From the interstices between lives, I regained consciousness during birth. I felt numb and empty inside, a deep, wrenching cold far worse than any on the Everwinter Flats. I withdrew into myself, ignoring all around me. I think someone slapped me on the butt, and I let my instincts take over while I curled up inside my own soul.
She was gone. My dryad, my blade, ◮. Centuries had we spent together. So many lives. I had felt the bond and Trait unravel as that [Soulmancer] attacked me. “Soul injury” the System called it.
And then he killed me. And Bella? I had died first, but how much longer could she have possibly survived? And without the bond, [Reincarnator] wouldn’t drag her along to reincarnate.
She…she died. She must have died. And now she was gone. Forever.
For all that I ached inside, my gaze turned outward, I had been cleaned and wrapped in lush violet cloth. I was being held by a woman. How much time had passed? Hours? Days? A few others were in sight. Humanoids with great white bird wings sprouting from their shoulder blades. Flyers? Suddenly a great roar and cry overwhelmed me. We were on a balcony and a crowd of thousands were cheering as we entered. Someone next to me began to address the crowd. I couldn’t understand them.
> Ni prezentas Ŝian Moŝton kaj nian heredanton, Princinon Astaria. Ŝi fortikiĝu kaj gvidu nian popolon.
The wisdom of many cultures had variations on “You can’t take it with you.” In death, all mortal concerns and possessions passed, with only your memories of your life’s experience to carry with you. I perhaps had felt that most keenly of anyone. But now it grated at something deep inside me.
Remembrance, I metaphorically spat.
All I had were my memories, my Traits and my Skills.
That bastard of a Trait had always rubbed it in my face.
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Just my memories, my Traits and MY SKILLS!
I was alone. Again. Trapped in this cycle.
And whose fault was that?!
CHODRAK GURUNG!!
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Her flaring rage consumed what little sanity her mind still clung to and her thoughts grew ragged. Though her Attributes were adolescent-like, even as newborn she was physically helpless, the body itself too uncoordinated to utilize the power inborn by the System.
With mind, body, and soul weakened, any observer would have thought the raging, insane little Princess was no threat to anybody.
Unless there was magic involved.
A blast exploded all across the balcony centered on the newborn. There was blood and chaos. Out of the smoke, a violet bundle [Floated] out across the panicking crowd, the cloth catching fire. From it, magic began to rain down on the crowd.
Though her mind was too-addled to notice the XP notifications ticking by, it would have been enough to tier up both her Race and, if she had one, Class. A few thousand MP as a newborn mage and a surprise attack as a level zero [Celestial] was shockingly deadly and, if the System rewarded anything, it was death.
Eventually, somewhere in the bedlam that was the worst attack on the Celestial royalty in centuries, a Skill-enhanced arrow blasted through the center of mass of the ill-omened package hovering over the plaza.
> Ding!
>
> You have died.
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> Name: Astaria (L0)
>
> Race: [Celestial] (R) (L0)
> Class:
> Unspent XP: 2,602,530
>
> HP: 0/5,744 (1,386 / hour)
> MP: 0/11,200 (1,120 / hour)
>
> CON: 19
> STR: 19
> DEX: 19
> INT: 61
> WIS: 61
> CHA: 19
> Free: 0
> v.1.21