Shaking off thoughts of the past and all the tangents they travelled upon, I looked over my new screen and tried to make sense of what I was seeing.

So far, I don’t have a name here. Compared to past iterations, as I call them - I long since stopped thinking of them as ‘reincarnations’, as I am never ‘born’ into these worlds, I just seem to ‘wake up’ - I think I could either choose my own name or wait until someone or something assigns me one. Hoping that it is the former, and shuddering again at some of the terrible names I have had in the past, I temporarily set the matter to the side. What really drew my attention was the actual stats...or lack of them. No numbers to define my parameters, huh...I quickly decide that whatever “system” governs this world needs me to perform some actions, maybe gain enough experience to qualify as having a level, before it can calculate my values. Which leads me to wonder, how will I go about gaining stats or experience in this world? I have been through too many variations to just blindly assume that killing monsters, if this world HAS monsters to kill, would give me a numerical experience value. One iteration I lived through required me to pray to one of several deities in a pantheon to gain the exp to level up, and given my disposition towards ‘gods’ at the time...I did not last long in that world.

Distracted by memories again, come on, focus!

Also setting aside experience gaining for the time being, I took special note of my title, Master of One’s Soul. It seems that this world might acknowledge my...extra ability. Should be interesting. However, I am not touching that yet. Experience - iteration experience, not level experience, this might get mentally confusing really quickly - has taught me that using my soul before it has firmly settled into a new world leads to...unpleasant...consequences. So, despite wondering about another lack of numerical values, I set that to the side as well.

Ha, the system was unable to determine my age. Perhaps because it recognizes the existence of my soul? Although I doubt that it would acknowledge my previous iterations, as none of them did before, it must somehow detect that my soul itself does not match the age of my body, causing a sort of error status. Either way, I’m sure this will become a problem in the future if anyone is able to use a form of identification magic or technology to read my stats...

Finally, I paid attention to what was missing from the Status Screen. There is no indication of “race”. That means either there will be no race changing in this world or race is not considered a core part of an individual’s identity here. I’ll figure out which one it is later. Perhaps after I figure out what Strength, Agility, Dexterity, Vitality, Charisma, Intelligence, Wisdom, and Luck all encompass in this realm. Eight stats to keep track of this time, make this life more complicated, why don’t you…

I paused in my thoughts, noticing something. The screaming has stopped entirely. The only sounds left are the squishing and squelching. Now, there are a number of things that could cause those particular sounds, but my mind was leaning towards what ought to be the weakest, yet potentially most terrifying, creature of all…

Thankfully, the sounds don’t seem to be approaching my direction. Maybe I should actually look around and see what sort of mess I am in?

Slowly, I try to move each part of my body. This is the worst part of every ‘awakening’ - aside from actually being alive and not dead. Ha. My soul was pretty much dumped into a new container, so I have to take some time to adjust to it. Or maybe it is just adjusting to having a body again? After all, I have no idea how much time passes between my death and ‘rebirth’, so to speak. It could be a second, or whatever shortest unit of time the current world is using, or even a century...I have no way to tell.

Such thoughts are a waste right now though, I need to be mobile in case my situation deteriorates from ‘ambiguously safe’ to ‘I’m completely screwed’. Okay...toes, check. Fingers, check. Ankle and wrist motions, check. Knees and elbows, check. Hips and shoulders, check. Let me try shifting upwards...oops, forgot to check my neck. A neck check. Terrible joke, but anything to distract myself from the more depressing thought of NOT BEING DEAD.

Okay, not helpful.

Everything seems to be working fine, so I gradually lift myself into a sitting position, then carefully stand up. Looking around, I appear to be in a room made of heavily packed earthen walls. The ground, as I thought earlier, was packed earth as well. It could be that I woke up in a rural village, but I have long learned not to judge by appearances. This could be the capital city for all I know. There is no furniture, but there are a few marks on the floor to indicate that something was stored here before...so maybe this is just a spare storage room? I’ll find out once I ask someone.

If there is anyone alive left to ask.

The only door I see is made of wood, which is odd. If the people here have the ability to work with wood to make a door, then surely they could have made the entire room out of wood? Or maybe the walls are packed so hard that they are actually stronger than the door, and the wood was used just because it is lighter to move? Again, I will only be able to tell once I step outside. And if what lays outside is what I think it is, then half of me really does not want to do out there.

Creeping along silently so as not not alert anyone or anything, I try the handle on the door, also made of wood. It doesn’t appear to be locked, not that I could see one from this side. Definitely not an old bedroom then. Easing it open as slowly as I could, I peek outside.

Blobs. Dozens of bright blue, jelly like blobs, about knee high. Jiggling, twitching, consuming. The place was overrun...by slimes.

...Dammit.