#: As to not drag my story as long as I've done with my other 2 books, imma make each chapter roughly 2.5k to 3.5k words or even more. I don't wanna reach 100 chaps and still be in my first major arc (e.g my MHA fanfic in which at 90 chaps I hadn't even done the sports festival)
This book will obviously still be long but just not so spread out.
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=.=.=
The first thing I felt was warmth.
Not the sterile, artificial warmth of hospital lights, nor the suffocating heat of summer pavement. This was different. It was alive—golden rays of sunlight kissing my skin, a gentle breeze rustling through tall grass, the scent of earth and fresh air filling my lungs.
I opened my eyes.
The sky above me was a deep, endless blue, dotted with fluffy white clouds that drifted lazily across the horizon. A tree stretched overhead, its broad branches swaying in the wind. Birds chirped in the distance, their songs unfamiliar yet comforting.
I was lying in a field.
Not a city street. Not an alley.
Not bleeding out.
I sat up, and that's when I noticed it. My hands.
They were smaller, thinner. Younger. My skin was different. My body was different.
And then, memories that weren't mine flooded in.
My name was Belford.
I was the second son of a minor noble family in the kingdom of Bayne. Born into comfort, raised in a sprawling estate surrounded by rolling hills and ancient forests. My father, Lord Brenwick, was a respected man—stern but fair. My mother, Lady Sasha, was kind, always wearing a soft smile even when burdened by duty.
I had an older brother, Edwin, who was groomed to inherit the family title, and a younger sister, Lilia, who was still too small to understand the weight of nobility.
I was expected to take a different path. Perhaps a knight. Perhaps a scholar. Perhaps something greater.
This was my new life.
A life in a world where magic was real.
Where dragons soared through the skies, their roars shaking the heavens.
Where warriors wielded enchanted swords, and mages commanded the elements.
Where gods still walked among mortals, shaping destinies with whispers and divine intervention.
A world straight out of the stories I had once read.
And I was in it.
Growing up in Bayne was something out of a dream.
At first, I struggled. The memories of Camden lingered like a shadow, creeping in at odd moments. The taste of coffee I'd never have again. The feeling of a smartphone in my hand. The sound of Amanda's laughter, now just an echo of a past life.
But as time passed, Belford became more than just a name. He became me.
And I thrived.
I was gifted with a sharp mind and a quick wit—something that made me stand out among my peers. I devoured books of history and strategy, trained with the sword until my arms ached, and spent hours in the castle library studying magic, though my talent for it was… questionable at best.
By the time I reached adulthood, I had carved a path of my own.
I was neither a knight nor a scholar.
I was an adventurer.
The world called to me, and I answered.
With a sword at my hip and a band of companions at my side, I ventured beyond the safe walls of my family's estate and into the unknown.
We slayed beasts that threatened villages.
We uncovered lost ruins filled with forgotten treasures.
We crossed swords with bandits and corrupt nobles alike.
For years, we lived on the road, chasing one adventure after another, our names whispered in taverns as legends in the making.
I had everything.
Friends who would die for me.
Fame that reached the ears of kings.
A woman who looked at me like I was her world.
And then, just like before—
It ended.
I died.
Not in battle.
Not facing down a dragon.
Not fighting to save the world.
No.
I died because of soup.
It started as a celebration. My party and I had just returned from slaying a wyvern that had terrorized a nearby town. Spirits were high, the ale flowed freely, and someone suggested that I—Belford, the great adventurer—should cook something grand for the night.
I wasn't a great cook, but I knew how to make a decent stew.
So I gathered ingredients, prepared a pot over the fire, and tossed in a handful of herbs I had foraged earlier that day. They smelled strong, but not unpleasant.
The first bite was fine. The second… less so.
By the third, my throat closed up.
By the fourth, I was on the ground, gasping for air as my friends scrambled around me in panic.
Turns out, those herbs weren't herbs.
They were a rare and highly toxic plant that mimicked common seasoning.
A few more minutes, and I was gone.
Just like that.
Not to an enemy's blade.
Not to a beast's claw.
Not to fate or prophecy.
Poisoned. By my own hand.
Because I wanted the stew to have a little extra flavour.
And then I was floating.
The boat rocked gently beneath me once more, the river of starlight stretching endlessly ahead.
The Samsara River.
I let out a breath, staring at the sky, the realization sinking in.
"…You've got to be kidding me."
=.=.=
=.=
=
I woke up, again.
This time, the air felt different—stale, heavy, with the scent of oil and metal. My eyes fluttered open to reveal a dimly lit room, lined with tall shelves stuffed with books.
The walls creaked with the weight of the gears and machinery hidden beneath them, and the soft hiss of steam escaped from vents overhead.
I sat up, the sound of clockwork ticking from somewhere distant, joining the hum of machinery that seemed to power the entire city. My fingers brushed against the cold surface of the desk I was sitting at, cluttered with papers, books, and a half-finished cup of something that smelled faintly of tea.
I didn't need to think twice to realize something had changed.
The memories came rushing in.
My name was now Arlo Pendrick.
I was in a world of brass and steam, where the streets were lined with towering buildings that reached for the sky, covered in pipes, smokestacks, and metal filigree. The air was thick with the scent of burning coal and oil.
The sun, barely visible through the haze, cast everything in a sickly yellow glow.
And I was a librarian.
A lowly one, at that.
A part of me felt a strange sense of detachment. This wasn't like my previous 2 lives. This wasn't an adventurous, exciting existence. This was mundane. This was… boring.
But that wasn't all. There was something strange about it.
The city outside, with its towering spires and steam-powered contraptions, felt alive—pulsing with energy, as if the very buildings had a heartbeat. The clang of metal against metal echoed through the streets, the sound of gears grinding and steam hissing was constant, and the people… well, they had their own rhythm.
Their own way of moving, talking, existing.
It was a strange place, but not completely unfamiliar. It was a blend of old-world charm and futuristic industrial power—a steampunk city, alive with inventions, machines, and a strange kind of magic that hummed beneath the surface.
I wasn't the only one in the library.
There were others who worked here with me, but they were like ghosts. Shuffling about, their eyes always glued to the books they were sorting, cleaning, or cataloging. No one spoke much, and when they did, it was in whispers, as if talking too loudly might cause the entire building to collapse.
I soon learned that my job was, quite frankly, dull.
All I did was maintain the books. Catalog them. Organize them. Every so often, a customer would wander in, ask for a book or scroll, and leave just as quickly. There was no excitement here. No adventure.
But I made the best of it.
I found solace in the smell of old parchment, the rustle of pages turning, the quiet crackle of fire in the hearth. The world outside, with all its chaos and noise, felt far away in this dimly lit space. And despite the monotony, I found myself becoming fond of it.
But even in a place like this, life had a strange way of surprising you.
It was an ordinary afternoon, no different from the others. The gears in the walls clicked and whirred in a steady rhythm as I sat at my desk, sorting through a pile of new arrivals.
The library was quiet—except for the occasional cough from the janitor in the corner or the faint hum of the airship engines outside.
Then, I heard something strange.
A crash.
I shot up from my chair, heart pounding in my chest. I rushed toward the source of the noise, my shoes clicking on the wooden floorboards. When I reached the back of the library, I saw it.
A massive brass cog had fallen from the ceiling—one of the gears that powered the library's steam system—and it had crashed through the floor, sending splinters flying in every direction.
I froze, staring at it in shock.
But before I could react, I heard another noise.
A whistling sound, faint at first but growing louder with each passing second.
I turned just in time to see a massive chunk of metal—part of a steam pipe—fall from above, cutting across the room in a wild arc. It smashed through the wall, sending debris scattering everywhere.
I didn't have time to think. I ducked behind a nearby bookshelf.
The steam pipe hit the ground with a loud clang, just inches from where I had been standing. I breathed a sigh of relief—too soon.
A screeching, grinding noise filled the air as the ceiling began to groan and shift. A massive clank echoed through the library, and the whole building trembled. I looked up in time to see a huge piece of machinery falling toward me, twisting through the air like a falling star.
I didn't have a chance.
The last thing I saw was a blur of metal and steam.
Then, everything went black.
Once again, I was drifting.
The sound of the river, the starlight. The familiar sensation of weightlessness.
I blinked, confused at first. Then I realized where I was.
The Samsara River.
Again.
The boat beneath me rocked gently, the stars above twinkling softly.
But this time… it felt different.
The figures were waiting for me again—Destiny, Fate, and Luck.
Their presence was as overwhelming as ever. I could feel them, even before I saw them. Their power was like the weight of the universe itself, pulling me toward them.
And then, they spoke.
Destiny was the first. "Arlo Pendrick," they said, their voice a deep chorus of echoes. "Your time here has ended."
I sighed. "I guess I've gotten used to it by now."
Fate gave a small nod, their fingers weaving the threads of possibility in the air. "Another life lived. Another life lost."
Luck didn't even look up from their coin. "You really are an unlucky bastard, aren't you?" They chuckled softly, flipping it in the air. "Guess we're doing this again."
I couldn't help but let out a bitter laugh. "Yeah, guess so."
They didn't say anything else. They didn't need to.
They simply drew lots again.
Destiny took the scroll. Fate spun the thread. Luck tossed the die.
It spun in the air, faster than I could track. Time seemed to slow as it hovered, and when it finally landed—
Five.
A quiet, almost imperceptible pause. Then, a nod from Luck. "Well, that's it, then."
Without a word, they turned to send me off again.
=.=.=
[Montage no-jutsu--> My shitty Lives]
Endless lives, endless deaths.
The Samsara River was no longer a mystery to me.
At first, it had been strange. Then frustrating. But now? Now, it was just part of the cycle.
I had been Stewart. Then Arlo, James, Garry, Zondur, Bandi, Oga-Telunji, Shammah and so on. Then dozens of other names, each attached to a life I barely had time to understand before I was thrown back into the river once more.
The first few times, I fought against it. I questioned it. But eventually, I realized there were no answers to be given. Destiny, Fate, and Luck didn't explain. They didn't give me reasons. They just did what they did, drawing lots and deciding where I'd go next.
And so I went. Again and again.
[6th Re-birth]~
In one life, I was born into a kingdom where dragons ruled the skies and magic shaped the land. I was a warrior, trained from childhood to wield a blade infused with fire. My name was Kael Valorian, and I was destined to be a hero.
Or so I thought.
I fought in wars, felled beasts that threatened the land, and won battles that should have been impossible. I had a kingdom behind me, a queen who loved me, and a legacy that would be told for generations.
Then, one day, I tripped.
I had just come back from a long campaign. The castle was throwing a celebration in my honor. Drunk on wine and the joy of victory, I took a wrong step near the grand hall's staircase.
One misstep. One moment of stupidity.
I tumbled down all 87 marble steps, landed at the bottom with a sickening crunch, and died instantly.
A hero's legacy, undone by gravity.
[10th re-birth]~
The next time, I was reborn as Victor Holloway, a genius scientist in the early 20th century. I had theories that would change the world, ideas that would revolutionize energy and technology. I spent my life in the lab, chasing progress.
I worked with electricity, steam, and chemicals. I made breakthroughs. I had colleagues who respected me, rivals who envied me, and a name that would be remembered.
Then, one night, I made a mistake.
I was working on a new power source—one that would eliminate the world's dependence on coal and oil. The equations were sound. The tests had been promising.
But I miscalculated.
The explosion was instant. One second, I was writing in my journal. The next, I was vaporized along with my entire lab.
I never even got to name my discovery.
[23rd Re-birth]
I woke up next in a world that felt strangely familiar. It was like one of those anime I used to watch in my original life. Superpowered heroes and villains fought daily, society built around those with quirks, gifts, or supernatural abilities.
I was born without powers. A rare, pitiful existence in a world where strength determined status. But I didn't let that stop me.
I trained. I studied. I built technology that let me fight on par with the enhanced. I became a vigilante, operating in the shadows, feared by criminals and respected by those who knew my name.
I even managed to take down a villain who had terrorized the city for years. People started calling me "Phantom."
Then, I died because of… a vending machine.
I had just finished a long night of crime-fighting. I was exhausted, hungry. I went to grab a quick snack from a street-side vending machine. I put in the money, pressed the button, and the snack got stuck.
Annoyed, I shook the machine. It wobbled. I shook it again.
The whole damn thing tipped over and crushed me.
Surely this was no ordinary vending machine. It weighed over 2 tons.
[A/N: Fun-fact, people actually die coz of vending machines. According to the CPSC, there has been a confirmed 37 fatalities and 113 injuries since 1978]
[60th Re-birth]
Not all of my lives were exciting.
Once, I was just a farmer. A simple man named Elias Lovemore, tending to his fields in a peaceful world with no monsters, no wars, no magic. Just seasons passing, crops growing, and a quiet life surrounded by my family.
I grew old. I watched my children and grandchildren grow. I told stories by the fire, felt the warmth of love and comfort. I saw my wife's hair turn gray, just as mine did.
And one day, I closed my eyes and drifted off in my sleep. No pain, no tragedy. Just the natural end of a long, fulfilling life.
[65th Re-birth]
Another time, I was a detective in a dark city filled with crime and corruption. My name was Jonathan Drake, and I was the best damn investigator the city had ever seen.
I took down mob bosses, solved impossible cases, and uncovered secrets the city tried to bury. I had a reputation—both feared and respected.
Then, I made the mistake of trusting the wrong woman.
She walked into my office, all red lipstick and sultry eyes, with a sob story that tugged at my heart. I should've known better.
By the time I realized I'd been played, I was already bleeding out in an alleyway, a bullet in my gut.
As the rain poured down on my dying body, I let out a bitter laugh.
"Classic noir ending," I muttered before everything faded to black.
[71st Re-birth]
In another life, I was a gladiator, forced to fight in an arena where gods watched mortals tear each other apart for entertainment.
I had been taken as a child, raised in blood and battle. My name was Rael, and I became the strongest warrior in the colosseum, undefeated for years.
Then, one day, I faced an opponent I could not defeat.
Not because they were stronger. Not because they were smarter.
But because, in a moment of pure stupidity, I turned to taunt the gods watching above.
"Is that the best you've got?!" I shouted.
Lightning struck me dead on the spot.
Yeah, fuck you too Zeus!
[89th Re-birth]
There was one life where I was the bad guy.
I don't know how it happened. Maybe I was just born into the wrong circumstances. Maybe the system failed me. But in that life, I was the villain.
I built an empire of crime, ruled the underworld with an iron fist. My name struck fear into the hearts of heroes.
But arrogance was my downfall.
I underestimated the young hero who had been chasing me for years. I mocked them, taunted them.
Then, they finally got the drop on me.
And just like that, I was gone.
And so it went. Life after life. Death after death.
Some were tragic. Some were ridiculous. Some were fulfilling. Some ended before they even began.
And each time, I found myself drifting back on the Samsara River, floating toward the same three figures who no longer even reacted when they saw me.
Destiny sighed. "Again?"
Fate didn't even look up from their work. "Yes. Again."
Luck just flipped a coin. "You are, without a doubt, the most unlucky lucky person I have ever seen."
I sat in the boat, waiting for them to do whatever it was they did.
"You know, at this point, I feel like I should get a loyalty card," I muttered. "Maybe a 'die ten times, get one life free' kind of deal?"
Luck chuckled. Destiny rubbed their temples. Fate simply sent me off.
And once again, I was gone.
Off to another life. Another death. Another story.
And who knew how long this cycle would last?
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