Chapter 4: Jin Mo Rebirth
The world he saw was entirely different. The air felt softer, the light warmer, and the colors more vivid than anything he had ever known. Yet, it wasn't just the sights or the sensations that struck him—it was the very essence of his being. He was no longer the same.
His body felt alien. The strength he had once possessed, honed through countless battles and the relentless pursuit of power, was gone. His limbs were small, frail, and unresponsive. The deep voice that had commanded the dead and struck fear into his enemies was now reduced to a weak cry. He tried to move, but his efforts yielded nothing more than a twitch. Even breathing felt like a new experience, a reminder of his fragile state.
"Where am I?" he thought, panic rising in his mind. The memories of his past life flooded him—the gates, the monsters, the cataclysm, the betrayal. He had been the strongest, the most feared. He had been the Apostle of Death, chosen by a god to carry out his will. And then he had been betrayed, murdered by those he had trusted.
And now, he was… this. A newborn.
The realization came like a thunderclap. He had been reborn. But where? And why? His mind raced, seeking answers, but his body refused to cooperate. He was forced to endure the helplessness of infancy, a state that contrasted cruelly with the power he had once wielded.
Faces swam above him, blurry and unfamiliar. Strangers. Their expressions ranged from awe to delight as they looked down at him. To them, he was just a baby. But to Jin Mo, their gazes were suffocating. He was used to commanding respect, instilling fear. Now, he was merely an object of curiosity.
But among the faces, one stood out. A woman with long, dark hair and sharp, noble features leaned over him. Her presence was magnetic, radiating warmth and authority. Her eyes—deep pools of emotion—gazed at him with a tenderness he hadn't felt in years. Not since Yoon Ha.
She smiled, her lips curving gently as she cradled him closer. The sensation of her arms around him was both foreign and comforting. Her scent was soothing, and her heartbeat, steady and strong, resonated through his small frame. For a moment, his confusion and frustration ebbed, replaced by a fragile sense of peace.
"Jin Mo," she whispered softly, her voice a melody that seemed to echo through his very soul. "That will be your name."
Jin Mo—the name of his past self, the name he thought he had left behind. The coincidence, if it was one, sent a shiver through his tiny body. He stared up at her, his newborn eyes struggling to focus, but his mind was sharp and alert. Did she know? Was this fate, or the design of the God of Death?
Lian Mo, his mother, continued to rock him gently, unaware of the storm raging in his thoughts. Her voice was soft, filled with love and affection as she spoke to him, though the words blurred together in his current state. The emotions in her tone, however, were clear. She loved him deeply, unconditionally. It was a feeling Jin Mo had long since forgotten.
Exhaustion overwhelmed him, and his body surrendered to it. His eyelids grew heavy, and the world faded to black. But even as he drifted into sleep, questions swirled in his mind. Who was this woman? What kind of world had he been reborn into? And most importantly, what was his purpose now?