Somewhere in the Etiah Kingdom, in a dungeon to be more precise.
A young boy around sixteen with a sickly pale complexion was bound by thick chains around his ankles and arms, with his head lowered, long unkempt dark hair. His pale front was visible; coupled with his extremely pale complexion, he looked like a ghost from a story, especially staying still like a corpse.
Suddenly, the corpse-looking youth raised his head. From the strands of hair cascading on his face, two green eyes flashed like a venomous snake lurking in the middle of the night. Confusion, bewilderment, understanding, and acceptance—each one of these emotions flashed through the pale boy's eyes until he opened his mouth to speak, his voice raspy as if he had not spoken in ages.
[1st Pov]
''So, I've reincarnated.''
Immediately, an intense pain assaulted my head.
''Ugh!''
I grunted in terrible pain, as if someone was hammering my brain. Truthfully, it hurt. After what I perceived to be an eternity, the pain subsided, giving way to much clarity. I immediately understood that I wasn't possessing this body; it was simply that I'd reincarnated after dying on Earth. Until now, I hadn't recalled my memories from Earth; due to certain circumstances, I wasn't able to recall them until now, hence my understanding of me being a reincarnator.
My name is Kael which means slender and mighty, I'm sixteen years old this year; I have lived in a small poor village on the outskirts of the Etiah Kingdom until three months ago, before the monster wave swept through the village, killing many. My guardian, Aunt Mary, was devoured before my eyes; almost everyone in the village died. The rest of us fled for our lives but ultimately were captured by bandits, who killed some for fun while the rest were sold to some slave merchant. The latter sold me to someone who loved torture so much I literally experienced hell the past two months. If it weren't for my strong will to cling stubbornly to life, I would have died, broken a long time ago.
''Fuck whatever God is responsible for all of this shit!" A loud curse escaped from my mouth as I recalled everything I had experienced in this life and my last one. If it weren't because I'm bound and in the terrible state of my body, I'd even give them a middle finger of respect.
In my last life, I was an orphan; for some reason, my birth parents dumped me at the orphanage door and vanished. I don't care what kind of difficulties they had or whatever their reason had been; if you can assume, don't start it. From then on, I jumped from one family to another like switching shoes. They say I'm rebellious, they say I'm not expressive enough, they say my eyes were dead, but fuck them all! If you went through what I went through, you could understand—some old pervert acting innocent in front of others while secretly—ah, I don't want to recall it. I spent my life full of hardships, switching families until fifteen, when I said fuck it all and ran away. From then on, I lived in the street doing various things in order to survive. By the age of seventeen, almost my entire body was filled with tattoos. I hung out with some bad people doing some bad things, often going into detention. I experienced various substances living in the street. I lived day by day, sometimes sleeping in a house, sometimes under a bridge; well, most of the time homeless until the age of nineteen. It was the usual: we went on a heist in one of our rival gang's bases, snatched valuables (cash, drugs, weapons), and ran away. But, as you could have guessed, they gave pursuit. I was the driver, and I was a good one; my skill could put a certain Frank Martin to shame. But the ending? Well, a violent accident whose result was my death. I have cheated death to be reborn into a world of magic and sword, filled with mystery, to become an orphan; now I've become a slave who was beyond toyed with. Tell me how can this be any shittier?
Step! Step!
Suddenly, the sounds of footsteps coming from the corridor connected to this dungeon could be heard, making me tense; it was an instinctual reaction. Whoever is coming doesn't announce something good for me.
''Sweet boy~''
''Sweet boy~" A sultry voice that gave me chills was heard, and my body began twitching repeatedly like someone who was being electrocuted. This person was the instigator of my deepest trauma in the past months.
''Sweet boy~, Daddy is here!"
'Fuck your daddy.' I've almost cursed in response.
Then the owner of the voice pushed the door of the prison open and walked in; his steps were heavy.
It was a slightly obese man dressed like a sultan with a mustache; his head was so bald I bet sunlight could reflect on it, almost creating mobile little miniature sun.
''I come to shower you with love today as well. Open your heart and receive it,'' he declared rather theatrically.
''Fuck my life!" Another curse inadvertently slipped out of my mouth.