Chapter 2: Reincarnation
The young boy gazed up at the sky, his eyes filled with a sense of weariness that betrayed his exhaustion. He released a series of deep sighs, each one a testament to the weight that he carried on his shoulders.
As he stood there, his thoughts appeared to be consumed by something that weighed heavily on his mind. The subject of his musings was unclear, but one could sense a strange glint in his eyes - a fierce determination fueled by a burning desire for revenge.
There was something about him that was both intriguing and intimidating. Perhaps it was the way his jet black hair fell in disarray around his face, or the deep, dark eyes that seemed to hold secrets untold. Lost in contemplation, the boy's eyes remained transfixed on the sky above, as if searching for answers in the vast expanse of the universe.
His gaze shifted to the clock on the nearby table, and his eyes lingered there for a moment, fixated on the hands that ticked away the seconds. He realized that it was four o'clock in the morning, the time when most of the world was still lost in slumber.
The boy shook his head, as if to clear his mind of the memories that threatened to overwhelm him. "Thinking about that won't do any good right now," he muttered under his breath.
With a heavy heart, he turned away from the clock and made his way back to his bed. Collapsing onto the soft, plush mattress, he let out a long and tired sigh. The memories of his past life had flooded back to him, leaving him drained and exhausted.
As the memories of his past life flooded his mind, the boy felt his head begin to throb with an intensity that made his vision blur. The agony continued for what felt like an eternity, until finally, after what seemed like an hour, it subsided.
With a gasp, the boy's eyes snapped open, and he sat up, feeling as though he had been reborn. It was as if a new body had been fashioned from the ashes of the old.
He let out a dry laugh, the sound echoing in the empty room. Confused and bewildered, he struggled to make sense of what had just happened. Yet, there was a strange calmness to his demeanor, as if he had accepted the situation for what it was.
As he lay on the bed, staring at his bleeding palm, a profound sadness washed over him. The physical pain was nothing compared to the emotional turmoil he had endured in his past life, and it seemed like the current one wasn't any better.
"This life is no different from the past," he muttered, gazing at the scars and bruises that littered his arms. It was as if the pain and suffering he had endured in his previous life had found a way to manifest in his new one.
A tear rolled down his face and fell on the pillow, illuminated by the moonlight from the window.
He let out a bitter curse, his voice laced with sorrow and frustration. "Why is my life cursed to be this way?" he cried out, his voice echoing through the silent room. His heart felt heavy, burdened by the weight of his past mistakes and the constant pain of his present.
Though he projected an image of strength and resilience before his own demise, his true nature was that of a gentle soul. He projected strength, but was truly gentle. He bore his sufferings with grace, unwilling to hurt others. A rare trait in a world that glorified power and dominance.
The boy spoke softly, his eyes reflecting a blend of sorrow and bewilderment. "Why is it that showing kindness to others sometimes leads to our own pain?"
At 18, the boy was bewildered by the sudden return of his forgotten past, but grateful for a second chance to make amends.
He scowled as memories flooded back, drowning him in pain and regret. Each face, name, and moment of his past tormented him like a never-ending nightmare. Death had not brought him release, only an eternal cycle of suffering.
Once again, he found himself ready to forsake his ideals, just as he had done in his past life.
"Angels," he spat out the word like it was poison, "they are no better than humans."
The words reverberated in the silence of the room, each syllable laced with a burning fury that seemed to set the very air ablaze. The boy's fiery words and intense gaze transformed him into a being of pure vengeance.
"I won't forgive you for causing me pain. I, the Dark Angel, swear, for all the pain I have received, I will pay you back tenfold!", he proclaimed as rage filled in his eyes and almost exploded.
"I will crush you all," he declared with unwavering confidence.
"I will…"
But as exhaustion took over, he fell into a deep slumber, his mind still focused on his vow for revenge.
*KNOCK KNOCK*
The insistent pounding on the door echoed through the room, the wood trembling with each impact. The knocks on the door grew louder and more urgent. Finally, the voice of a woman broke through the silence of the room, calling out urgently to the sleeper within.
The urgency in the voice was unmistakable, and Zain knew that he couldn't ignore it.
"Zain, wake up! It's time for you to go to school!" Her voice echoed throughout the room, filling it with a sense of lively energy that contrasted sharply with his groggy state.
"School?", Zain repeated, his voice laced with confusion and surprise.
He was already awake before the knocking started. Expecting danger, he got into a battle stance, only to find out it was just his mom waking him up for school, making him feel a little foolish.
"Ah right… school.", Zain scratched his head, knowing exactly what the voice meant. It had been so long since he had attended school, or anything remotely similar. The memories of his past life had filled his mind, leaving little room for anything else.
"Zain Kruz! Get up!" The voice, now bellowing, rang through the walls and vibrated in his ears. The knocking grew louder and more persistent as time went on.
"Get up, Zain! You can't afford to miss more school," his mom said, her voice tinged with frustration as she pounded on the door.
"Stop locking yourself inside! Come out!" The woman's voice was desperate, pleading with Zain to leave his room.
Zain hung his head low, feeling the weight of guilt and shame on his shoulders. He had been skipping school for days, unable to face the bullies who made his life a living hell. The pain and loneliness he felt were unbearable. Being himself and not someone else, he couldn't help but remember what he had been through before.
He examined his arms, searching for the bruises and scars that had once covered them. He had hidden away in his room to conceal his injuries from his mother, not wanting her to see the extent of his pain. Lost in thought, he didn't immediately realize that the bruises and scars had disappeared, leaving his arms unblemished.
"What the...?" he muttered, his confusion quickly turning to shock. "How is this possible?" He couldn't believe his eyes.
As he gazed at his reflection in the mirror, he could hardly believe what he saw. The scar that had been etched on his face, the one that had earned him the cruel nickname of the Ugly Duckling, was no longer there. It was as though it had vanished into thin air. As he traced his fingers over his smooth skin, he felt a sense of wonder and disbelief.
"Whoa, did I just do that?"
Zain was amazed as he looked around, wondering how he had suddenly regained his lost abilities. His mind was filled with questions.
"Could it be the Heal skill? Did I have this power all along and only now is it making itself known?" The possibilities seemed endless, leaving him with a sense of confusion and bewilderment.
Zain pondered about his other abilities and attempted to activate them, but they did not respond. The only sounds in the room were his heavy breathing and the racing thoughts in his mind. Other than manipulating the mana around him a little, he couldn't use any of his skills.
Zain concentrated for a moment, trying to feel the mana around him. He could sense a faint energy pulsing through his body.
'Ah, looks like I subconsciously manipulated mana to heal myself…', he realized, knowing that it was no skill of his, but rather, his own prowess of manipulating the mana that mimicked his skill only a little.
"Zain! Please! I'm begging you! Come out!" His mother's voice was laced with concern and worry, her tone desperate as she pleaded with her son to open the door. "I won't tell you to go to school…" she trailed off, her voice cracking with emotion.
"Please, Zain," she pleaded, "just come out and have something to eat. I'm worried about you. You can talk to me, you know that."
"Y-yes Mother. I'm coming.", he replied in a feeble voice, his throat feeling dry from days of not speaking.
His mother, who had been begging him to step out for days, was taken aback when she finally heard his voice. Relief flooded her face and tears streamed down her cheeks.
She was a gentle soul, a loving mother who had always been there for Zain through thick and thin, even in the face of her own struggles and challenges.
Zain's father was a distinguished military officer known for his exceptional skill and unwavering commitment to serving his country and safeguarding its people. Tragically, his life was cut short during a surprise terrorist attack that escalated into a full-blown war. He made the ultimate sacrifice to save others, leaving behind a legacy of bravery and selflessness.
Zain and his family were deeply affected by the death of his father, and they felt ostracized by society. Despite his father's heroic sacrifice, none of his colleagues or comrades came to pay their respects, and his death was kept secret from the public to avoid any political repercussions. This lack of support and recognition only added to the family's isolation and sorrow.
The funeral of Zain's father was a desolate occasion, attended only by Zain and his mother. The solemn mood was occasionally interrupted by the sound of Zain's mother's quiet weeping. The absence of other mourners made Zain feel as though his father's brave sacrifice had been for naught.
The only exception was Kim Ryung, a colleague of Zain's father, who attended the funeral to pay his respects.
Kim Ryung had ulterior motives for attending the funeral, as he aimed to use the opportunity to propose to Zain's mother. However, she was aware of his true intentions and declined the proposal, recognizing that he was more interested in exploiting her for his own gain than genuinely supporting her and her son.
Zain's mother was aware of Kim's status as an influential Earth Angel, and she was concerned for her safety after rejecting his proposal. She recognized that he had the ability to use his powers to cause harm to her and her son.The thought of Kim's anger and revenge filled her with dread.
Face… the cost for refuting him was the disfiguration of her face. Zain's mother, Zelia's once beautiful face was now disfigured beyond recognition, causing her immense pain and suffering.
Zain's scar was a constant reminder of the cruelty and malice of Kim Ryung. Despite being just a child, Zain had become a victim of Kim's thirst for power and control, leaving a permanent physical mark on his face. Furthermore, the fact that Zain was the product of love between his mother, Zelia, and his late father, Kain, who was hated by Kim only added to the complexity of the situation.
Zain could witness how the disfigurement had affected his mother's mental and emotional state. The lively and self-assured personality she once possessed had now given way to fear and self-doubt. People around her continuously judged and ridiculed her, and even her own friends abandoned her, unable to withstand the sight of her scarred face.
Zain made a brave decision to move to a new city at 16 to help his scarred mother heal and start anew.
They left their old life behind, embarking on a new journey. The move was a turning point. Zelia improved gradually, regaining her old spirit. Zain, although still struggling with bullying at school, kept it a secret from his mother.
Zain quickly walked out of his room, drawn by the sound of his mother's voice. As he stepped into the living room, his heart sank at the sight before him. There was his mother, on her knees, tears streaming down her disfigured face. His heart ached at the sight of her suffering.
Without a second thought, Zain rushed to her side, falling to his knees beside her and wrapping his arms around her in a tight embrace.
"Mother," he whispered, "Please forgive me."
Tears continued to flow down his face as he spoke, his heart heavy with guilt and sadness. But to his surprise, his mother hugged him tightly back, her own tears mingling with his.
"My dear son," she said softly, "there's nothing to forgive. You're the light of my life and the reason I keep going every day."
Zain had never felt a warm embrace before, except for a cold hug from Alisha. But as he knelt with his mother, tears streaming down his face, he finally felt the warmth of a mother's love. He realized the value of these moments, which he had previously taken for granted, now that he had regained his memories.
The warmth of his mother's embrace finally eased the ache in Zain's heart.
Zain announced his plan to attend school, and his mother's face lit up with joy. She hurried to the kitchen, preparing a mouth-watering breakfast and setting the table for him with anticipation. As Zain readied himself, she eagerly waited to hear about his day when he returned.
As he soaked in the bath, Zain found himself lost in thought once again, his mind racing with countless questions and uncertainties about his past and his future.
He refused to remain a victim any longer and instead, transformed himself into a predator, fueled by a desire for vengeance against those who had wronged him. However, he made a conscious decision to spare the few individuals he considered good, recognizing their rarity.
As he made his to-do list, Zain muttered under his breath, "First, those bullies..." His eyes shone with a menacing intensity as he imagined the punishments he would inflict on those who had harmed him.
Seated in the bathtub, Zain's mind was troubled by doubts and uncertainties, particularly whether he still had his powers. Since he hadn't thoroughly tested his abilities, he was uncertain whether they still existed.
He contemplated the origin of fallen angels, recollecting from his past memories that each angel was bestowed with distinct abilities based on the deity they served. These blessings were believed to be divine and granted only to those who were deemed deserving by their deity after pledging their loyalty.
The most important rule was that the angels had to pledge their allegiance to at least one deity!
The pledge was more than just a formality. It was a sacred oath that bound the angels to their deities and granted them their powers. But for those who didn't pledge their allegiance, the consequences were dire. They were seen as renegades, outcasts, and worse - fallen angels.
Dark Angels were different from other angels. They allegedly made pacts with demons, had black hair, skin, and eyes, and were considered evil outcasts who couldn't pledge allegiance to any deity. Unable to swear allegiance to any deity, and were destined to walk a path of darkness.
This led to them being branded as Fallen Angels, making them a target for all the hatred of the Angels.
As the water flowed down his body, Zain's mind raced with frustration. He couldn't believe that he had lost most of his skills and powers. The question of how to regain them weighed heavily on him, but the answer remained out of reach.
After a few minutes, he stepped out of the shower, drying his hair and donning his school uniform. As he looked at himself in the mirror, his eyes caught the faint kick marks on his shirt.
Zain always did his laundry and his mother never got the chance to take a look at his clothes. However, the visible marks of his constant suffering were just too unbearable. Zain had been too focused on enduring his tormentors to care for his clothes, and the kick marks on them served as a reminder of his pain.
He smiled wickedly, his eyes narrowing with each passing second as the anger inside him simmered and grew. The faint kick marks on his shirt only served to fuel his determination to take revenge.
"Looks like there will be a blood bath today," he muttered to himself, feeling a rush of adrenaline as he put on the same shirt without bothering to dust it off.