1 His Name Is Rather Peculiar
Reginald Rey Von Homestein, or as he liked to call himself, Reggie, was an impoverished young lad. And not the least bit amused at the irony of his misleading name.
Reggie had the misfortune of being born in a household of dedicated drunkards, his father had drunk himself to a tragic yet well-deserved death before the boy was born, and his mother had accepted the baton, and continued on his path as if in an ill-advised relay.
Nonetheless, Reggie was a smart boy, and as smart boys often do out of necessity, he ignored his family and forged a path of his very own.
Through a monumental scam of his nations childcare system, he received funding for a foster care system of his own that did not exist and began to study.
Now dear reader, when you and I study, we find our interests and try to learn about them as much as we can, but Reggie chose to instead STUDY… every book on every shelf in his small town shivered at his gaze, and perhaps this is merely an author's falsified whimsy, but they seemed to blush every time he eyed their heavy covers.
A lover of knowledge, and of the martial arts, what started as an interest in self-defence developed into an obsession of the highest order with the many forms and movements that pushed the human body to its fullest potential.
By the age of 16, Reggie had quickly achieved the highest accomplishment in any martial art that piqued his interest.
Needless to say, the boy was obsessed with control, the very same thing his parents seemed to never grasp, Reggie had in spades.
The control over his body, his wellbeing, and his finances almost brought an addictive rush to him.
The knowledge of the cells, Biology, the knowledge of the elements, Chemistry, and the knowledge of the Universe came in the form of almighty Physics.
To say he was a peerless genius might be accurate, but it would be an understatement nonetheless, and an overstatement at the same time…
The boy never learned to love, his view of those around him was disdainful at best and downright conceited at worst. He didn't consider the people around him as anything as important, but it was hardly his fault, the way his mind worked to be the best, would not allow him to view others as equal to him.
His one redeeming quality was his love for animals, he found solace in the fact that he needn't judge them, they were as they were without a choice in the matter, and they were perfect…
As time went on, his active mind rendered his mental age unquantifiable, mature in a few vaguely philosophical ways, and immature in many, many social ways. Sadly, time chips away at anyone, and Reggie spent his last day with his lone companion… a little dog.
"I feel odd today, I think I'm sick, I can't really think of anything to do…"
He mentioned to his dog, who was quietly lazing about the carpeted floor.
"You know, it's weird, I haven't ever felt bored before. I've always thought of something to do, something new to learn or try out… But today, I feel empty."
He sighed as he spoke, he knew what was coming, and perhaps it was at the thought of it that he was terrified.
"Death. Sounds peaceful. But it can be here any minute now… In a few seconds, I probably won't even be myself anymore, and I truly don't want to see what I become…"
In a few seconds, his fast mind came to a stop, and tears came out of his eyes as he started screaming.
"Ahhhhhh! Mom! Dad! Please help me! I'm so scared! Please!!!!"
Tears streamed down his face as he started punching himself.
"STUPID FUCKING PIECE OF SHIT! WHY!!!!"
He slowly kneeled on the ground in a kowtow position to his dog, who also seemed to be affected by his master's… sombre mood.
"I'm sorry buddy! I'm so sorry! I know I'm the worst! FUCK! I'm so sorry!"
Reginald was having a complete breakdown.
What had hit him was a realisation, the realisation that he had nothing, he was nothing. He pretended to be a person, but he was merely a shell of repurposed ideas and innovations.
He was brilliant mind you, but he had nothing, he hardly cared about a single thing in the world. His interests were fleeting, and he had no real connection to anything.
Humans are creatures that seek companionship, and that too out of the very core of their being, so refraining from such a need for so long had left Reginald exactly that… inhuman, a mere shell of a human working at his full capacity in a thinly veiled attempt to persuade himself that he was one, a human.
Now that he was old, decrepit and alone, reality had caught up to him, and endless amounts of emptiness attacked him, from a physical and mental perspective… this was very bad.
As if to prove that point, he collapsed, and his heart stopped beating… his face was stained with tears.
"I'm so sorry… I'll miss you…"
He whispered his final words as his consciousness slipped away, to his greatest friend, to the world, and most importantly, to himself.
Reginald wasn't a particularly selfish man, he had helped those that he could, and had had mourned those that he couldn't. He had money, but he enjoyed his small comforts, leaving the more lavish applications of wealth for the most fitting of occasions as deemed worthy.
He could find happiness in the fact that his dog would be taken care of, his most prevalent actions of generosity were always towards the wider spectrum of the Animalia kingdom.
After all, it was his fellow Homo Sapiens that he despised the most, perhaps out of jealousy he described them:
"It is without meaning that I should be without meaning. Without reason that I should not be pleased and, diabolical that even after begging, I am still all alone… and those that do not ask have more than they could want for."
His life did not flash before his eyes, only the torturous thoughts at the epicentre of his thoughts remained.
His memory was not the least bit poor, but he had forgotten his dog's name, and as a matter of fact, he only remembered one name, and one name alone…
Reginald Rey Von Homestein…
Oh! How he hated that name. Pretentious without reason, and almost diabolical without the courage to do anything truly diabolical.
It was him, and perhaps, he was the one person Reginald now hated most.
As he died, his soul left his body, but something was different…
During his lifetime, Reginald's soul was unimpressive at best, and lousy at worst.
His constant deliberation as to his purpose made his soul a conflicted warzone of ideas and theories, which resulted in his will being subpar, and left him with a practically non-existent resolve.
But now… things were different.
It seems that Reginald had made a decision, and decision so filled with resolve that, his soul was now shining as brightly as the sun! It was not simply whole, but powerful, and with trace amounts of consciousness!
His decision was simple, as powerful things often are, and was simply to find a purpose. A will so strong, and so full of possibilities that he need only come to the decision and perhaps… it would happen.
His soul accelerated past the nether dimension that housed and decreed judgement upon the souls of the dead, unknowingly absorbing some of its nether energy.
His soul refused to stop as it sped through the pressure of the inter-dimensional void, adapting to the pressure and coming out stronger.
And finally, as a moth to a flame, Reginald's soul was cleansed of any sequalae from its lifelong conflict, and headed directly for the universe he sensed immense, almost infinite energy from.
With all the luck he could muster, Reginald entered the universe, unaware of the massive implications of his microscopic actions…
END OF CHAPTER 1
