Reborn as the Last Emperor
[2023 AD, Chelsea, New York City]
"Peace, No War! Peace, No War!"
Outside John's small, dimly lit rented apartment, the clamor of an anti-war protest had reached a fervent pitch, disrupting even his attempts at sleep.
The muffled shouts and chants of protesters reverberated through the thin apartment walls.
With a sigh, he reluctantly opened his drowsy eyes to the dim morning light filtering through the partially closed curtains, casting elongated shadows across the threadbare carpet.
The room was suffused with a melancholic atmosphere, the faded wallpaper peeling at the edges.
The noise from the streets below only served as a painful reminder of the life he couldn't escape, even within the confines of his own roof.
Another day had dawned, and yet, there was no end to the desolation and creeping anxiety that began to swallow him whole.
Unemployed just recently, his future certainly looks as bleak as his apartment.
With no friends or family to lean on, loneliness enveloped him, driving him deeper into isolation.
Though he had learned that the reality of life is harsh and cruel, he had never once complained nor rebelled against it.
For him, trying to fight something insurmountable is an impossible fight to begin with.
On the dusty bookshelf, there stood his long-begotten dream that he prematurely put aside - dreams, pain, and achievements.
He struggled every day in life, trying to fight the fate that shackled him like a slave.
Day and night, he braved himself alone by going to college, getting a degree, graduating, and then becoming a valuable part of society.
But, it has not been working better than he had intended.
What can he do alone, with no one to support him in his excruciating journey?
Despite having living parents, he lived his whole life neglected; at one point in time, he eventually accepted that he was no different than an orphan.
As he reminisced about the pain and suffering that he had to go through all these times just to remain where he is now, his sense of numbness began to creep in.
Looking at the gathered dust on the bookshelves, untouched and forgotten, much like the dreams he once harbored, he looked away toward the ceiling.
A faint scent of mildew and neglect hung in the air, and the apartment seemed to sigh with him as if sharing in his weariness.
After a while, he finally dragged himself out of bed; the rusty springs creaked beneath his weight. He wasn't even heavy to begin with.
If he could describe himself, 'stickman' would be the appropriate equivalence.
The meager kitchenette was cluttered with unwashed dishes and crumbs from long-forgotten meals.
It has been a while since he last ate, but what can he do as a jobless NEET?
His stomach grumbled like a thunderstorm. If he could, he would swallow everything. Ridiculous as it sounds, he just might do it if he wanted to.
"Another day, another life to live."
Those words were devoid of any true meaning; they were more like lamentations.
John's reflection in the cracked mirror told the story of a man who had lost his purpose.
Hollow eyes stared back at him, haunted by the ghosts of past failures and missed opportunities.
The weight of loneliness pressed upon his shoulders like a leaden shroud, pulling him deeper into the abyss of emptiness.
John went through the motions of his morning routine, robotically preparing to waste another day in the virtual realm.
Though, even within the realm of pixels and avatars, the same sense of emptiness still gnawed at him.
The flickering screen offered no solace, only a temporary distraction from the bleakness that awaited him when he logged off.
This rented apartment, once a place of shelter, had now become a stifling prison, each wall a barrier to his hopes and aspirations.
Despite the world outside protesting against war, John's inner sanctum contained his own battle to contend with. He was torn between the desire to find purpose and the fear of failing yet again.
He powered on his PC, and when it eventually booted, he scrolled aimlessly through the internet like he always did.
At first, he looks up at the current state of affairs, searching news articles.
"What has the world gone into...." He mumbled, but then sigh,
"Sigh, then again... Who am I to complain?"
He expected no less from a world that had finally descended into madness; like him, the world was no different.
As the hours passed, he eventually stopped looking at news articles and began looking for other things to do with his remaining time.
"Hmm... this looks interesting..."
After some time, he finally found something that intrigued him.
It was a game called Imperium.
"Be the Emperor that changes the fate of a dying empire."
'That it?' It was a simplistic summary, yet somehow, the premise swayed John.
"Changing fate, huh?" he weakly chuckled.
"Might as well try to be an Emperor than a bum."
He began to download the game without a single second of decision; despite it being from a dodgy site, he feared not pirating the game; what could he do anyway?
No money, no job, how can he afford any kind of entertainment legally without doing it illegally?
As he waited for it to complete, just a trickle away from 100%, a loud crash erupted inside his apartment. It shocked him.
"What the he----"
BOOOM
The jarring sound tore him from his reality, and before he could comprehend what was happening, void.
In an instant, his life was taken away, and he found himself floating aimlessly in a void of darkness and silence, like a ghost untethered from its earthly bounds.
Amidst the darkness, he grappled with a mix of confusion, his senses dulled by the suddenness of it all.
There was no time for panic or pain, only a surreal detachment as he struggled to comprehend this sudden turn of events.
Gone were the faint sounds of the protest outside, replaced by an eerie calmness that swallowed him whole.
The bustling city life was replaced by an endless expanse of nothingness, and he drifted without direction or purpose.
That explosion had extinguished the flame of his former existence, leaving behind only a void of emptiness.
It was as if the universe itself had swallowed him, leaving no trace of the life he once knew.
At that moment, he felt insignificant, a mere speck of dust in the vast cosmos.
As he floated in the darkness, he wondered if this was the end - that his existence had culminated in this void of nothingness without him achieving anything in life.
Hovering hopelessly in this desolate loneliness and silence, he muttered
"If there is a God, send me to hell or wherever I deserve to be."
Resignation.
The only thing he could do at the moment of this surreal phenomenon.
Just as despair began to creep in, something unexpected happened; amidst the eternal-like darkness that he was currently experiencing, he felt a tug, as if being pulled from his cocoon of consciousness.
Enduring searing agony, John gritted his ethereal teeth, and just as abruptly, the 'pain' subsided.
In the distance, a faint flicker of light emerged, growing brighter as if it was closing in to swallow him whole.
The darkness parted like the curtain of a stage, and he was drawn toward the light unwillingly.
John's initial confusion turned into curiosity as the light took on a mesmerizing form.
It was then,
"John, can you hear me?"
The light began to speak, so to say, but it was nothing more than vibrating syllables in his consciousness.
The voice echoed in his mind, distinct but soothing.
Though he lacked a physical form, his senses were heightened, and he formed a mental connection with the enigmatic presence.
"Who are you? Are you God?" John screamed, but of course, in his own mind.
"I am an entity beyond your understanding, and I sense your despair, John. But your journey is not over yet. There is more to this existence than you can fathom," the unknown voice replied.
"I came to you to offer that." the voice continued, like a merchant selling his random goods to strangers.
Skeptical, John then replied angrily,
"What is there to look for? I had lived once, and it didn't do well; why would I want to experience the same torture twice?"
"Rather, if you are truly God, just send me to Hell or something... better yet, cease me from existence; I'd rather die forever than live another life in a freaking world that is no different than hell on earth."
It was a pure resolution, something that vanished entirely from his 'previous' life.
John didn't realize it yet, though, because a person's resolve probably manifested only in death, albeit when they lived, it was too late.
John's voice trembled with uncertainty.
While he had no physical heart, he could still feel it pounding in his chest like a wild, erratic drum.
His ethereal mind raced, trying desperately to make sense of the mysterious being and the unexplained situation he found himself in.
"I understand your pain; I have been watching you all this time."
The voice replied; there was no annoyance in its tone despite it being disrespected by John.
"If you REALLY understand me, why haven't you done any----"
Before he could fully express himself, he was cut midway through,
"You have been given opportunities. You possess qualities that could serve a higher purpose; the world you knew is one of countless possibilities."
The entity's cryptic explanation remained unanswered. Emotions swirled within John; he was unaware of what such emotions were, and explaining them by words alone would be impossible.
All this while, he believed that his life was insignificant.
However, when he heard that he was given another opportunity in life, something deep within his soul told him to take it.
Perhaps it was because his life was so messed up that he had always hoped for something that would make it turn around so bad.
"I can only give this chance to you because you deserve it enough for Me to grant it to you...use it well...and...hope...meet...gain."
Slowly but surely, the voice began to disappear before John could say anything. Eventually, despite being frustrated by his inability to say anything, he resigned himself.
"Sure, let's see this life you wanted me to live so badly."
He grumbled inside.
The darkness then slowly but surely ebbed as the light began to engulf him. He willingly embraced this light, remaining hopeful, albeit with caution, that his next life would be entirely different from before.
--------------
As the moment of truth unfolded, his consciousness slowly returned to him but with a strangely alien sensation.
Though he could sense his arms and legs moving, like a newborn, he is now.
His eyes remained closed, denying him the gift of sight, yet his other senses gradually awakened.
Voices, footsteps, and the rhythm of breathing surrounded him, along with a fragrant scent. His mind raced to make sense of this familiar yet oddly alien sensation.
Moments later, he felt gentle hands touch his body, and he felt himself being lifted.
"Waaawaaawaaa(Are you kidding me!)"
John tried to say something, but only weird voices came out of him as if he were a newborn struggling to speak even a single intelligible word.
However, in the background, despite not being able to see what was happening, he knew that it was important.
"Did I get birthed into some nobility or something?" his curiosity heightened, and he was maybe willing to speculate anything at this point.
A chorus of joyous cries filled the air as if marking the birth of someone significant.
"Δόξα τω Θεώ και τη Ευλογημένη Παρθένο Μαρία. Ένα παιδί γεννήθηκε σε εμάς; ένα αγόρι. Ένα αγόρι γεννήθηκε σε πορφύρα, από τον Βασιλέα μας. Ένα αγόρι γεννήθηκε. Ένας διάδοχος για τον αυτοκρατορικό θρόνο του Ρωμαϊκού Αυτοκρατορικού."
Though the words were foreign to him, John could sense their gravity, deepening his confusion and anticipation.
"What language is this, though?"
As the celebrations subsided ever so slightly, John's consciousness was hit with another shocking epiphany—the knowledge of his new identity.
"What the---John VIII Palaiologos? THE John VIII Palaiologos?"
Astounded, he realized that he was reborn into another John, a John from history, a John who was destined to be an emperor of the Eastern Roman Empire.
John VIII Palaiologos was born on December 17, 1392 AD, in Constantinople, the capital of the Byzantine Empire.
He was the son of Emperor Manuel II Palaiologos and Empress Helena Dragas.
He had been reborn as John VIII Palaiologos, the emperor of a dying empire, destined for greatness and burdened with the imminent threat of the Ottoman Empire.
With newfound knowledge that aligned with his new identity, John bore the weight of responsibility.
As he yearned to see the faces of those who celebrated his birth, he helplessly recognized that his eyes were locked in darkness.
It makes sense; a newborn should not be able to see clearly when they have just been born into the world.
"Hahaha.... this is way different than the reincarnation novels that I read... experiencing it myself, it does feel depressing...."
He could only lament.
Struggling to speak, he could only listen and absorb the bewildering reality unfolding around him, only with one sense that he could muster.
Carried away from the jubilant crowd, John finally had a moment to himself, and he attempted to make sense of it all.
Was this a dream? It still doesn't feel real... The entity... Was it indeed God?
If the entity is genuinely God... He shivers at the thought.
Had he indeed died in New York and been reborn as a historical figure? The questions keep playing in his tiny head.
Yet, amidst the bewilderment, hope surged within him.
This second chance felt like a miracle. If he could genuinely be the emperor of Byzantium, he resolved to defy fate itself.
He would employ all his knowledge to stave off the decline of the Byzantine Empire and rewrite history.
John swore to himself,
"This time, I will not squander my chance. I will become the emperor this empire needs, and I will change its destiny."
Thus began John VIII Palaiologos's journey—a path that would lead him to the annals of history, where he would face insurmountable challenges and shape the fate of an empire.
His odyssey, however, had only just begun, and the trials awaiting him would test the mettle of a man reborn as an emperor.