‘Will I be denied this time too?’ – The thought resounded in his mind for the twenty-seventh time.

Twenty-seven.

That was the number of times he had been thrown back into this world, only to be promptly dispatched and returned to the empty void to wallow in his own regret at how powerless he was when it truly mattered, and his sorrow.

Memories that the Entity otherwise known as Rhultal did not want to remember yet could never forget flashes through his mind.

Broken and bleeding parents even before he had yet come of age. His life growing up in the hands of those who would step on him and use him for their own purposes. Watching those he love and cherished in agony and mercilessly slaughtered. His hatred that sought out power. his lack of control allowing the darkness to slowly overpower him, his pain at what he had become when that was all over, and the people who allied with the monsters and brought him to his death.

Yet for some reason he did not die. His body may have lost all functions and the body has rotted with the passage of time, but his spirit can recall everything he’s done, and the knowledge of his past remains solely his without dispersing into the ether. unable to move on, eventually his spirit would merge into a being for the cycle of life, but upon birth, for reasons unbeknownst to him, he would most definitely be culled upon the sweet air of freedom; excruciating pain, followed by death.

Over and over this event has already occurred twenty-six times, and this was the twenty-seventh. He had already understood that this was his own private hell for everything he has done.

Bracing himself for the inevitable fate that follows, the thing that was once known as Rhultal falls silent relinquishing his will and anticipation at the prospect of finally being whole. He silently waits for the hands of death to drive him back. He heard shouting and yelling, and at some point it felt like the hands of death were upon him. For what felt like eons, he waited with abated breath. Yet death did not follow. Instead, what he felt were two wavering hands full of warmth, grasping holding onto him. The entity remained in silence, unwilling to make a sound. After an eternity, the hands holding him start shaking, and he felt the atmosphere change. A soft cry could be heard. Suddenly, the arms were clinging on to him as if clinging onto its dear life, and a loud wailing noise erupts.

Surprised at this turn of event and the possibility of life, the entity opens his mouth and starts crying with all the strength that his tiny body could muster.

As if in accordance to his cry, the wailing stopped and a sound of sobbing delight could be heard.

Confused yet elated, he sought to use this chance to once again walk upon Lovis.

—----

Stuck in a body without the ability to do anything and yet to open his eyes, he patiently awaited the day when he will finally see the light. He would cry as a baby would when hungry, but other than that, the majority of his time were spent in silence.

The days went by, his feeble body grew little by little, and as his vision came, he was able to cast his eyes upon the world for the first time ever since that day.

From what he can gather, he lived in a small house with a mother and a father. The house had three rooms; a bedroom, a kitchen, and a living room. There was an outhouse in the backyard. The bedroom consisted of a small two-person bed with a chair and a small table; in the corner of the bedroom was a chest containing clothes. In the kitchen, there was a small fire pit for cooking and a shelf for dishes and pots hanged by the wall. The living room was simplistic and only had a plain table with two chairs around it decorated by a vase with some flowers inside.

Occasionally he would be brought outside. There were many small houses like the one he lived in. from what he can estimate, about 15-20 houses were in this village with a hall for meetings and a slightly bigger house which probably belonged to the leader of the village.

His mother would take him with her whenever she goes on errands. His father was never really around, so he was always with his mother.

—-----

As the first cycle of season passed by, the entity was turning one. Understanding and knowledge of his new surroundings had become clear to him.

He eventually realized that he was the only child of the family. His father’s name is Troyle Paltos and his mother was Adalina Paltos. Their family was poor and his father was mostly away due to work; as a soldier guarding the outskirts of their village. With little pay from his father’s job, to help supplement the low income, his mother worked commissions; washing clothes or running minor errands for the villagers.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

There was little respect towards his family, his mother would spend her time diligently washing other people’s clothes, but upon receiving the laundry, they would scorn her and accuse her of being lazy and not washing thoroughly just to lower her payment.

“Look here! There is a tear here now, why should I pay you the full amount of 6 erns after you ripped one of my shirt?”

“I’m very sorry madam, but that shirt was already ripped when you dropped your clothes off and asked for the wash.”

“There is no way that I would not have realized that one of my shirt has a tear in it! Here! In consideration for your work, take this 2 erns and be off, otherwise I am bringing this up with the Elder!”

“No madam! Please don’t! I’ll take the 2 erns, I am very sorry about the tear! Please forgive me!”

Almost after every job, events like this would occur. His mother would get only a fraction of the agreed upon pay, and would be ridiculed with accusations of things she did not do just to haggle her out of a full pay. There was no other choice but to accept the meager giving’s since her husband was rarely at home, and who knows what the villagers would do to her and him if she had tried stepping out of her station. Sure there were those who sympathized with his mother, but those were the minority and most were in the same situation, so no one raised a helping hand.

He had begun understanding the language shortly after being able to see, and quickly learned by listening to his mother and people.

His mother had given him the name Kaidus, his full name was Kaidus Reilt Paltos. She would often cuddle him and sing him sweet songs, tell him of her childhood, of sadness and happiness, how she met his father, and would always whisper how much she loved him. Sometimes she would just talk to him like they were having a conversation, other times she would look at him and cry while holding him. Telling him how sorry she was.

He never understood why she would cry seemingly out of nowhere. This woman who gave him another chance at life, at retribution.

Born towards the end of Alivai, after the seasons of Fulta and Rinol had passed, he had already begun to crawl. At the end of Grunei he had started walking.

The seasons had flew by, and his first birth cycle came.

After making stew out of the small piece of scaly hare that she obtained earlier for 2 erns – almost half of today’s wage – and a couple of edible plants and roots, his mother ladled a modest portion into a small bowl, telling him to eat after making sure it had cooled enough for him. As he ate, she ladled herself a bowl, and slowly sipped her soup.

Noticing that his bowl had pretty much all the hare in it, he looked at his mother inquisitively.

Aware of his gaze, she gently smiled at him then tells him happy birthday, and as if recalling a deep sadness, she slowly tear up and started sobbing as per the usual.

Through the course of the past year, she would talk to him: while doing errands, bathing him, putting him to sleep, feeding him. His parents could not afford a baby sitter, so his mother was always with him. In that year, he had never spoken a single word. He used to cry when he was hungry, but after eating, he would quietly fall asleep or lay about while his eyes darted around at the environment. even after learning how to crawl and walk, whenever he was hungry, he would just crawl or waddle to his mother and tug on her skirt signaling his hunger. He had adapted to his small body, and by the time he started walking, he had already weaned himself of her milk and had started eating her cooking. He had always wondered about the sadness in his mother.

After months of deliberation on the reasons, for the first time he spoke to his mother.

“Why do you cry?”

“!!” – was the reaction he got.

Prolgue + Chapter 1 - SurvivorsForgotten ConquerorChapter 3 - Adalina