Jacob hesitated. The logical part of his brain screamed that he was being reckless. He was about to trade a guaranteed comfortable life on a familiar Earth for a peasant's existence in a place where he might die of dysentery before he turned twenty.
But then he remembered the thirty hours he had just spent in the dark, obsessing over virtual soybean futures. He remembered the crushing boredom that had defined his twenty-seven years of life.
I had no motivation because everything was too easy, he thought. Everything was mundane. If I go back to another Earth, I'll just be another bored genius in a cubicle. But a world of magic . . . I doubt I could ever be bored there.
He looked up at the old man. "Old man, I need to know more. If I choose the magic world, is it actually possible for me to learn? Or am I going to be stuck shoveling manure forever while the nobles cast fireballs?"
The old man seemed relieved by the question. "The world I have in mind is unique. I can send you there without attracting suspicion from my superiors because magic there is intrinsic. It is in the air, the soil, and the blood. Theoretically, anyone can learn to wield it."
"Wait," Jacob said, a sudden realization hitting him. "You said my karma was too low for a magic world. If I barely qualify, does that mean I lose my memories?"
The old man smirked, clearly enjoying Jacob's sharp intuition. "Yes. Standard protocol for low-karma entry into a High Magic zone. You would have no memory of Earth. However, because your soul is being reincarnated rather than forged new, it will be denser. It will be stronger. Your first ten years of survival will be guaranteed so no childhood plagues will take you. And while you won't remember who you were, you will retain your personality, your instincts, and your aptitude for systems."
Jacob felt a cold pit in his stomach. No memories. I'd be erasing myself.
He looked down at his hands. They felt ghostly in this white void. If he went back to Earth, he would be Jacob Hemlock again. If he went to this new place, Jacob Hemlock died here.
He looked up, his jaw set. "I don't care. If I can still be me, with my personality and my drive, then I'll take the risk. I'd rather be a peasant with a chance at magic than a CEO in a world without it."
"Then I will send you," the old man said. "But so you aren't going in blind, look here."
The old man thrust his hands forward. The white void rippled and darkened, forming a three-dimensional window into another reality.
"This is Meldra," the old man said.
Jacob leaned in. He saw a planet, vast and blue-green, spinning slowly.
"It is roughly twice the size of Earth," the old man narrated, zooming the view down through the clouds. "But the gravity is identical to yours because the planet's magical core offsets the mass. Humans are not the top of the food chain here. That honor belongs to the Zinthar. Think of them as elves mixed with demons. They control the major ley lines. But even they are outnumbered by the monsters that roam the unclaimed wilderness."
The view swept over a sprawling landscape with massive, ancient forests, jagged mountain ranges that scraped the stratosphere, and small, huddled settlements.
"Even farmers here know a cantrip or two to light a fire," the old man continued. "But true power is gatekept. Nobility hoard the academies. There are Guilds, specifically Adventurer and Mage, where a commoner can claw their way up, but it is brutal work. And there is a system."
"A system?" Jacob asked.
"A construct of the world's magic. It tracks achievements and displays a status window, similar to the video games you loved. It allows you to quantify your growth. But be warned as it is a crutch. True masters learn to feel the magic, not just read the numbers."
The image dissolved. The white void returned.
"That is all the time we have," the old man said. "Do you have any final questions?"
Jacob realized he didn't care about the politics or the geography anymore. He just wanted to go. But then he looked at the old man. This ancient, cosmic administrator had broken the rules for him just because of a joke.
"Actually, yes," Jacob said. "I have no questions about the world. But . . . I'd like to know your name. You've changed my entire existence. I should at least know who to thank."
The old man froze. For a second, Jacob thought he had offended him again.
Then, the laughter came. It was even louder this time, a booming, joyous sound that shook the invisible floor. Tears streamed down the old man's face as he doubled over, slapping his knee.
"First you call me a bastard, and now you ask my name!" he wheezed, wiping his eyes. "What a character. You really are something else."
The old man straightened up, and his demeanor shifted. The playfulness vanished to be replaced by an aura of ancient, terrifying gravity.
"This old man has not been asked his name for more than a million years," he said softly. "Thank you for the courtesy, Jacob Hemlock. My name is Oblitus Virtutis."
As the name was spoken, the air in the void vibrated. Jacob felt a physical shockwave hit his chest. It was not of force, but of presence. It felt like a heavy stone dropping into a deep well inside his soul. He gasped, feeling something fundamental shift within him.
"Careful," Oblitus warned, his voice echoing. "The name of an old monster like me carries weight. Never speak it aloud in a mortal body or it would shatter you. For now, let it sit in your spirit. It will act as . . . nourishment. A seed. One that strengthens the soul."
"Nourishment?" Jacob managed to whisper, still reeling from the sensation.
"I cannot say more," Oblitus said, looking conflicted. "Universal laws prevent me. But know this. In the world you are going to, soul strength is everything. On Earth, a strong soul just meant you were smart or talented. In Meldra, a strong soul dictates how much magic you can hold, how fast you learn, and how much will you can exert over reality. My name has just given your soul a very heavy anchor. And it will grow."
Oblitus waved his hand, and a swirling vortex of blue and violet light tore open the white space.
"Now go," he commanded. "May your second life be better than your first."
Jacob looked at the portal, then back at the entity. He smiled. "Thank you, Oblitus."
He didn't look back. He stepped into the light and vanished.
Oblitus watched the portal close, a small, satisfied smile playing on his lips. "Hahaha. Looks like a monster will be born in Meldra after all these years."
"You're playing a dangerous game, old friend."
The voice came from behind him. Oblitus didn't jump. He turned slowly, half-expecting the visitor. A man stood there, radiating the same timeless power, his face a mask of amused mischief.
"Arelion," Oblitus nodded. "A pleasant surprise. To what do I owe the visit after all these millions of years?"
Arelion smirked, walking forward to inspect the spot where the portal had been. "Why didn't you tell the kid the truth? That once his soul strength hits the threshold, which it will thanks to that little 'gift' of your name, his memories will unlock?"
Oblitus feigned innocence, widening his eyes. "Did I not tell him? Oh dear. I must have slipped. I figured he was smart enough to deduce it . . ."
Arelion laughed, but his eyes remained serious. "You know the Council watches this sector. You know the consequences of interfering like this."
"Of course I know," Oblitus scoffed. "Do you think I've forgotten after eighty cycles of desk duty? I'm bored, Arelion. I'm tired of watching worlds from a spreadsheet. I want to see what happens when you throw a variable into the equation. I want to see a mortal truly struggle and rise."
Arelion sighed, the sound echoing in the void. "I know the feeling. Four hundred cycles ago, I did something similar. The upper echelon calls it punishment, but . . ."
"How long?" Oblitus interrupted.
Arelion grinned, the excitement breaking through his serious facade. "They're sentencing you to observation duty. You're going to Meldra. For a full cycle."
Oblitus let out a low whistle. "A full cycle? To watch one world? Marvelous. I'm glad I sent someone interesting down there first. He might actually keep me entertained."
Arelion shook his head, watching his old friend with a mix of wariness and respect. If he creates another conqueror, Arelion thought, perhaps that war he has been predicting for a thousand years will finally begin.
...
Meldra
Just before the first heavy frost of the year had settled over the valley, in a small timber cottage. It was a humble home, built by hand and smelling faintly of dried herbs and woodsmoke, but the walls were thick enough to keep out the biting wind.
Inside, the hearth fire crackled, casting a warm, dancing light over the room.
A sharp cry pierced the quiet night, signaling the end of a long labor and the beginning of something new. The farmer wiped the sweat from his wife's brow as she pulled the small, squalling bundle against her chest.
There, wrapped in roughspun wool in a forgotten corner of a vast world, Jacob was born again.