Reading web novels, watching anime and researching reincarnation on my own, more than once I came to the tragic conclusion that evidently the afterlife was nothing more than another farce created by some idealist or philosopher with airs of greatness.

With my more than one suicide attempt, I naturally searched endlessly about transmigration, soul summoning to another plane, and reincarnation through the cycle of life in an animal depending on how well you've done in life. But all I found were spiritual forms of meditation and phone lines for psychologists. In denier, conspiracy and hippie forums, I was often insulted for not taking their theories seriously, while others simply recommended me drugs for depression.

In short, I never believed in reincarnation.

So... if I wasn't dead, I was alive. But, if I was in this place, was I dead? Or is this place a limbo? Perhaps this is hell, or the paradise that is talked about so much in multiple religions.

—Though it certainly doesn't look very idyllic...

The darkness was so absolute that I couldn't even see my own hand in front of my face. It was like being submerged in a pool of ink, only that there was no liquid, only emptiness. Despite the lack of light, I could sense that the ground was made of rough stone, and that there were pillars scattered around me, rising up into the darkness.

I couldn't remember anything before waking up here. I didn't know where I was or how I had ended up in this place of darkness. My mind was blank, as if all my memories had been erased. I tried to recall something, anything, but my efforts were in vain. It was as if my mind was trapped in a void, unable to retrieve any information.

As I stood at the edge of the abyss, I noticed a faint glow in the distance. It was a dim light, barely visible, but it was there. I felt drawn to it, as if it was a beacon of hope in the midst of the darkness. With each step I took, the light grew brighter, until it became a torch held by a hooded figure.

—Who are you? —I asked, surprised by the sudden appearance of another person in this desolate place.

The figure remained silent, but gestured for me to follow. Without hesitation, I trailed behind the hooded stranger, curious about where they were leading me.

As we walked, I noticed that the darkness began to recede, replaced by a dim, gray light. The ground became smoother, and I could hear the sound of water dripping from somewhere nearby. The air felt damp, and a faint smell of musty earth filled my nostrils.

Eventually, we arrived at a small, circular chamber, lit by a flickering torch. In the center of the chamber stood a pedestal, upon which rested a small, glowing crystal.

—Take it —the hooded figure said, gesturing to the crystal.

I hesitated, unsure of what the crystal was or what its purpose was. But something inside me urged me to take it, to grasp it in my hand and feel its warmth.

As soon as I touched the crystal, a flood of memories rushed into my mind. I remembered who I was, where I came from, and why I was here. The darkness that had surrounded me dissipated, replaced by the light of the crystal.

I looked up at the hooded figure, but they had already vanished, leaving me alone with the crystal and my newfound memories.

—How many years have I not felt?

But these questions were absurd at this point, because my only real concern at the moment was how to get out of here. But then, I asked.

—Why do I want to get out of here?

Initially, as I found myself in this new and strange place, I was struck by the utter lack of physical sensations. There was no hunger or thirst, no need for distractions or entertainment. Instead, a sense of tranquility had settled over me, and the silence was so comfortable that it made me want to speak freely, without any sense of obligation or restraint.

As I explored this new world, I couldn't help but feel that the advantages here were far greater than anything I had experienced in my previous life. The possibilities seemed endless, and there was a sense of freedom that I had never known before. It was as if I had been unshackled from the constraints of my old life and set free to explore the vast expanse of this new world.

Despite this newfound sense of liberation, I couldn't help but feel a sense of curiosity stirring within me. What lay beyond the boundaries of this world? What secrets were waiting to be discovered in the darkness below? If I could somehow cross to the other side, would I find yet another irregularity, another realm waiting to be explored? These questions nagged at me, and I couldn't help but wonder what lay in store for me if I decided to stay here for eternity.

As I pondered these questions, I found myself drawn to the edge of the abyss. I peered over the edge and saw nothing but utter darkness staring back at me. It was as if the darkness was waiting for me with open arms, inviting me to take the plunge and explore its mysteries.

But then, for some reason I couldn't understand, my head snapped up and I noticed something that I had missed before. The crack that separated the room also separated the ceiling, and above my head, I saw a white light that had been there all along. It was as if the light had been waiting for me to notice it, to acknowledge its presence.

As I stood there, caught between the light and the dark, I realized that my indecision was the only thing holding me back. If I could muster the courage to take the leap of faith and explore the unknown, I might discover something truly remarkable. It was a daunting prospect, but the potential rewards were too great to ignore.

I was never the anti-hero type, nor was I the villain, but I never identified with the boy with heroic ideals. However, considering that my only action in life was a good one, perhaps I should go towards the light.

In the end, it was the pull of curiosity that won out over my indecision. I took a deep breath, closed my eyes, and took the plunge into the light above. What lay ahead was anyone's guess, but I was eager to find out.

Thus, I expected to see a thousand dying souls ablaze with blue fire, but instead, I saw a baby being extracted from a woman's vagina.

—&@&##, &+@-@! &@#&! &@#&! &@-@+#&@(#-_&!

—+@-#-#, =-°=£=. {-#+#++@-#+@, (@/;:*+@++#++@(@((#+:-+@.

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

—(@+#(@+#.......

—(@+#+#, &@#&..... +@(#+#&*+*(....

If I overlooked the fact that I had actually imagined in great detail a woman giving birth to her baby, I could conclude that I was that baby.

With my emotions still alien to me, it wasn't hard for me to keep my head cold and think straight.

"Whatever is going on right now, I don't understand the language. And based on I can't tell if I'm under threat." That was a bad sign to begin with.

When I tried to open my eyes and see beyond the bodily fluids that came out of the vagina of the woman who was holding me and obstructed my vision, my eyes burned as they were greeted by the radiant light of a thousand colors. But thanks to the shadow cast by the figure of the man in front of me, my eyes were safely accustomed to their surroundings. As I looked around me past the subject in front of me, I could see for the first time that the cold in my feet was due to being outdoors; more exactly, in a forest.

As you hear it, I wasn't on a hospital gurney and the doctor wasn't some guy in a gown with years of experience, much less a recent graduate who was lucky enough to earn his position because his father was the president of the hospital. In reality, I was surrounded by huge trees of an unknown family, while the soft, cool breeze whispered songs to my sensitive little feet, ruffling the grasses and placing a cherry leaf on my nose.

In the center of what for me was this leafy forest, surrounded by tall and dense trees, was the altar. I felt an aura of a sacred place and full of some energy, this would be where magical beings would gather to honor the gods and ask for their protection.

The altar was made of ancient and polished stones, which seemed to have withstood the passage of time and the inclemencies of the weather. The stones were arranged in a circular shape, and in the center of the circle was a large stone slab, where we were.

On the altar there were a large number of symbolic objects: candles of different colors, aromatic incense, branches of plants and flowers of various colors. There were also strange statues from different cultures, candles in the shape of stars and pentagrams, and bowls of water and salt.

When I raised my head and saw this woman, my eyes were perplexed.

She had long, silky dark hair that spilled down to her shoulders in soft waves. The natural shine of her hair was magnified by the soft light coming through the branches of the trees, giving her a dreamy and delicate look.

Her eyes were large and expressive, a deep shade of brown that was accentuated by the shadow beneath them from exhaustion. Despite her exhaustion, her gaze was warm and welcoming, radiating love and care for the newborn she held gently in her arms.

This woman's skin looked soft and smooth, with a warm tone that contrasted with the white of the sheets of the blanket she lay on. Her skin seemed to glow with health and vitality, evidence of excellent nutrition and care during pregnancy.

Overall, her appearance was serene and delicate, but at the same time strong and brave, like a warrior who had gone through an intense experience and emerged victorious. The natural beauty of this woman was something I had never seen, not even in all my years on the internet.

I attributed this feeling to the fact that this 'woman' was actually my mother, and that what I felt was the immeasurable love and admiration of a son.

When I was about to turn my head to the side, my body was violently shaken.

I never thought that an old man could look this way being... well, an old man.

First, his body is likely to be fit and toned, with ripped muscles and a strong, resilient appearance, for some external reason. But advanced age did not seem to have diminished his dedication to physical activity, and this was reflected in his physique...

Despite his muscular body, his face bore an expression that reflected either pure anger or natural disgust. His brows were furrowed and his jaw clenched, giving him countenance an iron, aggressive expression. His eyes were intense and penetrating, with a gaze that seemed to defy any obstacle thrown his way.

This old man's hair was sparse but he had enough to make one or two hairstyles, but what is certain is that the rest of his body was covered in abundant dark hair that complements his fierce and wild appearance.

In general, his appearance was intimidating and even terrifying, reaching a point where even if I had my past life's body I wouldn't move a muscle if it avoided his attention.

When he lifted me up by my umbilical cord, I would say that there are not enough words in my vocabulary to describe what I felt. But the fecal secretion, the urine, together with the vomit and the blood that my body expelled could give you a general idea of my sensations.

—+@-#+@+@+!!

The woman stretched her feeble arms out to me as she screamed and cried and kicked like a spoiled child as the old man sullied this holy place without remorse and stole a baby.

For some reason, I would have liked to know what my father's expression was, or even if he had done something to prevent this. Because honestly, in my field of vision I couldn't see it.

When my mind barely recovered from the pain of being moved through the umbilical cord, I noticed something not very conspicuous, and certainly common.

The old man with the furious countenance, had two small, fluffy and cute cat ears.

"Where I am?"

* * *

According to my humble calculations based on the time we used there on Earth, three months had passed since I ascended through that light, accepting the supposed path of goodness and being expelled through my now mother's vagina.

I was always the quiet type, but extremely observant. And this characteristic did not take off from me even after I died, because according to what my newborn eyes could see, it could be that I had traveled to Earth's past, to medieval times.

... That would be the case if it weren't for that damned old man with the cat ears and animal tail.

Ever since I was 'stolen' from my mother's arms, being the only one who really suffered physical damage, I have been subjected to simply inhumane torture for a three month old baby. The old man seemed to be preparing me for something in some way.

To begin with, I lived alone with him in a cabin in the middle of the woods. It was a four-room home, with wooden floors and walls. He used torches that seemed to run on oil and grease, and there was really nothing modern or fancy about it. In the mornings, he would wake me up from a straw 'bed' with a miserable blanket, and then I would sit in front of the fire in the fireplace for thirty minutes. After that, he would place two swords in front of me, hoping that I would move my weak little body as if I really had control over a little finger and choose one of the two. He would sometimes sit in front of me and tap my body with a piece of wood, as if he was forging me into a sword. This routine would be repeated day after day for the last three months.

His lack of patience was evident in the way he was so easily irritated. Naturally, as the three-month-old baby that I was, I couldn't talk, or walk, let alone lift a piece of iron twice my size, but this old half-cat's mind seemed to work in another league, as it was obvious that he expected me to do what was impossible, as if I really had the tools to do it, and that if I didn't it was because I didn't want to.

However, when I managed to complete some of his tasks, such as crawling a distance imposed by him or eating without hesitating what he pointed out to me, his lack of empathy told me that he was a piece of rock when it came to expressing his emotions. Or maybe he was just cold and therefore not very empathetic. My achievements were indifferent in most cases and when I made the effort to satisfy his demands, he was aloof. Which made it hard for me to connect with him emotionally.

In short, he was a stubborn old man, without patience and cold, which caused him to be inflexible, impatient and not very empathetic.

Usually he would grab me by the hair if he saw me outside the house and hit me on the butt with the wood if I went near the door or window. It seemed like there was no middle ground when it came to the exterior. Something that I certainly understood, considering that he himself was a muscular old man with cat ears, God only knows what kind of creatures could lurk out there...

And so, the days passed: the training –sorry, the TORTURE– went up to the next level and by the time I was four years old, I had already earned my first wooden sword. Although I did steal it from Harald during one of our training sessions and he never asked me for it back. I took it as a 'Yes, you've earned it'.

Ah yes, Harald is the doomed old man. And I have learned something about the language of this world.

No, I didn't learn because Harald was so considering to sit at a table with me and give me reading lessons. When a certain amount of time passed, it was not necessary for me to have to ask for permission or notify me that I was going to leave the cabin, I would simply sneak out at night and cross the forest until I reached the outskirts and met the town. This town was more like a military base, because there really wasn't any government building or center.

The first time I got this far, I found myself on a dirt road that led me past merchants' tents and vendors on both sides of the street selling all sorts of things. Besides the carrots, potatoes, and real cotton coats, what surprised me the most was the freedom with which they sold swords, knives, and armor.

In order to try to learn the language faster and more efficiently, I simply had to put my bratty ear to the tents and hear the shouts and demands of the negotiations between the two parties. Also, with my wooden sword on my shoulder and my pretend larva attitude, it wasn't hard for me to bully other kids into teaching me common words, gestures, and idioms. Unfortunately, I soon became famous among the darker streets and took more than one beating, enough for Harald to realize that the blows were not his but other attackers. When he found out that I was sneaking into town, he reminded me of the day he carried me through the middle of the forest hanging on my umbilical cord.

The days passed quickly in the prison that my own stupidity had created. There were no books here, no poems, just a children's story that I still couldn't understand. I just observed and analyzed everything around me, every day I learned something new about my five-year-old body and gained more control than before.