Darkness. Utter and complete. It clung to me like thick, black ink, wrapping around every inch of my being. Confusion swept through my consciousness as I grappled with the unfamiliarity of my surroundings. Where am I? Why is everything so dark? I tried to call the so familiar interface but nothing came out.

In the abyss, I felt a subtle vibration, a faint murmur of distant sounds. At first, they were mere echoes, distant and indistinct. Gradually, though, they coalesced into something recognizable: voices. Whispers that danced on the edge of my perception, like distant echoes carried on a breeze.

As the voices grew louder, I began to discern snippets of conversation. They seemed to be discussing something, their tones varying from hushed whispers to excited chatter. It was as if I were eavesdropping on a gathering, yet I couldn't comprehend the meaning behind their words.

The clinging darkness began to pulsate, responding to the cadence of the voices. It felt like the very essence of my being resonated with the unseen conversation. Slowly, an awareness dawned upon me—an awareness that I was not alone, that I existed within this symphony of whispers and darkness.

In the midst of this mysterious exchange, I felt a strange tingling sensation. It started small, like a distant hum, and then it intensified. It was as if some force was coaxing me to awaken from a deep slumber. Tentatively or perhaps instinctively, I tried to move, to assert control over whatever form I inhabited in this ethereal realm.

As I focused on the sensation, I realized that I had limbs—small and delicate, yet undeniably present. The sounds around me shifted as I maneuvered through this sea of voices. Each movement brought me closer to understanding the nature of this existence.

The voices became more distinct.

With a surge of determination, I sought out the source of the voices. Slowly, I became aware of something I seemed to be having—eyelids, but so far had sealed shut being unaware of even their existences. As I concentrated, the darkness behind my closed eyes began to waver, and a subtle warmth crept in. Light. Realization dawned upon me – I possessed the ability to open my eyes.

Stolen story; please report.

Summoning every ounce of will, I coaxed my eyelids to part. As they slowly revealed the light beyond, I was flooded with sensations—sensations that I, as what I’ve been for sometime, have begun forgetting: the warmth of light, the sound of my own little breath, the coppery smell of blood.

I blinked, adjusting to the newfound brightness, and saw a blurry, unfamiliar landscape. It took a moment for my vision to clear, but as it did, I became aware of the tiny, delicate body that was now mine. A baby. Yes, a baby. I finally remembered this was the plan— a reincarnation, one done through the corresponding authorities that allowed this to be possible.

In that moment, a woman's voice gradually emerged from the sea of sounds, a voice that cut through the remaining confusion in me like a beacon. As I felt she cradled me in her arms, the woman spoke, her voice while completely foreign to me resonated with a peculiar familiarity. At first I failed to grasp what she was saying but slowly but surely the language slowly became intelligible. "—but you'll forgive me, Dungeon Master 18. I've yet to figure out how to create a masculine vessel, but no doubt you'll get used to it. Haha, just like I did."

Hearing the voice mention the denomination I went by amidst the Conscil of Dungeon Master I strained to see her, my vision struggling to focus.

All I could discern were two features—an ocean of black hair cascading like a waterfall, and remarkably large ears that seemed to defy the conventional proportions of human anatomy. The rest of her features eluded me, hidden in a blurry veil.

Her words echoed in my consciousness, a puzzle waiting to be unraveled. Dungeon Master 18? It stirred a memory within me, a connection to a greater plan.

Oh, right—this! This was the purpose of my reincarnation. As I finally realized who the woman cradling me was, Dungeon Master 08—the one that claimed to Dungeon Master 07 to have made one step further to creating the perfect vessel for one of us to reincarnate into, every piece of the convoluted puzzle slowly fell into place.

She leaned closer, her presence enveloping me. I could feel her warmth, her breath brushing against my tiny face. “Can you hear me Dungeon Master 18? You should be able to. With you, we’ve gotten closer to “it”—the perfect vessel I’ve for so long sought to create.”