Earth, Year 939 AA
The Earth was both familiar and unrecognizable. A world that once teemed with billions was now a shadow of its former self. Cities that had once pulsed with life, culture, and history were nothing more than skeletal ruins—like the Earth itself was trying to erase its own memory after the endless wars.
Among the shattered bones of the old world, new wonders emerged. With humanity's collapse came the rise of something extraordinary: a fusion of magic and technology that transcended the wildest dreams of the past. The Valionne Kingdom, rising from the ruins of ancient civilizations, stood as one of the mightiest realms on Earth.
And so, under the cloak of night, in a modest estate hidden within the capital's heart, our story began.
Reece, in a state of peaceful slumber, was unaware of the storm brewing within his own mind. The night was silent, save for the faint hum of wind rustling through the trees, a calm that belied the turbulence soon to unfold.
Suddenly, Reece jolted upright, a violent gasp escaping his lips. His breath came in ragged, desperate bursts, his chest heaving as if he'd just surfaced from deep waters. Cold sweat clung to his skin, drenching the sheets beneath him. For a moment, he sat there in the dark, his wide eyes staring into the shadows of his room, unfocused, disoriented.
His heart thundered in his chest, each beat reverberating through his skull like a distant drum. Panic clung to him, thick and suffocating, as if he had barely escaped the grip of a nightmare. But as the moments slipped by, a cold realization crept in—it wasn't just a dream. It was something far deeper, something that refused to stay buried.
The memories.
Memories crashed over him in relentless waves, each fragment striking like a surge from a forgotten storm. Visions of death, battlefields, and long-lost faces flickered before his eyes—phantoms from a past buried deep in time. His head throbbed with sharp, blinding pain, as if a searing blade had cleaved through his skull. Teeth clenched and breath ragged, he gripped the sides of his bed until his knuckles turned bone-white, bracing himself against the onslaught.
The memories weren't just from a single life—they were from countless lifetimes. A thousand years of existence surged through his mind all at once, flooding his consciousness like an unstoppable tide.
A groan escaped his throat, raw and pained, as his body shivered uncontrollably. The disorientation was overwhelming, the sensation of past and present colliding in a whirlwind of confusion. How many lives had he lived? How many times had he been torn from one existence and thrust into another? This time, the return felt different—harsher, more jarring.
But just as quickly as the memories had overwhelmed him, the storm began to subside. His breathing steadied, the pain receding to a dull throb. He closed his eyes, letting out a long, shaky breath, as his mind began to settle into the present.
"Ugh…" Reece groaned, pressing the heel of his palm hard against his forehead. "That last experience… I'll never come to terms with it." His voice was hoarse and weary, frayed from the weight of countless lifetimes. He had lived and died too many times to count, but the jarring shock of waking—being ripped from one reality and thrown into another—remained as brutal as ever. It was a sensation that time refused to dull.
He sat up fully, shaking his head as if to clear the remnants of the nightmare. Or was it a memory? In a way, there was little difference now.
"Just like before," he whispered, his voice barely breaking the stillness of the room. "The return was a success..."
Reece took a moment to steady himself, his hands resting on the crumpled sheets as he tried to organize his thoughts. He had returned, more like regressed—again. He drew in a slow, deliberate breath, closing his eyes. It was time to regain control. Instinctively, he slipped into a familiar routine, one that had grounded him countless times before. Simple Meditation. However it was a different ancient meditation technique, one so rare that even the greatest of sages in this world would kill to learn its secrets. Yet for Reece, it was second nature—one of the few constants across his many lives.
As he settled into meditation, the noise of the world seemed to fade and calm, and with it, the remnants of his fragmented memories. His breathing became slow, measured, as he let his mind drift inward, reaching for the core of his being—his soul. This meditation was more than just a way to calm his mind.
It allowed him to observe the state of his soul itself, to ensure that nothing had gone wrong during the transition from death back into life. The process was delicate, dangerous even. In the past, he had experienced regressions that left scars on his very essence.
This time, however, something felt different.
"Hmmm... aside from Prima, who's still asleep, everything seems to be in order…" Reece thought to himself, the feeling of stability returning. His familiar companion, Prima, a sentient AI of sorts, had been with him through more than one life. It was still dormant for now, but that was to be expected. The transition always affected it, too, by depriving his trusty tool of all of its upgradable components aside from its core that's attached to his soul. The good news though, with some effort on my end it would awaken soon enough.
But something else gnawed at the edge of his awareness. A lingering unease. A memory not of his past lives, but of the moments just before his death this time.
"What was that voice I heard... just as I was slipping away?"
It was a thought that troubled him, even now, but he shook it off. It was something he could ponder later. For now, he needed to focus on regaining his strength and trying to properly get back into it. "Regression sure ain't always easy…" he sighed.
"Best not to think about it too much…" Reece muttered to himself, his voice low but resolute. "I'll figure it out once Prima is online again."
He glanced around his room. It was mundane, almost disappointingly so, given the scope of his experiences. The desk was cluttered with equipment—multiple monitors, a high-end PC running all manner of programs, evidence of the life he had led before his most recent death.
He had once been a software developer, a tech enthusiast through and through—an existence that now felt trivial compared to the immense power and knowledge he had wielded across countless lives. His current setup was humble, a stark contrast to the arcane wonders and digital masterpieces he had commanded in ages past.
The contrast between who he was now and who he had been was staggering. In this life, Reece had been an ordinary guy, at least on the surface—a nerd, as his classmates would have called him, someone more comfortable behind screens than in front of people. Yet, in his past life, he had been so much more. A powerhouse. A being that commanded respect, fear, and awe.
"And still, I had to die to get another chance," he sighed, pushing himself off the bed. His legs felt weak, unsteady, as if they hadn't been used in years, though he knew that wasn't true. He walked to the window, pulling the curtains aside to let the moonlight spill into the room.
The estate was quiet, the grounds bathed in the soft silver glow of the moon. From his window, he had a clear view of the Valionne capital in the distance. And beyond that, towering above all, stood the Tower of Eternity—the greatest structure on the planet.
Reece's gaze lingered on the tower, it's dark silhouette cutting into the night sky. It was a place of power, of secrets, and of destiny. He had climbed it once before, many lifetimes ago, many times in each lifetime. The memories stirred within him, bringing with them a mix of emotions—pride, sorrow, regret.
"Considering that I went past the age of a thousand," he murmured, his eyes narrowing slightly as he stared at the distant tower, "I wonder how far I'll reach this time…"
For now, though, he had to focus on the present. His mind was already working through the possibilities, planning his next steps. The tower was there, waiting. And this time, he would climb it again—one last time.