CH1: Past Life (1)  

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CH1: Past Life (1)

Name…

Identity…

Someone once told me, Name and identity… are the things that bind us to the world.

They are the things that validate our existence in the world we live.

They are the things that proves that a person had existed in that world.

They are the things we leave behind as proof of our being, no matter how shallow it is.

My name was Alex Fury,

My name is Leo Xander.

I was a soldier,

I am an Assassin.

I have lived two lives… worlds. These are the names and identities I have left and will leave behind.

In one life, I was hailed as the strongest soldier. In this life, I will be the best Assassin!

Every person with a name and an identity has a story to tell. Most will be boring, others will be ordinary, a few will be extraordinary and finally, there are the chosen who will have legendary tales.

I am a man who has lived two lives and I have two stories I can tell.

For obvious reasons, I have written this book in the tongue of my first world. I do not know if this book will ever find a reader. However, if by some miracle you can comprehend the words written in this book. Then I leave it to you to judge.

Judge if the tale I am about to tell you is boring, ordinary, extraordinary or… legendary!

I am a man with two stories I CAN tell, but there is only one tale I WANT to tell.

For you who understands the tongue of my first world, I will tell you the tale of my second life.

This is the Tale of The Fool, Loki's Assassin!

**

Hmm… Although I say this, perhaps I should take a moment to tell you about my first life.

For as the saying goes, Every Journey has a start… a take-off; Every story has a beginning.

It wouldn't be proper for me to tell you the tale of my second life without having you understand my experiences in the first.

Very well, I will show the brief look into my life.

Let us look at the life of the man named Alex Fury.

**

In my first life, I was named Alex Fury.

I was born to a mother who died during childbirth; and to a father, I never knew.

So, I grew up in an orphanage.

The experience wasn't good nor bad. It was particularly ordinary if you ask me.

But then again, what do I know?

I never really knew what the embrace of a mother and a father felt like. However, it wasn't like I never felt the warmth of family either.

The staff and other children in the orphanage were my family. They were the family I knew and all I had.

I cherished them, I was grateful.

As I said, my childhood was particularly ordinary. If there was anything I see worth mentioning, it would be my love for books, novels and comics to be exact.

I particularly favoured the War/Military genre.

In retrospect now, I wonder if my interest was mine or I was led into it. After all, the country I grew up in was a militaristic state, and the orphanage I grew up in was related to the military.

Anyway, I loved reading about soldiers. Soldiers who could change the tide of a battle all by themselves, be it with their physical strength, charisma, wit or sheer determination.

There were a lot of heroic soldiers to find in the books, both in fiction and historical records. I never got bored.

Make no mistake, I had no intention of becoming a soldier. My wish was more… mundane.

I wanted to be a writer. I wanted to write about the perfect soldier of my dream, one born from the culmination of all the stories I have read.

So, I worked hard in my studies and hobbies.

I hungered for knowledge. The knowledge I would need to bring life to the perfect soldier.

In the future, I became ever grateful for all the knowledge I gained during this time. However, ironically, they never helped me to do what I dreamed to do. I never got the chance to write a single draft of my story.

Instead, I used the knowledge in the place I least expected.

I used it in war.

Yes, I became the soldier I thought I'd only ever write about.

But not by choice.

A war broke out.

Or I should say my war-hungry country sought out a war.

'It is mostly those who have never seen war, who wish for it.'

This were famous words of a foreign world-renowned general that I read.

I didn't understand it before, however, I soon began to understand after I was forcibly drafted into the Army after I turned twenty, the age of consent and adulthood in my first world.

When the war reached a heated point and my country had yet to claim the swift victory it expected, with the number of troops dwindling, the army was forced to issue for a nationwide call-up.

That meant a voluntary mass recruitment exercise to normal citizens. However it was different for me, an orphan who grew up in an orphanage kept afloat by funds from the military coffers.

I was issued a forced draft.

It was time to repay the kindness the military had shown me all these years.

A bus took me and other boys of the right age from the orphanage to the military boot camp for some semblance of training.

I might be a lover of military stories, I in no way was happy about this challenge life had bestowed me.

However, when we reached the camp, I was stunned to see many youths, normal citizens with no true obligation to take part in the war, queuing to enter the camp like myself.

I felt ashamed that a person like me who had enjoy the military's benevolence wanted to avoid the war while those who owed the military nothing, ran to join it.

While in camp, I noticed the eagerness of the nation's youths to quickly head into battle and do the nation proud.

I was soon also swept up in this eagerness.

I tell you my dear reader, Propaganda is a frightful thing… And Reality loves smacking illusioned-fools awake.

The day of deployment finally came.

A chill was in the air.

However, it wasn't a chill born from fear. No! Our Instructors had brainwashed us better than that.

It was a chill of excitement!

Yes, we illusioned-fools were excited to go to war. We were excited to 'slay the enemy'.

Oh did Reality give us a much needed smack.

The helicopters formation that was to take us into battle came under heavy Anti-Air fire. I watched as many birds dropped from the sky one after another.

Soon, my aircraft was hit!

Left with no choice, my commanding officer ordered that we jump. Jump into the water and swim our way to shore. Swim our way to the battlefield.

Jump or perish… we had no other choice.

I don't remember who jumped first. All I remember is that we all jumped.

Or tried to anyway.

I was about to hit the water, 10 metres down, when I caught a glimpse of the bird I was on getting shot down.

There were a few of my mates from boot camp still on it.

In that moment, their lives were snuffed out without even stepping foot on the battlefield.

However, I had no time to live in my head.

I hit the water… hard!

I felt the bones of my leg vibrate and become numb, fortunately they weren't broken. So, I gritted my teeth and forced myself to swim to shore.

Weak and tired, I managed to reach the beach.

Fortunately for us, the marines had already established a beach-landing line. I don't remember how, but I managed to get behind armour to protect myself from the machine gun and mortar fire all around.

Then, everything hit me.

My senses were overloaded.

For reality had given me a good smack.

I finally saw the true face of war!

Even though I just came out of the water, my first impression of the battlefield was… hot!

The sounds of gunfire and explosions were deafening. I didn't even hear the voice of an officer trying to rally us up for a push from the beach to take the MG and mortar positions.

The air smelt of cooking flesh. It smelt like a barbeque. Was it pork or beef? I couldn't even tell the difference.

The stench was so thick I could almost taste it. I could almost taste the meat the battlefield had prepared for me.

I wondered, would I dine with War or would I become another piece of meat in War's feast?

The information I got from my four senses were harrowing, but they didn't compare to what I received from my final sense.

Beside me, I could see a graveyard of corpses. And within the many piles, I could see a few familiar faces. They were the youths from my boot camp. They were amongst the youths excited to go to war.

In that moment, I understood the harsh reality presenting itself before my eyes.

We called for war. We were excited to take part. We wanted to run headfirst against the enemy.

How naïve we were?

'It is mostly those who have never seen war, who wish for it.'

Indeed.

We didn't know War, that's why we had these stupid thoughts.

We never stopped to think, was War something to be proud about?

The people you were smiling and laughing with an hour ago were now dead before your eyes…

Corpses littering around you.

Corpses riddled with bullets.

Corpses burning in the fires of explosions.

Corpses with limbs torn from body.

Corpses with heads missing.

Hardly was there any complete corpse in view.

Youths with futures ahead were now cold corpses. Most of them didn't even have intact bodies.

This was the War we wanted? The war we wish for? The war we ran into?

Ha-ha. How foolish we were…

*

In that moment, something snapped in me.

Biologist will tell you, in times of danger, living creatures will make either of two choices to survive- fight or flight.

In this war, this was nothing more than wishful thinking.

I recognised, that to survive, I only had one choice on this battlefield.

Fight!

So, I chose the only option.

I chose to fight!

I entered a heightened concentrated state. My senses took in all available information and my brain quickly discarded all the useless ones. It called in all the knowledge I had acquired to create the story of the perfect soldier to aid its judgement.

Before I knew it, I had picked up my weapon.

I was ready to fight!

That is all I remember.

Like a cornered beast, I fought. I fought and fought… to seek out that fleeting chance of survival.

Before I knew it, I had stacked a number of enemy bodies in my wake.

Before I knew it, I had made it from the beach, destroyed the MG and Mortar positions, pushed into the high ground and helped secure a foothold for our forces.

Unbeknownst to me, some men had followed my lead, and we turned a doomed situation into a small victory.

A pyrrhic victory, yes. But a victory nonetheless.

The moment the highest surviving officer announced our victory, my body felt the aftereffects of the excessive adrenaline pumping through my body and I collapsed.

It was only later when I woke that I found out the men I had 'led' had protected my body.

In addition to this, I was also told we were returning to battle. We may have won the battle at the beach, but the war was far from over.

[A.N: If you're enjoying the book, please leave a review, vote with power stones and golden tickets. Gifts are also very welcomed. Also, please check out my other book Soldiers of Time. Thanks.]