We were alone, in the dark. An old man and I.

  The man appeared to be in his te sixties, wielding a crooked walking cane which he leaned. He was blind in one eye, but I wished it was in both eyes. The look he gave me with his other eye left a bad taste in my mouth. It was a mix of pity, scorn and exhaustion.

  He was the chief of the vilge I- Belfry grew up in – and his name was Marcus. A regretful criminal who fled execution from his home country through the Bck Forest to the outskirts of the Heartwood Kingdom. How he made it through unscathed, not even he knew.

  From nothing he built the vilge. He welcomed fellow outcasts like himself, and together they built a vilge. Multiple vilges, in fact: The Victis vilges.

  His death was unceremonious. Part of the first few to be ruthlessly killed by those who walked out of the beam of light - The vampire woman and her accomplice. A simirly clothed man much rger than herself.

  I tried looking through the old man’s memories, looking for more clues on anything. But he had simir memories to Belfry from that night. Multiple beams of light streaked through that night sky, one nded in the vilge and a pair of vampires came through, killing everybody.

  “30.”, He whispered with disgust as he stared at me coldly.

  I met his gaze unflinchingly as he faded away. Unlike Belfry, I made no promises to him. He didn’t deserve any promises from me, at least not in Belfry’s body.

  Slowly, I returned to consciousness. I could hear whispers and murmuring. The awful stench of shit and piss rudely tickled my nose. There was an intense itch on my left leg. A strange substance… energy, flowed from my heart, through my body and out of my fingertips, then back into my body.

  Then suddenly, I felt my through. It was on fire, there was no air. I was choking on something.

  My body jerked upwards and I immediately coughed out the contents in my mouth. A strangely pleasant pain spread through my body as I hunched over, waiting for the strange liquid in my mouth to be drained from my mouth and nose.

  After a few minutes of euphoric agony, I fell back down to the ground, rolling over to face up.

  It was dark, with a few beams of lights pouring in through holes in the darkness. It looked like some form of thick fabric.

  I blinked slowly, trying to take it all in.

  Memories started to flood in as my brain kicked into gear.

  ‘A strange wolf monster chased me. Got saved by a hand in a blurry wall, fought the wolf with a band of mercenaries, Palsey and…’ I eye rolled as I realised what had happened. ‘I got captured. Good job, me.’

  The foul taste of the puke left a nafty burning sensation in my mouth. I brought my hand to my mouth, trying to rinse with some water, but to no avail. I tried again, but no water came out. Next I tried fire, air then wind, but still, nothing happened.

  Then I looked at my shackled wrist. There was a strange marking on both shackles.

  ‘There’s anti-magic colrs? Since when?!’

  A clicked my tongue. Of course, I knew Belfry’s knowledge was limited, but I just figured he’d have at least heard of ways to counter magic in this world.

  ‘Why the hell did I even puke? I should have been healthy.’, I wondered.

  My hand slowly reached down to my leg as I could no longer ignore the itchy sensation I felt. There, I felt it. A strange bump of flesh on my leg. I looked down, ignoring the rags I’d been put in and the shackles on my legs and focused on the rge, length scar that went from my calf to the very tip of my heel.

  Then it clicked. Zeb mentioned something about poison when I was feeling dizzy. It was from exhaustion, but rather, that wolf’s poison was killing me.

  ‘Well, at least that makes sense now.’

  I suspected it after seeing Belfry’s soul and what he said. “31”.

  There were also 32 corpses in the vilge.

  I didn’t know how, but somehow, the souls of the vilgers were now residing in me. The vilge chief saying “30” and me somehow getting a very good look into their memories and lives only served to confirm this theory.

  Belfry’s soul was the first to go, which should have left 31 souls, like he said. Next was the vilge chief, hence, 30.

  ‘No. That makes no sense.’

  There were 32 corpses in the vilge minus Belfry’s body. In actuality, there were 33 corpses. So why would it start with 32 souls?

  Did a corpse survive?

  ‘Did Rosine… no.’

  I quickly dismissed the thought. Her body was charcoal. Of all the vilgers, she had absolutely no way of surviving.

  ‘Did I miscount?’

  It was possible. Some of the corpses were split apart in ways that made them unidentifiable. I must have made a mistake when digging the graves.

  ‘Or did someone actually survive?’

  Now, I had to confirm that. If someone did survive, that was good!

  ‘Good? Why do I care about a stranger?’

  I shook my head, pushing such thoughts away.

  Death, why it isn’t smart to just kill himself till there’s no souls as he isn’t sure what the god will do to him next.

  A memory of the system’s voice came to mind. It mentioned something about some form of requirement being satisfied and that I was a Marked One?

  ‘Is this world’s version of the chosen one?’

  In my multiple incarnations, I’d only ever been dubbed the chosen one who eventually becomes the Great Hero. It was the same, boring story told in over 20,000 incarnations.

  Perhaps, that zy god grew tired and tried to rewrite the script.

  ‘Marked one isn’t smart, you know? You dumb shit.’

  Then there was also a trial?

  I’d been given a trial.

  ‘The Hollow Theatre.’

  I got nothing from its name. Even the description was the most useless thing I’d ever seen.

  ‘A merry band of performers travel. They come and they go. Never here yet always there.’

  What was that even supposed to mean? There were no real parameters for this ‘Trial’. I had no idea how to interpret this.

  Finally, there was that thing about a special hollow… Integration? My memories were really vague. Clouded by a lot of heavy breathing and tiredness from the night before.

  I sighed.

  I organised what I knew so far. I was currently captured by a bunch of mercenaries. For some strange reason, the souls of 32 dead vilgers were in me and potentially every time I’d die, one would be sacrificed to keep me alive.

  Then there was everything to do with the system, trial, FE and Sacred Hollow.

  So many questions, yet so little answers.

  “Damn it!”, I roared, sitting up quickly and scratching my head furiously.

  All I wanted was to die, but of course I somehow ended up in a completely different world, trapped in the body of a child alongside the souls of 32 dead vilgers, captured by a mercenary group.

  He was surely getting a kick out of all of this, watching me try my best to wrap my head around this entire situation. All this pointless thinking and pnning, trying to escape his gaze, his authority. I was dancing like a helpless fool for him.

  But I didn’t care.

  I’d thought of killing myself before, but after dying from the poison, I know for a fact this new form of immortality he gave me is his twisted version of mercy. Or maybe a punishment. I could only imagine what kind of punishment he’d give me if I got to zero extra lives without accomplishing whatever goal he wants me to.

  I shuddered and took in a deep breath.

  ‘Calm down. None of that matters anyway.’

  My lips flinched upwards. I felt a fat grin find its way onto my face. Regardless of all of this…

  ‘I’ll win this game and rewrite this story, you shitty god. Ah-’

  Then, I saw them. Huddled up in the corner, trembling and extremely wary of me. They were clothed in rags simir to mine, with interlinked colrs, binding them together.

  One of them in particur, stood in front of the rest. He appeared to be a bit bigger than the rest, perhaps a few years older. Although, he was just as skinny and malnourished as the younger ones appeared to be.

  He stared at me with caution, scanning me from head to toe.

  As I looked around, I then noticed we were currently in a cage, with a tarp or tent pced above us, hiding us.

  I wasn’t the only child they’d caught. Perhaps these kids were survivors of incidents simir to mine. It was possible, considering there were multiple beams of light in the sky.

  No, that couldn’t be right. They look much dirtier and hungrier than I am. Three days of no food wouldn’t make them look as skinny and weak as they did.

  Anyway, that was besides the point. Clearly, I was a stranger. I had to at least make them feel safer with me.

  “Hi, my name is Belfry. I uhhh… I don’t bite?”