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.
Suddenly, an altar rose behind his comrades with two muscular men standing on top of it. There were the commanders of his army and they bellowed. "Victory is justice!"
"Victory is justice!! Victory is justice!!" the soldiers repeated, before rushing to the retreating enemy 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. "That was a good shot." He heard his superiors say. "Again, The Cross left the battle half won for us. Survive, and we'd talk about the marriage."
Benign's expression stayed 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. He squinted his eyes to the enemies when he noticed them in a cluster. Their movements were unusual a d seemed to be reaching a missile-laden vehicle.
That vehicle 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 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.
At fifteen, he had faked his age and joined the military so his town would get his salary and not die out of starvation. As long as he made the world even a little bit easier for other people to live in, he was satisfied.
At least, no one would go through what he had to endure as a young orphan. He perished a hero, and would finally rest with his parents.
A life worth living.
Except... why did his skin feel like they were being baked in low heat? Wasn't he dead?
[Welcome, Benign Cross. The Legacy System is activated.]
Benign scrunched his nose, wondering who spoke on his head? He tried to get the smell of anything familiar; blood, burning flesh, gun oil, or the foul meat they ate in camp.
"I might not be very dead yet if my articulation and hearing are still intact." He said within himself.
Consciously, he moved his fist and they moved. Perhaps the missile didn't kill him out at once but probably in pieces. He knew he wouldn't have survived that hit.
The murmurings of someone above his head came again. His fists balled. Was it his comrade, Kendrick? Speaking above him wouldn't bring him back to life!
The worse part was they spoke in a language he didn't understand. They sounded like incarnations and he really wanted to know what they meant.
[As you wish.]
[Regeneration... Language Comprehension... Revival.... Registering.]
[Do you wish to select a unique skill?]
"What the hell is this person saying?"
[As you wish.]
[Unique Skill acquired.... Hell Rain... Registering.]
[Downloading and Registering all skills and unique skills to Benign Cross.... Complete.]
Benign remain silent. This fellow didn't seem like Kendrick or anyone he knew. It 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 again and his fists had more strength than the first clench, and the burning of his skin didn't seem to be something he experienced because he was getting closer to hell.
He forced himself to stand up and his bones crunched. He stretched sideways, and his eyes slowly opened and burned because of the high sun. After two seconds, he adjusted to the brightness of his surroundings.
It didn't look like a 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. This is a new world.]
"Yeah, no shit, but you said I wasn't dead."
[Not in this realm.]
Very comforting. He looked around. He stood in the middle of nowhere and some robot was telling him that he transmigrated to another world?
"But this can't be possible," he 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. Along with being filled with bodies of soldiers, and forgotten weaponry, the desert was also covered in blood, and some weird bird-like creatures.
The bodies belonged to mostly men wearing ancient Chinese-like armoured clothes. Had no one come for their corpses? No one to bury them?
"What historical event happened here?" he asked as it seemed more like mass murder than a battlefield.
[This event will been recorded in history as the Clash of Realms. You, Benign Cross, shall be recorded with it.]
{Author's note: A new book that I've been planning for a while now. I hope you enjoy it. Will be looking out for your reviews.}