Divine King. An untouchable existence for more than 99% of the world. It defined those who possessed powers that so far past any others, that it would be delusional to dream to be a Divine King. The 177 people in the world with that title were all among the elite, treated as nobles, and the face of hope in our fallen world. I was one of those. In fact, I was the best of them. With all their power and glory, not one of the other Divine Kings could match up to me. I had everything I ever wanted because of my own hard work to get to the top, 881 years of as a Divine Warrior. My retirement was supposed to be peaceful. I had had everything for so long that I had forgotten what it was like to have nothing. No friends. No family. No money. Only my own powers and me. If I were even 50 years younger, maybe I could have done something. But I’m not; I’m just too old. I was no match for the others. Those greedy fiends who were once my friends. They’re just the same as everyone; rotten to the core. This sick world cannot be made anew, but the evil will surely pay in due time. To the one who discovers this diary and my body, I hope you understand this. I lost my storage bag, so I you can’t have my items, but I beseech you to live a life of goodness and give all you can for the sake of others. There were so many things I wish I had done better, to protect them. My sweet wife, Alice. My mom and dad and brother and sister. If only I had kids to take care of me. I’m more excited than anything to see my family once again. I know they can’t wait to see me just as I can’t wait to see them. I hope I wasn’t too sentimental.

              -William Ash, the First Emperor, “The Dragon”

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The pen fell on the ground as an old man grunted, standing up from his seated position. Although his silhouette showed that of a great warrior, his ragged and ruffled clothes and thin, pale skin showed his age. If you didn’t know him, you would have thought he was no more than 60, but he was nearly 900 years old. Vast waves of power flowed from his body, so deep and ancient that you might have mistaken him for a monster. As he stood up, he winced as the light of the setting sun revealed his terrible injuries. His thin lips were in a frown, his large nose was deformed with age, and his once bright golden eyes were a dull yellow. A long white beard with matching hair adorned his head. His well-toned muscles had gone through atrophy with his age, and his tall stature was bent and crooked. Many grievous wounds covered his body, with blood dripping from his fingers and rags forming a pool at his feet. The scroll of his last sentiments was carefully buried in the stone cubby he had formed behind him. He then sat down and breathed carefully in the center of a stone structure, now in complete ruin, a look of sublime inner peace and utter satisfaction upon his thin, jaded face. His final resting place would be these ancient ruins, upon a lonely isle, jutting like a sword from the deep ocean around. He sat in the middle of a small cylindrical room, where the roof and wall had worn away on one side, giving him a perfect view of the sunset.

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“This is the end I guess,” he muttered to himself, “Even though the gods came and destroyed our world and stole our lives, they cannot steal the afterlife. Mom, Dad, Ellie, Johnny, Archie, Rich, and my wife, Alice; I’m coming to meet you.”

And with that his eyes closed as his soul passed from his body, while his body sat there like an immovable mountain. But what happened was entirely out of his or anyone’s expectations. In fact, it was so unusual that even the gods would be surprised. His soul floated up towards the sky as he watched his ancient body sitting there, and, just as he began to wonder where heaven was as his head touched the clouds, everything suddenly came to a stop. Everything was silent and nothing was moving. Not the clouds, nor the sea below, nor the sun in the sky, nor any plant or animal upon the face of the Earth. This is where the peculiar thing happened. Everything started moving backwards, as if time was rewinding. He saw his own soul avatar age backwards as the wrinkles faded and the muscles got bigger and bolder, like they were in his younger years. He noticed his hair shorten up and his beard disappear and felt his wrinkles fade into adolescence. Then he got even younger. His stature shrunk down to before he had undergone his training, and his muscles faded into the pitiful boyish muscles from before the world collapsed. He had no idea what was going on, but he watched silently as the world around him rewind in time. And then, just as suddenly as it had started, the world froze once again, and he looked down at the island he had died on just minutes before, now a great stone temple, bustling with life and robed priests. The world felt peaceful. As he started to wonder what now?, his soul avatar began flying at the speed of light almost instantly traversing the entire world to a city in the United States of America called Chicago. The soul came to a stop above what looked to be a school. Is this…. My high school? And with that, he plummeted down through several floors and into a body that looked identical to his de-aged soul avatar. The high school boy woke with a start and looked around him in amazement. He remembered reading about this in one of the ancient books of Gallos; the theorized phenomenon of….

“Reincarnation!?!?” His youthful, teen voice yelled out in confusion, so loud that it startled the teacher, students, and himself alike. Questions formed in an endless barrage of astonishment inside his mind, and only one word formed clearly: What!?!?