2
Ten years later…
“Van… Vander… Vander!”
“What?” Vander looked up from the campfire, meeting the concerned eyes of his savior, his dad in this life.
The campfire illuminated the telltale signs of graying hairs within his scraggly beard, displaying the strain of a life full of harsh experiences. Hard eyes stared back at Vander, but within—deep, deep within—kindness also shined through.
“Where’d you go, son?” his dad asked, his voice hard yet kind.
Vander brushed away his messy black hair. Its state of disarray from their week-long forage into the shallow depths of The Snarl’s outer region left everything matted with layers of gritty mud. Vander wiped his sweaty hands against his thin leather leggings. The old things were stitched together to brave the harsh landscape and modified every time he hit a growth spurt.
“Don’t really know anymore,” Vander lied, gazing into the deeper depths of the wild forest surrounding them. His focus was more intense than a predator when stalking prey. He wiped the sticky sweat from his arms, looking away from his dad’s concerned gaze.
“Was it another memory?” he asked, tossing another stick on the fire.
Vander shook his head, thinking of the strange curse afflicting his memories. On top of his own from Wanda and his life as a Delver, he received fragmented pieces of something else. Or rather, an unlucky somebody.
Whoever the unlucky guy was, he’d reincarnated countless times. Vander had to constantly pry through the memories and remind himself of who he was due to the presence of the fragments of the other person’s lives.
The one useful thing about the memories, Vander had a small semblance of understanding of the new world he’d come to. The most important thing he’d learned, his existence was very much despised.
The next time I see Amany, I’m seriously giving her a piece of my mind. This whole situation is bullshit, and she knows it! He took a deep breath and sighed, remembering his new world dad still watched him. Damn, this sucks. I even had to live through shitting myself. That’s just cruel! She could’ve at least reincarnated me into the body of someone older!
Vander looked at his dad. “Nothing like that. I’ve been wondering for a while now when we’ll be able to go beyond the plateau and see the rest of the continent, the rest of the world.”
“You shouldn’t think of things like that. The Snarl has been kind to us over the years. It’s safe here, too, if we stay on the outer edge to hunt.”
“I know your stance on these things, Father, but must we really hide here forever? The Mad God—”
Smack!
“I told you not to mention that damned god time and again, Vander!” he said, rubbing his hand as he looked around. Rather than anger, fear warped his features as he looked around, almost as if a Reaper would appear out of thin air. When his search concluded, his paranoia baseless, he turned back to Vander. “We will stay here, in The Snarl, and that’s the last I want to discuss this.”
“Whatever,” Vander replied numbly, containing the raging inferno of disgust, fury, and frustration in his gut. He respected his dad for saving him and giving him a chance at life on his final reincarnation, but the man made it hard to stay grateful. “I’m going.”
“You know the rules.”
“Whatever.”
Vander grabbed his spear and his bag full of supplies then left his new world dad and the fire behind, slinking through the woods with trained efficiency. When he got out of view, he pulled up his status.
Vander Braxton (F Rank)
Class: Basic (Tier 0)
Title(s): Unlucky Reincarnator, One With Potential, (Sealed), (Sealed)
Strength: 55
Agility: 119
Endurance: 48
Willpower: 81
Perception: 117
Arcana: 0
Skill Points: 0
Skills: (Sealed), Quiet Steps (Level 28), Running (Level 19), Climbing (Level 9), Tracking (Level 27), Spearmanship (Level 15), Throw (Level 21), Meditation (Level 40), Herbology (Level 12), Trap Making (Level 17), Archery (Level 9)
Back when he’d suffered through reliving his infancy with clear consciousness, he’d had plenty of time to play around with the system. Adjusting to the new world’s strange game-like magic had taken a few years, but he eventually got used to and even enjoyed all of its aspects. Selecting any of the terms would bring up another notification that explained the meaning for his entire status.
Strength, agility, and endurance were all fairly self-explanatory. Willpower was less so and correlated to the ability to push past personal limitations or defy debilitating status effects. Vander had yet to see what one of those looked like, since he’d spent his entire life learning how to survive in The Snarl. Beasts didn’t often use debuff magic, unless killing intent counted.
Arcana seemed to be this world’s definition of magical capability. It also happened to be the area his nerf hit the hardest.
Fuckers.
The different sealed sections refused to budge and give him more information, though he had a good guess as to what the skill might be. He’d seen no trace of his Voltia since coming to this new world. Anytime he suggested forcing open his magical pathways, apparently this world’s equivalent of a Siphon, his dad would scold him.
After being teased with all that lightning magic and awesome swords for so long, it just wasn’t even fair at this point.
Fucker.
The patience he’d maintained until now wore thinner by the day. The depths of the forest called to him as much as the vast world beyond the continent. To say his wanderlust needed to be satisfied was the understatement of the century.
The old man wouldn’t even mention new skill levels or how to raise them past his current bottlenecks. Were it not for the system’s interface or Vander’s own attempts at improving his few skills, he’d never have realized just how weak he currently was, which did nothing to stave off his impatience.
He needed to get stronger. The Mad God wouldn’t let him get away, even if they’d made no appearance for the last eighteen years. The Mad God and his damned cultists wouldn’t stop coming for him, so he needed to train and grow more.
But that old man is being so stubborn! Why save me if you’re just going to let me die like this? Vander groaned, shaking his head. Damned old man. At this rate, I’ll die of boredom in this forest. I swear, I don’t understand the point of staying at the outer edges when such a massive resource awaits our exploration.
Vander shook his head, looking at the only redeeming thing about his status.
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One With Potential
Gifted out of pity by the gods.
Modifies Reincarnator into Unlucky Reincarnator.
Double skill growth rates.
Double attribute growth from skills.
Double skill point generation.
Fuckers.
Every time he thought about the amount of wasted potential spent on hiding out on the outer edge of The Snarl, he wanted to scream bloody murder at his new world dad. Already, Vander had the same level of hunting skills. Both of them stagnated, since the challenge of the outer edge wasn’t enough to provoke growth, nor would the old man risk any danger to venture farther into The Snarl to allow either of them to grow more.
The hope he’d had ten years ago felt moronic to him now.
Frustrated, Vander swiped away the notifications and focused on the task at hand. Even if he wanted to run dead ahead into the next ring of The Snarl and fight the first thing he could find, doing so would be unwise.
They needed to prepare more supplies before anything of the sort. Already, their supplies dwindled to dangerously low levels after a few consecutive days of bad hunting. So for now, he followed the regular path towards the traps he’d set up in the morning.
Another reason he stepped away from his dad, the memory fragments of his host were getting hard to contain. The nagging in the back of his mind made him restless and overly aggressive. He’d since learned to stay away from his dad when things got too bad.
The last time he’d stuck around, Vander got a nasty scar across his shoulder and nearly killed the old man. If the old man came looking, Vander had the excuse of checking the traps, even though he’d really be checking what the information in the memory fragment contained.
Let’s see what’s buzzing around this time.
Letting go of his control over the buzzing in the back of his head, Vander slumped down to the nearest tree as violet electricity shone into the darkness of the great forest.
The world around Vander shifted into something far more sinister, more daunting. It felt as if the entire world rejected his presence in the current moment. Confusion unsettled him for a brief moment before he oriented himself into the mind of his predecessor.
***
“I am Artemis, the Cursed Hunter. My soul is degrading as my reincarnations wear away my existence. Each piece is like giving a part of my soul to try one more time, to achieve that goal I don’t even remember anymore.”
A blackened sky of violent rays of red thunder shrieked its rage at the cursed hunter beneath it. The Mad God watched on, preparing to smite away the existence of the one who defied its will.
“I store these fragments in hope that my successor fulfills my mission. I must admit, history as I know it clashes with history as I once knew it. The countless reincarnations have left my mind and soul shattered and wrecked, little more but a faint whimsy of my previous self.” Artemis sucked in a deep breath and huffed in frustration. “With the unreliability of my past self’s fragmented memories, it is sometimes difficult to understand who I am and why I’ve drawn this lot in life,” Artemis lamented.
The threat of violence hummed in the air as Artemis continued to speak, ignoring the presence of The Mad God as if it were a speck of dust upon the wind.
“Regardless of the uncertainty in my heart or the loss of cohesive thought, there are three certainties that are embedded deep into my being. With absolute conviction, I know these three things as truth.
“First, my goddess Andromeda needs me, and I am the only hope she has. Second, the god once known as The Scholar is The Mad God, and he hates me, desperately wishes to prevent my reincarnations so that I never free my dearest goddess. His efforts are fruitless due to an unknown blessing that acts on me, bringing me back time and time again. Sometimes, though, I wonder whether that is more curse than blessing.
“Third, his Zealots hunt me even now, long after I’ve escaped from their lands, and they will never stop. My soul is falling apart, but my blessed body will receive another, of this I am sure. Andromeda needs saving. I regret my failures, but I can’t continue. Truthfully, I feel nothing anymore. The Mad God has overcome my mortal soul, and I will never transcend the mortal limitations. My first life should have been my last. I should have achieved Absolute.”
The Mad God descended from the sky, a red streak of raging lightning.
Artemis, the Cursed Hunter, died.
***
Those fuckers.
Vander blinked and looked around. He’d seen quite a few memory fragments before. Quick glimpses here and there of the type of life Artemis once lived. Never once had the man been named or the history of the body he’d been reincarnated with been laid out so plainly before.
Now that he’d watched the last memory fragment, his head was quiet for the first time since coming to this world. The silence felt almost eerie in the few moments after, but Vander adjusted quickly.
After viewing the final memory fragments of this body’s predecessor, a title has been unsealed.
Curious, Vander pulled up the status and checked the change. He selected the unsealed title and read over the lovely benefits.
Title: Successor of the Pinnacle Hunter, Artemis
All attributes +25
All skills related to hunting receive increased growth.
All new skills related to hunting will now start at level 10.
The Tragedy of Artemis, the Cursed Hunter
In his first life, Artemis neared Ascension. But the gods were fickle and wily. His patron goddess, Andromeda, fell in love with the mortal man and watched his every action in hopes that he would succeed in his Ascension. However, Andromeda’s wild beauty caught The Scholar's attention. Greedy, wily, and not at all her type, he pursued the Goddess of the Hunt.
She refused him time and time again, pushing The Scholar to madness. During Artemis' Final Hunt against Fenrir, The Mad God cursed Artemis and Andromeda, robbing them of strength and breaking the Laws of Intervention and Conflict. Artemis failed to slay Fenrir, his body broken and dying because of The Mad God’s intervention.
In accordance with the Laws of governance, Andromeda blessed Artemis—an unlimited amount of attempts at completing the Final Hunt. She cried over his body until no life remained and his soul was spirited away.
The Mad God’s crafted Chains of Suppression ensnared the weakened and broken-hearted Andromeda. In a final act of rage, The Mad God’s believers were ordered to murder any and all children with the same clear-blue eyes as Artemis. The Cursed Hunter lived many lives, but The Mad God never relented his fury until, finally, the Cursed Hunter’s spirit and soul shattered into nothingness.
“What the…?” He glanced over his new stats and grinned.
Vander Braxton (F Rank)
Class: Basic (Tier 0)
Title(s): Unlucky Reincarnator, One With Potential, Successor of the Pinnacle Hunter, (Sealed)
Strength: 55 (+25)
Agility: 119 (+25)
Endurance: 48 (+25)
Willpower: 81 (+25)
Perception: 117 (+25)
Arcana: 0
Skill Points: 0
Skills:
(Sealed), Quiet Steps (Level 28), Running (Level 19), Climbing (Level 9), Tracking (Level 27), Spearmanship (Level 15), Throw (Level 21), Meditation (Level 40), Herbology (Level 12), Trap Making (Level 17), Archery (Level 9)
“Wow…” After reading over the sad lore dump, Vander looked back at his attributes again. “Seriously?”
He’d hoped the additional twenty-five attributes would’ve also been added to his arcana attribute. No such luck.
Fuckers.
However, the magical attribute’s refusal to budge made him suspicious of his other title. For whatever reason, something suppressed his magic abilities. Whatever it was, he needed to get to the bottom of things.
On the bright side, the bonus from the new title was insane. Even if he couldn’t get the benefit yet, the additional twenty-five attribute points would hopefully be retroactively added if he ever got arcana unlocked.
Add to the bonus of having all skills related to hunting start at level ten, he’d be getting plenty of attributes if he just worked harder. He’d slacked on his archery practice in favor of the spear, but maybe the time to pick up the bow again had come.
Artemis’ suffering benefited him greatly. Vander almost felt bad for the guy after reading through the whole lore drop. Seemed like a pretty shitty way to live. Then again, Vander experienced the depth of The Mad God’s hatred on his first two, very brief, attempts at reincarnation.
This life almost seems like paradise.
He shook away the thought, focusing on the new synergies of his titles. One With Potential together with Successor of the Pinnacle Hunter would make all hunting-related skills grow far more than any of the others. Things appeared to finally be turning around for the better. Enough to make him want to challenge the next ring of The Snarl by himself.
As much as he wanted to, he didn’t get as far in life as he had by acting on such whims. He needed to check the traps and see if he could improve them with his newly upgraded skills. On top of that, scouting the predator’s territories to see if anything changed, getting more water stored up, and checking on their several hideaways all took precedence.