1

The streets were crowded with people. The air reeked of sweat and filth—somewhat diluted by the smell of various delicacies that intermingled with it. I ruffled the rough curls of my stark white hair and gazed at the lean body of the teenager I had come to possess. I had never thought the incarnation spell I had cast on myself at the beginning of my godhood would come in handy.

An average kid he/I was. The body's memories were beginning to surface. My name is Vikk Bledin, born from a commoner family in the kingdom of Agrith. I am attending the Agrith school for commoners(quite the mouthful). My male hands were coated beneath a layer of dark red. My blood. This body had just died. Killed for stealing a loaf for his family. A shameful yet honorable death.

I gazed at the loose-fitting blood-soaked clothes that stuck stubbornly to my body. There was a puncture just right above the abdomen of the fabric. My legs were dead—without feeling or sensations of any sort. Spots danced in my field of vision as a great wave of weakness crashed on me. My consciousness was slowly slipping away. The host's body was still on the verge of death. Hunger tore at my stomach and my arms cried from exhaustion.

My mana reserve was too low for a god healing spell. I quickly opened my mouth to initiate a druid incantation. My voice came out raspy and coarse but the incantation was a success. Warmth

spread across my body as life seeped into my crumpled form. My hunger was quelled and my muscles regained their energy and vigor.

"I shall incorporate every fighting technique I know to reach the level of my previous life. Thankfully I hadn't used god-level magic. The deities would have sensed my presence", I muttered.

I staggered out of the alley into the busy streets of the Leith market. The baker that had stabbed was a few stalls down, tucked within the throngs of bodies that mingled in the early evening heat. I struck my left breast, right breast, and the spot right above my navel. It was a truck I'd learned while traveling as a deity. Mana flowed into my lean form as I made my way through the crowds of people. I could feel my muscles grow as my core strengthened. My gait improved and my pace quickened.

Overcome by the growing worry of the body I dashed towards my home. Images of grim ash hair swaying in a stormy evening and scents of lilies pervaded my senses. A 15-year-old beauty and my sister, Medea.

I sprinted forward, barreling and ignoring the grumbles of the insufferable denizens of this gods forsaken city. A teleporting spell would've been quicker but I hadn't gathered enough mana yet. I quickly cast a " haste" spell. I quickly rounded the tight corners of the square and zipped into the Drengir forest. I took to the air and used the branches of the tight cluster of trees as footholds. A trail of smoke broke through the sea of green—the chimney. A scream rang through the trees. My blood ran cold as I hurried. I landed softly on the patch of trimmed grasses that led to an unimpressive cottage, a crumbling heap with a width of three men with outstretched hands.

The door had been smashed open. I dashed in, having to bend to avoid the 6ft 7 door frame. My heart ceased. Sprawled on the floor was my sister, naked, gasping for air, and pinned by him, the baker, surrounded by multiple men. Their gazes wandered to me.

"Hey look, it's the brat", one said.

He folded his meaty right fist and grabbed at his loin with his left. " Your sister tasted wonderful", he said, bursting into laughter. The others followed him.

The baker turned and fixed a lazy stare at me. His lips curled into a crooked grin. His hands latched onto her throat as he said"So you didn't die from that eh? Stubborn little bastard. You deserve a beating for interrupting me."

The one that spoke first felt the dark skin of his bald head. "I'll have a go at him first, alright?". The others nodded in agreement as he advanced slowly.

" I don't wanna do this to the brother of the girl I just had fun with but you asked for it". He reached for me and I ducked right before planting an uppercut on his exposed jaw.

I was calm yet infuriated. My millennia of experience battled with the rage of my body. I calmly walked to the writhing figure of the fleshy imbecile and grabbed his arm. I took in a breath and ripped his arm off as I exhaled. The others stumbled backward. I mixed my mana into my voice and said calmly, "Come".

My voice bore with it a trace of the rage I carried. Like a worm, my rage burrowed into their bodies, quelling their fears and igniting their rage. They yelled defiantly as a red film coated their eyes, the baker included. They threw punches randomly in their rage and I weaved through flawlessly while delivering bone-crushing blows of my own. Our fight turned into a song of swishes and crunches. One made for my legs but I easily sidestepped his advance and planted a kick on his chin, knocking him out instantly with the satisfying pop of his jaw. Another grabbed my hair but I rapidly delivered a stream of hits to his nose with my elbow. I infused a gust of wind into my fist and sent it crashing into his stomach. He flew into and through the wall, twitched then stopped moving.

The baker was the last standing. I then let the rage of my body take over. I zipped into his face and punched his face so hard his nose went flat. He fell on the floor and screamed as blood squirted from his disfigured face.

" You can't kill me", he said, leveling his gaze at me. He smirked and I punched him again.

My sister was deflowered by this pig. I stepped heavily on his hands and soaked in the waves of his screams. I knelt over him and fed him with a stream of punches. Minutes crept by and I did not stop. I was lost in the rage.

A light warmth landed on my shoulder and I turned; my breath ragged. Medea's tears fell softly. I held her hand and looked into her hazel eyes.

"I'm sorry". That was all I could say.