Looking back, everything seemed so unreal.
"Whatever you do, do not leave the village walls," The village elder will say and pointed to the line of wooden walls that encircled our little village while us children listened attentively. "It is very dangerous out there."
A small hand shot up into the air. It's one of the children my age. Lesdat, if I recall correctly.
"Why is it dangerous out there?"
"Mother nature, magical beasts, you name it we have it," The village elder shrugged before a serious look crossed his eyes. "But worst, humans."
"Humans?"
The village elder nodded.
"Humans."
I didn't understand back then. I don't remember dying, but suddenly I found myself in the body of a young child in a backwater village where magic is apparently an everyday occurrence. I managed to adapt to my new life quickly enough, but I never knew who I really was or where I really am until tragedy struck.
The idea of me being reincarnated into a once-fictional just didn't really cross my mind because there were no indications of it prior to that. The fact that everyone here looked human was why I never once questioned if I was indeed human, because I thought I was.
"We are the Vajin race. We look human, speak human, but humans don't view us as one of them. If they see us they will try to kill us, to capture, and do vile things to us for nothing more than their sick pleasure."
This time, I remembered that my hand was the one that shot up into the air.
"What exactly does it mean to be a Vajin?"
"We are simply different," The village elder shrugged. "We are stronger, faster, better, and more resilient than humans. Some say we are descendents of the orcs, some say we are related to the giants. Nobody knows for sure, not even us, but we are different from humans. Humans fear us because we are stronger. They think we crave war when on the contrary, we prefer peace."
I would later come to learn that the lime green hair and red eyes that we all share is a trait common and indicative of our race as Vajin. The men were all born sturdier, taller, more muscular than the average human. Even the women have power packed into the deceptively lean arms of theirs that can shatter boulders with ease. We run faster, jump higher, swim longer, see further, hear and smell better than humans.
We are the Vajins. We are a proud tribe of warriors that excel in war thanks to the gift of our lineage, but we are a peace-loving race.
Our village is located in a backwater site with almost no hints of modern technology. We live in huts made of straw and wood. The adults would spend the days ploughing land, farming, and harvesting the gifts that mother nature provides. The children would play by climbing trees, swimming in the rivers, and learning from the tribe's warriors the traditional art of combat, a rite of passage that every child of the Vajin would undergo.
Needless to say, I enjoyed my second life.
When it's dark and we gather round the bonfire, the adults would often tell us horror stories of the outside world, especially about the humans.
"We weren't always living in this far-off place. Back then, war was everywhere and nobody was spared. Every faction, big or small, had to pick a side and we were no exceptions. That's when the humans started to notice our race."
The elder that just finished speaking then suddenly began to transform before our very eyes. His skin turned noticeably darker, runic lines started to spread across his entire body and his eyes glowed even more eerily red within the darkness.
"This is Ragnarok, a magic that all Vajins are born with that is unique to our bloodline. We picked a side when the flames of war that were incited from the humans inevitably spread to us, and they came to know of our magic in the process."
"What does it do?"
"It turns us into a weapon for war."
The elder's words were not an exaggeration as I soon learnt. Ragnarok grants us extremely powerful defense and offensive powers, boosting our strength and magical capabilities to many times beyond our usual capacity. It is so absurdly powerful that magic spells below a certain level of power will have no effect when fired at us, and that limit can only be increased depending on how skilled the user is with Ragnarok. The village elder once said that the strongest warrior that once graced our tribe could shake off S Class spells with ease and crush the necks of wyverns with his bare hands. To top it off, Ragnarok also passively grants us regeneration abilities that allows us to heal our wounds that we suffered in combat.
The only downside of the magic is that our mental capacity will be reduced when Ragnarok is active. It is a magic fuelled by anger and negative thoughts, turning us into beings incapable of reason while we march on to battle.
I can see why humans are afraid of us if this is the kind of power we displayed centuries ago in the war that everyone was caught up in. We are the very personification of a berserker. Imagine the kind of firepower a single tribe can bring if every man, woman, and child of the tribe are able to use this magic from birth.
Thus, we are feared, we are hunted, and we are sought after. That fear would one day turn into reality.
"Kill the men! Get the women and children!"
"Run! Get the children out of here!"
There was no warning, it just happened. I was suddenly woken up in the dead of the night by various shouts and yells. Our village is burning for reasons I don't understand. The men had picked up arms, throwing themselves at the intruders that had invaded our village and sanctuary. The women are gathering the children, trying to ensure that some of us will at least get out of this alive. The elderlies stayed behind, using their aged bodies and wisdom to try and buy as much time as possible so that the younger generations may have a shred bit more hope of survival. My parents in this life that I had grown to know and love quickly ushered me out before they charged into the fray themselves. It was the very last time I saw them.
In the midst of the chaos, I saw with my own eyes the power of our tribe, the power of Ragnarok.
Even as an inexperienced child I could tell that we put up an impressive resistance despite the obvious fact that we were severely outnumbered. The village elder was accurate in his description that our magic turns us into a weapon for war. Men in their prime turned into an incarnation of mindless rage, capable of taking on ten intruders with ease while laughing with an insane gleam. Even the elderlies are capable of slaughtering a handful of intruders themselves before inevitably getting overwhelmed by our intruders' superior numbers.
"Quick, up onto that path!"
The women did not manage to gather every child within the village. Everything was so sudden and they simply didn't have the time. We ran, but even with the best efforts of our fellow tribesmen who had stayed behind to buy us time there were still pursuers hot on our tail. Eventually, some of the women had decided to stay behind to buy us more time to escape, using their lives as the price in exchange for the hopes and futures of us children.
We continued running. Eventually, more and more women followed the example of those who had stayed behind earlier and fought back. Eventually, some of the younger children couldn't run any longer. They fell from exhaustion and never got back up.
Our numbers continue to dwindle, dwindle, and dwindle until there is just but a handful of us left.
Even with our superior physiques, we couldn't run anymore.
"I-I'm so sorry."
Those words came from my neighbour just a few huts away, hugging her baby close to her as she wept and our intruders steadily caught up. She only just became a mother a few months ago, and knew very well what it would mean for any of us if we were caught. The other children my age might not yet be able to comprehend, but death would have been a kinder option in comparison to what lies ahead.
My neighbour activated Ragnarok. I was shocked, but not surprised when she infused her arm with so much magical power that it became the equivalent of a sharp spear. A spear that did not pierce her enemies, but through the heart of her baby and her own. She chose to end their lives before their lives fell into the hands of humans that wish to enslave us, believing this choice would be a greater mercy.
She was not even over the age of twenty, and her baby was not even half a year old.
The remaining adults were at a loss of choice as well. There was no place to go, no place to run. The children were crying in fear. I could only watch as some of the adults chose the route that my neighbour took, voluntarily ending the lives of their loved ones and their own so that they can at least die with honour and dignity. Some chose to make their last stand.
I decided that I would at least go down fighting.
It was the first time I activated Ragnarok. I was never taught how to do so but using it was so instinctive, like it had been a part of me all along. My mind fell into a haze of insanity as I charged right into battle alongside those who like me, had decided to die fighting.
I never really recalled what happened next.
AN: Kind of inspired to write this after chancing upon Curiosity44's A Phoenix Flight. Might or might not use this story to try my hand in writing a harem for the first time with a Mira x OC x Erza pairing. Might or might not change my mind. We shall see.