CHAPTER 1: REBIRTH

You have died

He woke up with a shock, staring straight into infinite darkness. He never could get used to this sudden loss of all sensation, all sensory input fading away. So, I have died. Again. Which was admittedly a bit of a surprise, things having gone well for the Warlord of the North. A quick check of his combat log told the tale however and he would have doubled over in pain, if doubling over were a thing in the Limbo. Shandriss! My own lover ...

While betrayal was of course always a possibility, he really hadn't expect her of all people to do so.

After an eternity - minutes? hours? days? Who knew, within the Limbo, time didn't really factor into things - he recovered enough to deal with his notification. Mentally confirming the prompt, the notification informing him of his death vanished and a new one appeared:

Do you wish to start anew or quit? Start/Quit

Once again that decision. He had long forgotten what exactly this prompt meant, but one thing he always knew was that he was no quitter. So in a long tradition he mentally selected "Start".

Again, the prompt vanished and was swiftly replaced with a new message, this time quite a bit longer:

You will be reborn into the world of Arantir. It is a medieval world with a strong magical aspect. Monsters roam, kingdoms are at strive and adventure lurks at any corner.

What will be your fate?

The most important prompt in the cycle. He knew that this determined his starting bonus and quite likely his aptitudes for his new career. His last iteration - Barbarian King - had been great. Lots of fun with the ladies, but admittedly, loot and pillage got old real fast. Before that, being a priest had been interesting as well, but got you involved in politics at an insane level and that plain sucked. CEO, Knight Errand, Caveman, Space Marine ... he had taken up so many roles, he barely remembered. But all of them had been full of strive.

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Time for something new. How about ... baker! Well, it would certainly be less stressful, but ... probably too bland too fast.

Hm, it had been quite some incarnations since he had last tried something with magic. Not a Spell Slinger as his last attempt at using magic had been - being a glass cannon is all fine until someone smashes the glass - but maybe something ... more peaceful. More restful. After some more thinking he mentally sent Magic Researcher . Who bothers the nerds anyway.

Satisfied, the prompt went away and yet another showed up:

What will be your name?

Always one of those pesky questions. The problem with this question always was, that you had no idea what would be a good name for the world and country you were about to enter. Still, he could always just reuse the name he had given his last mage. Yeah, let's go with that.

Arcanis

The prompt went away once more, only to be replaced with the final one:

Welcome Arcanis to a new life of adventure as a Magic Researcher

New challenges await you

Do not falter but move ahead boldly and you may prosper

Entering Arantir in 5 ... 4 ... 3 ... 2 ... 1 ...

The black of the Limbo gave way to the ... well, black of closed eyes. As subtle as that change might be, as startling was the return of all his senses.

A warm breeze caressed his skin. The feeling on his back and the rustling of wind on the blades indicated he was lying on grass. Suddenly he was pushed - shaken - by two small hands.

"Hey, wake up mister!" More shaking and more insistent "Wake Up!"

With that Arcanis opened his eyes to lay sight on this new world he had entered.