Quite The Fancy Words For An Ant

[A/N: You know the drill(Maybe). Comments=Extra chapters

So drop da comments]

[The Impregnation System Has Activated.]

Aesir stared at the hologram, watching it morph into a floating screen that bound to him without any over-the-top visual effects.

No dramatic lights or cosmic fanfare—just a simple, straightforward link. It was practical, like everything else he did.

This screen, though, wasn't just any old cosmic trinket. It was one of the Wills of Heaven that Aesir had snatched ages ago, back when the laws of existence were at their weakest.

You know, during that period in history when things were pretty much in shambles.

The Will's main function? To assist in the delicate task of impregnating someone and checking the heavenly database on whether their offspring would inherit any divine perks aka the wills of heaven.

And, just to be clear—because it's easy to get mixed up here—there's a big difference between the pieces of heaven and the Wills of heaven.

The pieces of heaven were chunks of the Heavenly Dao's spiritual power that broke off and reincarnated as actual living beings—like Aesir and his now vaporized siblings. They got the spiritual upgrades.

The Wills of Heaven, on the other hand, carried the materialistic powers of the Heavenly Dao—things like superpowers, destiny, luck.

Strong? Sure. But not powerful enough spiritual wise to reincarnate as beings. They didn't get the front-row seat in the cosmic drama.

Because, let's face it—Aesir's the MC, and his siblings? Well, side characters at best.

"Let's start," Aesir muttered, his voice oozing casual indifference as a portal opened up before him.

Without hesitation, he stepped into it, and immediately—he was falling. Again. Just like earlier.

He sighed and folded his arms across his chest, already bored. He had fallen in this portal so many times in his immortal existence, it had lost any sense of excitement. He might as well be waiting for an elevator at this point.

"Hmm..."

He found himself contemplating as he fell through a scene that looked like someone had painted the entirety of existence onto a canvas, each stroke flawless. It was a dazzling sight, but to Aesir, it had all become routine.

This falling through realms was his quickest method of reincarnation. Sure, he could technically do it himself if he wanted to, but that would take effort. And effort was a hassle.

So, he just let this bizarre realm and its portal system do all the heavy lifting for him. After all, why do the hard work when there's an easier way?

......

Shinobi World

Land of Fields

The Land of Fields wasn't exactly a powerhouse in the shinobi world.

It wasn't huge, and its population wasn't something to brag about either (but hey, the main character's planning to change that real soon, haha!).

Because of this, they couldn't churn out shinobi in large numbers. Their primary source of income? Good old farming.

The place had some of the most fertile soil across all the nations, making them the breadbasket of the region.

The location? Well, that left a lot to be desired. On one side, you had the Land of Earth, and on the other, the Land of Fire—two nations that loved to beat the crap out of each other.

And where do they like to do it? You guessed it—right on the Land of Fields' turf. Yeah, the Fields are basically their favorite playground for throwing punches.

On the other two sides, things weren't any better. You had the Land of Storms, which did exactly what its name suggests—send raging storms that wreck everything.

And then there was the Land of Forests, home to monsters that apparently decided that the Land of Fields was their favorite snack bar.

So, how did the Land of Fields not get wiped off the map by now, you ask? I mean, they're squeezed between constant wars, monster attacks, and natural disasters. The secret?

War! (Yeah, seriously.)

Whenever war broke out, the Land of Fields knew how to play their cards. They'd take full advantage of the chaos, selling their precious food resources to other nations at insane prices.

It was highway robbery, but in times of war, people pay up.

Thanks to this, the nation might not be super powerful, but their elite high-class citizens? Oh, they were filthy rich. Like, rolling-in-cash kind of rich.

And guess what? It's happening again right now. Another war, this time a massive one. You could call it a Great Shinobi War.

In the middle of a vast, seemingly endless field, all you could see was blood. And corpses. And then, behind that, even more blood and more corpses.

It was a battlefield frozen in time, the only difference between one pile of bodies and the next being how much blood had pooled around them.

Some were slumped over in grotesque positions, while others had limbs scattered like broken dolls.

To top it all off, there was a mountain in the distance made entirely of human bones and skulls. Their flesh? Yeah, that was scattered across the field too, like a butcher shop explosion.

All of them were shinobi, fighting for their nation, for their families—well, whatever had motivated them to be here in the first place.

But now? Now they were all dead. Dead as Michael Jackson.

Among the sea of corpses, one body stood out. It was still gripping a sword, its clothes a bit too fancy for the battlefield.

The kind of outfit that screamed "noble," which technically, the guy had been. But hold on—don't start picturing some heroic last stand. The dude didn't die in battle.

Nope, this genius tripped while trying to make a run for it and cracked his head open on a rock. Yes, really.

So, yeah, he was a coward.

But then something freaky happened. That same body started to twitch.

First, the fingers, then the arms, and before you knew it, the guy stood up, still clinging to that sword like it meant something. It wasn't a resurrection of honor or vengeance, though. Nope.

"I am back, bitches!" the figure said, a smug grin plastered on his face as he literally turned to the readers and broke the fourth wall. Believe me, he wasn't trying to be rude—just naturally sarcastic like that.

This wasn't the original noble anymore. Aesir had taken over the body. The new body had long blonde hair that barely brushed past his shoulders, eyes as deep as the sea, and skin pale enough to make a ghost jealous.

He wasn't super muscular, but definitely not scrawny either—more like lean, just enough to make you hesitate in a fight. And, based on the face, he looked like someone in his late teens.

As soon as Aesir settled into the new body, the memories of its original owner came flooding into his mind like a clear, vivid movie.

"Huh. Well, this guy was useless, but at least I can make something of it," he muttered. Some useful tidbits here and there, but nothing groundbreaking.

"Hmm? Someone survived my attack?" Aesir suddenly stiffened, feeling a killing intent coming from behind.

Slowly, he turned around, eyes narrowing as he spotted an old man riding a huge wolf that looked like it could eat a horse for breakfast.

Actually, it was already in the process of chewing on a whole body, blood dripping from its jaws like it was snacking on a crunchy piece of meat.

"I suppose I'll just have to kill you, too," the old man said with a hint of amusement, clearly not expecting anyone to be alive after his handiwork. His eyes flickered with mild curiosity, but that quickly faded.

Why would he care? He had single-handedly slaughtered an entire squad of shinobi. What was one more kid compared to that?

It's not like he was fighting the heavens themselves.

Aesir, however, remained completely unbothered, standing there with the same relaxed attitude as if he was waiting for someone to take his drink order.

"Those are quite the fancy words for an ant like yourself,"

he said, his tone calm, almost dismissive, like he was giving an annoying bug permission to buzz off.

The old man's expression shifted slightly, but Aesir? Nah, he didn't flinch. He just looked at him, totally unfazed. Like a true chad.