…
Ugh, where the hell are you?
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Ada ◮ had reincarnated as a male [Minotaur] (rare), yet-to-be-named, and so internally, he continued to refer to himself as Ada.
The [Minotaurs] were, he decided, one of the most unusual Races he had been born in and he had been an [Oni]. To begin, the [Minotaur] were a nomadic group that eschewed contact with most other civilizations, though were friendly with the occasional individual or group of other Races that crossed their roaming paths. This was, apparently, entirely by choice as the [Minotaurs] had a fervent belief in the rightness of such a lifestyle. Indeed, they almost never spoke of [Minotaurs] living in their own or others’ civilizations (and indeed Ada could not recall meeting any in his many lives).
Perhaps the odder bit though was the differential between the sexes of the children. The female [Minotaur] children were immediately named, considered a part of the herd, but were not considered adults until they weighed 400 kilograms. Notably, that last point could happen in just a few years, a remarkably fast maturity for a sapient Race.
The male [Minotaur] children were not named though, referred to only as “son of” their mother, occasionally with an ordinal modifier. Nor were they considered a member of the herd. Instead, when they weighed only 100 kilograms they were declared “mature”—though still both far shorter and far skinnier than any “adults,” and still Classless—and were kicked out of the herd, tasked to wander and accomplish “greatness.” Only once they themselves hit 400 kilograms—and, incidentally, gained a Class—were they then to seek out another herd of their kind—though not necessarily the same herd—and seek to pledge themselves as members.
It was such a baffling system—he still wasn’t sure if it was a patriarchy or a matriarchy—that if Ada hadn’t spent so much time in the first four months figuring it out, he would have been far more concerned about the bit that Mack wasn’t within the herd.
And as far as his soul bond could tell him, not particularly near at all.
With the passive effects of [World Eater *F], even without his focusing on it, Ada was sent on his walkabout at six months of age, 194 cm, and 104 kilograms, with what was, at best, rudimentary equipment.
A kilometer away, he ditched that (except for his loincloth), conjured what would be considered a greatsword to most species, and executed a [Grasslands Ambush Cat] that had a poor sense of enemy threat. Then, because he was a reincarnating power and not a mere six-month-old [Minotaur], Classed two years earlier than expected as a [Wild Banneret] (VR), and set off to figure out where the fuck he was.
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Three weeks later…
Ada stood in a [Tailor’s] shop as the craftsman finished making adjustments. The [Tailor] being more careful with his pins than before. Normally, he was concerned with hot heads, but now he was concerned for his pins, bending as they were against Ada’s incredibly tough skin.
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Ada had entered the small city—he already forgot the name—with little more than his loincloth and the valuable parts from his hunts from the past week after he had finally stumbled across a village that could point him in the direction of real civilization. That village visit in itself almost became an incident as a mild dialect barrier—damn lingual drift—almost had him shot full of arrows as a monster.
Or, well, an attempt to do so by the villagers.
But he had enough interpersonal Skills at a high enough level that he basically intimidated them into not attacking, then gently coaxed them for some information.
Of course, they pointed him to this city, but—lo and behold—the villagers didn’t know what continent they were on. And neither the name of the city pointed to—already forgotten—nor the name of the oligarchical kingdom rang any bells for him.
Some world mapper he turned out to be.
In any event, having finally hit the city and making it past the guards, he bullied—*cough* negotiated strenuously—with a local guild to buy the materials off of him, and had his first visit to the [Tailor] in question. A quick trip to the baths, and now he was back for his final fitting, having paid for express work.
The outfit was… nice. A short kilt in a complete pattern of red, green and gold, a creamy undershirt, a sleeveless vest with more pockets than he knew what to do with, and a small cape. And underclothes of course. The kilt and undershirt came with extra material sown in to be let out as Ada grew, though it really wouldn’t last him much more than a few months in all likelihood.
Still, as a member of a sapient Race, Ada had to have some standards, even if the rest of his Race didn’t.
Plus, they wouldn’t let him in the damn library without a shirt.
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It turned out that Ada was on the Eurial continent, just like the last life, but was much further to the south this time. Wherever Mack ◐ had been reborn, his soulbond was being fairly non-descript about it. Back with the tribe, the response was “north.” Here, three weeks away, the answer was “north.”
Whatever.
Things were already weird enough, and frankly the extra time would be useful.
And so, Ada began his trip north. He largely avoided civilization this time, cutting a swath through monster-infested wilderness. Whatever weirdness was going on, he would need the XP. And after allocating enough to get him up to level 20 in both his Race and Class, he started banking it for true magic.
Besides a general sense of direction, he didn’t know where he was going. And while he could have moved faster, he had no reason to think it was somewhere urgent to be and it couldn’t be that far, could it?
In the first month, he covered just over two thousand kilometers.
In the second month, another two thousand two hundred kilometers and he was starting to get worried about how far apart they had been reborn.
By the beginning of the fifth month, he had covered eight thousand three hundred kilometers, and he ran into the border of the Celeri Empire. And his bond continued to push him north, albeit more towards the western edge of the empire. That Mack had ended up back here was quite a coincidence.
In the third week of the fifth month, he ran into that offshoot of Pine’s Prairie that they had traveled through in their last life. And now his bond was pointing him much more definitively northwesterly, across the savannah, and towards the mountains where they had last fought.
That much clearer signal through the bond put an ache in his belly. He started moving at full speed, barely pausing to eat, pushing his Skills to limit his sleep.
Within thirty-seven hours, he had crossed into the mountains.
An hour later, he crested the ridge to the last battlefield.