Chapter One: Soldier's Rebirth
"Victory is justice! Fight soldiers, fight!"
The crackling of gunfire, distant explosions, and unsettling screams of horror marked the beginning of the exchange of bullets between the two nations.
Dust rose in the air, and the sun struggled to break through the haze. Soon, the ground was covered with patches of blood.
A young soldier ran to the front with a bazooka, targeting the altar the enemy's commander stood on. The bazooka pointed at the head of the commander, and shrouded by the haze, the soldier hid perfectly, preparing his aim.
Determination pounded in his chest, there was no room for fear or doubt, because if this missed, he had failed, and that would mark the downfall of his comrades. They only held to little hope now.
There was a resounding 'boom!' that struck the hearts of the surrounding soldiers. The last thing the enemy's commander saw was a large metal coming for his head.
Chaos ensured afterwards and the enemy soldiers ran back to the altar their headless leader stood on. "Fall back! Fall back! It's The Cross! Fall back!"
The young soldier ran swiftly through the rubble and corpses as the enemy soldiers tried to take him down. He took cover behind a crumbling wall and tore off the wig and uniform of the opposite nation he had worn to get closer to the enemy.
His red hair had been neatly tied underneath the wig and he ran his hand through it roughly to undo it. "Phoenix is down!" he spoke through a mouthpiece. "I repeat, the leader, Phoenix is down!" He resumed running till he made a clean escape.
His comrades responded quickly, regrouping and preparing for another raid on the enemy. An altar rose behind them with two muscular men standing on top of it.
The commanders bellowed. "Victory is justice!"
"Victory is justice!! Victory is justice!!" the soldiers repeated, before rushing towards the retreating enemy forces that had realized they were outnumbered ducklings amongst wild dogs.
The young soldier reached the storage and quickly exchanged his bazooka with a rifle, that had a sword connected at the mouth.
"Benign!" He was called before he sprinted off.
He halted but didn't turn back. The superior who called him smiled. "That was a good shot. Again, The Cross had left the battle half won for us. Survive this, and we'd talk."
Benign's expression was straight as he nodded. When the superior left, he continued his sprint towards his comrades.
He clicked his tongue when he was out of earshot. They were in the battlefield, were anyone could die suddenly, yet his superior's motivation for him was to marry his bratty daughter afterwards. Wouldn't it be better to die here with honour?
He shook those thoughts from his head when he noticed an unusual movement from the enemy's soldiers.
He had seen a group of soldiers struggling to reach a missile-laden vehicle that threatened to release destruction on his unit base.
"Unit Fox! Oh shit! Unit Fox! Get Down!"
Without thinking, he sprinted toward them, dodging bullets and debris. He began releasing fire from the distance and watched the desperate soldiers at their fill.
Yet one of them had struggled to reach the vehicle. The missile was launched, but not where Benign expected it.
It was likely a missed shot, but since it was coming directly for him, the one who had taken down their leader, then it seemed to be the most accurate.
He was the most dangerous in the battlefield at that point.
"Benign Cross! Look out!" he heard his comrades call for him. But wasn't it useless? How would he dodge a missile coming straight for him? He'd rather accept it in all its glory.
There was impact.
The ground shook and a shockwave erupted behind him and slowly creeped to engulf him. His felt his body slam against something really hard. His consciousness left him before the pain set in.
Benign felt nothing yet could see darkness. His last thoughts had happened and he died in the battlefield with honour. No regrets. All Glory.
Except... why did his skin feel like they were on fire?
[Welcome, Benign Cross. The Legacy System is activated.]
Benign scrunched his face. Who was speaking above his head? He tried to get the smell of anything familiar; blood, burning flesh, gun oil, and the foul meat they had to eat in camp.
"I might not be very dead yet if my articulation and hearing are still intact." He said within himself.
He consciously moved his fist, and they moved. Perhaps the missile didn't take him out once, but probably in pieces. Not even him would survive that hit.
He began hearing the murmuring of someone right above his head again. His fists balled. Was it his comrade, Kendrick?
Speaking above him wouldn't help being him back to life! Worse was what it sounded like a different language. Was it incantations? He really wanted to know.
[As you wish.]
[Regeneration... Language Comprehension... Revival.... Registering.]
[Do you wish to select a unique skill?]
"What the hell?"
[As you wish.]
[Unique Skill acquired.... Hell Rain... Registering.]
[Downloading and Registering all skills and unique skills to Benign Cross.... Complete.]
Benign stayed quiet. This talkative fellow didn't seem like Kendrick or anyone he knew. It even sounded like those AI robots the military brought to train them. "Am I dead?"
[Do you wish to use Revival Skill?]
"Yes?"
[Revival Skill... Activating.]
[Activation Cancelled.]
[Host is already alive.]
Benign clenched his fists again and they seemed to have more strength than the first clench. Also the burning of his skin didn't seem to be something he was experiencing because he was getting closer to hell.
Forcing himself, he sat up, with his eyes slowly opening. He waited for two seconds for them to adjust to the brightness of his surroundings.
It didn't look like the battlefield scattered with rubbles, corpses of armed men and women, and guns. Heck, it didn't even look like the forest ground.
He was in a damn desert.
"What's happening?"
[Benign Cross, you have been transmigrated to a different realm, following your demise.]
"You said I wasn't dead."
[Not in this realm.]
Very comforting. Benign sighed, looking around the desert. He was in the middle of nowhere and some robot was telling him that he transmigrated to another realm?
"But this can't be possible," Benign muttered, sluggishly moving towards the other side of the sand hill he stood on.
On reaching the edge, his eyes widened at the landscape and the ancient battlefield. The battlefield was filled with bodies of soldiers, and forgotten weaponry.
The whole desert seemed to be covered with blood, the dead, especially some weird bird-like creatures.
The bodies belonged to mostly men wearing ancient clothes. Had no one come for their corpses? No one to bury them?
"What historical event happened here?" Benign asked, as it seemed more like mass murder than a battlefield.
[This event shall be recorded in history as the Clash of Realms. You, Benign Cross, shall be recorded with it.]