"CAN'T BELIEVE I'M EATING ASS RIGHT NOW!"
Vael roared into the wind, chewing on a piece of burnt jerky in his hand, as he dragged a mangled dragon corpse across a cracked wasteland.
"You hear me, Pyrrhos? This is all your fault. If you hadn't been such a body-hopping bastard, then I wouldn't be here hauling your corpse."
The dead god didn't answer, which wasn't surprising, considering his jaw had fallen off three miles ago.
"Oh, silent treatment now?" Vael spat, his shoulders shaking. "You were really chatty when your cult was screaming prayers. 'O Pyrrhos, bless us!' Well, bless me out of this world, you flaming bastard!"
Without warning, the sky above Vael split open with a deafening crack, the rupture stretching all the way to the horizon. Below it, an ocean of corpses, both human and beasts stood impaled on earthen spikes, their twisted faces locked in a silent scream. All of them killed for the sole purpose of eliminating the mangled dragon behind him.
Vael staggered forward, barely holding himself together. He felt like he belonged among them, with his insides boiling and stomach threatening to rip itself apart. Divine flesh kept him alive, but only in the loosest sense of the word.
Right now, he was the last living thing left in this world. And he didn't like thinking about what it had cost to stay that way. Not after the forests had burnt down, cities had fallen, and especially after his and fellow invaders had lost their connection with the association, leaving them no choice to turn against each other. Sure, some of it had been fun, but the rest… not so much.
"You.are.close.you.should.be.able.to.see.me.once.you.climb.over.that.hill."
A voice rang in Vael's head, causing his head to rise in exclamation. Without wasting any time, he rushed up over the corpse-riddled hill in front of his eyes, only to find himself standing just a couple of meters away from a figure cloaked in starlight.
"Alright, show time," Vael muttered, dropping the chain behind him curse and bolting forward.
He didn't slow down, instead he sprinted full speed and latched onto the being's robe, with his eyes glistening with tears.
"I'M SORRY, ALRIGHT, I'M SORRY I CALLED YOU THOSE THINGS ALRIGHT. LOOK I ALREADY ATE THE DAMNED DRAGON, JUST GET ME OUT OF THIS WORLD, OKAY. AND I PROMISE I'LL… I'LL NEVER..."
The being, or rather the consciousness of the dying world, didn't respond. Instead, he simply tilted his body toward the horizon and spoke. "They. Have. Found you."
Vael, unwilling to let go, slightly turned his head to his side, his eyes narrowing as the silhouettes of some of the game masters rushed toward him, their auras surging towards him like a waterfall.
In front of him, the consciousness slowly raised its hand. Suddenly, the air fractured open, revealing a massive golden wheel suspended in golden light.
The Wheel of Reincarnation.
As the game masters behind him had sensed the presence of Pyrrhos in this world, they had suspended the game and sealed off the natural death cycle, bottling up every soul like prisoners.
After he was the only one that had remained, the consciousness of this dying world had spoken to him in his dreams, asking him for help to rid Pyrrhos's divine essence from his world by consuming his flesh. In return, the consciousness was going to help his soul escape through the only way possible:
Reincarnation.
Letting out a huge sigh, Vael drew his sword.
Guess this was it.
He took in a breath, and with a single motion, slit his own throat.
========
"Lower your head, Ashmere," someone said. "You lost. A deal is a deal."
When Vael opened his eyes he found himself lying face down on scorched, broken stone ground.
His body felt like it had been hit by a sledgehammer. His chest throbbed, and his stomach churned with pain and nausea, bloated to the point of bursting.
Where... was this?
He could hear people murmuring around him, giggling and laughing at something.
"Lick the feet, Ashmere."
That voice… wait, he knew that voice. Didn't it belong to that guy Zathiel? Why was he hearing his voice? Wasn't he supposed to be reincarnated?
Vael's vision suddenly sharpened as he recognized the familiar courtyard he was lying in, surrounded by students, most around eighteen, all of whom were dressed in Aetherion academy uniforms, staring at him with their Neurobands out, laughing and probably recording.
And a mere few feet away from him, basking in the spotlight, stood Zathiel Dren, an armor-clad guy, grinning like he'd just been crowned emperor of a new world.
What the hell... why did this scene feel so familiar?
Confused, he forced his head up, and his gaze locked onto a girl standing at the back.
Black hair braided over one shoulder, the Isandrell crest stitched into her coat. Her eyes locked on him, not with concern, not even pity, but cold disdain, like she was staring at garbage. He recognized her, she was Mirai Isandrell. Third daughter of the Isandrell family. A decently powerful house in the Taurion star system, and technically... his fiancée.
Why was she here? Wasn't she supposed to be dead?
No, something was off.
His body felt lighter. The courtyard looked... familiar. Too familiar.
Then it hit him.
All of a sudden, a swarm of recent memories slammed into him, forcing him to remember everything, especially his current situation.
That woman, he could still remember the time he had been crazy about her. The way he'd followed her around like a loyal mutt, praying that she would glance his way even if it was for a second.
Instead, her eyes had always been on someone else, particularly the living siege engine currently looming above him. The situation had become so pathetic that he had gone and challenged the bastard to a duel.
A duel for her heart, only Zathiel here had beaten his soul out of him in under a minute.
God, he had been an idiot. He was a mage and a fresh one at that. Why the hell did he have to fight close quarters against a cultivator?
Wait, no. That wasn't recent. That had happened years ago.
His memories weren't clear, but he was pretty sure he had managed to escape into the Wheel of Reincarnation. Had he succeeded? If so, why the hell was he back here, twelve years in the past?
He knew this moment. Knew this courtyard. It was the standard dueling ground allotted to first years during his time studying in the Aetherion Institute of Planar Warfare.
"Come on," Zathiel said, grinning at one of the camera drones floating above. "We agreed. Loser will kiss the winner's feet. That was the bet."
A wave of laughter rippled through the crowd, causing Vael to look up slowly and blink.
Ah, to hell with this.
He didn't understand why he had managed to regress back in the past, but he couldn't stand to see that smug smile on Zathiel's face.
"Oh," he rasped, trying to calm his nauseous stomach. "You want me to lick your feet..."
Zathiel smirked. "That's right."
Vael nodded and shakily pushed himself to his knees.
"Alright then," he said.
He staggered forward, dragging himself with a limp. The crowd of students also leaned in, their cameras ready as Zathiel extended his foot.
Vael reached out, his arms trembling, and grabbed Zathiel's leg.
Then tightly latched on to it and didn't let go.
Zathiel's smirk wavered for a second.
"What the hell are you…"
Vael looked up, eyes glassy. "A deal's a deal, right?"
Then he lurched forward. He stopped holding back the roiling sickness in his gut and let it surge free, vomiting a stream of blood and breakfast all over Zathiel's feet and chest, aiming especially up toward his face.
The first thing Zathiel registered wasn't the smell. It was the weight, the sheer force of the splatter hitting his chest like a waterfall.
A gasp swept through the crowd. A girl shrieked and stumbled back, clutching her mouth in disgust. One student dropped their Neuraban, while another zoomed in, eyes wide with shock.
Zathiel too stumbled away, gagging. "Wh…what the f*ck?!"
But Vael didn't move. Still clinging to his leg like a leech.
"Oops," he muttered. "I think I ate too much this morning. Sorry about your armor. Oh wait, there is more…"
Out in the back, Mirai stepped away, eyes wide, her lips parting then closing, turning pale as she walked off without a word.
Seeing that, Vael who was wiping his mouth on Zathiel's coat, finally let go, and began limping toward the exit.
"You… you honorless bastard!" Zathiel shouted. "How can you walk away when your family's name is on the line?!"
Vael didn't blink. He turned to the crowd instead.
"DOCTOR!" he shouted. "Where the hell are the doctors? My body is killing me!"
Then, brushing past Zathiel without slowing, he muttered, "Excuse me."
That finally snapped Zathiel out of it.
"You coward! Is that what your lineage amounts to!?" he screamed, voice climbing into shrill fury.
Vael didn't respond.
Family honor? It was a duel over a girl.
So he ignored him.
Besides, his attention had already shifted towards the two standby healers rushing towards his position with a stretcher.
Seeing so, He just hobbled over towards the stretcher and collapsed onto it with a groan.
"I'm the scion of the great clan Ashmere," he declared, sinking into the stretcher. "Take me to the best healers, doctors or whatever you have in this place. Now."
With that, he let his eyes drift shut, just for a second, when...
---
[Divine Signature Detected]
Name: Vael Ashmere
Path of Progression: Mage
Cultivation: Spark (Mid Stage)
Title: God of Flesh
Domains: Biomancy (Level 1)