Chapter 1

"So, I died. But why am I in the middle of nowhere right now?"

Trying to remember what preceded my appearance here: my heart failure finally led to a natural outcome — a relapse occurred. It seems that the day was not very diverse — as usual, I was lying in bed and looking at the overcast sky, when I felt as if something was squeezing me in a vice. Well, then I only remember how they put me in the ambulance, we were driving… And I'm already here.

"Damn, what about Mom? She got really sick when her sister died, and now I'm also..."

Clutching my hair from the utter absurdity and hopelessness of the situation, I fell to the ground and began to sway back and forth. No, no, no, it can't be like this, well, it can't be! What am I supposed to do now… That's right, Yamato!

Jumping up from the ground and picking up the katana, I pulled it out of the scabbard in one smooth motion, and also froze in place. How do I even know the power of this weapon? And how did I get it? Like... like I've been with him all my life? But this is nonsense! I am a core that I have hardly been on the street for more than twenty years!

"I'm... Virgil! No, my name is… Name?"

From an overabundance of emotions, a wave of demonic power came out of my body, from which the earth cracked within a radius of a hundred meters. This helped me to calm down — at least a little bit. Inhaling and exhaling, I sheathed the blade, and, sitting cross-legged on the ground, began to think.

But it was only when I took a sitting position that I realized that after all these tricks, my heart was not trying to self—destruct - it was problematic for me to walk before, and not to perform such actions. Yes, and the hands — like mine, but as if not. Damn, this is complete nonsense. Taking the Yamato and slightly exposing the blade, he began to examine his face now—or for a long time already.

Fair enough skin with a slight sign of pallor, sharp cheekbones, an even nose without a hump (which I definitely had before), pale blue eyes instead of brown and white hair instead of black. At first glance, the age was somewhere in the region of twenty, but also as if I had already been malnourished for a couple of weeks - a similar bruise. Just an example of a typical French aristocrat during the revolution, nothing else.

In disbelief, I touch my cheek with my hand — and the reflection does the same thing. I can feel my fingers, and my eyes don't seem to deceive. So it's all true.

That's just I remember my past life — everything except the name: as from childhood I was practically bedridden, as was my twin sister Nastya. I remember how the days just passed one after another, practically no different from each other. How my mother took care of us, because my father died before we were born. How my sister left five years before my death…

Wiping my eyes with the back of my hand, I realized something: yes, these are my memories. But the body, the other memory and the weapon are also mine. Does this mean that I could just… Well, I don't know. Honestly. The option of a past life and rebirth no longer seems to be nonsense. But I don't remember much of my "other" personality. So, vague scraps, which were enough for now.

Virgil. Half-man, half-demon. The son of Sparda — one of the strongest demons. I remember how to fight, use demonic power, change shape… That's all. The rest is vague. But I will not say that the new knowledge caused at least some surprise, because I did not feel them as "strangers", therefore I did not feel powerful emotions about it.

Getting up with renewed strength, I took out the Yamato again, and, concentrating on the strength of the weapon, made two swings — exactly horizontally and vertically, imagining my two—room apartment with blue wallpaper and a pleasant smell of wooden furniture…

But the portal didn't open. I tried again and again, but all in vain. My house was inaccessible, and it seems that I cannot change it.

Anger began to take hold of me, but I tightened my grip on the handle — a reflex of the body that allowed me to calm down. And who should I go back to? I have no friends, and apart from my mother, I had no other relatives. But after my death, she probably will too.…

He shook his head. Enough of these thoughts for today.

So, a brief summary: I died, took someone else's body from my past (or future) life, and instead of a heart defect, I acquired demonic powers and an all-cutting katana that makes teleports. In principle, I like this kind of exchange — if I hadn't had to die and leave my mother alone.

Therefore, the minimum plan for me now is to understand where I ended up. As for the goals, we will work according to Maslow's pyramid: first clothes, food and shelter, and only then how will it go. Lack of information is my main enemy so far. Ideally, of course, try to get back home, but for this you will need to return the old skills to begin with.

Gripping the handle tighter with excitement, I did something like breathing exercises. Still, the trembling from what I have suffered has not yet let me go — everything is too sudden. After all, now I am alone in no one knows where and for no one knows why. I hope they won't try to kill me right away, because I know how to fight, but I don't know how — a couple of trial strokes with an unusual and at the same time native to the hand tool clearly showed it. It remains only to rely on the reflexes of the body. Over time, I will still restore everything I lost, because motivation allows me to live again.

He tied the scabbard with a ribbon to his belt so that the curve of the handle looked down. He brushed off the pieces of trousers that covered only up to his knees. And, I started walking along the road — I don't know where it will lead me, but somewhere it should.

The steps were given to me quite easily — I didn't feel tired at all. The heart finally did not jump out from a simple walk, and the pleasant summer weather mixed with a light breeze gave a feeling of ... freedom? But it's true — now I can even just forget about the road and go wherever I want. Now I can do it. And it makes my head spin.

Previously, my whole life was confined only to the room in which I spent more than twenty years. But now a whole unknown world is open to me — and I have the strength and the ability to plunge into it with my head in order to finally recapture all those years that I spent bedridden.

Therefore, the first thing I decided on was running.

Remembering how it was done in the video, I began to alternately rearrange my legs, which is why the speed began to increase, and at the same time I held the katana. The wind currents became denser, resistance was felt. Realizing that this does not bring any discomfort either for the body or for the naked feet, I began to increase acceleration. The field was speeding faster and faster, the road began to merge into one lane.

That was awesome! To move at such speeds, to feel only a slight tingling in the legs, as well as a false sense of flight ... running is fucking awesome! And probably, my almost manic laughter spread throughout the neighborhood.

Immersed in the euphoria of the acquired opportunities, I came to my senses when I only heard a loud bang.

"Stop. Was that a sound barrier?!"

I didn't have time to slow down — I caught my fingers on the edge of some fallen tree, which caused me to fly off at a speed of one mach into the forest that appeared. Flying backwards into the first tree, I broke it in half, almost without encountering resistance. Behind him was the second, the third… Waking up in the middle of a pile of wood, I sit down on a fallen oak tree, with my eyes discerning a bald spot fifty meters long. It's not so bad, considering that I didn't even feel pain!

Having got out of the blockage and dusted myself off, I returned to the road, which began to meander — apparently, the terrain affected.

Probably, many people would have been sick of walking for several hours without knowing where, but it was only a joy for me to walk on my own feet, breathe fresh air, understand that you can not be afraid of dying at any second… Perhaps this is really wonderful.

But the flow of my melancholy and contemplation of the neighborhood ended when the road began to descend. Approaching the slope, I saw in the distance a city that seemed to have descended from the pages of medieval fairy tales: stone and wooden houses, stone-paved roads, residents in fancy clothes. It was small—no more than fifty houses. There were a lot of fields around it, and surprisingly, it was surrounded by a solid iron wall.

But what struck me the most was that people seemed to have magic — otherwise I can't explain floating objects and balls of light in lanterns instead of candles. This is so new and at the same time familiar to me that there is a real break in the pattern. Another confirmation that I am very, very far from home. Well, it will be interesting.

Putting my left palm on the handle of the Yamato, I exhaled and began to go down — to the city gate.

My new life starts right now.