Today, we witness an eclipse, when the beauty of the moon, the same moon that shines its glorious light to us in the dark night, a sign of a love, a sign of a hope, now cloaked in the very darkness.
In the Holy Kingdom of Heistea as well as in other nations, this phenomenon is considered as an unlucky day, where the people are afraid that something bad will happen.
In a distant part of the Holy Kingdom of Heistea, within a graveyard, there is a chilling sight. Bodies are stacked on top of each other in a pile, reminding us of the fact that we will all die at the end.
The flesh of one corpse at the bottom of this gory heap has been burnt away by flames to reveal bones and muscles. There lies also an unidentified dead body hidden under the weight of death.
Off in the distance, there's this old guy working hard, hands all rough and worn from years of digging.
He's making a grave, putting the fallen to rest. The rhythm of his shovel against the soil echoes in the quiet of the night, a somber melody accompanies the solemn task of burial.
In a flash, the burnt body jolted, as if snapping out of a bad dream into a harsh reality.
"Huff, huff... Where... where am I?" The words emerged in agonized gasps, the pain evident in every syllable. His entire being felt engulfed in flames, the sensation overwhelming his senses.
They were screaming howls of suffering from their skinless bodies. But in all the distress, the old man working nearby did not hear his cries.
The old man, already engaged in his own task and heavy with many years, could not hear the sounds emanating from underground. And each shovel-full he dug, carving deeper into the soil, he failed to heed the silent scream for mercy from the base of the grave.
The burnt body was really struggling to breathe, like every breath was a fight against a fire raging inside him. His lungs were screaming, making it feel like he was suffocating. He was freaking out, feeling that unbearable agony tearing through him, just trying to hang on.
"W-what... what is this?" Amidst the torment, a flicker of realization sparked within him. Sensations, fragments of memories, began to trickle into his consciousness, like long-forgotten whispers surfacing from the depths of his mind.
As he tried to reach out for these pieces, they materialized into a whirlwind, overwhelming his mind with images and feelings.
Past memories clung to become part of it; all the fragments of his life merged into forming a new, unified consciousness within his weak mind. At this point, it was like he was facing big clash of who he used to be and who he was becoming and rebirth was staring him in the face.
"Yeah, I remember," his voice echoed within the confines of his mind, mingling with the agony of his burned flesh. "I was on the brink of a breakthrough in my research on the C-19 virus, so close to finding a cure for the pandemic plaguing the world."
A bitter chuckle escaped his charred lips. "Pathetic, isn't it? To perish from exhaustion in pursuit of a solution to save lives, only to find myself reborn in another world."
As the memories returned, he began to tell the life of the body he currently inhabits. His name was Tayang. He mentioned Tayang's desire to become a Saint in the Holy Kingdom, one of the select few designated for holy service.
Despite his poor beginnings as an orphan from a village, he showed exceptional fortitude and resilience, making him a viable candidate for the saint status.
However, jealousy and treachery awaited him from his contemporaries, both highborn and royal. They organized his assassination to remove him from the race for Sainthood while making it appear accidental. His body, full of promise, had been incinerated quickly and buried in a common grave, much like the lowborn whom these people looked down on.
"We are both truly pathetic," he muttered with somewhat resigned voice as he did. "I, who died a fool in search for a cure for the common folk, and you, who got killed by the manipulations of suspicion and backstabbing." Lying under the pressure of death, suddenly, there was something strange going on right in front of him. A blue screen appeared before his eyes, something like a system interface.
"What is this?" his curiosity mingled with his pain as he attempted to interact with the mysterious display. With a futile gesture, he reached out his hand, only to watch it pass through the screen as if it were but a fleeting illusion, intangible and elusive.
[Connecting....]
[Connected]
[Welcome to another world]
[Level: 1]
[Race: Demon]
[Class: Plague Doctor]
[Skill: None]
[Unique Skill: Parasitic Blood(MAX), Inventory]
[Passive Skill: Poison Resistance(MAX), Disease Resistance(MAX)]
His gaze fixated on the words displayed before him, each line sparking a flurry of thoughts within his newly awakened mind.
"Is this... my cheat skill?" he mused aloud, the realization dawning upon him. "The kind you obtain when reincarnated into another world?"
He thought about it and remembered the stories from novels he had read where the protagonists had some strange power after transmigration. And the verification stood right here in front of him, etched into the system interface of this enigmatic system.
He ironically reached out with his shaky hand to the notification icon of the message with weak efforts; his body was left sluggish from the drained power of his unwell condition. Yet he persevered as the insatiable thirst for uncovering the unknown continued not to be quenched.
When he clicked on the alert, a new frame opened in front of him. It was a system-supplied guide and tutorial. There were a lot of things on the blue interface that told all about this world. The specifics of his unique class - The Plague Doctor - were outlined.