The world was a blur of searing agony and cold, numbing void. Rayn's last conscious memory was the feeling of his own ribs shattering into powder as he drove the Crimson Conqueror Sword through Vespera's gut. It was a trade—his life for her blood.
Vespera carried his mangled, leaking body back into the villa. She didn't put him on the bed; she laid him in the center of the living room floor, the enchanted wood beneath him quickly becoming stained with a deep, visceral red. Her own wound was closing, the golden ichor of her dragon blood steaming as it healed, but her focus was entirely on the man-shaped pile of meat before her.
As she began the grueling process of forced regeneration, channeling her ancient Gnosis into his collapsed meridians, Rayn's consciousness didn't vanish. It retreated. It slipped past the layer of physical pain and plunged deep into the abyss of his own soul.
Rayn blinked. He wasn't in the backyard anymore. He was standing in a vast, infinite expanse of blinding white light. There were no piles of rotting corpses. No rivers of congealed blood. No screaming ghosts of the thousands he had slaughtered in his past life as Yaowangming.
In the center of this pristine vacuum sat a throne made of what looked like polished diamond. And sitting upon it, draped in robes of pure ivory, was Silas. He was smiling, his eyes no longer burning with the fires of hell, but calm and crystalline.
"What the fuck is this?" Rayn rasped, looking around. "Where are the bodies, Silas? Where's the 'Hell' you were so proud of showing me before? Did you finally decide to clean your room, or am I actually dead this time?"
Silas let out a rich, melodic laugh that echoed through the white void. "Rayn, you truly are a cynical bastard. When we first met, I showed you a hellscape because you needed to see it. You were a confused boy who didn't understand the weight of his own shadow. I created that 'Hell' from your own subconscious guilt and my memories to show you the path of the butcher. But now? Now you have accepted your nature. You have awakened the Silver Bracelet. You have touched the Gnosis of the Dao. This place... it is whatever I want it to be."
Rayn's eyes narrowed. "You can change the fabric of your own soul space? Just like that?"
"It is my throne room, kid," Silas said, flicking a casual finger.
In an instant, the white light vanished. A freezing, howling wind tore through the space, and the ground beneath Rayn's feet turned into jagged, blue-tinted ice. Towering icebergs erupted from the floor, and the sky turned a deep, bruised indigo. It was a wasteland that made Antarctica look like a summer resort.
Rayn shivered, his breath misting in the air. "Okay, point taken. You're a god in here. Great. Now, can we get back to the part where my half-vaporized body is currently being knitted together by a dragon?"
Silas chuckled, snapping his fingers again to return the room to a comfortable, temperate white. "Vespera is doing her job. She is breaking you so that you can become unbreakable. Most men, when faced with a god, would kowtow until their foreheads bled. You? You tried to stab her while your own heart was being liquidated. That is the temperament of a Sovereign. Your Controller Power has already surged to the peak of Tier 7 thanks to that last exchange. The Gnosis you absorbed isn't just fuel; it's a catalyst."
Rayn sat on the floor, rubbing his temples. "I'm still not strong enough, am I?"
"Not even close," Silas said, his expression turning grave. "If you had to fight the enemies from your past life right now—the ones who truly orchestrated your downfall—it wouldn't be a fight. It would be an ant trying to bite the sun. You're still playing in the dirt, Rayn."
Rayn looked up at the "Old Ghost" on the throne. "That brings up a question. You keep telling me I'm the reincarnation of this Yaowangming guy. If I'm him, why don't I remember anything? Every webnovel and anime I've ever seen says the MC gets his memories back the moment he wakes up. Why am I still in the dark?"
Silas leaned forward, his eyes piercing. "Because those stories are written by people by their imaginary minds, Rayn. In the real world, reincarnation is a shearing of the soul. The ego dies. The memories are sealed by the laws of the Universe to prevent the soul from collapsing under the weight of multiple lifetimes. You won't remember unless the Gods themselves break the seal, or unless you encounter a 'Trigger' from your past—a person, a weapon, or a place so deeply ingrained in your essence that it bypasses the laws of heaven. That's why I need you to unlock my seal. I am your memory, Rayn. But I am locked behind the bars you haven't broken yet."
Rayn remained silent for a long time. Finally, he spat on the white floor. "I don't want them."
Silas blinked. "What?"
"My past life," Rayn said, his voice cold and flat. "I don't give a fuck about who I was. If I died back then, it was probably because I was too kind, or too stupid, or both. Kindness is a weakness in a world of wolves. I don't want to carry the baggage of a dead man. I only care about today. I only care about the people I need to kill now. If someone from my past shows up—a son, a friend, an enemy—I'll deal with them then. But until that moment, don't talk to me about my 'destiny.' I'm making my own."
Silas stared at Rayn, his laughter dying out. He looked at the young man with a newfound sense of respect—and a hint of fear. "You really are a cold-hearted prick. Fine. Keep your ignorance. It might actually keep you alive longer."
Suddenly, Silas's form began to flicker like smoke. "She's finished. Your heart is beating again. Go back to the world of the living, Sovereign. You've got a town to steal."
Rayn's eyes snapped open.
He wasn't on the floor. He was lying on the couch, his head resting in Vespera's lap. The scent of her—a mixture of ozone and jasmine—filled his senses. He felt a soft pressure on his lips as she pulled away from a kiss.
"You're awake," she whispered, her golden eyes shimmering with an uncharacteristic softness. "For a moment there, your heart stopped. I thought I might have actually killed you, you stubborn idiot."
Rayn sat up, his movements fluid. He checked his body. There wasn't a single scar. No burns, no missing limbs. His skin felt tighter, his muscles more dense. He felt... dangerous.
"How long was I out?" Rayn asked, ignoring the 'death' comment.
"A few hours," Vespera replied, stretching like a cat. "It's late. You should eat. You need to replenish your biological mass after that much regeneration."
Rayn nodded and headed to the kitchen. He prepared a quick, heavy meal, and they ate in a comfortable silence. But just as they were preparing to head upstairs for a much-needed rest, the jade artifact on the table began to hum.
It was Freddy.
Rayn picked it up. Freddy's voice was strained, thick with anxiety. "Rayn? Vespera? Are you there? I'm at the office. We've pulled an all-nighter. I need you both here at dawn. We're finalizing the strategy for the Leadership Assembly. Things are... getting complicated. Other divisions are making moves I didn't anticipate. Get some sleep, but be here by 6:00 AM. That's an order."
Rayn clicked the artifact off. "Well, looks like the vacation is over."
At exactly 6:00 AM, Rayn and Vespera walked into the Division 8 headquarters. The air was thick with the smell of stale coffee and burnt tobacco.
Inside Freddy's office, the usual suspects were there—Veora, Novara, and Troy. But standing near the window were three individuals Rayn had never seen before. They radiated a level of suppressed power that made the air in the room feel heavy.
"Who the hell are they?" Rayn whispered to Veora.
"The Radars," Veora replied, her voice low. "They're our elite scouts. They don't usually stay in the office; they spend their lives on the perimeter of the town, acting as an early warning system. If a demon even moves within ten miles of Ashburg, these three know about it. Freddy called them in because he's terrified of an assassination attempt."
Novara was in the middle of a heated argument with Freddy. "It's suicide, Freddy! You're a bureaucrat, not a warlord! If you stand for the leadership position, the other three Division Leaders will tear you apart before you even finish your opening statement. We should just back Division 1 and take the vice-seats!"
"And spend the rest of our lives licking their boots?" Freddy retorted, slamming his fist on his desk. "No! Division 8 has been the laughingstock of this town for too long. With Rayn and Vespera, we have the teeth. We're taking the head of the table."
Rayn stepped forward, his presence silencing the room. Even the three "Radars" turned to look at him, their eyes narrowing as they sensed the Rayn's aura radiating off him.
"Explain the mechanics," Rayn said, his voice cold. "How does this 'Election' actually work? Is it just a bunch of guys in a room voting, or is there more to it?"
Troy stepped forward, tapping a map of the town. "It's a two-stage process. First, the four Division Leaders must reach an agreement. If they can't—which they never do—it goes to a Public Declaration. The townspeople of Ashburg hold the final vote. It was a rule established by the Founders to prevent a single division from becoming a military dictatorship."
Rayn leaned against the wall, a dark grin spreading across his face. "A public vote? In a world of magic and monsters, they still rely on the 'will of the people'?"
"It's like Earth," Rayn thought."Earth's greatest export: the broken will," Rayn thought. "Give a man the right to vote, and he'll use it to sell his future for a bit of pocket change. They don't choose leaders; they choose the highest bidder—even when that bidder is the one strangling them."
He looked at Freddy, who was sweating through his shirt. "So, if the people love you, and the other leaders hate you, you still win?"
"Technically, yes," Freddy said. "But the other leaders control the food, the water, and the protection. The people are scared. They'll vote for whoever keeps them from starving."
Rayn stood up straight, his eyes glowing with a faint, manipulative light. "Then we don't need to win over the leaders. We just need to show the people that the other leaders are the ones starving them... and that you, Freddy, are the only one with the bread."
"What are you suggesting?" Novara asked, skeptical.
"I'm suggesting a bit of theater," Rayn said, looking at Vespera, who gave him a knowing smirk. "Freddy, you're going to play the hero. And the rest of us? We're going to make sure the other divisions look like the monsters they are. If we can't win their hearts, we'll just break their spirits."
The three Radars exchanged looks. One of them, a tall man with a jagged scar across his throat, stepped forward. "And how do you plan on doing that when the other divisions have hit squads ready to gut us the moment we step into the Assembly Hall?"
Rayn's smile widened, revealing his teeth. "Let them come. I've been practicing my 'Gnosis'... and I'm looking for some fresh batteries."