You know, when it comes to religions that preach the dogma of reincarnation, they rarely tell you just how waiting feels . In that space between life and absolute oblivion, where the entirety of one's form is laid bare to the void, it's terrifying. There's a constant sense that you and your lived experience are a chimerical illusion. That the perpetual gap surrounding you is the truth . That knowledge, life, growth, and existence itself are a mirage in an endless desert—the shadow of a word on a blank page. With just a movement, your memories would leak and disappear.
It's more than death. It's the extinction of the self, something people come to peace with—at least those who don't believe in a god—but they fail to truly comprehend the sheer omnipresent, sinking, tearing dread one feels when truly faced with spiritual extinction.
And for that, she hated Being X all the more.
But, as always, she was a special case. Eventually, in that void without time or space or reality, she was moved. She was funneled across some metaphysical tunnel. At the end of it, she assumed she would find her new body. The process compressed her being, painfully so, as expected when the literal essence of your existence is squashed like playdough. It shot her along at what she thought were obscene speeds, if such a space even followed those rules.
This continued for an unknown length of time—every moment an eternity, and every eternity a second. But she could feel herself getting closer. Then it happened.
An ambient force warped the very shape of the tunnel, like a metaphysical black hole capable of bending space-time. The tunnel warped until it finally broke. Her soul wasn't subject to the void; it was absorbed into that black hole. Unlike death, which promises stillness, this experience was visceral—a transformation where the very essence of her being was broken down and reforged. Pain was her only anchor, the only thing keeping her from dissolving into nothingness.
Despite the torment, she clung to her identity, refusing to disappear. Her soul was destroyed and used to fill the cracks of something else. Imagine staying conscious as a corpse and feeling everything happening to your body—decay, the crushing weight of rotting wood and earth, insects and bacteria eating you, weathering from fire, ice, and rain. Now multiply that by a factor of a million, and you'd start to understand her pain.
After that, there was only darkness.
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"Ohhh damn..."
Midea grabbed his head in pain. His skull throbbed as if one of those fat asses from the Circle of Greed was using it as a trampoline. Everything was a haze—not just his memory, but his vision. Large clouds of gray mixed with flashing spots of black and white, like colliding stars across his sight. He put his paws to his face, trying to recall the series of events that led him here.
"W-we were locked in battle, then... ughh... no. Baal made a deal with the Devas. The Circle of Pride was under attack, right? Yeah, that should be right. She—our queen—called in her friend, that thing. And it had been pregnant and then, errgghh. THAT'S RIGHT ! The eggs! I was supposed to watch the eggs!"
The imp's memories began to clear. He was a demon from the Pride Circle. One of the kings of hell, Baal—that big-nosed duck bastard—had made a deal with some outside deities to gain more land in hell in exchange for spreading their preachy nonsense. Their queen, Lilith, had called in a favor from that creature. He didn't know much about its race, but apparently, Lilith and the creature had been close, almost like sisters in the past. Despite being pregnant, it came to help in the war. It laid its eggs during the war, which were placed in the most sacred area of the Pride Circle, protected by hundreds of wards, made of hellfire and demon blood to ward off violence, misfortune, and curse magic alike. Guarded by billions of demons who could have been fighting in the war, but none of them could compare to her assistance.
The assistance of that unsettling being who called herself Lervea.
He was one of them —a highborn pride imp sent to guard the eggs due to his family's influence. Despite his low rank, he had great potential for future evolution. Even in his imp stage, he was strong and came from a good background. He had been thoroughly checked before being assigned this duty, thanks to his family. In hell, nepotism was one of the few ways to claw yourself up. It was supposed to be an easy job that padded his resume. He had expected offers from powerful Abyssal Zephyrs—demon groups that trained young demons for evolution and taught them various mantras or techniques. He'd evolve into a fiend and move into a mid-class kingdom, where he'd work his way up to being directly under Lilith, as a king of hell, rather than just an imp from a privileged family.
But then, chaos. A bunch of his fellow demons had transformed into Devas before his eyes. They unleashed some sort of bomb that destabilized reality, and then... everything went dark. But it was fine—as long as he was alive, he could start again. Maybe with veteran benefits or something.
His vision finally cleared, and the world came into focus. The sky above him was clear blue, with several stars hanging overhead, each a different color of the rainbow. The blue sun shone particularly bright, standing out against the sky like an electric beacon . Its brilliance filled his vision with spots, mocking him for his previous hopes of an easy job. This was not the purple sky of the Pride Circle. This wasn't hell.
The stars stared at him, insouciantly mocking his misfortune.
"Dammit !"
He angrily unleashed a burst of hellfire, scorching the ground beside him. But suddenly, a clattering sound interrupted his outburst. It was like two stones knocking against one another. Midea turned his head, scanning the area. He was in a crater —not a deep one, but a crater nonetheless, surrounded by a clearing and tall blue-green trees, their branches twisted together in visually pleasing spirals. But that wasn't important. Not right now.
Next to him were two spherical objects. One was red and black, about a meter in diameter, and the other was purple and gold, about the same size. The purple and gold one had cracks in it.
"Ohhh, fuck! Oh, my glorious lord Satan , who drank the blood of a billion virgins, say it ain't so!"
As a low-class imp, albeit from a good family, Midea was never qualified to get anywhere near Lervea's eggs. Even high demons weren't. Only the king-class demons Lilith trusted most were. However, as a guard, he had seen the eggs and knew exactly how they looked. This fit the description perfectly.
Had he cracked the egg?! No way. But why was it cracked? Even if it wasn't his fault, just being near it could lead to his execution for failing in his duty. His family? They'd be killed and eaten by Lervea if they dared speak a word in his defense. Getting killed by one of her kind was extinction. Even though his family had his soul imprint and could normally revive him, if she killed him, it was over. No one in hell could stand against her. The Pride Circle had been massively outmatched by Baal, his forces, and the Devas, but as soon as Lilith called Lervea in, they had begun winning, taking over Baal's kingdom, and collapsing parts of the divine realm of the Devas. Even stealing divine territory to expand the Pride Circle.
One being had changed the course of the war. That's the kind of monster Lervea was.
"Nononononononononono …"
He rushed to the cracked purple and gold egg, tracing the area with trembling hands. Light was leaking out of it, but he had no idea what to do. Panic welled inside him, but then something extraordinary happened.
A light blue energy was drawn from the void. Midea could feel its nature—it was a soul. He had seen a few souls descend into hell to become Jarati, captured by the ferrymen. The ferrymen were demons who pulled unsuspecting, sin-filled souls into hell, unlike the naturally born demons like himself. Souls tended to vary in structure depending on the race, but he recognized this one. It felt human, or at least human-adjacent.
The blue energy filled the cracks in the egg, slowly mending the damage. The shell sealed itself shut, without leaving a mark.
Lervea's little monster had absorbed a random soul from the void to heal itself. Midea let out a breath of relief.
"Truly, what an absurd lifeform. Little bastard had me scared for my life."
No one knew much about them. Lervea was the only one of her kind to appear in hell or any of the surrounding realms. According to his elder, a king-class demon, she was part of a race of monsters who could devour the souls of anything they killed. Midea shook his head. He had to take care of the eggs in this alien world, or risk his life—and possibly worse, no definitely worse—at Lervea's hands.
Leaving them here was out of the question . Lervea would feel their aura on him and track him down. He had no illusions about how terrifying she was.
Midea got to his feet, dusted off his pitch-black skin, and began carrying the huge eggs. They were heavy, but he was a demon, after all. As he trekked through the alien lands, golden lights flashed through the blue-green forest. Strange creatures, made of interlocked fingers, rolled across the ground. Large, floating plants hovered nearby, surrounded by gliding beasts that looked like the lovechild of a lemur and a dragonfly.
The imp needed shelter, and fast.
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It was an odd experience, knowing you weren't quite yourself anymore. Tanya was aware, on some level, that the very core of her being had changed. She couldn't be sure if this was some machination of Being X, but it didn't feel like his doing. No, that tunnel had been leading her to wherever she was supposed to go—but something had intervened. Something had taken her soul from its intended course, breaking it down completely. Everything that made her who she was remained intact; she could remember every detail from both of her past lives: Being X, Visha, Viktoriya, the war, Japan, Eric, and her university in her first life . All of it was still there. Yet, the core of her being had shifted.
She had become part of something greater, something that had absorbed her. But she wasn't separate from this entity; she was its memories, its consciousness. The entirety of what had once been Tanya von Degurechaff had been relegated to memory. In a very real sense, she was dead. Truly dead. Her original soul no longer existed. What remained was more like a clone—an amalgamation of accumulated memories that had fused with a new soul during that event.
She wanted to hyperventilate, to claw at her face, to laugh at the absurdity of it all. As soon as she had escaped that damned god, she had died. Her immortal soul erased. But now there was only darkness surrounding her—no movement, no feeling, no vision. She was dead. Forever dead. She couldn't even scream or cry. This was suffering in its purest, most distilled form. And so she stayed there, her mind shaking, cursing at what she had become. She cursed Being X, cursed fate , cursed everything that had led to this.
She railed against the unfairness of it all. But time, as it always does, began to work its crude magic, healing the wounds, or at least slapping a big, ugly scab over them. Eventually, an instinct seemed to wash over her, urging her to rest, to let go. And so, she began to calm—if only slightly.
"I think, therefore I am."
"I think, therefore I am."
She repeated the phrase over and over again, clinging to it like a lifeline. Even if she was nothing more than memory, just a flicker of consciousness and not the core—what truly made a person a person? If that bastard god decided to reincarnate her without her memories, would she still be Tanya? Would she still be Tanya? the choices she made, the things she said, truly reflect who she had been?
Who was to say the most important part of a person wasn't their memories? One's past reflected the present, after all. Without the past, what was left but origin? Perhaps the soul was just a blank canvas, one capable of holding the essence of a person. An essence that was only attained through life. If reincarnated and stripped of memory, even if the soul remained the same, could that truly be considered "you"?
Tanya still believed she was herself, and in that thought, she found comfort. Because if not , she wouldn't know what to do.
Ignoring the looming threat of mental collapse, she focused on her surroundings. Slowly, she began to feel again, to move. She was in a confined space, filled with some kind of fluid. If she was in a new body, then she was trapped, but not drowning. Was it amniotic fluid? The thought crossed her mind. She considered her reality—absorbed as part of a larger soul, yet she had somehow retained her sense of self. That made no sense unless she had been absorbed by some mindless, ancient entity.
She chuckled darkly at the idea. Reborn as some eldritch, formerly mindless being who could hunt down Being X and eat him alive. A fitting irony, perhaps. But if not that, the only other explanation was that she had been reborn in a baby's body. After all, babies were also mindless, lacking previous memories or experiences. However, that was an absurd notion. No infant should have the power to destroy her soul and absorb her memories. The fact that she—a person with two lifetimes of experience—perhaps had lost to an infant stirred a sense of pride in her she hadn't realized she possessed. It made her bristle with irritation. Such a thing was implausible.
But as time passed, her ability to move slowly returned. Her body was weak, feeble even, but she could feel it—something was growing closer. She wasn't sure how she knew, but her instincts told her. Release was near.
And soon, she would see what she had become. She would see this new world and whatever it had in store for her.
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Midea had struggled immensely over the past few days. This planet was a nightmare. He was convinced it was the twisted creation of some god of torture's private amusement. At first, it didn't seem so bad, but as he continued trudging along with the eggs, he noticed how quickly exhaustion crept in. The gravity here was uncharacteristically high. The seven suns stirred up the ambient numen into chaos, increasing its density and quality, but it permeated everything, making even the simplest movements feel like a battle.
The planet itself seemed intent on killing him. The weather literally chased him down with murderous intent. He had faced rolling finger beasts attacking him at night, and shades trying to possess him—luckily, he had enough experience as a demon to fend them off . Then came the metallic winds that nearly shredded him and the eggs into dust. Three separate meteor storms had unleashed flame spirits that hunted down and killed anything in their path. And then there was the virus swamp—a literal swamp of constantly mutating viral creatures. , each more disgusting than the last, constantly growing and trying to infect everything they touched. He ran from that abomination fast.
He was a demon, and even he had never seen anything so vile.
After escaping countless life -threatening events, Midea found a cave—a small victory in the war of survival. It wasn't ideal, but it was relatively safe. He placed the eggs inside and covered them with leaves from the strange trees nearby. At first, he considered burying them, but if they suffocated or were damaged somehow, the consequences would fall squarely on him.
Sighing, Midea took in his surroundings. It was… well, a cave. The rock was dull red and malleable, reminding him of clay. Several stalagmites rose up in a rough oval formation in the middle of the cave. He filled the area with leaves, carefully placing the two eggs there. Water dripped from the stalactites above, which he collected in stone bowls he had shaped from the cave walls.
Stretching, Midea brushed the dirt off his knees and caught a glimpse of himself in one of the makeshift water bowls. He stood about seven feet tall, with pitch-black skin and four horns that pointed upward from his head. His eyes were the classic demon-red, glowing faintly even in the dim cave light. His body was a mixture of strength and menace—six clawed fingers on each hand, hooved feet, and a lower body that resembled a goat's. His tail was long and black, ending in a sharp, arrow-like point. He admired his reflection, flexing for a moment to appreciate his own demonic form.
He was a Dark Satyr, an imp the second lowest in the demonic hierarchy—but a Dark Satyr was a rare class of imp to evolve into. He allowed himself a brief moment of pride, then refocused on his task.
After all , today was going to be risky.
He dragged the corpse of a beast he had hunted into the cave—a feathered pangolin-like creature with warts reminiscent of a toad. Using its blood, Midea inscribed basic wards at the entrance to the cave. Imbuing the demonic symbols with his numen was surprisingly easy, thanks to the richness of the energy in this world. His family had invested heavily in his training; back when he was just a darkling (the stage before an imp), they had hired tutors to teach him the basics of wards and spells. After finishing the wards, he felt the familiar drain of energy, but a quick breathing exercise allowed him to absorb the ambient numen and replenish his reserves.
With a final exhale, he exited the cave and pulled a huge boulder from the ground, setting it in front of the entrance. He carved wards into the boulder as well for added protection, then moved into the forest, cloaking himself in shadow. Cloaking wasn't a technique a demon from the Pride Circle typically excelled at, but Midea came from wealth, and wealth afforded a variety of useful skills.
He approached the area he had scouted earlier but had ignored in his rush to find shelter for the eggs.
"As I thought," he muttered, crouching low.
The tracks were faint, but they were there. He traced them with his fingers—bipedal creatures, moving fast, judging by the distance between the imprints. They had talons, too. But what caught his attention even more was the thread lying next to the tracks . It was braided in different colors, dexterously crafted. On the end was a wolf head carved from the same blue-green wood that populated this world.
"Civilization."
If he wanted to survive here, he'd need allies. He'd need a stable place for his evolutions and for the eggs. He couldn't always be their sole protector. His shapeshifting abilities, as a demon of the Pride Circle, were nonexistent at his current level, unlike the bastards from the Envy Circle who could easily transform and infiltrate other species. But he had other options.
This world—or at least this region—seemed primal. Judging from the state of their tracks and tools , the sapient races likely had poor numen-cultivating techniques. Numen was the universal energy that flowed through all things, manifesting in various ways depending on its attributes. Demonic and divine energies were simply numen with specific characteristics. All beings with a soul could cultivate it, connecting the body and soul through meridians to refine it. Cultivation techniques expanded and prepared the soul, and once the soul reached its limit, it would be compressed, allowing for transcendence. And the creation of another layer of the soul.
Each layer of transcendence involved breaking nine shackles. How this second layer manifested itself and how the shackles were broken varied depending on technique and race. Demons, in particular, gained racial evolutions with each layer, an advantage few others had. While angels might gain more wings and elves might become more Beautiful, demons underwent far more significant transformations, making them one of the strongest factions. Of course, their tribulations were also far harsher. The highest known layer of cultivation was twelve, though lesser realms and worlds often believed no second layer existed. So there may be even more than twelve.
This world, rich in numen, likely had inhabitants past the first layer, but their techniques were probably garbage. Midea could offer them higher-grade non-demonic techniques to form an alliance, ensuring protection for himself and the eggs.
He began running, following the tracks deeper into the forest.
For hours, Midea tracked the faint imprints left by the creatures. The alien forest pulsed with life, the canopy above glowing faintly with the light of the blue-green trees. Swirling golden lights flickered in the distance, mixing with the sounds of this strange world. The atmosphere felt alive, as if the forest itself was watching, waiting for him to slip up.
His sharp claws left small impressions on the soft, moss-covered ground as he moved. The shadow cloak kept him mostly hidden, but the ambient numen of this world pressed against his concealment at times, as if threatening to reveal him.
It was in this tense moment that the attack came.
________________________________________
The forest suddenly exploded into motion. A blur of feathers and warts shot from the underbrush with a predatory screech—feathered pangolins, their long, warty bodies coiled with sinewy muscle, their talon-like claws extending as they leaped toward him. Midea's red eyes caught their movements, and in an instant, his mind calculated their trajectory.
The first one lunged straight for his head, claws poised to rip through his horns. Midea ducked, his horns narrowly missing the swipe as he spun, feeling the rush of wind as the beast flew overhead. He kicked off the ground, leaping backward and spinning in midair. The second pangolin came from his left, its claws gleaming in the dappled sunlight that filtered through the forest canopy.
Midea extended his arm, palm facing out. His lips curled into a wicked smile.
"Hell's Embrace."
In a fraction of a second, his hand flared with black, flickering flame. flames, infused with demonic energy, surged forward, wrapping around the pangolin in a swirling vortex. Its screech turned into a wail of agony as the flame bit into its flesh, the heat so intense that its warty scales melted like wax under a torch. Midea moved swiftly, sidestepping another pangolin that darted from the shadows.
Without breaking his stride, he leaped onto a nearby tree, his clawed feet finding purchase on the trunk as he vaulted off it. He twisted in the air, spinning to avoid the sharp talons of yet another creature as it lunged at him from below. His six fingers extended, each clawed tip glowing with numen-infused energy as he struck out at the beast mid-flight, his claws slicing deep into its throat.
The creature's momentum carried it forward, but its body crumpled into a lifeless heap at Midea's feet, blood pooling in the dirt. Midea barely had time to relish the kill before more pangolins surged from the underbrush, their claws raking at the air as they coordinated their attack. Three of them now—flanking him, circling him like wolves on the hunt.
But Midea wasn't prey.
"Time to teach you poor assesses about the strength of the rich." He laughed boisterously.
With a fluid motion, he dashed forward toward the closest pangolin. His movements were a blur, his cloak of shadow shifting around him as his hand lashed out like a whip, imbued with the full force of his demonic power. He touched the creature's side with a single finger, but that was all it took.
A heartbeat later, the pangolin exploded in a shower of blood, bone, and viscera as the dark flames of Hell's Embrace detonated inside it. The blast charred the nearby trees, the leaves catching fire, and the other two pangolins skittered back in terror, momentarily stunned.
Midea grinned. "Run all you like." His voice was calm, filled with glee, as his red eyes glinted. "Omae wa,Mou shinderu."
He moved again, faster than the eye could follow, his body a blur as he closed the gap between him and the two remaining creatures. His hand touched their bodies in passing—just a gentle tap, as if he was brushing off dirt
. first pangolin ignited from the inside out, flames bursting from its eyes and mouth as it writhed in agony, collapsing in a burning heap. The second managed to turn and flee, but Midea had already marked it. The flames caught up, and with a final scream, the creature's body erupted in a violent explosion of flame and gore, its remains scattering across the forest floor.
The forest fell silent, save for the crackling of fire and the faint dripping of blood from the nearby trees. Midea stood amidst the carnage, breathing heavily but satisfied. The warm, thick air was filled with the stench of burnt flesh, and blackened leaves fell gently from the charred canopy above.
He flicked the blood off his claws and surveyed the scene, his tail flicking lazily behind him . "Bastards." He muttered, giving a final insolent middle finger to the charred remains.
But the fight wasn't over.
Out of the shadows came another threat—this one larger. Midea's eyes narrowed as he sensed its presence before he saw it . A massive pangolin, far bigger than the others, emerged from the underbrush, its body glistening with a thick coat of armor- like feathers. Its talons were longer, sharper, and its eyes glowed with a sickly yellow light. It growled, a deep, rumbling sound that vibrated the very earth beneath him.
"Finally, something worth killing," Midea snarled, his body tensing in anticipation.
The enormous beast charged, and the ground shook with every step. Midea responded in kind, his form blurring as he rushed toward the creature. Their clash was thunderous—the beast's claws slamming into Midea's horns with a deafening clang as Midea pushed back with all his strength. His feet dug trenches into the ground, but he held his ground, grinning wildly.
With a growl, he leapt backward, dodging the creature's second swipe. As he moved, he channeled numen into his body, his veins glowing faintly with power. He thrust his palm toward the ground, and with a guttural snarl, the earth erupted beneath the beast, a jet of black flame shooting upward and engulfing it.
The creature screamed, thrashing violently as the flames consumed its armor, but it didn't fall easily. With a roar , it lunged through the flames, its claws reaching for Midea's throat.
In one swift motion, Midea brought his Hell's Embrace to bear, slamming his claws into the beast's chest. His fingers sank deep, and with a surge of demonic power, he released the full force of his flames directly into the creature's core.
The pangolin's eyes widened in shock, its body convulsing as the flames erupted from within, tearing it apart from the inside out. Its massive form collapsed in a heap, the light in its eyes fading as the last of its strength left it.
Midea stood over the carcass, panting heavily, his chest heaving from the effort. He wiped the blood from his face and looked around, ensuring there were no more threats. The forest had silent once again, the only sound the crackling of the still -burning trees.
He kicked the beast's body, letting out a small laugh. "I told you," he muttered, satisfied, "you were already dead. At the very least you could have played along and said, 'Nani.'"
The imp had been able to watch Fist of the North Star from searching through the soul of Jarati that he soul-searched. They were those transformed from the souls of sinners and often had interesting life stories. The natural denizens of hell sifted through their souls for entertainment at times.
Laughing at the memories, Midea continued before he finally found it: the village wall, made of thick wood and crowned with an imposing black stone archway, loomed before him. At the peak of the arch was a wolf head, intricately carved and reminiscent of the trinket he had found earlier. Midea prepared himself mentally as he cast a common demonic spell, one that would allow him to understand and communicate in the language of this world once the other person spoke.
He approached cautiously and knocked on the gate. Afterward , he moved back, bowing low in a gesture of submission. It irked him to perform such acts—a demon of the Pride Circle lowering himself in such a way. But Midea was no fool. He knew survival, and more importantly, protecting the eggs, was worth far more than his pride.
The gates creaked open slowly, revealing a group of warriors, tall and imposing. Their wolfen features—ears, tails, and claws—marked them as something more than humanoid. They wore armor made from beast hide and carapace, weapons forged from wood and the sharp teeth of creatures native to this world. Their spears gleamed with sharp points made from beast teeth, and their auras flickered with numen energy. Each of them had first-layer cultivation, a fact that made Midea sneer internally. Primitive, but not without potential.
One of them stepped forward, spear pointed directly at Midea. His presence exuded authority, his voice a low growl.
"What are you, creature of the night?" The warrior's voice was gruff, filled with suspicion. "I am Garran, son of the leader of Wolvenblade village, general of the Great Canid clan, son of the Lupus line!"
Midea resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the wolf-centric titles. Lord Satan knew they could chill with that shit.
He straightened himself and gave a courteous nod. "Greetings, great Garran. I am a Dark Satyr, a benevolent creature from the noble house of Valefor. My name is Midea Scelus. I come asking for your ear." Lies flowed easily from his lips, as they always did for a demon of his caliber. His words dripped with false sincerity, the kind that could easily sway the minds of those who weren't aware of his true nature. Well, he wasn't lying about his house or name, but Dark Satyrs were anything but benevolent.
Garran didn't seem convinced. He took a step forward, the spear in his hand glowing with refined numen energy, streams of spear intent swirling around the weapon in an impressive display of power for such a primitive clan. Intent was rather advanced.
"And why would we listen to you, Midea?" Garran's voice was low and dangerous, filled with suspicion.
Midea allowed a sly grin to creep across his face. "Because I have knowledge—techniques that could change the course of your clan's power forever. All I ask is a place to stay in return for sharing this gift."
Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
Garran's eyes narrowed as he felt the implication of Midea's words. "What do you mean by that, exactly?" There was a sense of unease in his voice now, the faintest flicker of curiosity tempered by wariness.
Midea decided it was time to demonstrate. He flexed his second-layer numen, sending waves of demonic energy outward. It rippled through the air, a dark force that scratched at the souls of those who stood before him. The warriors flinched visibly, their expressions betraying the sudden fear that had gripped them. To them, it must have felt as though the shadows themselves were reaching out, trying to claw their spirits from their bodies.
"As you can see, Garran," Midea said, his voice dripping with confidence, "I am at the second layer of cultivation. My numen is... special. I can teach you a technique that will allow your people to grow stronger —stronger than you've ever dreamed possible."
Garran hesitated, the numen around his spear wavering slightly. The intimidation had worked, but there was still caution in his eyes. "Our chief—my father—is at the third layer," he said, his voice steadying. "Can your technique take us beyond even that?"
Midea's grin widened, revealing sharp teeth as he leaned forward slightly, his voice a low, conspiratorial whisper. "Beyond that... until you can step upon the stars themselves."
The words hung in the air, heavy with promise and temptation. Garran's eyes flickered with something more—desire, ambition. The thought of transcending even his father's power, of leading his people to new heights, was too tantalizing to resist. But Midea could sense the hesitation. The Wolvenblade clan was not without caution.
Still, Midea knew the seed had been planted. Power, after all, was the ultimate currency, and Midea had just promised them an endless supply. Whether or not the truth of his offer matched their expectations mattered little for now. What mattered was gains their trust, or at least their interest.
Garran stepped back, the tension in his posture easing slightly. "We will see what the chief has to say about this." He gestured for Midea to follow, the warriors still watching him warily, but with a hint of curiosity. The gates creaked open further, revealing the sprawling village behind them, where the Great Canid clan waited.
As Midea stepped forward, he suppressed the smile that threatened to break across his face. Everything was going according to plan.
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Midea entered the Wolvenblade village, his sharp eyes scanning the surroundings. Despite the primitive appearance, there was a strange sense of community and order here. At the village's heart, he observed the central buildings—guild halls, official structures, and a park where children and civilians played. The dirt-paved roads led deeper into the village, where he could see a school and another building likely meant for older children. The houses, some simple wooden structures and others made from stone, dotted the residential areas. A few of the homes were little more than shacks, but the village seemed well-organized despite its modesty.
Surrounded by Garran and his troupe, Midea continued walking, eventually arriving at the largest structure—a ceremonial hall adorned with red streamers hanging from the ceiling . The room itself was a sight to behold, filled with primal ceremonial objects and intricate decorations that glowed with an almost supernatural vibrancy. The walls were lined with symbols reflecting the colors of the seven suns that hung over this world, arranged in patterns that seemed to shift with the light.
At the center of the room, a massive man sat on a throne of beast skulls, his sheer size imposing, even while seated. Midea estimated him to be well over eight feet tall. The man wore a wolf skull on his head like a crown, giving him a regal yet savage appearance.
"Father!" Garran bowed deeply, crossing his arms with two clawed hands pressed against his shoulders in a sign of respect. Midea quickly mimicked the stance, understanding the importance of such displays in this culture.
The massive figure on the throne let out a booming laugh. "On the days of the seven suns, I receive such a visitor." Midea raised an eyebrow in surprise but listened carefully as the man continued "
The seven suns do not show themselves all the time," the man said, his voice filled with gravitas. "When they do, it is a time of chaos, violence, and change. The world's energy becomes denser, and the air stirs with the potential for upheaval. Children born during these days often shortly die after birth because the environment is too intense. But those who survive... they are given the title 'The Seventh.' They tend to have immense potential." He shook his head, his tone reflecting a mix of reverence and sorrow. " The greatest changes come on days when the seven suns show their faces."
The man stood up from his throne, towering over the room. "I am Remus Lupus, leader of the Great Canid clan and lord of Wolvenblade village."
Garran nodded, gesturing for Midea to speak. Midea took a breath and stepped forward.
"I am Midea Scelus, of the noble house Valefor, a benevolent Dark Satyr. I come seeking a place to live, but not without offering recompense."
Remus's eyes glinted with interest. "Speak."
"I offer a numen cultivation technique that will strengthen your people beyond what they know. This technique will allow you and your warriors to breach the limits of your current strength and reach the fourth layer and beyond."
Remus's entire body jolted as if struck by lightning. "The fourth layer?" His voice trembled with disbelief. "Do you mean breaching the next shackle?"
Midea allowed a sly grin to stretch across his face. "No, Lord Remus. I mean beyond that—to the fourth layer and beyond. The power I offer will not only increase the strength of your warriors but ensure that your every step is annihilation for your enemies. The trail you leave behind will serve as fertilizer for your clan's future, your path shall be one of prosperity, your name a legacy for generations to come."
The words were as smooth as honey, each one crafted to stoke Remus's ambition. Though Midea's offer was partly based in truth, there was a devilish undertone to his grin. He was more than capable of delivering what he promised, but the fine print of demon bargains were always complex.
Remus leaned back into his throne, his keen eyes narrowing as he studied Midea. "You want more than just a place to live." It was not a question, but a statement filled with expectation.
Midea nodded, lowering his voice slightly. "Yes. I have two... children under my care." He chose his words carefully. "They are currently immobile, housed within eggs. But I need your village to help guard and protect them as they grow. They are special, and I assure you, should you offer your protection—even at the risk of death—I will fight by your side and teach you all I can."
"Eggs?" Remus's brow furrowed, his deep voice filled with suspicion. "Are these mythical beasts you speak of?"
Midea smiled wryly. "Something like that, yes."
Remus stood from his throne once more, his large frame casting a shadow over Midea. Without warning, he grabbed Midea by the shoulders and lifted him to his feet, his large hands gripping tightly as he sized him up. Then, with a booming laugh , he slapped Midea's shoulders and pulled him into a rough embrace.
"I don't see why not!" Remus declared, his voice filled with enthusiasm. "I accept your offer! Let us celebrate the long relationship that is to come!"
The surrounding clan members erupted into cheers, their voices echoing through the grand hall. Red streamers fluttered as the room seemed to come alive with the anticipation of festivity.
Midea, for his part, allowed himself a smile. His gamble had paid off. Now, all he had to do was secure the safety of Lervea's eggs and use the power of this clan to ensure that no one would threaten his mission. He had sown the seeds of alliance and, perhaps, control. As the celebration began to roar to life around him, Midea's mind was already working, calculating the next steps in his plan. And with the protection of the Great Canid clan, his future, and the future of the eggs, had just grown far more secure.
Next, it was time to bring the eggs to the village.
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Garran had never trusted the so-called Dark Satyr. Midea was too smooth, too careful with his words, like a serpent coiled and waiting for the perfect moment to strike. There was something unnerving about him, an aura of darkness that seemed to cling to him like a second skin. Even now, after his father, Remus, had welcomed the stranger into their village, Garran's instincts screamed at him not to lower his guard.
Though Midea had only demonstrated second-layer numen, Garran wasn't sure even his father, a powerful third-layer cultivator, could easily defeat the Satyr if it came down to it. The dark, oppressive energy that Midea commanded unsettled Garran. His kin, however, had been too easily swayed, too quick to cheer and embrace this new ally. The Dark Satyr had wormed his way into their ranks with promises of power, and now they all followed his lead without question. Garran couldn't help but resent their blind enthusiasm.
The village had worked tirelessly under Midea's supervision to build the pens for the two eggs he had brought back. Garran had been curious about what kind of creature could lay such massive, radiant eggs. He had seen larger eggs from titanic beasts like the Apis, whose bodies dwarfed mountains, but these were different. The patterns of gold, purple, black, and red shifted across their surfaces like living brushstrokes, mesmerizing and almost enchanting in their beauty.
For just a brief moment, Garran had found himself unable to look away. The swirling patterns arrested his attention , stirring emotions of their beauty he didn't quite understand—he was never one to appreciate art. But then, with a shake of his head, he snapped out of the trance. There was something more than physical beauty about these eggs; they radiated a strange power that he couldn't place, and it unsettled him further.
After organizing the work crew, Garran called out to his men. "Alright boys, let's get to work!"
They worked well into the evening, building two pens near the center of the village, where the eggs could be kept safe and exposed to the sun. The pens were made from Fuulatru, a material harvested from the branches of a special tree known for its softness and strength. Under Midea's watchful, over-attentive supervision, they crafted the pens before Midea inscribed intricate wards, symbols imbued with strange energy. Midea had promised to teach the village the secrets of these wards, though Garran was certain the Satyr would never share his best techniques.
By the time the suns had set, and the moons had begun to rise , the pens were finished. Exhausted but satisfied with their work, Garran's men dispersed, ready to rest after a long day. Garran, too, was ready to retire to his quarters, but as he made his way through the village, a sound shattered the evening calm.
"Krshhh BOOM!"
The sound echoed across the village, shaking the very ground beneath Garran's feet. His instincts kicked in, and without hesitation, he bolted toward the village walls. His feet pounded against the dirt as he raced up the steps to the top of the barricade, his eyes scanning the horizon for the source of the disturbance. And then he saw them.
"Damn Vampyrs!" Garran hissed through clenched teeth.
The creatures clawed their way up the walls with disturbing speed. Their bodies were nothing more than desiccated husks of flesh, their skin stretched tightly over their bones. Their long, talon-like claws dripped with a sickly green poison that corroded everything it touched, and their red, glowing eyes pierced through the dark like beacons of malevolence. Around them, blood floated in eerie, ethereal streams, as if the very essence of life had been twisted and enslaved by these abominations. Their fangs glistened under the moonlight, sharp and deadly
. stench was overwhelming—rot and decay, a nauseating aroma that clung to the air and made Garran's stomach turn. But there was no time to dwell on the horrors of the Vampyrs. They were scaling the walls faster than Garran had expected, and his men needed orders.
"Men, take your positions!" he shouted, his voice carrying over the chaos. "Those skilled in wood arts, get to the lower walls! Thrust your spears—don't let them through! Someone bring the oil— slick the walls and dilute their blood, and they'll lose control!"
The Vampyrs had a twisted control over their own blood, using it as a weapon, but Garran knew their command over it weakened when diluted. He had faced them before, and he was no stranger to their tactics.
As if in response to his command, one of the Vampyrs raised its grotesque arm and fired a blood bullet straight at him. Garran reacted instinctively, ducking to the side as the crimson projectile whizzed past his face , narrowly missing him. Without wasting a second, Garran retaliated, thrusting his spear downward. His spear's tip gleamed with numen energy as he imbued it with spear intent, sending a shadowy spear-like projection through the air. The projection pierced the Vampyr's skull with a sickening crack, and its body fell limp, crashing into the mass of creatures climbing behind it.
"Go! Go! Go!" Garran yelled, urging his men into action.
The soldiers followed his orders, pouring oil down the walls and making it nearly impossible for the Vampyrs to gain traction. The slick surface sent several of the creatures tumbling back down into the horde below, their blood projectiles splattering harmlessly against the now-coated wall. But for every Vampyr that fell, more took its place. There were hundreds of them, their desiccated forms swarming the village like a tide of death.
His men were holding the line for now, but Garran could see the strain. Even with the oil, the Vampyrs' numbers were overwhelming, and it was only a matter of time before they breached the defenses. The wood arts users worked tirelessly at the lower walls, summoning sharp wooden protrusions to impale the Vampyrs as they climbed. It slowed their advance, but it wasn't enough. Garran could hear the pained cries of his soldiers as the creatures broke through the defenses, their talons ripping through flesh with ease.
The Vampyrs were breaching the village.
"Fall back to more defensive positions!" Garran ordered, his voice cutting through the growing panic. His men scrambled to comply, retreating from the walls to regroup closer to the heart of the village. Garran stayed behind to cover their retreat.
A Vampyr leaped toward him, its claws outstretched, venom dripping from its talons. Garran met the attack head-on, his spear glowing with numen energy.
'Cut.'
He swung his spear in a fluid motion, slicing through the Vampyr's body with ease. The creature's desiccated form split in half, the venom dissipating harmlessly into the air. Two more Vampyrs lunged at him from the sides, but Garran was quicker. He flipped over the one on his right, grabbing its head and slamming it into the other. With a powerful thrust, he drove his spear through both their skulls, ending them in an instant.
Behind him, he sensed movement. A blood bullet shot toward his back, but Garran was ready. With a swift turn, he deflected the projectile with his spear, the sound of metal against liquid reverberating through the night.
'Lunge.'
In a burst of speed, Garran closed the distance between himself and another Vampyr, his spear piercing through the creature's chest with a shower of green energy. The abomination let out a final, agonized wail before disintegrating into dust.
Garran moved like a whirlwind, his spear an extension of his body, each strike precise and lethal. The light of his spear cut through the darkness, and with every motion, another Vampyr fell. But despite his efforts, the creatures just kept coming. His men were falling back, their numbers thinning as the relentless assault continued.
As Garran prepared to regroup with his men, a voice echoed through the battlefield, cutting through the chaos.
"Pride is the fortress of the fool and the weakness of the man ."
Garran turned to see Midea standing at the edge of the battlefield, his body shrouded in a haze of purple-black numen. The energy rained down upon the Vampyrs like a deadly mist, and Garran watched in astonishment as the creatures' movements became erratic.
The Vampyrs grew more frenzied, their attacks becoming wild and uncoordinated. But something else was happening—their bodies were breaking down. Every step they took shattered their bones, every movement tore their muscles apart. It was as if the very weight of existence had become too much for them to bear. The once-dangerous creatures crumbled under the force of gravity, their own bodies betraying them.
Midea moved through the battlefield like a wraith, his dark energy twisting and coiling around him. Wherever he went, death followed . His presence alone seemed to sap the strength from the Vampyrs, their bodies disintegrating at the mere touch of his numen. But even with Midea's intervention, the tide of battle hadn't completely turned. Their battle continued.
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Tanya had been banging on that space of darkness for what felt like an eternity. At first, it was suffocating, like being trapped in a coffin, but the longer she waited, the more she learned. The dark walls seemed to weaken under the force of her blows, and slowly, the structure began to crack. With a final, forceful slam, the darkness gave way, and for the first time in what felt like forever, light flooded her vision.
She rolled out from her prison, the sudden sensation of air against her slick body overwhelming her senses. Everything felt off. The air was dense, almost too heavy, like it was trying to pin her down. But instinctively, her body shifted in a way that made the weight vanish, her new form already adapting to the pressure.
The first thing she registered was the softness beneath her. She was enveloped in warm, fluffy material, its touch oddly comforting. She blinked, her mind struggling to adjust. The second thing she noticed was an all- consuming hunger—an overwhelming urge to devour something, anything. And the third was her surroundings. Slowly, she opened her eyes to take in her environment, and immediately, the fragments of a gold and purple shell caught her attention. They were slick and glistening with fluid, as was she.
Without hesitation, she began devouring the fragments, chewing them down with ease. Her teeth were sharp, two rows of them, fully developed despite her being an infant. She couldn't help but pause as the realization hit her: she was in a baby's body. And not just any baby—a creature that had hatched from an egg, slim but large for an infant and undeniably different. Her form felt far stronger than it should be, and the hunger gnawing at her told her that feeding wasn' t just a necessity—it was survival.
The soul of Tanya von Degurechaff had lost to whatever she had been reborn as—this creature with two rows of teeth, an unusual physique, and an overwhelming instinct to consume. She was keenly aware of her current state, yet she couldn't 't bring herself to be shocked. What was there to be shocked about when her entire existence had already been obliterated?
She felt another pair of eyes beneath her normal pair, though they remained closed. Odd, but not entirely surprising considering everything else about her body was strange. She chose not to focus on her physiology just yet . Instead, she looked around, taking stock of her surroundings.
A roof made from blue-green wood stretched above her. The fluffy material that had cushioned her landing surrounded her, and the remnants of the egg she had hatched from were strewn across the pen she was in. Everything was unfamiliar, and yet somehow she wasn't afraid. Not of this new world, nor of her current state. Fear was useless now. She needed to She needed to adapt, to understand.
Then she heard it : screams, roars, and clashing blades in the distance.
The sounds of battle, all too familiar from her second life. She recognized them instantly. Chaos. War. It seemed like she had been dropped into another battlefield. Typical violence, really. Even in this strange new world, she was still surrounded by .
Instinct took herself over. She climbed to her feet, noticing how surprisingly steady she felt despite her small, infant body. She flapped her wings to lift over the small wooden wall of the pen, and that's when she realized—she had wings.
Not just one set of wings, but four. They flapped almost instinctively, helping her rise above the barrier with ease. She took a moment to register the wings but again brushed it off. She was an avian creature now, or something similar. The fact that she had hatched from an egg, combined with these wings and the strange physiology of her body, seemed to confirm that she was part of some avian race—though the four eyes and multiple wings felt… off. Unusual.
There was no time to dwell on it. She needed to assess the situation.
Peering over the edge of the pen, her eyes landed on the chaos outside. Blood, bodies, and monsters filled the scene. Desiccated creatures, their flesh twisted and decayed, moved through the battlefield, with blood flowing unnaturally around them. Their claws, dripping with a sickly green poison, slashed at the wolf-like humanoids that fought back with strange energy. Strange—they were just like her, perhaps it was a property of this world? The wolf-beasts were tall, humanoid in form but with distinctly animalistic features, wielding weapons charged with energy that looked vaguely familiar to her. It wasn't magic, but it was something close.
She scanned the area and noticed the battlefield was nothing short of pandemonium. Monsters rampaged through the village, and these humanoids, who seemed like the local inhabitants, were defending themselves with everything they had.
Her attention was drawn to a figure darting through the battlefield. A dark, goat-legged humanoid with a maniacal smile was weaving between the monsters, destroying them with a single palm strike, leaving nothing but ash and destruction in his wake. Tanya's lips curled into a sneer. The sight reminded her too much of her second life, of magic, of battles she had fought as Major Tanya von Degurechaff. She wondered faintly if Being X truly was unrelated to this particular reincarnation given the sight.
Tanya then looked upward, noticing the suns—several of them—rising into the sky, each shining in a different hue. The air was still thick with energy, an ambient force that hummed through everything. Her instincts sharpened, and she felt something stirring within her. The power of this world felt raw and primal, but she could sense the violence beneath it, the constant undercurrent of danger. She didn't know how she could sense it, but it was something she could do—something her instincts told her.
Her instincts flared again. Something was wrong.
Her gaze was drawn to a pen just a few meters away, similar to the one she had just climbed out of. Inside was another egg, red and black, slightly shorter than hers but radiant in its colors. As soon as her eyes landed on it, she felt a wave of something powerful—a connection. It was deeper than instinct, something primal and profound like this egg was tied to her very being. She felt a softness toward it, something she couldn't explain. But then she noticed the threat.
One of the monsters—one of those desiccated, blood-wielding creatures—was stalking toward the pen. Its red eyes gleamed with malice, and its green talons dripped venom as it closed in on the egg. Tanya's heart pounded in her chest, her the entire being suddenly alight with rage.
Before she could even think, her body moved .
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Midea was growing irritated. The Vampyrs had been assaulting the village since nightfall, their relentless onslaught pushing his endurance to its limit. By now, the sun had risen , yet the creatures continued their attack. He had slaughtered hundreds of them, their bodies piling up like grotesque hills beneath the walls. But no matter how many fell, more took their place, as if drawn by some unholy force. The exhaustion was catching up to him—he had used a considerable amount of his energy in a powerful technique that amplified the pride of the weak-minded, causing their physical durability to crumble under the weight of their inflated arrogance. It was a legacy technique from the house of Valefor, but it drained him heavily. It was great for killing those weaker than you en mass, but like all such abilities, it was energy-intensive.
Despite the chaos surrounding him, his eyes constantly flicked back to the two eggs he had to protect, or risk spiritual annihilation. He had checked on them several times throughout the battle, reassuring himself that they were still intact. But now, something was different.
Midea blinked, stunned at the sight before him.
A girl—a child—stood outside the pen where the purple-gold egg had been. She was small, though huge for her status as a newborn, as she stood a hair over a meter tall, and there was an unmistakable strength in her stance. Despite her newborn status, despite the baby fat that softened her cheeks, she stood like a warrior, firm on her feet. Her body was, strangely enough, lean and oddly muscular for a child so young. But it wasn't just her physical form that caught Midea's attention—it was the strength radiating from her. Not physical, but a presence that suggested she knew of the world and its violence. There was a calmness and coldness in her gaze that could only be born through experience.
Her amethyst eyes glowed like galaxies condensed into her gaze, their brilliance cutting through the battlefield's gloom. Beneath her eyes were intricate gold line tattoos, born with her, making her look oddly beautiful and profound. Her hair was a shimmering cascade of pure gold, woven from the light of a thousand stars, and nestled within her locks were silver-grey feathers, delicate yet strong, shimmering with a subtle gradient from dark to light. Despite her chubby cheeks, her delicate features had already begun to stand out .
Four wings spread from her back, majestic and powerful, their span twice her height. Each feather gleamed silver-grey, like celestial metal, catching the first light of the rising sun and almost giving her the appearance of an angelic warrior, much to his chagrin. She looked around curiously, her head tilting toward the sky as she took in the world surrounding her.
Midea's heart raced. He knew what this child was—Lervea's offspring, the firstborn of that great beast who called her people the Tyrannius.
Suddenly, her gaze shifted, and Midea followed her line of sight. His stomach dropped as he saw what she was looking at—the other egg, the red-and-black orb, the one that was still intact. But something was wrong. One of the Vampyrs was already moving toward it, its green claws reaching out to strike.
Fear. He felt fear, and he immediately went to take action. But before he could even move, he saw the first child of that monster Lervea act.
In an instant, she blazed forward, her movements a blur, almost faster than Midea could track, though that was mostly due to his exhaustion. Her speed was beyond anything he expected, especially from someone so newly born. But there was no denying her power— she moved with pure instinct and a surprising combat sense that could only belong to someone more experienced. Her wings propelled her with terrifying force.
The Vampyr had no chance. She ran through the monster, the very moment she had done so, the creature exploded into a shower of blood and gore, its body obliterated as if it had been struck by the wrath of the heavens themselves. The sheer force of her attack shook the ground beneath them, sending shockwaves through the air. The remains of the Vampyr scattered like ash in the wind, as if its existence had been erased in the blink of an eye. Despite the feat, she stood there unharmed , despite running through a creature of the first layer. The huge boom was enough to attract the attention of the civilians and warriors.
The battlefield went silent.
All eyes turned to her—warriors, civilians, even the few remaining Vampyrs paused in their frenzy , as if recognizing the absurdity of what had just occurred. The light of the yellow-gold sun, the youngest of the seven, bathed her in its glow, casting her in an almost divine radiance. Her bloodstained body stood in stark contrast to her brilliant hair and gleaming wings, but it only served to enhance the otherworldly presence she exuded.
Her brilliant amethyst eyes were like gems among the blood-stained visage of her face. They shone like two brilliant stars in the midst of the carnage. The halo of light from her wings made her appear larger, grander than her small form would suggest. Blood dripped from her hands, but she didn't seem to notice. Her focus was solely on the egg she had just saved. She looked like something straight out of legend, and in a way, Midea supposed, she was.
"The seventh Surya," he heard Garran mutter.
"The seventh Surya?"
"The seventh Surya!"
"'"'THE SEVENTH SURYA!!!"" " The chant rose among the crowd, echoing across the battlefield. The myth was well-known—Surya, the seventh sun, the youngest of the celestial bodies that watched over their world, was said to herald great change and potential. The suns were like gods in this world, each representing different aspects of life. All children born on days when the seven suns were in the sky gained the title 'The seventh,' and due to the little monster's look, they had already named her Surya—the seventh sun, born on a day when the seven stars hung in the heavens. It was a powerful name.
Midea watched in silence as the chants grew louder, the village's awe palpable. He couldn't help but shake his head, remembering the epithet his elders had whispered to him with regard to Lerveas people. A wry smile tugged at his lips as he exclaimed .
"Truly a race of natural-born Tyrants."