As expected, the gods of this world do not want me,Shikim least I'm sure they hate me, though it's quite normal considering I've turned their world upside down.
Shikim couldn't remember how many people he had made cry or killed in this life. The mission he had in this world was truly difficult. To conquer the entire continent and bring peace to the world by founding an empire that would last for hundreds of years. Shikim started his life here as a peasant child and had to follow a bloody path to become king. First, he massacred the royal family of his own country and, after solidifying his position as king, began conquering the neighboring lands. The knowledge he had acquired in his previous lives was incredibly helpful in these conquests. Shikim was a professional reincarnator, and his greatest weapon was the vast pool of knowledge he possessed.
"Is it over?"
When Shikim heard a voice, he turned his head. Prince Arnold Acker was the heir to the Acker Empire, which Shikim had destroyed. Shikim had seen him as an arrogant, useless child, and after killing his father and toppling his empire, he had allowed him to escape. Now, it seemed that decision was quite wrong.
Shikim didn't know whether he should admire this man or spit in his face. The boy was arrogant, incredibly arrogant. He saw everyone but himself as puppets. The Sun God, Lucian, had chosen this man as his holy warrior, probably just so he could have the power to kill Shikim.
The Acker royal family was descended from the prophet who spread the religion of the Sun God, so they were the best carriers of the divine power of God Lucian. Prince Arnold Acker was the last member of the royal family, so God Lucian had no choice but to choose him. He probably hated this choice immensely because the mission of the Sun God's religion was love, peace, and kindness. Prince Arnold embodied none of these; he was the living embodiment of arrogance, greed, and hypocrisy.
Anyway, God Lucian had broken his own rules and pride by making this bastard his chosen warrior. He had done it just to kill Shikim, and it seemed it wasn't a futile investment. Shikim was about to die; he had failed in this life.
Still, as Shikim departed this world and set off toward his next reincarnation, he held onto his pride. In this world, he had many names; those who loved him called him the Young Conqueror and the Great Emperor, while those who hated him called him the Cruel Ruler and the Devilish Emperor. All these titles were earned and deserved. Shikim had brought advanced technological knowledge to this world, but he had also brought blood and savagery. Creating a new empire was no easy task. The cement of the building called civilization was barbarism and the blood of innocents. This was the truth.
"The evil will end here, the devilish emperor Shikim Khemir."
What a crappy line. Shikim had lived hundreds of different lives and had many powerful and weak enemies. Some had even managed to defeat him. However, the enemies he hated the most were those annoying bastards who spouted cliché lines like this.
Prince Arnold was already repeating lines from third-rate heroes that had become antiques. It was so boring, incredibly boring.
Yet, Shikim said nothing. He didn't have the strength to respond. All he did was look at the fake hero standing before him.
Prince Arnold pressed the tip of the sacred sword given to him by the Sun God against Shikim's neck. The holy power radiating from the sword burned Shikim's flesh, but he didn't make a sound of pain. Shikim was a professional reincarnator who had lived hundreds of lives. He had experienced both the lowest and the highest many times. Yes, he wasn't immune to pain, but his pain tolerance was incredibly high, having been tortured countless times before. Even if his whole body was set on fire, he wouldn't make a single sound.
"Listen! Before you die in this pitiful way, I will read every single evil you have committed," Prince Arnold declared.
Are you serious?Shikim wanted to 't you just kill me outright?That way, I can try my luck in the next life. Hopefully, the mission will be easier this time.
Shikim , I guess I have to listen to him.
His enemies had managed to kill him, yes, but they did it through trickery, betrayal, backstabbing, and group attacks. Still, the result was clear: Shikim had been defeated. There were no excuses for the defeated.
If he had won, it would have been different, but after losing, getting angry over something like this would only make him look pathetic. If he lost, the best course of action was to behave like a loser. So, he lay still and listened to his wrongdoings.
Shikim listened to Prince Arnold, who sounded like an old man recounting the past, listing the evil deeds Shikim had done. Some of them, Shikim had even forgotten himself, but it seemed Prince Arnold had done his research well. He even knew that Shikim had destroyed 12 kingdoms and 3 empires. Honestly, Shikim hadn't bothered to keep track of the number.
"Considering all your sins, I hereby judge you, the devilish emperor Shikim Khemir," Prince Arnold declared.
The prince's sword slowly rose above Shikim, and as it descended, Shikim knew he would die. He didn't even consider trying to fight for survival.
Ah, finally, it's over, Shikim relaxed.I wonder what my new name will be in the next life?
Well, of course, Shikim wasn't planning on dying just like that. He subtly infused mana into the magic parchment he had hidden inside his clothing and waited for it to activate.
Shikim had taken this parchment from the royal treasury of one of the empires he had conquered. Its name was the Seal of Vengeance. If the person who activated this parchment was killed within ten seconds of using it, the one who killed them would be cursed with a great and terrible curse. Shikim didn't know the full contents of the curse, but he was sure it would make this bastard's life a painful one.
The devilish emperor cursing the hero before he died was a cliché often found in storybooks, but clichés were clichés because they worked. In countless past lives, Shikim had left such gifts for the heroes—or villains, depending on the perspective—who had killed him.
"If you are reborn, I hope you become a good person," Prince Arnold said as he made his execution strike.
Shikim laughed at the remark while watching the sword approach , being a good person in the next life?Well, it wouldn't hurt to try.
He had failed in this life.
The darkness always begins with darkness.
And then a light appears on the horizon, nameless – and it is no longer Shikim's name – he realizes the condition of his body. It is incredibly wet and covered in saliva. After all, coming out of a woman's womb is never easy.
He feels a foreign hand holding him, but the nameless one is not afraid. In all of the hundreds of lives he has lived, he had never died during birth or as a child. He knew it was extremely unlikely. In every incarnation, there were unchanging laws. He would always be human, and he would always be male.
"You have a son, my lady," the midwife says.
By the end of his hundreds of lives, the nameless one had learned hundreds of languages and noticed something: all languages are somewhat similar. Yes, this was his first time in this world, so he didn't fully understand their language, but in his past lives, he had spoken languages very similar to this one. For him, understanding and getting familiar with it was not difficult.
He realized a naked woman was holding him in her arms. She had purple eyes and raven-black hair, and she was incredibly beautiful. The nameless one hoped he carried some of this beauty within him. Beautiful – handsome people generally created positive prejudice in the eyes of others, and this would make things easier for him while performing his task in this life.
The nameless one remembered what he had to do when he saw the worried expression on his new mother's face. He opened his mouth and began to scream and cry as loudly as he could. He had to show everyone in the room that he was a strong and healthy baby, so they wouldn't worry unnecessarily.
"Healthy and strong, a boy, Ashara," he heard the man beside the bed say to his mother.
The nameless one realized this man was his father and carefully studied him. He had black hair and gray eyes, probably around 15 years old – three years younger than his mother. Still, being a father at 15 was always a challenging test.
The nameless one examined his surroundings to understand the world he was in. A quick glance was enough to tell him that this was a medieval world. Honestly, the nameless one was a bit disappointed. He had hoped to transition to a modern world this time, he missed phones and the internet, but he would have to make do with what he had.
The nameless one noticed his mother looking at him with tears in her eyes, and in that moment, he understood what was happening. His mother had contracted puerperal fever and was dying.
The nameless one closed his eyes and cut off all communication with the beings around him. Quietly, he took a breath, trying to sense the presence of mana or aura. If there was magic in this world, he could save his mother, even if it strained his infant body. He had done this many times before.
But the answer was unfortunately negative. There was no aura in this world, and there was very little mana. It wouldn't be enough to save his mother. The nameless one sighed, opened his eyes, and met his mother's loving gaze.
He hated moments like this.
The moments where he felt emotions.
The nameless one had lived hundreds of lives, but he was not exempt from emotions. He too could love, hate, fall in love, miss, and cry.
He felt his mother hold his cheek. "Argilac," she declared. "This will be his name."
Argilac
That was the new name of the nameless one.
He was born nameless hundreds of times.
And hundreds of times, he had a new name.
His new name was Argilac.
"Promise me, Ned," murmured the woman with purple eyes to Argilac's father. "He is so beautiful and perfect. He is a part of both of us. You will protect our child. Promise me."
"I promise, Ashara," Argilac's father said, crying. "I swear I will protect him with my life."
Father, mother, and son remained in peaceful silence for a moment, knowing that once they parted, they would never be together again.
"We need to take the child, my lady," said the old man, carrying a long chain around his neck, his voice trembling. "Your illness may pass to the baby."
Argilac and his mother exchanged one last look. Argilac wondered what kind of person his mother was, but he would never know. He would only learn from what others told him.
Another life without a mother, Argilac thought as he was taken from her arms. He had lived many lives without a mother, but that didn't mean it didn't trouble him.
Argilac was taken out of the room in the arms of a servant woman.
And his new life had begun.