A chill ran through Alaric's body as he drifted in darkness. He felt weightless, suspended in an endless abyss, his consciousness barely clinging to existence. Fleeting memories surfaced, fragments of a past life full of power and betrayal—an empire he had built, armies he had commanded, and, finally, a deadly betrayal that had sent him spiraling into oblivion.
Just as he began to fade entirely, a voice—cold, ancient, and sharp as ice—echoed through the darkness.
"Reincarnation Protocol Initiating. Soul Rebinding... Confirmed."
The voice was both familiar and foreign. He tried to focus, to reach out, but he found himself bound, his power stifled. It was as if he were a mere shadow of the being he once was.
Suddenly, he jolted awake, gasping for air. His chest rose and fell, his breaths shallow and rapid as his senses slowly adjusted to the dim, earthy smell around him. He lay on hard, uneven ground. When he opened his eyes, he found himself staring at a thatched roof, held up by crude wooden beams.
Where… am I? he thought, his mind racing.
As he tried to sit up, a sharp pain shot through his body. He gritted his teeth, feeling as if he were encased in the brittle, fragile frame of a stranger. Gone was the raw strength he once wielded, the boundless energy that had made him the most feared necromancer in his previous world.
A murmur from outside the hut pulled him back to his surroundings. Carefully, he lifted his hand to examine it—a young hand, calloused but slender, with none of the scars and sigils he had etched into his former flesh.
A new body, he realized, and with it, the faint whisper of potential, a distant memory of the power he had once commanded.
Then, as if summoned by his thoughts, a faint glow appeared before his eyes. Words floated in the air, shimmering with ethereal energy.
[System Activated]
Welcome, Alaric. Reincarnation Complete.
Current Status:
- Name: Alaric Rook
- Level: 0
- Title: The Lost Necromancer
- Skills Available: None
Quest: Awaken the Power Within
Objective: Rediscover your necromantic abilities and survive your new world.
---
Alaric's lips twisted into a smirk. A "system"—he had heard of such entities before, powerful mechanisms that supposedly guided those chosen by the gods or the forces of fate. But why would one be bestowed upon him, the scourge of his past life?
He mulled over the implications as he rose to his feet, bracing against the wave of dizziness that washed over him. The system screen faded, leaving only a small icon floating in his vision—an eye, rimmed in black flame. It pulsed faintly, like the beat of a heart.
---
The door creaked open, and a figure stepped inside, shrouded in the shadows of the low light. A young girl, no more than fifteen, with dark brown hair tied back in a messy braid, looked at him with wide eyes. She wore simple clothes, patched and worn, and held a wooden bowl in her hands, her expression a mixture of curiosity and caution.
"Oh, you're awake!" she said, relief washing over her face. "You've been asleep for days. We thought… well, the healer said you might not make it."
Alaric stared at her, piecing together his response. "Where am I?"
She blinked, taken aback. "You're in Elden Hollow, a small village on the edge of the Darkwood. My brother found you near the riverbank, half-drowned and burned. We thought you were… well, gone."
Alaric took in her words, his mind racing. Elden Hollow. Darkwood. These names meant nothing to him, but he sensed an ancient, foreboding power resonating within the girl's simple words. The Darkwood—there was magic here, faint but real, and perhaps… familiar.
He let his gaze fall upon the bowl she held. It was filled with a thick, dark liquid that smelled of bitter herbs.
"Drink this," she urged, stepping forward with a tentative smile. "It's supposed to help with… well, everything. A cure-all, they say."
Alaric took the bowl, eyeing its contents. He didn't trust the liquid, but his body felt so frail, so brittle. He took a hesitant sip, wincing at the sharp taste but feeling warmth spread through his limbs. Whatever magic was in the concoction, it was old and potent. For now, it would have to do.
The girl watched him, her expression softening. "I'm Lina," she offered. "What's your name?"
He hesitated, the name Alaric tasting strange on his tongue after so long.
"Alaric," he finally replied. "Just… Alaric."
Lina nodded, her gaze full of questions she didn't ask. Instead, she set her bowl aside and moved toward the door. "You should rest a bit more," she said, "but when you're ready, my brother wants to meet you. He's the village leader. He might be able to help you… if you're planning to leave."
Leave. The thought tempted him, but he knew better. He had no power yet, and without strength, he would be at the mercy of this unfamiliar world. For now, he needed information, resources, and, above all, a way to unlock the abilities that lay dormant within him.
---
As the door closed and Lina's footsteps faded, Alaric focused on the icon in his vision. He summoned it with a thought, willing it to show him something, anything, that might hint at how he could regain his power.
The icon pulsed, and new words appeared.
[Quest: Awaken the Power Within - Part I]
Objective: Absorb the Essence of the Dead.
A slow, dark grin spread across Alaric's face. The path back to power had just begun, and it seemed the very nature of this world would assist him in reclaiming his strength.
With renewed purpose, he lay back down, his thoughts racing with plans and possibilities. If he could find a corpse—no, when he found one—he could begin his ascent once more.
A small village on the edge of a dark forest… Surely, there would be death nearby.
And with each soul he claimed, each fragment of power he absorbed, he would grow stronger, reclaiming the might that had once been his—and this time, no one would stand in his way.