Born average, a normal girl constantly itched to be the very best, striving to be at the top of the pyramid. However, with her mediocre background and skills, she knew that her goal was merely a child's daydream. Yet even so, she remained determined to be above the rest. Thus she decided to throw away both her childhood and youth, and instead spent all her leisure working on problems she knew she wasn't supposed to solve. And finally, as if the gods above listened to her prayers, she graduated as a valedictorian, earning her a spot at her dream school, truly befitting the title of playground of geniuses.
But it seems like she thanked the wrong gods, as bit by bit, her life crumbled. Her diploma was revoked, she was kicked out of college, her parents got divorced — for the first time, she felt something other than competitiveness; she was sad. The poor girl didn't know how to cope with it, so she did something she never thought she would: take the easy way out. And alas, she died by her own hands.
That girl is me. Or was me.
"This doesn't look like hell at all."
A thunderous laugh roared, accompanied by a sweet honeyed one. "Child, this isn't... what do you call it? Hell."
The man donned a plain white tunic, adorned with gold flakes. On his golden-haired head rested a crown of thorns, and despite it looking utterly satanic, I had to admit, it contributed a whole lot to his ever-so regal air. At his remark he earned himself a smack on the back, which sent him into a fit of coughs. "Do excuse this disappointment of a husband."
The woman by his side radiated a sunny aura, and flashed a smile so warm I had to look away in fear of melting. She wore a silk chiton, much similar to her said husband, which greatly placated her fiery red hair and ebony eyes. Her eyes darted towards a leather bound book and gestured for me to take it.
I skeptically obliged as I took mouse steps, and once in front of it, lifted the book up and dusted it. I brought it to my chest and squinted my eyes, "Where the fuck am I?"
The man, who had previously been clutching his stomach from pain, was now doing so from laughter. The woman let out a gentle giggle, before turning to scold me, "Language, child."
My gaze only popped up more question marks, which fortunately for me, she noticed. Her expression softened as she nudged her husband to settle down. Her nudge must've done the trick, given how he complied and now presented himself with absolute poise. "She's a different one, I tell you."
"A confused as shit one too," I blatantly added. His eyes lit up as he stifled a laugh. It so appears my language is his humour. Cunning. The woman then finally introduced, "Dear child, I stand before you as Nesta, Goddess of the Dark."
"And I am her partner, Aecyl, God of Light."
So I figured. Us three were currently in an overly marbled room, one that exhibited wealth and status. Something I've always desired. Well, I suppose not anymore. I'm already dead anyway. "What's up? I'm Jared and I'm 19."
The woman, Nesta, frowned quizzically. Aecyl on the other hand, seemed to understand the reference, even mouthing the rest of the vine. A man of culture indeed. As she noticed the exchange, the frown slipped away and was replaced by a curt grin. "Child, do you hold any questions?"
And of course, the first thing that came out of my mouth was: "Am I dead?"
It was the most rational question, yet the stupidest one. Perfect for the situation. Nesta nodded solemnly, "Indeed. A fault on our part, I offer you my deepest apologies."
My grip on the book only tightened as I faked a tight smile. "Don't. I wanted this anyway."
"No, you don't." It was Aecyl who spoke up, without a trace of guilt or remorse at that too. He then pointed to the book I was clutching, "Open it."
I did as I was told. And as I opened it, I was overcome by a flurry of light. The pages fluttered vigorously as countless scenarios flooded my mind. It was strenuous, and it took every last bit of my energy to even comprehend what was going on. If I finally die now, at least I could say I've met my makers. Literally. I managed to croak out, "W-what is this?"
"The world in which you shall transmigrate."
*
author's note;
a little too out of my comfort zone but
i fawking knew it, i was destined for this.
YOU ARE READING
Reincarnated: An Anti-Tryhard Tale
FantasyI've always yearned to be at the top, who doesn't really? But it's different for me. Being the best wasn't a dream or a goal, it was an obsession. And I let it get the best of me. So now, here I am, knocking on death's door by my own will. Never did...
