanse of this new world.


    Despite this newfound sense of liberation, I couldn''t help but feel a sense of curiosity stirring within me. What lay beyond the boundaries of this world? What secrets were waiting to be discovered in the darkness below? If I could somehow cross to the other side, would I find yet another irregularity, another realm waiting to be explored? These questions nagged at me, and I couldn''t help but wonder what lay in store for me if I decided to stay here for eternity.


    As I pondered these questions, I found myself drawn to the edge of the abyss. I peered over the edge and saw nothing but utter darkness staring back at me. It was as if the darkness was waiting for me with open arms, inviting me to take the plunge and explore its mysteries.


    But then, for some reason I couldn''t understand, my head snapped up and I noticed something that I had missed before. The crack that separated the room also separated the ceiling, and above my head, I saw a white light that had been there all along. It was as if the light had been waiting for me to notice it, to acknowledge its presence.


    As I stood there, caught between the light and the dark, I realized that my indecision was the only thing holding me back. If I could muster the courage to take the leap of faith and explore the unknown, I might discover something truly remarkable. It was a daunting prospect, but the potential rewards were too great to ignore.


    I was never the anti-hero type, nor was I the villain, but I never identified with the boy with heroic ideals. However, considering that my only action in life was a good one, perhaps I should go towards the light.


    In the end, it was the pull of curiosity that won out over my indecision. I took a deep breath, closed my eyes, and took the plunge into the light above. What lay ahead was anyone''s guess, but I was eager to find out.


    Thus, I expected to see a thousand dying souls ablaze with blue fire, but instead, I saw a baby being extracted from a woman''s vagina.


    ¡ª&@&##, &+@-@! &@#&! &@#&! &@-@+#&@(#-_&!


    ¡ª+@-#-#, =-¡ã=¡ê=. {-#+#++@-#+@, (@/;:*+@++#++@(@((#+:-+@.


    This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.


    ¡ª(@+#(@+#.......


    ¡ª(@+#+#, &@#&..... +@(#+#&*+*(....


    If I overlooked the fact that I had actually imagined in great detail a woman giving birth to her baby, I could conclude that I was that baby.


    With my emotions still alien to me, it wasn''t hard for me to keep my head cold and think straight.


    "Whatever is going on right now, I don''t understand the language. And based on I can''t tell if I''m under threat." That was a bad sign to begin with.


    When I tried to open my eyes and see beyond the bodily fluids that came out of the vagina of the woman who was holding me and obstructed my vision, my eyes burned as they were greeted by the radiant light of a thousand colors. But thanks to the shadow cast by the figure of the man in front of me, my eyes were safely accustomed to their surroundings. As I looked around me past the subject in front of me, I could see for the first time that the cold in my feet was due to being outdoors; more exactly, in a forest.


    As you hear it, I wasn''t on a hospital gurney and the doctor wasn''t some guy in a gown with years of experience, much less a recent graduate who was lucky enough to earn his position because his father was the president of the hospital. In reality, I was surrounded by huge trees of an unknown family, while the soft, cool breeze whispered songs to my sensitive little feet, ruffling the grasses and placing a cherry leaf on my nose.


    In the center of what for me was this leafy forest, surrounded by tall and dense trees, was the altar. I felt an aura of a sacred place and full of some energy, this would be where magical beings would gather to honor the gods and ask for their protection.


    The altar was made of ancient and polished stones, which seemed to have withstood the passage of time and the inclemencies of the weather. The stones were arranged in a circular shape, and in the center of the circle was a large stone slab, where we were.


    On the altar there were a large number of symbolic objects: candles of different colors, aromatic incense, branches of plants and flowers of various colors. There were also strange statues from different cultures, candles in the shape of stars and pentagrams, and bowls of water and salt.


    When I raised my head and saw this woman, my eyes were perplexed.


    She had long, silky dark hair that spilled down to her shoulders in soft waves. The natural shine of her hair was magnified by the soft light coming through the branches of the trees, giving her a dreamy and delicate look.


    Her eyes were large and expressive, a deep shade of brown that was accentuated by the shadow beneath them from exhaustion. Despite her exhaustion, her gaze was warm and welcoming, radiating love and care for the newborn she held gently in her arms.


    This woman''s skin looked soft and smooth, with a warm tone that contrasted with the white of the sheets of the blanket she lay on. Her skin seemed to glow with health and vitality, evidence of excellent nutrition and care during pregnancy.


    Overall, her appearance was serene and delicate, but at the same time strong and brave, like a warrior who had gone through an intense experience and emerged victorious. The natural beauty of this woman was something I had never seen, not even in all my years on the internet.


    I attributed this feeling to the fact that this ''woman'' was actually my mother, and that what I felt was the immeasurable love and admiration of a son.


    When I was about to turn my head to the side, my body was violently shaken.


    I never thought that an old man could look this way being... well, an old man.


    First, his body is likely to be fit and toned, with ripped muscles and a strong, resilient appearance, for some external reason. But advanced age did not seem to have diminished his dedication to physical activity, and this was reflected in his physique...


    Despite his muscular body, his face bore an expression that reflected either pure anger or natural disgust. His brows were furrowed and his jaw clenched, giving him countenance an iron, aggressive expression. His eyes were intense and penetrating, with a gaze that seemed to defy any obstacle thrown his way.


    This old man''s hair was sparse but he had enough to make one or two hairstyles, but what is certain is that the rest of his body was covered in abundant dark hair that complements his fierce and wild appearance.


    In general, his appearance was intimidating and even terrifying, reaching a point where even if I had my past life''s body I wouldn''t move a muscle if it avoided his attention.


    When he lifted me up by my umbilical cord, I would say that there are not enough words in my vocabulary to describe what I felt. But the fecal secretion, the urine, together with the vomit and the blood that my body expelled could give you a general idea of ??my sensations.


    ¡ª+@-#+@+@+!!


    The woman stretched her feeble arms out to me as she screamed and cried and kicked like a spoiled child as the old man sullied this holy place without remorse and stole a baby.


    For some reason, I would have liked to know what my father''s expression was, or even if he had done something to prevent this. Because honestly, in my field of vision I couldn''t see it.


    When my mind barely recovered from the pain of being moved through the umbilical cord, I noticed something not very conspicuous, and certainly common.


    The old man with the furious countenance, had two small, fluffy and cute cat ears.


    "Where I am?"


    * * *


    According to my humble calculations based on the time we used there on Earth, three months had passed since I ascended through that light, accepting the supposed path of goodness and being expelled through my now mother''s vagina.


    I was always the quiet type, but extremely observant. And this characteristic did not take off from me even after I died, because according to what my newborn eyes could see, it could be that I had traveled to Earth''s past, to medieval times.


    ... That would be the case if it weren''t for that damned old man with the cat ears and animal tail.


    Ever since I was ''stolen'' from my mother''s arms, being the only one who really suffered physical damage, I have been subjected to simply inhumane torture for a three month old baby. The old man seemed to be preparing me for something in some way.


    To begin with, I lived alone with him in a cabin in the middle of the woods. It was a four-room home, with wooden floors and walls. He used torches that seemed to run on oil and grease, and there was really nothing modern or fancy about it. In the mornings, he would wake me up from a straw ''bed'' with a miserable blanket, and then I would sit in front of the fire in the fireplace for thirty minutes. After that, he would place two swords in front of me, hoping that I would move my weak little body as if I really had control over a little finger and choose one of the two. He would sometimes sit in front of me and tap my body with a piece of wood, as if he was forging me into a sword. This routine would be repeated day after day for the last three months.


    His lack of patience was evident in the way he was so easily irritated. Naturally, as the three-month-old baby that I was, I couldn''t talk, or walk, let alone lift a piece of iron twice my size, but this old half-cat''s mind seemed to work in another league, as it was obvious that he expected me to do what was impossible, as if I really had the tools to do it, and that if I didn''t it was because I didn''t want to.


    However, when I managed to complete some of his tasks, such as crawling a distance imposed by him or eating without hesitating what he pointed out to me, his lack of empathy told me that he was a piece of rock when it came to expressing his emotions. Or maybe he was just cold and therefore not very empathetic. My achievements were indifferent in most cases and when I made the effort to satisfy his demands, he was aloof. Which made it hard for me to connect with him emotionally.


    In short, he was a stubborn old man, without patience and cold, which caused him to be inflexible, impatient and not very empathetic.


    Usually he would grab me by the hair if he saw me outside the house and hit me on the butt with the wood if I went near the door or window. It seemed like there was no middle ground when it came to the exterior. Something that I certainly understood, considering that he himself was a muscular old man with cat ears, God only knows what kind of creatures could lurk out there...


    And so, the days passed: the training ¨Csorry, the TORTURE¨C went up to the next level and by the time I was four years old, I had already earned my first wooden sword. Although I did steal it from Harald during one of our training sessions and he never asked me for it back. I took it as a ''Yes, you''ve earned it''.


    Ah yes, Harald is the doomed old man. And I have learned something about the language of this world.


    No, I didn''t learn because Harald was so considering to sit at a table with me and give me reading lessons. When a certain amount of time passed, it was not necessary for me to have to ask for permission or notify me that I was going to leave the cabin, I would simply sneak out at night and cross the forest until I reached the outskirts and met the town. This town was more like a military base, because there really wasn''t any government building or center.


    The first time I got this far, I found myself on a dirt road that led me past merchants'' tents and vendors on both sides of the street selling all sorts of things. Besides the carrots, potatoes, and real cotton coats, what surprised me the most was the freedom with which they sold swords, knives, and armor.


    In order to try to learn the language faster and more efficiently, I simply had to put my bratty ear to the tents and hear the shouts and demands of the negotiations between the two parties. Also, with my wooden sword on my shoulder and my pretend larva attitude, it wasn''t hard for me to bully other kids into teaching me common words, gestures, and idioms. Unfortunately, I soon became famous among the darker streets and took more than one beating, enough for Harald to realize that the blows were not his but other attackers. When he found out that I was sneaking into town, he reminded me of the day he carried me through the middle of the forest hanging on my umbilical cord.


    The days passed quickly in the prison that my own stupidity had created. There were no books here, no poems, just a children''s story that I still couldn''t understand. I just observed and analyzed everything around me, every day I learned something new about my five-year-old body and gained more control than before.

 Legacy

    ¡ªIt''s been a considerable amount of time, specifically more than twenty-two years, since I inherited this style. It was a legacy that I received with great responsibility and commitment, aware that it would require hard work and dedication to fully master it. Over the years, I can assure you with my hand on my heart that I have invested a significant amount of time and effort in developing this style. It has been a road full of challenges and obstacles, but I have persevered with determination and patience to overcome each one. Over time, I have come to understand that mastering a style is not just a matter of technique, but also requires a deep understanding of its essence and how it relates to the world around us. Therefore, I have explored this style from different perspectives, getting closer and closer to its true meaning. I soon realized that this process was not easy, but it has allowed me to get closer to heaven and earth in a unique way. I have experienced a feeling of fulfillment and satisfaction seeing how my effort and dedication have paid off in my ability to use it effectively and smoothly. That is why I am here to offer you him. I feel that it would be the greatest demonstration of my dedication to your teachings, master.


    When I heard and saw this conversation through the crack in the door, I knew it was something serious from the expression on Grandpa Harald''s face. It was true that reading his face was an arduous task, but after a while I understood the meaning behind each of his grimaces.


    The attire of the young man seated in front of him consisted of a simple, dark kimono made of cotton or linen, fitted with a leather obi. He also wore a hakama, which was long, loose trousers that were cinched at the waist and tied with ribbons at the ankles. The functionality of these pants was simple, to provide comfort and greater freedom on the battlefield.


    His weapon was a thin and long sword, he also carried a bow and arrows at his waist.


    Inadvertently, I had paid too much attention to the similarity of the young man''s attire to that of a samurai, and I didn''t realize that sharp eyes were looking straight into my soul.


    "Old worthless..." I spat to myself as I ran away from the crack in the door.


    I was confident that, despite having been found out, the person in question would not believe that my six-year-old hearing was capable of understanding the entirety of the conversation. Fortunately for me, every detail had been carefully listened to, and tonight would take my first step toward greatness.


    By the way, I haven''t learned anything about this world despite being here for six years. However, tonight when I steal that samurai''s technique I''ll be sure to steal the children''s story and see if I can get any reference points from him.


    Why doesn''t this guy have books in his house?


    * * *


    The night was dark and the silence was almost total. The only light that entered the room was what filtered through the small slits in the window. The tension was palpable in the air. I knew that any wrong move could ruin the entire plan that I had so painstakingly concocted over two long weeks.


    The room where I slept was almost a black hole, a kind of sacrificial sanctuary. Although not as sinister, it really was the worst room in the cabin. Therefore, I made sure to take the wooden sword with me, since although I didn''t know any martial arts or special techniques, I was willing to withstand some blows and deflect some others.


    With a slow, cautious step, I began to move down the dark corridor, measuring every inch that my feet moved. I tried to reduce the weight of my body so that I could move to one side or the other without making the slightest noise.


    My goal was the room at the end of the corridor. I knew I had to be careful, as a single wrong move could ruin the entire plan. The wooden boards did not creak under my feet, not because I weighed less than a sack of potatoes, but because I had carefully calculated during those two weeks which pieces of wood were weaker and which were firmer. As a result, I had scored excellent on the score of the woods.


    When I lost the concentration that had kept me tied to the care of my footsteps, I realized that I was already in front of the door at the end of the corridor. I wasn''t surprised to notice that it was open, it was always open whenever I walked past the corridor and took a look.


    But what did surprise me was the rhythmic beat of something around me, it was incessant and as vivid as it was indescribable. Until I realized that it was actually the heart in my chest that was beating with the adrenaline of doing something that would probably cost me dearly if found out.


    Using my fat, clunky hand, I pushed my little sausage fingers against the wooden door and was greeted by an incandescent light.


    The small room was enveloped in a soft golden light, emanating from the shelves of dusty old books that filled the room. The shelves seemed almost crowded, with books stacked one on top of the other, and each of them seemed to contain ancient and mysterious secrets and knowledge from a thousand worlds.


    My breath heaving with emotion made me savor the air impregnated with a sweet and earthy aroma, as if the books were enriched by the magic of the words they contained. In the center of the room was a small round table with an oil lamp that gave off a soft, warm light. The light that had blinded me barely entered. Around the table, there was a high-backed chair, covered with a velvet cushion in dark tones, which seemed to invite the visitor to sit down and get lost in the mysteries of the books.


    As I walked into the room with my mouth open and my mind blank, I felt as if I were entering a magical and enchanted world, where each book was a key to open new doors of knowledge and adventure. The walls were covered with tapestries with ancient designs and strange and mystical symbols, which seemed to contain their own secrets and messages.


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    At that moment, a question formed in my head through the haze of uncertainty.


    "Where should I start...?"


    Although the answer was greatly reduced by simply saying that my height only allowed me access to the books lying on the floor, it was incredible to think that all this could be within reach of my hands.


    Fortunately in the chaos that had been unleashed in my mind, a memory pushed to a corner of my mind appeared.


    "The technique of the samurai."


    That was it, I was here for the technique. If I got it and learned it, I could achieve my goal.


    But...


    The glow of her seduced me with a dark light, as if she were imbued with the very essence of darkness. Her blade was thin and sharp, and seemed to be forged from a material that reflected light in a strange and fascinating way. I would approach her involuntarily, by the time I realized it, I felt an electric sensation in the air, as if the dagger was calling me.


    I looked at her chest on the ground and studied her in the distance. The handle was carved with intricate designs that seemed to symbolize the powers it possessed. The details on the handle are dark and intricate, suggesting that the dagger was an ancient object, having passed through many hands over the centuries.


    My eyes brushed the blade and left a trace that marked the relief of the inscriptions engraved in some language. These inscriptions were incomprehensible to me, but I was sure that by understanding the language, whoever owned it could unlock immense power.


    She had a sinister and seductive presence at the same time. She was an object that attracted attention and curiosity, but also evoked a sense of danger and immense power. Anyone who possessed this black dagger was to be respected and feared...


    Suddenly, as if I had been brought from around the world, a thick and cold hand took my wrist. When I raised my head, I saw Harald.


    ¡ªWhat do you think you''re doing, Eryndor?


    Eryndor was my name, given by the old man on any given day.


    ¡ªI take my first step and walk my way as an invincible warrior, old man ¡ªI said without hesitation.


    Harald looked at me with compassion in his eyes and a sigh escaped from his lips.


    ¡ªEryndor, you don''t understand what you''re saying. The life of a warrior is not easy. There is pain, suffering, and a great deal of sacrifice that must be made.


    Confusion washed over me. Why was he behaving this way? Was he up to something? But his tired look didn''t seem to hide any malice.


    ¡ªI do not care anything about that. All you do is teach me how to protect myself from attacks. If you''re not going to teach me how to use a weapon, I''ll do it myself. I need to prove myself to be a warrior. I need to be the best.


    My voice trembled with every word that came out of my mouth, but I wasn''t going to back down now that I''d gone as far as answering him without lowering my head. The old man looked at me fixedly, and his eyes seemed to penetrate my soul.


    ¡ªEryndor, violence and death are not the answer. If you seek greatness, search your heart and your actions. Not in the blood spilled on the battlefield.


    But I didn''t want to hear his words of wisdom. I needed that dagger to prove myself, to prove that I was more than just a peasant. With a determined look, I approached the chest where the dagger was located.


    Harald followed me with his gaze, and a shadow of sadness crossed his face. But before I could grab the dagger, he stopped me.


    ¡ªLife is short, Eryndor. Don''t waste your time seeking greatness in violence. Find greatness in love, friendship and compassion. That is the true way to be a warrior.


    I stood there, hand outstretched for the dagger, as the old man walked away. His words echoed in my head, and for a moment, I felt confused.


    Was it possible to find greatness without violence? Was it possible to be a warrior without killing?


    Looking at the dagger in his chest, I left the cabin and headed into the woods, lost in thought. Life was short, and maybe the old man was right. Maybe there were other ways to find greatness...


    But for long years, I had lived with the weight of cowardice. I felt weak in front of girls, ashamed of my simplest actions. There was not a day that I did not regret my existence, mired in my own waste and rotting in the shadow of a darkness that my weakness had created. Laziness had consumed my willpower, leaving me at the mercy of my own weaknesses.


    For the last five years of my old life, I let myself be swept up in a whirlwind of self-pity and defeat, convinced that my life had no place in my world. Each day, I gave myself a little more to despair, thinking that my fate was sealed. But in the darkest part of my soul, something stirred.


    Suddenly, that girl appeared in front of me. Her presence took me by surprise and unknowingly changed the course of my destiny. Yet there was something in everything that drew me to her, something that made her mother not notice she had wandered off, something that made the driver fall asleep, something that ignited a fire inside my soul and that made me feel more alive than ever.


    It was at that moment that a part of my body spoke to me. An inner voice that had been silent for too long rose up in me, refusing to give up. She told me that even after I ceased to exist, that part of me would continue to fight for the freedom of my soul.


    So when I reincarnate in this world in the body of a baby, I never give up fighting. With each passing day, I rose from the bed of straw worse than my previous life with renewed determination, ready to face the world with all my might. I learned a language, to defend myself against attacks with a sword, and to face every challenge with courage.


    It was not easy. There were times when I thought I couldn''t do it, times when the shadow of self-pity threatened to drag me down once more. But I clung to that inner voice, the voice that had told me not to give up.


    And just like that, I finally found the freedom I had been looking for. I was no longer a coward, nor a slave to my own weakness. I was a brave boy, capable of facing the world with courage and determination. All thanks to a girl who taught me that life is worth fighting for, even when it seems like all was lost.


    Yet despite all of that, was I now going to give up on a path I had found so hard to find?


    ¡ªOh? Looks like tonight''s dinner has arrived at my home.