Sane people fear death.

It's in our very instincts, in our nature, in our soul - To fear becoming dead is only natural to people like us.

And yet, I am in no such position anymore.

Ever since that day....

That faithful bus ride....

That damned contract....

That betrayal....

I still fear death, and it is not normal anymore. It hurts, it's painful, it's crushingly cold, and yet, I fear not the aftermath, but the process itself, despite aeons of experience.

This place has changed me forever, when I didn't know anything could....

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As I woke up, feeling a tingling sensation in my brain, something felt off. My bones were aching, skin felt too tight, I saw stars in my eyes and heard rining in my ears, I was as disoriented as a newborn kitten, and even thoughts were hard to process, like I was moving through a pool filled with razors.

Nevertheless, I began to wake up, the sensation of pain ever growing and my voice unintentionally beggining a raspy low growl.

And in one moment - the pain was gone, as if nothing ever happened. 

I felt like someone gently touched my skin, like someone pulled me in a warm hug under a gentle sun, everything felt so light, warm, painless...

But the sensation didn't last long, the next moment I realised I was sitting upgright and grasping my own head, beside me laid pieces of sharp glass, portruding metal and trash bags filled with god knows what.

Was I in a trash bin? Yes I was, actually.

As I peeked from the can I saw an empty alley, filled with dust and despair.

Houses around were made from brick and concrete with no lining or covering whatsoever, glass panes were held with small pieces of wood, and tall chain fences sprawled in either ends of the short alley.

The air stank, even more so than in that can. It was a mix of dust, rot, old age, rust and blood - a very unpleasant mix that raised a lot of question about where I am.

The skies weren't much better - It was fully enveloped in thick clouds and the sickly yellow olive-like color didn't help it. A fog began a kilometer or two away, as I saw from distant lights hiding in it.

I felt powerless and helpless in this god forbidden place, and it's only been a couple of seconds, who even lived there, if anyone did?

As I crawled out of the damned trash bin, I noticed my clothes and myself - Baggy white pants with a stripe of cloth tied around to make them fit and some old wooden sandals. No upper clothes whatsoever.

As the wood clicked on the pavement, I fell in search of life - There should be at least someone living there, right?

Turns out I was right, and I never hoped I'd be more wrong.

As I turned a corner to go out into the main street, I was greeted face to face with this hulking monstrosity, injuring my forehead in the process on the sharp metal.

These things were, as I saw many more of them on the streets, weren't the prettiest. They were like collections of rusty scrap metal, held together by a viscous bubbling liquid, it's color being of the darkest coldest night.

As I looked up into it's eyes - I was paralyzed. There were no eyes, just a bulbous moving mass sprawling many sharp bits of rust. And as I saw it move it's hand, it was too late.

Feeling your head crushed and your brain splattering about in just a millisecond is a strange feeling, definitely not pleasant and you definitely do not expect to come out alive afterwards... 

Oh? Why I am still alive? No idea.

As I woke up on an unknown rooftop, I almost screamed. The visceral feeling of dread filled me, tickling down my spine. This was my first death. This would likely not be my last. But something changed, like I felt a memory long forgotten invade my thought process, and it was awful.

And then it hit me, pardon, they hit me - My previous lives, many of them, hundreds maybe.

And in most of them, I saw myself ruling. I saw myself fighting. I saw myself speaking with beings way above. It all felt... Unreal. Like I just remembered a dream, but I knew I wasn't, I felt something deep down myself unlocking.... Like there was something heavy a top my head and it just fell off, my thoughts weren't obstructed by something anymore.

I remembered the last moments of my second to last life - A bloody contract. I failed it.

I couldn't save that damn god's world, and he punished me, and it didn't matter that I was as powerful as I was. He tore my soul right out of my body and imprisoned it, cursed it, to be reborn in a lesser vessel, one so weak it would completely shut and seal off the little bits of my power I would still have left.

My unconscious grasp on my face tightened, I felt rage pass through me, but I did not let it consume myself, I was above filthy emotions guiding me. I kept on digging.

Life upon life, I kept digging. And I found stuff, a lot of it.

I was an emperor, one destined to become the strongest in the game of gods. But one of them betrayed me. I was always a toy to them, and just like a kid forgot about a toy that was no longer interesting to them - I was forgotten about and dumped into trash.

All my past experiences, all the battles I held, all those who worshipped me - and I couldn't do anything. Despite being the strongest I was still far too weak...

As I laid on the rooftop, I knew I needed to act. It wasn't a noble act to do nothing. By a miracle I was given a chance to rise to the top yet again and I am not going to lose it.

It was my time to shine yet again.