1 Who am I?

-They say looking at things from a different angle can change one's perspective. But I have had all the angles to look at and nothing has changed. Everything has remained as it was before, save the fast growth in technological innovation and science at large.

-But that's not what I'm talking about here. It's quite a lot to comprehend if you are not in my shoes. And normally I wouldn't waste my short time trying to justify my future actions. But for the sake of how things would turn out, I'm willing to let a glimpse of my world, from my point of view, slip out for just a moment. When I am done, there will be a question that you'll be tasked to answer. I doubt that you will though.

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It's been two days since I was born, again. Yes, I was reincarnated for like the thousandth time now, I think. It's hard keeping count at the rate at which this happens. So let's just say a thousand, though it feels like it's more.

So you might be wondering now how old I would truly be given I have lived so many lives already, right? Well, the answer is 23 years. I have lived a total of 23 years, 2 months, 5 days and 11 seconds, combining all my lives.

Strange?...Yes!. Impossible?, No.

You see, most times when I'm reincarnated, I barely live through to see the next day. It's like I was born to die and I just keep dying in a manner that makes death itself find me boring.

Death and I have been in this long-distance relationship. We only see when I come by. And for a thousand years, if my memory serves me right, her aura has always felt the same, cold.

It's always been one quick stab and I visit her. She stares at me through her dark sorrowful and horror-sheathed window longing to let me in.

But every single time I have been put to rest, something keeps bringing me back. Only for me to of course die, again.

At this point I want to cry for myself but what would that do? Wake my new parents up who haven't yet discovered I am not here to stay. Now though I feel no strand of emotional attachment towards them, it's only wise to not annoy those who potentially have my life and by direct consequence, my plans in their hands.

Yet even if I manage to stay and not die, they will discover my other truth anyway.

The world isn't ordinary anymore and you can take it from me who has lived more times than normal. There are very few humans that exist let alone any.

Now is the age of the supernatural. Dragons, vampires and werewolves, the three tribes once co-existing and led the race that has now ushered us into the world of infinite subclasses.

Now of the three races that once led the supernaturals, only two remain; the vampires and the werewolves.

Dragons have long been extinct. I don't know when it happened to be exact but it's probably one of those times I stayed too long at death's door and the light failed to arrive early to pick me up.

Yes, it sounds like I do anticipate the arrival of the light. Staring into death's eyes is enchanting but the misery and loneliness that comes with just that alone are unbearable. So even in my lustful gaze at death, I still hope to return to life.

Life in itself isn't all crystal clear. The pain I feel in my lungs as I draw my first breath never gets old as well, I have experienced it an odd number of times. The diaper changes like I'm some kind of baby is even more disgusting. So many things aren't right about life. One of them happens to be this world.

Every newborn since the dawn of the new era has either been one of the two major races or even more so, they turn out to be something unique on their own entirely but never a human.

In my case, I fell off, the odd one, a pitiful exception. Every life I have lived has been that of a human. My existence has been a shame to my parents and an abomination to society. I am a poor, fragile, pathetic human that falls sick pretty much all the time, all of a sudden, and dies.

Or if that isn't the case, the cause of my death then was me being thrown into a river by my werewolf sister, torn to pieces by my werewolf dad, (that one was kind of my fault. I got comfortable and settled in forgetting the old man had a trigger. He hated noise. I was a kid, noise is what I do!!), But the list continues like; sucked dry of my blood by my vampire mum, suffocated by being wrapped up in my baby blanket by my step-siblings, left in the forest and ripped to shreds by beasts...ok, I should stop now.

The point is I have had my fair share. I have seen it all. What more is there to prove that this world can be saved?

These beings are past redemption. Someone should be in charge of them and judge them according to their sins. Sins that they go unpunished for. I used to think there was no one to put them straight. That the universe was a big ball allowed to roll freely. But then I was taught something that changed my whole view of things.

I found out there were gods the one time I managed to live up to three years. I heard that gods were powerful and all-knowing beings capable of just about anything.

I heard they were responsible for changing humanity's fate and ushering in the age of the supernaturals.

But then if they had that power, why then have I been left to suffer? Why hasn't any of them intervened? At least if I can't live a normal life why not keep me dead?

Why bring me back over and over again? I asked and fortunately, this time someone had heard and given me an answer because this wasn't one of those times I would sit and speak to myself in my mind. This wasn't one of those moments I allowed my thoughts to become a figure. To be real, I've only had myself to tell this sad tale. And every new body of mine gets to endure this long sad tale of how we would eventually die, again.

Going back to when I was once three, living with old Zephyr. He was a good man. My parents then dumped me in the field to die but he had picked me and nurtured me, though he saw hell when I had to release some of my pent-up frustration through the other way. He truly was a good man.

Yes, the only one who understood how I felt because he was human just like me. His answer was, "Son, I'm not saying this is the truth before I get struck down by lightning..." old man Zephyr said and laughed alone because I didn't find the joke about him getting struck down by lightning when he was the only one I had in the world aside myself to be funny.

But I was curious and asked him why he would be struck down by lightning for speaking what he perceives to be the truth and who would even strike him down, to begin with.

Old man Zephyr answered;

"The gods will strike me down. It is called blasphemy." old man Zephyr said with a look that said he was half regretting telling me then.

"Bas..she... my?" I asked. No need to judge, I was only three then. My teeth were still taking their time to eventually unveil themselves. Nonetheless, blasphemy was a new word to me. Never heard it in all my lives.

Old man Zephyr chuckled a bit, I knew he was laughing at my pronunciation. He then rubbed my head with his rough, blistered palm. Being a farmer and using such crude tools resorted to the condition of his palm. He told me I would grow up to be strong and help him at the farm. I guess old man Zephyr was short-sighted as much as he was poor.

"It is of my judgement. But I believe the gods have the power to do anything. It would amaze you that everything and anything that goes on happens through their will. In simple terms, we are puppets for the gods amusement. A tool crafted not out of necessity but mediocrity." he said.

"Their....will?" I asked.

Once again, old man Zephyr chuckled before nodding to answer. I believe he probably thought I was learning new words. And of course, to be honest I was. Not that I understood half the things he said. But over the years, they replayed in my new head just like this one and I got a better understanding of it.

But what old man Zephyr wasn't aware of was that he had opened my eyes to the truth. And the truth was that not only are the supernaturals to be blamed, but the gods were to be blamed too.

But what could I do against all-powerful gods? nothing. I couldn't even conceive the thoughts then. If there were gods, and they were as powerful as old man Zephyr said, then I knew what needed to be done.

I prayed. I prayed to the gods to keep me alive long enough to prove my worth. I had faith that they would answer since old man Zephyr said they listened all the time.

But then on a cold night, disaster struck. Old man Zephyr's house was burnt down. I was in it and yes, the flames did burn me alive and I cried. But not for myself, I cried for old man Zephyr who hadn't died once before to enable him to prepare for this kind of torture. I wasn't ready for it too. Death wasn't a thing one could train for, especially not by fire, the worst.

I watched him and myself burn. He screamed for help till he lost all his energy. I wanted to see us both go but I guess I was weaker than he was and there, I was back at her door.

Yet, death wouldn't let me in.

So what was the point of praying as a three-year-old with very limited speech capability? I wasted my time both ways?!!!.

They won't let me live, they won't let me die. I'm back to zero, not one. One is for those with hope and power. I have none of those.

But look, I survived my second day without a scratch and for some reason, this body feels different from my other bodies. I feel, energized like I could fight the gods!!!. Well not yet by the way. I first have to learn to talk and walk and pretty much all basic things that should be learnt provided my older brother doesn't kill me tonight. It had taken so long to come back this time around that I felt I was dead for sure. Not that I could tell what the time was while I was dead. But staring straight at death for so long syphons energy from one's soul. But I am back and alive, two days down.

After so many lives, I have grown to generally detest every being that is capable of independent thoughts. One way or the other, I have suffered in their hands. Which is why my survival depends on their extinction. No one will survive!!.

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Again I ask, who am I?

A hero ridding the world of evil or a mindless villain?