Chapter 1

The battlefield stretched endlessly, a wasteland of shattered earth and smouldering craters. The air crackled with leftover energy from countless clashes, and the scent of ash clung to every breath.

"This is your 299th time losing!" Varden shouted, his voice sharp and grating, echoing across the desolate field. His silver armour was dented and scorched, but his crimson sword still glowed with unyielding power. "Just give up already. Your death will be quick—painless, even!"

Rezekiel staggered but refused to fall. Blood dripped from the corners of his mouth, his charred armour barely clinging to his body. The weight of 298 failures hung over him like a storm cloud, but his eyes still burned with defiance.

"You think I fear death, Varden?" Rezekiel growled, tightening his grip on his sword hilt. "If I'm dying today, I'm dragging you down to the abyss with me!"

The two warriors lunged at each other, their battle cries shaking the earth.

Rezekiel roared in his mind, 'Thousand Sword Array!' Blades materialized around him, spectral and razor-sharp, their edges humming with ancient energy.

Varden's lips curled into a cruel smirk. "Pathetic." He raised his hand, chanting low, dark syllables. 'Secret Arcane Arts IV.' A vortex of black fire and shadow engulfed him, swelling in size until it consumed half the battlefield.

The two powers collided in a blinding explosion of light and shadow. The shockwave ripped through the earth, splitting mountains in the distance and tearing the very sky apart.

As the light faded, only silence remained. Both warriors lay motionless, their bodies charred and broken. A single gust of wind carried pieces of their shattered weapons across the battlefield.

But even in death, Rezekiel's spirit would not rest.

Rezekiel's soul drifted into an endless void, untethered from time and space. The battlefield and his own mangled body were distant memories now, dissolving into the blackness.

"Is this it?" he thought, his voice echoing in the nothingness. "Is this what death feels like? After everything…"

Then, the void rippled.

A force unlike anything Rezekiel had ever felt pulled at him, dragging his soul forward. He struggled, but it was futile. The emptiness gave way to a blinding, searing light—a light that felt alive.

"Chosen," a disembodied and ancient voice boomed. The word reverberated through his very essence. "You are not done yet."

Rezekiel floated in an endless expanse of silver light, his form shimmering as though made of the same ethereal mist surrounding him. He had no sense of time here; days, months, or even years could have passed without his notice. Yet, he was acutely aware of a presence—a being of overwhelming power and calm—standing before him—a god.

The figure emerged from the light, a radiant yet indistinct silhouette. It bore no definitive face, only shifting patterns of light and shadow that spoke to Rezekiel in emotions and thoughts rather than words. Still, when the being spoke, its voice resonated within Rezekiel's very soul.

"You have died again," the god said, its tone neither accusing nor comforting, but matter-of-fact. "How many cycles has it been now?"

Rezekiel sighed, his essence rippling with frustration. "Too many. Enough to know that no matter what I do, I'm always hunted, always betrayed. And Varden…" He paused, the name tasting bitter even in this incorporeal form. "Varden is always there to ensure my end."

The god remained silent for a moment, as though pondering something far beyond Rezekiel's comprehension. "Varden has been your adversary for as long as you have existed in this cycle of reincarnations. But this time will be different."

Rezekiel's form flickered with skepticism. "How? He'll have the same advantages as always. He'll rise in power, charm the weak to his side, and I…" He hesitated, anger crackling through his voice. "I'll fall, as I always do."

"Not this time," the god said, stepping closer. "I have intervened. You will not return as you were, a lone wanderer doomed to be a step behind. This time, I have chosen your path. You will be reborn as one of two sons to a celestial and the Elf Queen. A bloodline strong enough to wield great power."

Rezekiel's essence trembled with surprise. "The Elf Queen? But the Elf King—"

"—knows nothing of this arrangement," the god interrupted, its tone sharp yet calm. "Your presence in this new life will be concealed, even from him, until the time is right. Your task, however, remains the same: to rise above Varden and win this cycle."

Rezekiel's form steadied as determination began to replace his doubt. "And how am I to do that? He'll be reborn too, won't he?"

The god's light flared slightly, a sign of its intent. "Yes. Varden will be reborn alongside you as your twin. But I will grant you certain advantages, as my chosen. Three wishes. Use them wisely, for they will shape your path in ways even I cannot foresee."

Rezekiel's thoughts swirled, the possibilities overwhelming. "Three wishes?" he repeated, almost disbelieving. "Anything I desire?"

"Within reason," the saviour replied. "You cannot wish for outright victory, nor can you demand Varden's destruction. The rules of balance remain. But I will grant you tools, knowledge, or power to tip the scales in your favour."

Rezekiel fell silent, his form dimming as he considered the weight of this offer. Finally, he spoke, his voice steady. "My first wish is for a system—something that can guide me, provide me with access to resources, and offer me a universal shop to obtain what I need."

The god's light pulsed as a sign of approval. "Granted. When you awaken, the system will be bound to your soul, serving as a guide and granting access to a shop that spans realms. What is your second wish?"

"Memories," Rezekiel said without hesitation. "I want the memories of my past cycles. If I'm to defeat Varden, I need to understand how he thinks, how he acts."

The god nodded. "Granted. When you awaken, your past will be clear to you, though the memories may come slowly. And your third wish?"

Rezekiel paused, his form flickering as he considered his final request. "An ally," he said at last. "Something loyal, something I can trust without question. A pet or a companion, bound to me, who can aid me in my journey."

The god's light dimmed slightly, as though contemplating the request. "A wise choice. Your ally will find you shortly after your rebirth. Its form and abilities will align with your needs, though trust must still be earned."

Rezekiel's essence steadied, glowing brighter than before. For the first time in countless cycles, he felt a flicker of hope. "Thank you," he said, his voice heavy with sincerity. "This time, I'll win."

The saviour's form began to dissolve, merging back into the endless light. "Remember, Rezekiel, your wishes are but tools. The outcome depends on your choices. Now go… and make this cycle your last."

With those final words, the light around Rezekiel surged, engulfing him completely. The next thing he felt was the sharp cry of a newborn, his own voice heralding the start of a new cycle.

******************************************************************

Pls 🙏 vote if you want more.

Feel free to comment on mistakes.