There was a phrase people often used when things felt bittersweet: "Maybe in another life." For most, it was just a throwaway line to express regret they couldn't properly describe. But to a certain man, it wasn't a metaphor. It was the crushing reality of his existence.
Lying on a hospital bed, face obscured by an oxygen mask, he listened to the rhythmic beep of the machine. Tubes snaked in and out of his body like synthetic vines. The sharp, alcohol-sting of sterilization filled the room, piercing even through the machine's air filters.
The windows were sealed shut. The blinds were drawn. Not even a single ray of sunlight was allowed inside.
(Life 1,000. Or is it 1,001? I suppose I can't be sure at this point. Not a single healthy life. Always dying, or so weak I might as well be dead. No matter the world—modern, fantasy, futuristic, apocalyptic, magical, or scientific—I am always beyond help.)
His mind drifted to a life lived centuries ago. (Not even in the cultivation world could I do a thing. That time, I was born with 'Poisoned Divine Meridians.' My own energy channels killed me from the inside out. Not even an Immortal could save me.)
An internal, bitter laugh echoed in his mind. Time and time again, he was doomed to fail. To die.
Glass bones. Cancers of every variety. Curses. Sun allergies. He had suffered them all. Every time he closed his eyes, he knew they would open to a new type of pain, or a reunion with an old one.
In this current life, he was born with a malformed lung cavity and skin so sensitive that even ambient UV rays triggered "Hell's Itch"—a sensation like fire ants burrowing under the dermis.
(I didn't even see the sun this time. So why does it burn so badly?)
Tears leaked from the corners of his eyes, stinging his raw skin. It felt as if millions of mandibles were chewing on his nerves.
Click.
The seal of the pressurized door broke. A nurse entered, wearing a pale green uniform and a surgical mask. Her short black hair swayed slightly with her efficient steps.
Her eyes were cold, professional. Indifferent. But as she looked down at him, he saw the mask slip for a fraction of a second. A slight tremble in her brow. A narrowness of guilt that quickly hardened into determination.
It might have been pity. A moment of humanity. But to him, it was the final nail. He had seen that look in a hundred different worlds, on a thousand different faces.
It was time.
"Urgh—!" He tried to speak, to ask, to protest, but he only choked on the air. A wet cough filled his mouth with the metallic taste of blood.
"Please, simmer down," the nurse said softly, her hand hovering over the IV drip. "It's no use. We've discussed it with your family and the specialists... it has been determined that you are beyond saving. Your body is deteriorating too fast. We slowed it down for a time, but as luck would have it... your immune system finally decided to work. It built a resistance to our drugs."
She didn't wait for his permission. There was no need. The permission had been signed by weeping parents and grim-faced doctors hours ago. She injected the clear fluid into his IV line.
"It will be quick," she whispered, her voice trembling slightly. "Just close your eyes. The pain will stop."
(The pain never stops,) he thought, watching the liquid travel down the tube. (It just waits for the next time.)
The cold hit his veins first. It wasn't unpleasant. Compared to the burning fire of the Hell's Itch and the crushing weight of his collapsing lungs, the chemical cold felt like a mercy. His vision began to blur, the white ceiling tiles merging into a singular, infinite pale void.
His heart rate monitor slowed. Beep... beep... beep...
As the darkness encroached, swallowing the corners of his vision, a sudden, violent surge of frustration erupted from the core of his soul.
One thousand lives.
He had counted them. He had endured them. One thousand times he had been born. One thousand times he had been weak, broken, spat upon by fate. One thousand times he had died a meaningless death, leaving nothing behind but a corpse that no one would remember.
(Why?)
Why was he the only one who had to suffer? Why was he the cosmic punching bag?
As the last sliver of consciousness faded, he didn't pray for peace. He didn't pray for heaven. He screamed into the void with the last spark of his will.
(If I get one more chance... just one real chance... I won't just survive. I will devour everything.)
His mind, unburdened by his failing brain, spiraled into a megalomaniacal frenzy. It was the desperate fantasy of a man who had never held power, now grasping for it all.
(I want it all. I want to build the biggest, most beautiful, most powerful family the omniverse has ever seen. I want to be free—truly free, bound by no law, no god, no weakness. I want to be the strongest. The absolute pinnacle. I want to master every magic, every skill, every blade and spell until I am the One Above All.)
The monitor flatlined. A long, singular tone rang out in the silent room.
(I don't want to be a victim anymore. I want to be the King. The God. The Ruler of Reality itself.)
Nostro died.
And the Void answered.
[...Processing Soul Data...]
[Subject Identity: Nostro.]
[Cycle Count: 1,000.]
[Karma Calculation: Maximum Negative Threshold Reached.]
[Status: Anomaly Detected.]
A voice, genderless and ancient, resonated not through ears, but directly into the fabric of his being. It was heavier than gravity.
"You have endured the Cycle of One Thousand Agonies. You have tasted the bitter ash of weakness more than any soul in existence. Your vessel has broken, but your Will has crystallized."
[Achievement Unlocked: The Thousandth Sufferer.]
[Reward Tier: EX (Kingly).]
"Your final desire has been heard. The scales must be balanced. For a thousand lives of weakness, you shall be granted one life of infinite possibility."
"Installing Unique Skill Set... [10/10] Complete."
[F Rank: Basic Regeneration... Acquired.]
To ensure you never succumb to a weak body again.
[E Rank: Intermediate Energy Drain... Acquired.]
To sustain yourself on the essence of others.
[D Rank: Advanced Portal Creation... Acquired.]
To ensure no cage can ever hold you.
[C Rank: Sex Mastery (Master)... Acquired.]
To plant your seed and establish your lineage.
[B Rank: Grandmaster Dual Cultivation... Acquired.]
To grow stronger through union.
[A Rank: Arch-Master Omni-Layer Penis... Acquired.]
The tool of the Progenitor.
[S Rank: Saintly Great Devourer... Acquired.]
To consume the world you wish to rule.
[SS Rank: Sage Unlimited Potential... Acquired.]
To ensure your growth never hits a ceiling.
[SSS Rank: Great Sage Infinite Talent... Acquired.]
To master all that exists.
[EX Rank: Kingly Harem System... Acquired.]
To build the Empire of your dreams.
"Reincarnation Sequence Initiated."
"Destination: Medertia."
"Location: Broon Kingdom, Nostia Empire."
"Vessel Selection: Adjusted for Maximum Evolution Capability."
"Awaken, Nostro. The tutorial is over."