This is a fanfic based on the internet game The Reincarnation. Reviews would be most welcome, since I would love to improve.

Prologue

He was in a sea of blackness. A sea of nothingness that spread out infinitely. He floated alone without comprehension of time. His mind was confused. Where was he? How did he get here? And, more importantly, who was he?

It was a strange kind of confusion, however. He wasn't panicked in spite of his lack of memory. Perhaps it was the feeling in the back of his mind that he had been through this before. Or perhaps it was the feeling of tranquility that saturated the void he floated in. Being confused wasn't so bad, after all, because he was alone and had no one to fear.

Fear. That set off a spark in his mind. He'd been afraid once. No, more than once, but once recently. Or at least it seemed recently to him, he wasn't really sure how long he had been floating in this void. His sense of time was distorted in the darkness, for all he knew it was taking him years just to form a single thought.

Angrily he forced himself to concentrate. He had been afraid. What had he been afraid of? Death? No, something about the word 'Death' just didn't hold any meaning for him. A memory suddenly surged to the forefront of his mind, demanding his full attention.

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"My lord, another enemy comes!" his newly promoted military advisor annouced fearfully. He had only been the military advisor for an hour, filling the void left when the previous advisor was slain in the last attack.

The archmage looked up from the status reports he'd been flipping through. "You knew it was inevitable," he replied calmly. "With the number of attacks this country has suffered, we're far too ripe a target to ignore now." He glanced down at his troop report. Far too few to even hope to survive.

He chuckled to himself. Not that he had any hope of that anyway. Even if he survived the night, the world would disintegrate by morning anyway, and he'd die. Or rather, he'd have to start all over again. He considered putting up a fight, clawing against the inevitable, but decided against it.

Sighing in resignation, he looked at his advisor and said, "Send the troops away and hide yourselves. I will be meditating in my chambers." He ignored the man's weak protests and left. He had no doubts that his order would be carried out. As an archmage his word was law, and the life of any who disobeyed was forfeit. Not that it mattered either way, he merely felt like being courteous to his fellow mages that might actually have a chance at escaping the infernal loop the gods had placed them in.

The archmage sealed his chambers and kneeled in front of his altar. The altar was plain and unadorned except for the dark stains of blood. Upon the altar rested his most prized possession, the most prized possession of any archmage. The spellbook of each archmage was made individually, and tended to reflect their owner, and his was no different. The cover was bound with the hide of a powerful demon, and was the color of the deepest night. Each page was made from the hide of a fallen dominion. And each page held phenomenal power, even what he considered a basic spell far outranked anything the pitiful magicians of Terra could manage.

He stroked the cover lovingly, knowing it would survive his death and return to him when he finally reincarnated. For that was what awaited him and all the archmages that failed to prove themselves worthy of ascending to the afterlife: a constant cycle of death and reincarnation. He didn't fear death, not anymore. He had been in this constant cycle for longer than he cared to remember. He had tried once to fully die, to let himself just dissipate into nothingness. It hadn't worked. Either the gods had known and prevented him, or his power was such that he simply couldn't die.

There was always the small fear, however, that gripped him each time he knelt before his altar to await his fate as Armageddon approached. It wasn't the prospect of his mortality, but the prospect of his immortality that scared him. He didn't want to keep doing this. Almost, he regretted the events all those millenia ago that had led him to acquire the power of an archmage. Almost, but not quite. He knew it would be worth it. Someday it would all be worth it.

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The memory slowly faded into the background as the archmage began to regain the ability to focus his mind. His name still eluded him, but he knew it would come eventually. For now, he needed to find Terra and reform his body. He cast his awareness about the void, searching. He did not search constantly, for he vaguely recalled from previous lives that Terra was not always formed when he regained awareness. This seemed to be happening more and more as the centuries ground by.

Then, he became aware of a presence near him. The archmage could not tell how long it had been there, nor who or what it was. He formed a query in his mind and projected it to the presence. To his surprise, he recieved a response that he could hear.

"You know me as Magic, archmage," the presence said. Magic, the goddess of magic and knowledge! What did she want with him? He did not project these thoughts, but Magic seemed to hear them anyway. "Do you not recall your pact with me, all those millenia ago?"

The archmage searched his mind. He had not recovered much of his memory, though what she said did feel like the truth. But he could not recall any specifics.

He felt anger from the presence press against his mind. "Do not play games with me, archmage," she warned. "You know I am not a goddess to be trifled with."

The archmage concentrated. Her presence or the fact that she was speaking was helping him remember how to speak himself. Speaking slowly and carefully, he replied, "I am not playing games, Magic. You know that I lose my memory each time I die. I do not recall our bargain at this time, but neither do I believe you are lying. Tell me of our bargain; you know I would not intentionally renege on any deal I made with you." This was true. While he had no qualms about breaking his word with another archmage, lying to a goddess would bring swift and terrible retribution.

The anger pressing against his mind flared like a star going nova, an almost palpable heat, then abruptly vanished. "No," she said. "I will let you remember in your own time." Her presence started to fade. Before she faded completely, she added, "But do not forget that we have a deal."

The archmage would have frowned deeply if he had a body. Despite this lack, however, he still made the attempt though he would never know if he succeeded or not. Then he pushed the encounter to the back of his mind. He had more important things to think about. He could feel Terra nearby, and it would demand all of his attention to travel there and reanimate his body. He set off towards Terra hoping, as always, with all his being that this would be the last time.