Anit666

A Professional Transmigrator meets a newbie Regressor.
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He lived an average, fulfilling life and died of old age. The next moment, he opened his eyes as the Princess of Asmaria.

While looking forward to his new life, he died again.

And so began his 151,897,914th life as Samur Eckart.

Samur is a Professional Transmigrator- or so he says, as he gets transmigrated into a new world every time he dies.

However, each time, his memories return only moments before his death. If he successfully survives, he gets to live that life, if he dies, well, he just moves on to his next moment of death.

Once again on the verge of death as Samur, he’s saved at the last moment by a young boy.

Surprise, surprise, the young boy is a Regressor.

As a man of honour, Samur intends to repay his debt then leave because the world is too inconvenient to live in.

Well, that’s what he thought, at least, but the Regressor and his friends are kind of… weird, and he can’t seem to get away at all?

However, not everything is as it seems. Samur’s whims have made him the part of an eternal lie.

Shadows dance in glee as they concoct a requiem far grander than anyone can imagine, while the Lights tremble in delight as the apocalypse threatens the Universe.

The dies have been cast, the play has been written, the characters are on the stage, and the sacrifices have been made.

And so, it’s finally time to let this game begin.


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The cover photo obviously does not belong to me.

Discord: https://discord.gg/qxmPDzXYTZ 
Instagram: @_anit666_

How to Raise Your Regressor

Since the party venue clearly wasn't the right place to discuss Arteria's new heart (or so she believed), we decided to change the venue and made our way to my room.

"So, how is it going nowadays?" I tried making small banter to keep the mood light.

Like man, she's taking this thing way too seriously. It's just a heart developed by a 12-year-old child who you have only known for weeks; what could possibly go wrong.

Members of the New Dawn Guild really do like to be babies about small things.

"Every single morning, I wake up and curse the day I decided to help you with THAT," she glared at me from the corner of her eyes.

It's not like I forced her to help her transplant my heart; it was her choice which was made on the assumption that it would be amusing.

In that regard, she really is similar to me.

Huh, wait, that's why she's cursing that day, because she knows it was her decision.

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