The Cycle Continues

"So...this is how it ends..." said a young man who, in another time, place, and under different circumstances, would have still been considered a boy. The youth's black hair was drenched by the rain pouring down from the overcast sky above, and his face was caked in blood, mud, and grime. However, it was his crimson eyes and the smile on his lips that stood out the most.

Ordinarily, people would feel fear, despair, and more in the wake of a battle where most of their close friends and allies had been slaughtered. But this common sense didn't apply to the youth, outfitted in makeshift leather armor with sparse metal plating. Even with an arrow piercing his shoulder at the junction between his right pectoral and deltoid muscles, he couldn't help smiling. Not because he lacked fear but because he felt pure, unadulterated 'contempt' for the enemy.

Despite the youth's injuries and clear exhaustion, the enemy army, still numbering in the thousands, elected to play it safe by keeping at least three hundred meters from his position. They trumpeted themselves as honorable and righteous, but after seeing the youth cut down well over a hundred people on his own, the enemy Commander had his men pull back so they could assail him with arrows and ballistae typically used to tackle large beasts and fortifications, not individual humans.

*THWIP*

Accompanied by a loud reverberation, a spear-like projectile nearly five meters in length came sailing at the youth, seated atop a pile of enemy corpses as if they were his throne. Such projectiles were used to pierce the thick, scale-covered hide of dragons, but the youth didn't so much as flinch as the projectile sailed past his head, missing by a few centimeters and burrowing deep into the ground several meters behind him.

*THWIP* *THWIP* *THWIP* *THWIP* *THWIP* *THWIP*

Following the first shot, primarily used to verify the distance, a veritable volley of anti-dragon projectiles sailed through the sky at near supersonic speed. This time, the youth rose from his improvised throne and raised his left hand. There was no flash or flare, but to the horror of those observing him from afar, the oversized, spear-like projectiles visibly changed course, impacting the ground and corpses around him.

With the projectiles causing muddy explosions as they impacted the ground, the smile on the youth's face waned slightly. He didn't mind being dirty, but a stray limb had hit him in the face, causing a trickle of blood to flow from his right nostril. The rain washed away most of the dirt, blood, and grime, but as the heat gradually drained his body, he felt cold, numb, and increasingly powerless.

Fortunately for the youth, the enemy Commander determined there was little reason to continue assailing him with ballistae. Instead, he ordered six similarly dressed women, each sporting maroon, gold-trimmed robes, to step forward. Moments later, as hazy, bluish-white energy emanated from and swirled around the women, the air around the youth became hot as specks of red and orange energy materialized around him. At the same time, an eddy formed in the clouds overhead, crackling with the same red and orange energy as a massive funnel of flames promptly descended on his position.

Regaining his smile, the youth raised his left hand, his fingertips turning black before glowing like hot coals as he mused, "So it's Strategic Class Magic next..."

Before the funnel of flames could reach him, the youth made a throwing motion toward the enemy army, causing the trajectory of the tornado to change drastically. He lacked the strength to redirect it directly on top of the army, but it was enough to spook them into scattering like ants as the Mages who initially cast it worked desperately to get it under control and disperse it. Their panic caused the youth's smile to blossom and his ruby-red eyes to twinkle, but as he had overdrafted his power, his left arm had turned completely black, adorned by glowing orange fractures. Then, as it had been seared to the bone, it abruptly fell off, fragmenting into several pieces from his elbow down.

"And there goes my-"

*shick*

Before the youth could finish his utterance, a figure abruptly emerged from his shadow, followed by a glowing, silvery-white blade piercing his back, emerging from his chest covered in distinctive, gold-tinted blood.

Seemingly unaffected by the fact his heart had been pierced, the youth looked back to find a petite, similarly aged girl with short golden hair and crimson eyes standing behind him. He immediately recognized her as a member of his clan, but instead of feeling betrayed or outraged, his smile broadened even further as he mused, "What an absurd world..." before slumping like a marionette with its strings cut as the girl, with tears in her eyes, twisted her blade and unleashed a pulse of Mana through his body, causing him to explode from the inside...

...

..

.

Aiden didn't know what happened when others died, but when he and his three closest friends perished in a plane jacking, they all ended up in the same place. As far as they could tell, it was neither Heaven nor Hell but nebulous darkness populated by a floating, fragmented island supporting a glowing ash tree. Thus, when the black-haired youth, Eskhaar, exploded into countless pieces, Aiden awoke beneath the canopy of the tree he and his friends had taken to calling Yggdrasil.

"Hmmmgh..."

Rising to a seated position with a groan, Aiden took a moment to inspect his body to see if and how it had changed. When he originally arrived at the strange island, he had been pale-skinned and pushing 120kg despite his height of 178cm. Now, his complexion was much healthier, bereft of a single blemish, and while he wasn't sure of his weight, his abdomen was flat, almost toned.

Looking to his right, separated by a thick root, Aiden found a young man with spiky, pale blonde hair that naturally flowed away from his scalp like a lion's mane. His eyes were closed, but he had fierce, bestial features, including pointed ears backed and tipped by black fur, thick eyebrows that forked at the ends, an angular jaw, and a broad nose that transitioned directly into brows and forehead without the usual ridge. His height had to be at least 185cm, and his body was a palace comprised of pure, bronze-toned muscle, further tinted brown by the sun.

'Devour is such a broken ability...' thought Aiden. When the person to his right, Xander, first arrived at the island, he was a tall, portly, bear-like man with a greying beard. Now, if you ignored his pointed, fur-covered ears, he wouldn't look out of place among a group of bodybuilders.

Closing his eyes, shaking his head, and exhaling through his nose, Aiden reminded himself that his Dominate wasn't exactly useless. Devour might allow Xander to absorb the traits of whatever he ate, but Dominate let him manipulate virtually anything. Attempting to control those more powerful than himself or manipulate concepts he didn't understand came at a cost, but it was still a remarkably broken ability if utilized well.

With such thoughts in mind, Aiden looked to his left, his eyes widening as he discovered a girl with pale pink hair and slightly pointed ears sleeping in the gap between two roots. She had delicate, almost doll-like features, fair skin that appeared to glow, and a lithe body reminiscent of a gymnast, but that wasn't the reason for Aiden's stupefaction. It was because, when he was last awake, the person to his left was another of his friends, David Alexander, better known as Dave. And, as his name suggested, Dave was a man...

'So there's a chance we can be reincarnated as females? That's going to be a nightmare...' thought Aiden. He would be lying if he said he wasn't at least a little curious to know what it was like to live as a woman, but since each of the worlds they had been transported to were either high fantasy or had medieval settings, being male was more...convenient.

Resisting the urge to let his eyes wander, Aiden rose from his personal nook between roots and stretched his body with a few satisfying pops. Then, looking around, he noticed that the island they were on had grown noticeably larger. It was fewer than twenty meters across when they first arrived, but now it was closer to fifty. More notably, the tiny, crystal-clear pond that served as their water source had grown from the size of a kiddy pool to a small spring roughly five meters across and three deep.

Making his way over to the spring, Aiden used a ladle carved from wood to scoop up and serve himself several large gulps. The water was nearly ice cold, but that wasn't the only reason Aiden felt a pleasant chill spread through his body. It was also incredibly saturated with Mana, causing him to feel refreshed and instantly abating his hunger.

"Pheeeew~!"

Now full of energy, Aiden returned to the tree to check on the other four members of their group before touring the island to see if any new plants or fungi had grown. He was typically the first to die when they were sent to a new world, as his 'Authority' was incredibly taxing, so he took it upon himself to check the island's condition and ensure everything was in order as he waited for the others to awaken.

Fortunately, for each day that passed on the island, a year passed from the perspective of those projecting their consciousness into other worlds. They also agreed that, unless they met up with each other and decided to stay longer, they would only remain in a world for thirty years, max. Dave, in particular, had violated this agreement a few times, but since he usually had a good reason, Aiden never personally faulted him for it.

"Now, let's see what we're working with..." muttered Aiden, seated atop a large stone that had appeared in the interim between his reincarnation as Eskhaar and his literal backstabbing.

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Name: [Aiden Ward]

Title: Pathwalker(10% increase to Parameters based on the number of worlds visited)

Race: Spirit

Age: 71

[Parameters]

Health: 3,084

Mana: 3,287

Constitution: 113(180)

Strength: 35(56)

Agility: 42(67)

Dexterity: 35(56)

Intelligence: 28(44)

Luck: 19(30)

Spirit: 20(32)

Wisdom: 35(56

Charisma: 28(44)

Soul Tier: 1

Karma: 33,492

[Skills]

[Dominate(Innate:D)], [Mage(B)], [Swordsman(B)], [Cooking(B)], [Spearman(C)], [Pain Tolerance(C)], [Hunger Resistance(C)], [Hunting(D)], [Meditation(D)], [Concealment(D)], [Observation(D)], [Tracking(E)]

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"33,492..." muttered Aiden, frowning. Karma was the currency used by the game-like System he and his friends had been given to keep track of their growth and the various objectives they could complete in the worlds they were transmigrated/reincarnated. It could be acquired by performing both good and bad deeds, but the best way to earn Karma was to influence the course of history and leave a lasting impact.

As he had been unjustly labeled the Second Coming of the Demon King for merely unifying a few frontier clans, Aiden expected to accumulate at least a few hundred thousand Karma for the bullshit he had been forced to tolerate. Thirty thousand was nothing to scoff at, at least compared to his past earnings, but it was apparent that his name and deeds had been buried following his demise.

Following an exasperated sigh, Aiden deliberated for a few minutes before purchasing three Lucky Apples from the System Shop. Each cost 10,000 Karma, but it was worth it as they permanently increased his Luck stat by one. Luck was the one attribute that couldn't be trained, at least as far as Aiden was aware, so whenever he had the Karma to do so, he purchased Lucky Apples in the hopes that his fate in future incarnations would be at least marginally better. Aiden's first incarnation after arriving at the island had him reincarnate as the seventh son of a peasant farmer just as winter was approaching, so he ended up abandoned in the woods, torn apart by a pack of wolves. Such a tragic end netted him 10,000 Karma as a kind of 'compensation,' but as he had been alive when the wolves arrived, Aiden, even after more than forty years, still had nightmares of being tugged and ultimately pulled apart, unable to defend himself...

...

..

.