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The Dark Messiah: Reborn as the Vengeful One

Author: Batman117
Fantasy
Ongoing · 13.6K Views
  • 50 Chs
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Synopsis

Serena Bowlington never thought death would be the start of her greatest adventure. One weary evening, she’s struck down by a box truck that barrels through a red light—only to awaken on the threshold of a dying world. Gifted a second life by a cryptic Goddess and reborn as the Vengeful One, Serena becomes a Dark Messiah among ravaged kingdoms desperate for salvation.

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Chapter 1The Vengeful One

Serena Bowlington could feel the ache in her shoulders as she shrugged on her coat, her legs heavy from yet another grueling shift. She'd clocked out two hours late—again. The stale fluorescent glow of the office buzzed overhead, a dull chorus to the rhythmic tap of her exhausted footsteps. Outside, night had settled, the distant hum of traffic echoing through the near-empty streets.

At the intersection, she waited for the light to change, her eyes half-lidded in weary anticipation. The neon sign for the diner across the road blinked erratically, only adding to the air of fatigue hanging over her. Then the signal flicked to green. Serena stepped off the curb, the crisp air nipping at her cheeks.

A sudden, piercing screech shattered the stillness. Her gaze jerked to the left—headlights seared her vision, impossibly bright and close. Instinct screamed at her to move, but there was no time. Metal slammed against flesh in a thunderous collision, and in that final moment of impact, the world went black.

A dull throbbing echoed through the darkness as Serena slowly, painfully became aware of her own existence again. Her vision flickered—a tiny speck of brightness piercing the all-enveloping black. At first, she couldn't tell if it was real or if it was just the ghost of city streetlights burnt into her retina. Then it glowed stronger, swelling from a pinpoint of color into a radiant orb that swallowed the emptiness around her.

She squinted, trying to make out shapes beyond the milky glare. "Hello?" she croaked, her voice crackling like static in a silent void. She braced herself for an answer, heart pounding in her chest… but the only reply was an echo of her own words.

Suddenly, a gentle yet unmistakable voice stirred the stillness.

"Serena Bowlington."

The sound was melodic, cool as a midnight breeze and yet suffused with a strange warmth. As the light receded, it revealed a regal figure standing before her—a woman with cascading silvery hair and eyes that gleamed like starlight. Gossamer robes billowed around her in a breeze that seemed to come from nowhere.

"W-who are you?" Serena asked, swallowing a surge of apprehension. The woman's presence tugged at something deep in Serena's core, a feeling both comforting and daunting.

"My name is Goddess Celestia," the figure replied, inclining her head slightly. "I have come for you, Serena, at the moment of your death."

At her words, memory came flooding back: a flash of headlights, the screech of tires, the bone-shattering impact. Serena's hand darted to her abdomen; she half-expected her flesh to be torn and mangled. But everything felt… intact. Strange.

Her breathing quickened as she struggled to form words. "So… that truck—"

Celestia's voice was sorrowful, yet steady, as though offering both sympathy and acceptance. "Yes. You have died, Serena. Your soul now stands at a crossroads. I cannot restore you to your former life, but I can offer you a new existence."

A swirl of shimmering dust danced between them, casting prismatic flashes across the boundless dark. "In exchange for your mortal life, I will grant you a gift: any single wish. Think carefully, child, for once made, it cannot be undone."

Serena pressed her lips together, searching for clarity in the tumult of her mind. How many nights had she wished for a fresh start? She didn't want money or fame. Something else flickered in the recesses of her thoughts—an old dream of hers, spawned from the pages of a manga or the frames of an anime she loved. A start-over with impossible powers, the kind that might be found in fantasy.

"Any wish I want…?" she repeated, her voice trembling with a mix of awe and uncertainty. She gazed at Celestia. "I—uh, I saw an anime once… The main character got reincarnated with all sorts of powers. Specifically, from that story 'Reincarnated as a Slime.' Could I—" She swallowed hard, unable to believe what she was about to request. "Could I have those abilities?"

A small, knowing smile touched the goddess's lips. "You desire the skills shown in your earthly entertainment? It is a strange request, yet not beyond my power. Speak it clearly, and it shall be done."

Serena closed her eyes, recalling every detail she'd memorized from hours of binge-watching: "I want the 'Predator' skill, the analysis abilities like 'Great Sage,' water manipulation, and every foundational skill the protagonist gained early on."

Celestia inclined her head, her silver hair cascading over her shoulder. "So be it." The swirling motes of light around them flared, then rushed toward Serena like a meteor shower. Sparks skittered across her skin, pulsing with a new, exhilarating power. She gasped, feeling a tingling surge that flooded her entire being.

For a moment, Serena lost herself in the rush. Then, reality hit home once again. She met Celestia's gaze, voice quivering. "What… what is my role in all of this? You didn't just come to grant me a gift out of the kindness of your heart."

Celestia's luminous eyes darkened, and a flicker of sadness crossed her features. "The world of Nethoria is nearing its end. Plague, war, and a great corruption have spread to every corner. Life is suffocating in the grip of an ancient evil. Yet the world has one last hope—a champion, reborn from another realm, wielding power beyond mortal means."

Serena's breath caught in her throat. "A champion?"

"Yes," Celestia replied softly. "But this will not be the usual prophecy of a savior in shining armor. Nethoria yearns for a reckoning. Blood has been spilled in unthinkable ways, and the thirst for vengeance runs deep in every living creature. You, Serena Bowlington, shall be known as The Vengeful One. You will walk the path as the Dark Messiah—an avenging hand, but also a deliverer, if you so choose to be."

A crushing sense of destiny sank over Serena's shoulders, heavier than any overtime shift could ever be. She inhaled a shaky breath. "Dark Messiah…?"

Celestia inclined her head, her voice solemn and unyielding. "Yes. Nethoria's hope is wreathed in shadow, and only you, who died in anger and confusion, can harness that fury to bring about its salvation—or destruction. Take these powers you have requested and step into your new life. May you forge your own path… and may fate follow in your wake."

Before Serena could form another thought, the glowing figure vanished, and her vision blurred once more. The darkness lifted with the sound of her own heartbeat—heavy, pulsing, and very much alive in a place that was not her own.

Serena's eyelids fluttered open, and at first, she could only see darkness. A damp chill clung to her skin, making her shudder. Groaning softly, she reached for what she assumed was her bedsheet—only to grasp cold stone instead. Her breath caught, heart thumping at the unfamiliar sensation beneath her fingertips.

The faintest glow peeked through a nearby archway, illuminating fragments of an ominous chamber. Tattered banners hung from the rafters, their once-proud crests marred by thick layers of dust. Claws of broken furniture littered the floor, and walls of dark stone loomed overhead, as though preparing to swallow her whole.

As she struggled to her feet, a sudden ping resonated in her mind. A pale orb of light manifested at the corner of her vision, hovering just above her right shoulder. Startled, Serena nearly toppled back onto the freezing floor.

"Greetings," came a placid, echoing voice that did not seem to pass through her ears so much as it reverberated through her thoughts. "I am Great Sage—an ability you have acquired upon transmigration."

She blinked in confusion, pressing a trembling hand to her temple. "Great Sage… That's… from the skills I asked for, right?" Her voice sounded strange and hollow in the cavernous room.

The orb pulsed softly, its tone gentle yet undeniably present. "Correct. I exist to guide you through your newfound abilities and provide the knowledge essential to your survival. My initial analysis indicates we are currently located in Castle Malachor."

Serena cast an uncertain glance around the looming walls, trying to piece together the bizarre, dreamlike situation. "Castle Malachor," she echoed, tasting the name on her tongue. It sounded ancient, full of grim portent. "That doesn't sound very friendly."

"It is not," Great Sage replied. "This fortress has stood untouched for decades, abandoned by its guardians when war and plague ravaged the territory. We are in the Bloodsorrow Expanse, a region once prosperous but now scarred by corruption and strife."

Serena inhaled sharply. "Bloodsorrow Expanse? War… plague?" The memories of her mortal life—her office, the crosswalk, the bright truck headlights—flashed through her mind. "And I'm… I'm in another world now, right?"

A tiny ripple of light ran through the orb, as though acknowledging her question. "Yes. This realm, known as Nethoria, is on the brink of ruin. You have been reborn as the Vengeful One, the Dark Messiah who may deliver salvation—or hasten its demise."

Serena hugged her arms around herself, attempting to quell the tremors rattling her nerves. "Dark Messiah," she whispered. The title conjured an unsettling mix of dread and curious power. "I never asked for that. I mean, I asked for the abilities, sure, but…"

The Great Sage pulsed once more. "Your role was chosen by the Goddess Celestia. It is your fate in this life to determine how your powers are used. I will provide ongoing support for as long as we remain connected."

Serena exhaled slowly, her breath puffing white in the frigid air. "Okay then. So… what now? Do I just… walk out of here and start fulfilling some prophecy or something?"

"There is much you must learn about this world before you can wield your power effectively," Great Sage explained. "For now, I advise finding a source of sustenance and a means of leaving Castle Malachor safely. The corridors are likely riddled with creatures warped by the same corruption that afflicts this land."

Her stomach twisted with a nervous flutter. "Corruption… That sounds dangerous."

"It is," the orb confirmed, voice dipping ominously. "However, as you have requested, you possess the foundational skills that will allow you to adapt quickly. You will need them to confront the challenges ahead."

Serena steeled herself, pressing a hand against the clammy stone wall to steady her wobbling knees. A sense of resolve blossomed in her chest, warring against the lingering traces of shock. "Right. First things first: I'm getting out of this place alive."

With that, she cast one last uncertain look around the dim, forsaken throne room. The only answers to her unspoken fears came from the eerie echoes of her own footsteps and the silent, patient glow of the floating orb at her side. Taking a deep breath, Serena strode forward, her new life unfolding one step at a time in the cold heart of Castle Malachor.

Serena crouched behind a crumbling pillar, heart hammering in her ears. Shadows flickered along the corridor walls of Castle Malachor as the low, rasping hiss of grotesque creatures reached her. They were hunched, gangly things, their lank bodies twisted by the corruption that plagued Nethoria. Dull, clouded eyes stared out from faces contorted with hunger, and their claws clicked in a perverse rhythm across the cold stone.

"Great Sage," she whispered, trembling. "What are those things?"

"They are called Gnawlings," the orb's calm, resonant voice rang in her mind. "Low-level monsters, but numerous and aggressive. Use the Predator skill to subdue and consume them. You will gain their abilities, memories, and skills."

Serena swallowed. The idea of devouring a living being twisted her stomach in revulsion, but the Gnawlings had caught her scent. With gurgling snarls, they lunged forward, scuttling on all fours. Claws scraped stone, and jagged teeth glistened with saliva.

She forced her shaking hands to still and recalled Great Sage's instructions. A dark power coursed through her veins, thick and throbbing—an instinct tied to her very core. As one Gnawling pounced, Serena sidestepped and slammed her hand against its chest. The moment she willed it, a roiling swirl of black energy engulfed the creature, dragging it into her grasp as though it were dissolving into tar. Its shriek cut off abruptly, and she felt a surge of raw vitality flood into her body.

The next few moments were a blur of desperation and carnage. She ducked and rolled, grabbing, crushing, consuming. Each time, she felt a sickening pull in her gut as the Predator skill took hold. The Gnawlings' skin and bones crumbled to ash beneath her grip, leaving only the echo of their essence to sink into her.

When the last of them collapsed into a lifeless heap, Serena slumped against the wall, gulping for air. Her limbs trembled, and she swore she could still feel the creatures' hearts pounding in her own chest. Their memories flashed through her mind: frenzied hunger, pack instincts, the taste of rancid flesh.

"Analysis complete," Great Sage intoned. "You have acquired the following: Claw Rend, Enhanced Hearing, and Night Vision from the Gnawlings. You have also gained partial knowledge of their territory and pack hierarchy."

Serena's stomach churned, but beneath her revulsion lay a startling sense of power. The darkness in her pulsed with satisfaction, as though it craved more. She pressed a hand to her chest, half expecting to feel something monstrous beating there.

"Is this… what it means to be the Dark Messiah?" she breathed.

"It is merely one part of your abilities," Great Sage answered serenely. "We must continue forward. More dangers await in these halls."

For a moment, Serena closed her eyes, wrestling with guilt. Then she pushed off the wall and stepped over the scattered remains.

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