The sound of the crowd in the gaming arena was deafening. Liniase's focus, however, was razor-sharp. In Dominion Blade Online, there was no room for error. The match was down to its final moments, the tension palpable as his opponent—one of the top-ranked players in the game—launched a desperate flurry of attacks.
Liniase smirked. He'd seen this pattern before.
With precise timing, he sidestepped, parried, and executed a devastating counter. His opponent's avatar staggered. A single, clean strike followed, severing its head from its body.
"Victory! Executioner reigns supreme!"
The announcer's voice was met with roaring applause. Online forums would soon buzz with discussions about his latest match, dissecting his strategies and celebrating—or fearing—his unbroken streak of decapitating every opponent.
In the game, Liniase was a legend. Players revered or despised him, dubbing him the Executioner. But outside the game?
He was nobody.
His real life was painfully ordinary. Average grades, a quiet demeanor, and no friends to share in his victories. Gaming was his world, the only place where he felt in control.
That night, walking home after a local tournament, he wondered if his life would ever change. The cheers of the crowd and the adrenaline of victory faded quickly, replaced by the cold, quiet streets of Tokyo. His thoughts swirled. Could he turn his gaming skills into a future, or would he always be stuck in this cycle of virtual triumphs and real-world loneliness?
The screech of tires shattered his thoughts.
He remembered stepping off the curb, lost in his mind, only to be blinded by the glare of oncoming headlights. The driver's panicked face, the screech of tires, and a sickening crunch were the last things he experienced.
---
When Liniase opened his eyes again, he was greeted by a strange sensation—warmth. Not the sterile, fluorescent hum of a hospital, but a genuine warmth that enveloped him, soothing and comforting.
He tried to move, but his body felt… different. Smaller. Weaker. His vision blurred, and he saw unfamiliar faces peering down at him.
"Oh, he's perfect," a gentle voice cooed. A woman's voice. "Our little Liniase."
What? That was his name. Or rather, it was going to be his name.
Before he could process what was happening, memories flooded his mind like a crashing wave. His previous life, his untimely death, and now—rebirth. He wasn't in Tokyo anymore.
---
The first few years of his new life passed in a blur. Eldergrove was a warm and welcoming place, more like a large village than a bustling city. The people were kind, the days peaceful, and his family was everything his old life had lacked.
For the first time, Liniase had siblings to play with, parents who doted on him, and a community that embraced him. He grew up helping with chores, exploring the fields, and listening to stories by the fire.
But even in this idyllic life, the memories of his past lingered. He couldn't forget the rush of competition, the thrill of victory, or the bitterness of isolation. Sometimes, he wondered if those memories had been left to him for a reason.
---
That reason became clear on his sixteenth birthday.
The village square was bustling with activity as Eldergrove's children gathered for the Appraisal Ceremony. The stone, a tall, glowing obelisk, was said to reveal a person's potential and mark the beginning of their true journey in life.
One by one, the children stepped forward. Most received mundane jobs like Farmer, Weaver, or Merchant. The occasional Knight or Mage drew gasps of awe from the crowd.
When Liniase's turn came, he approached the stone without hesitation. He placed his hand on its cool surface, and a surge of energy coursed through him.
A familiar sensation followed—a system interface appearing in his mind. It was sleek and polished, resembling the game menus he had once navigated effortlessly.
Job Assigned: Aposthol of Death
Job Skill Unlocked: Death's Ledger
The entire square went silent. Eyes widened, mouths dropped, and a few of the older villagers instinctively took a step back.
A murmur of disbelief spread through the crowd, a ripple of shock at the unprecedented job title.
"A-Aposthol of Death?" someone whispered in the crowd. "That's… impossible. That job has never appeared before."
The village elder, an experienced man who had seen many appraisals in his time, looked stunned, his hand shaking slightly as he turned to face the stone.
"This… this is legendary," he muttered, barely audible, as though speaking to himself. "No one has ever been assigned such a title. Not in the history of Eldergrove…"
A hush fell over the square. Even the parents who had smiled proudly at their children's mundane jobs were staring at Liniase with a mixture of awe and fear.
The Aposthol of Death—it was an unspoken myth, a job so rare, it was believed to be a mere tale told by the elders. A job that, until today, had never existed.
Liniase's head swam as the interface in his mind expanded, revealing more details about his newfound role.
Death's Ledger:
A comprehensive record of those marked for judgment. Grants the Aposthol the authority to carry out Death's will.
He felt a strange sense of power rise within him. His heart beat faster, but it wasn't fear. It was a calling.