There was a never-ending expanse of snow waxen clouds. But that was it. There was no background to offset this expanse of white. There were no skies, no suns, no moons, no stars. There was merely an endless white that bled off into more colorless clouds. An unfinished canvas, stilled and forever lifeless.

Vaeril had been stuck in this same old dream for what seemed to be an eternity and more. In this dream, or rather nightmare, he had only one of his senses to work with. There was only sight. He could not feel anything, not even his own body, if it even existed. He could not hear a single sound, if it even existed.

Silence was his only companion.

Even the only sense that worked betrayed him. What was sight if nothing ever moved nor changed? It seemed to him that the only color he had known was no color at all. He felt akin to a giant eyeball lazily drifting by.

Such thoughts led him to doubt his own existence. Was he even alive? Was this death? As he lay there floating silently, he contemplated once more for perhaps the thousandth time. Was this truly a dream? Or was this finality? A death that seemed to never end? Was he dead or alive? Or perhaps he was stuck in between beginning and end. In purgatory? A prelude to inevitable oblivion?

Had his transmigration ability even worked? Was it simply a lie, a delusion he had seen at death’s door, hoping for a second chance at life?

Time passed in his white stillness. Slowly or quickly, he knew not. But he did know that time passed. He drifted aimlessly among these still clouds, unable to control where he went. His sense of self slowly but steadily diminished. Just what was his name again?

This is what a mountain probably feels like as centuries pass by, he thought to himself, his mind a blur.

NO! NO!

He could not lose sense of himself. He had to at least remember his own name! His own death! His world! But what was his name again? How did he die? The answers were slow to form into a thought.

Vaeril. Vaeril. Yes, that was it. His name was Vaeril. He was Vaeril and he had died during an apocalypse on Earth.

Days, months, years, decades, or perhaps centuries. Time passed by inexorably. It was an unstoppable force, an immutable law in which he had no control of. His only accompaniment in this passage of time was the steady repetition of his name and whatever few precious memories he retained of Earth.

Vaeril. Vaeril. Vaeril. Like a mantra, he chanted his name.

It was all for naught, however. Nothing changed. What was he even persevering for? He was simply delaying his inevitable oblivion. He soon lost all hope of escape and his sense of began to slip even further away, eroded by the still winds of time.

Please. Anyone! Please help me! I will do anything! A final, desperate plea.

Then, as if beckoned by his plea, a change began. It was small, almost unnoticeable at first.

A small patch of darkness was moving forward, eating away at the distant white clouds. Unstoppable, its momentum was. Slowly but surely, the darkness ate away at the whiteness like a black paint brush slowly painting away at a white canvas.

It was not long before the all-consuming darkness reached him, enveloping him in its entirety. And from its depth, a baritone and solemn voice.

Life to life.

Soul to soul.

Karma must be repaid.

With the last vestiges of my life and soul,

With your consent,

I have helped paved the way for you.

And now you must help me in return.

Three tasks I have assigned to you, O foreign soul.

Ten years’ time, you must fulfill them.

Lest your soul perish alongside mine.

Witness be the Esotherial to our soul contract.

<><><>

Darkness. A familiar darkness. A darkness one faced when falling asleep, closing their eyes.

But such an instinctual and familiar notion of closing and opening one’s eyes, he found to be a difficult chore. It was only with a colossal effort that he managed to finally open his eyes.

The revitalization of his sight immediately gave way for other senses. He took deep wracking breaths that tugged at his lungs which immediately gave way to smell. A familiar smell of death and decay. Vaeril felt a sharp, stinging dryness all over his body, not quite unlike that of a man bereft of water for days in a desert.

Ignoring both the pain and smell, he realized that he was lying on his back, stuck inside the cramped space of what looked to be a rectangular metal box. In a panic, he clawed at the top, attempting to push the lid open. To his relief, the lid gave way easily with a slight creaking sound as it fell to the side.

Light peered down as Vaeril found himself staring at a metallic black ceiling. Across its surface, different shades of yellow lights danced out from what looked to be white gems.

He tried moving his neck to inspect his surroundings. At that small movement, the joints in his neck popped and crackled, making him realize the stiffness of his body. The stiffness was similar to the feeling of waking up from a restless sleep, except magnified a thousand times over.

More crackling sounds came from his arms and shoulders as he reached for a foothold against the edges of the metal box. He groaned, trying to pull himself up. Little by little, inch by inch, he finally managed to sit upright. His muscles felt as if they had been out of use for quite some time. But worst of all was the thirst. He needed water. In fact, any kind of liquid would do. He simply needed to quench his aching thirst.

Sitting upright changed his vantage point and allowed Vaeril to observe far more. He found that he was not inside a box, but rather a black sarcophagus laid atop the middle of a stone dais with a set of stairs leading to it. The sarcophagus—his sarcophagus—was a simple one. It was a plain, black rectangular metal box, its simple lid hanging to the side. The only intricacy that could be found were the patterns on the sides of the sarcophagus. They were spiral patterns that shimmered with a soft, silver light.

What caught his eyes immediately afterward was a beautiful onyx-colored longsword, its point stabbed into a groove on the floor right before the set of stairs leading to the dais. The sight of the weapon immediately brought back a feeling of recognition inside him that faded away within half a thought.

“Just how did I get here?” he murmured to himself. His memories were hazy and his thoughts were slow to form. The only distinct thoughts that came to the front of his mind was that his name was Vaeril, that he was from apocalyptic Earth, and that he had died from poison and blood loss.

Standing up ate away more strength from what little strength he had left. His legs, the muscles atrophied from years of disuse, felt like jelly. The thought came unbidden. What is jelly? It was a familiar, yet unfamiliar word. All he knew was that it was some kind of food.

Contemplating about jelly made Vaeril realize he was hungry. He very much wanted some bacon. Another word that was familiar, yet unfamiliar. He had the distinct feeling that bacon was the food of the gods. But what exactly did it taste like again?

Shaking his head free from the frivolous thoughts, he climbed out of the sarcophagus. Gritting his teeth, step by step, as if pulled toward to it magnetically, he shuffled toward the longsword. What should have taken seconds to move toward the weapon felt like minutes to him. It was only then, when he was climbing down the three short steps leading to the dais, that he noticed his nakedness.

Vaeril knew he should have been embarrassed at his nakedness, but embarrassment was nowhere close to be found. There was only the aching in his muscles, even with what little he had of them, and the thirst. He found himself to be thin and malnourished, as if he had been starved for years. A passing strong wind could have knocked him over at the moment, he felt like.

Uncertainty hit Vaeril. Why did this body of his felt so unfamiliar to him? And his hair. It was unfamiliar too. Long, silver hair that stopped short at his shoulders. He faintly recalled having short brown hair. He looked down. The pride and joy of every man. That too was unfamiliar.

Was such a mistaken recollection simply his imagination? Vaeril sighed, wondering just exactly what had happened to him and why he was here in this condition, one foot into the grave, thirsty and starving.

A cursory glance around the circular chamber room made it clear that the only objects worth noting were the longsword, the sarcophagus with its opened lid, and the black double gates sealing the entrance of the chamber. There was nothing he could use to cover his nakedness. Vaeril could only shrug in defeat before scrutinizing the longsword closer.

A raven-black blade that seemed to absorb all the light around it. A spherical pommel embedded with a red gem. A cross guard intricately made in the image of an onyx dragon. The longsword was a thing of beauty, as if fashioned not for mortal hands.

By the time he realized it, his hand was already grasping the hilt of the longsword, the grip perfectly fitting his fingers. He pulled at the longsword, taking it out from the groove of the floor it had been stuck in. Despite his weakness, the strength that had suddenly filled his body the moment he grasped the weapon allowed him to lift the longsword up from its groove.

A white glow burst outward from the weapon, the brightest of the glow coming from the red gem. The glow lasted only for half a heartbeat before disappearing.

Master?

A cutesy voice, high pitched, surprised at first. A voice that could have belonged to a small girl could be heard. In his surprise, he almost dropped the weapon.

Master! You are alive! How Loliya have missed you. How Loliya is filled with the greatest of joys for you to once more wield this Exalted One.

He ignored the voice, thinking it to be a figment of his imagination. Perhaps he was becoming delusional, the insanity of having no idea what had happened to him and the trauma of his recent death affecting him.

Master! Can you not hear Loliya?

The figment of his imagination once more spoke. Could a little girl’s voice, one that referred to herself in third person, be the true guise of insanity? He would have thought it to be more of a clown’s voice. Clown. That was another familiar word.

Stop ignoring Loliya, Master!

That. That was certainly not insanity. At least he didn’t think it was. He frowned. Perhaps this voice held the key to answering his questions.

“Who are you?” A little hesitant, he ventured a question toward the air. He was not exactly sure where the voice was coming from. Logic would dictate that the voice was coming from the weapon as the voice only appeared after he took the longsword into his hand and it began to glow. But were weapons intelligent? That was certainly not part of his knowledge.

Master, how could you have forgotten your beloved Loliya? The terror we inflicted upon our enemies, the blood we drank from our foes, the defeat we granted to our most worthy opponents. Have you forgotten all those precious memories?

He looked down at the longsword in his right hand. The voice truly was coming from the weapon. “My memories are very hazy now, but I am certain I do not remember you. In fact, I can barely remember myself. Why did I awaken from a sarcophagus? Am I still alive?”

Such woeful sorrow. You have forgotten Loliya and yourself. She—the weapon—sighed wistfully. You are Azul Ragna san’Oblis Xolron, the wielder of I, the mightiest of all Zenitence weapons, the Exalted One known as Loliya. You were slain by the hateful Khled zo’Gar, the Great Betrayer! Upon your death, the Final Leisure, your followers and companions put you to rest inside this tomb. Being the best and loyal weapon that Loliya is, Loliya followed along. In no way was Loliya simply trying to take a nap.

Confusion. “My name is not Vaeril?” he asked, his voice hoarse from speaking just those few sentences before. He was far too thirsty, his throat aching for any sort of liquid he could get.

Vaeril? Who is that? The longsword shook in his hand, the action reflecting the surprise in her tone. Impossible. Now that Loliya takes a closer look, you have only a fragment of Master’s soul. The rest is all foreign! All foreign! Oh, such woeful sorrow.

A furious shaking of the hilt. What have you done with Master’s soul! How is it possible that you have combined with it! Ah, my dear Master, the virginity of his soul profaned, penetrated and absorbed by a foreign soul. It should have been Loliya who should have done such an enviable deed.

Vaeril could now truly conclude that the weapon’s voice was indeed not a figment of his imagination. There was no way his insanity, or a figment of his imagination, could encompass such thoughts. At least, he hoped not. He shuddered at the thought of his insanity being this little girl’s voice.

“How would I know?” replied Vaeril. “The only memories I have are all hazy. I am uncertain if any of them are even true. Are we on Earth?”

Earth? Like the element? A contemplative pause before she spoke once more. O foreign soul named Vaeril, try calling out “status.” Perhaps that will shed light onto our situation, for the Esotherial knows all.

The word status triggered inside him memories, both good and bad. Like the breaking of a dam, the memories rushed forth, parting through the fog shrouding his mind.

He was Vaeril, a 24-year-old male, stuck in a dead-end night job managing a warehouse. He was a loner by nature and cultivation, made worse by the death of his parents five years prior.

And in the apocalypse that had occurred on Earth, he had tried to save a pair of siblings, only to end up betrayed. The consequences of the betrayal, and of going against his nature, had led to his death, poisoned and slowly bleeding away. In his last conscious moments, he had used his quirk ability [Transmigration] after it had unlocked. This was why his body felt so unfamiliar to him. He was most likely in a different body in an entirely different world.

Vaeril needed to make certain of his conclusion as the weapon had not given him an answer. “What is this world called?” he asked, apprehensive of the answer he knew was sure to come.

In the ancient draconic tongue, the world was called Auraerum. But now it is commonly called Aerum, as the mortal inhabitants like to call it.

Closing his eyes for a brief moment, Vaeril allowed the answer to wash over him, sink underneath the quicksand of his mind. He had been Isekai-ed, transmigrated into what looked to be the beginning of a medieval fantasy. His death, his transmigration, his new body in a different world where none knew of him, where none had ever met him before. He was truly alone now. If he disregarded the talking sword he had as a companion.

It did not take long before acceptance of his situation was established. Vaeril had never been one to mull over things. And it wasn’t as if he had anyone of importance back on Earth after the death of his parents. Like a hermit, he had withdrawn from society, making only the most minimal necessary contacts, and games and books being his sole companion. The advent of the apocalypse had done nothing to change him, only cementing his hermit status even more.

He took a deep breath before releasing it. “Status,” said Vaeril firmly. He had the distinct feeling of déjà vu, as if he had said the word thousands of times before. But that was most likely because of his unfamiliar body with its unfamiliar vocal cords producing a hoarse baritone tinged with a subtle lilting quality.

Upon that word, a blue screen immediately winked into existence in front of his eyes. The screen hovering in midair held written words which he could surprisingly read.

A flicker of a memory, one which he was intimately familiar with. A game status screen.

Name: Azul Ragna san’Oblis Xolron (Vaeril Chime)

Type: Living (Immortal)

Race: Sanguis (Nephilim)

Level: 12 *(179)

Age: 4152 *(24)

Health: 3%

Mana: 2%

Shadeblood: 4%

Holy: 1%

Demonic: 1%

Soul: 100% (Amalgamation)

Title: [Demonic User] [Dragontouched] [Dragon Slayer] [*Fireblessed] [*Guardian of Sanguis] [Holy User] [*Liaison of Arkani] [Mana User] [Magus] [Meandering Lover] [Myriad Killer] [Patron of War] [Sanguine Imperator] [Shadeblood User] [Soul User] [*Sword Saint] [Isekai World Traveler] [Zenitence Wielder]

*Beneficial effects of the titles are not applied. Certain conditions must be fulfilled before the titles can be unlocked.

Talents: [Air Affinity] [Body Affinity] [Dark Affinity] [Demonic Affinity] [Earth Affinity] [Enlightened One] [Fast Learner] [Fire Affinity] [Holy Affinity] [Inert Affinity] [Light Affinity] [Memory] [Neutral Affinity] [Shadeblood Affinity] [Soul Affinity] [Water Affinity]

Quirks: [Akashic Tongue] [Berserker Fury] [Deviant Charm] [Fateful Gambler] [Heroic Visage] [Manifold Compatibility] [Multichanneler] [Nemean Fortitude] [Nether Contractor] [System Player] [Transmigration] [Twilight of War] [Unhindered Growth]

Abnormalities: [Esotherial Weakening] [Soul Fixation]

Reading the status screen, Vaeril found his suspicions confirmed. But he knew it was unwise to form conclusions so early. “Just what exactly am I looking for?”

A soothing tone, her voice ever so soft. Tell Loliya everything and she shall try to explain what is different from her former Master’s status.

A slight pause, her voice becoming even softer inside his mind. Know that you can trust Loliya, for we are forever bonded, even being the foreign soul that you now are. The bond between us, which you can no doubt feel, is proof enough. You need not speak directly to Loliya. Simply will your thought to Loliya and mind-speak through our bond.

Now that she mentioned it, the bond Vaeril felt between the weapon and himself was almost eerie. He could physically feel each and every part of the longsword, its curves, its gem, its intricate carvings. It was as if he had grown a third arm. Between the weapon and himself, there was an awareness that went beyond simple touch, beyond even the most intimate of couples. It was as if he had become one with the weapon.

It was enough for him to decide to trust the longsword—not that he had any other courses of action to take—Vaeril recited everything on his status screen while Loliya silently listened, not a trace of her previous playfulness to be seen.

As expected and unexpected. You now have two names, denoting the combined soul inside you. Your race was human, but Master is a Sanguis. As for your level, it is nowhere close to what it was at its most glorious. You have bled out far too much Esotherial essence after your death, lowering your level. Your age, on the other hand, is quite intriguing.

A contemplative sigh. It seems we have slumbered for over four thousand years. You have become mere skin and bones. Your body has only held up to the erosion of time because of the enchantment cast upon the sarcophagus, your high level, and your race.

The “Type” in my status says I am a living immortal. What exactly does that mean?

It means you will not die from old age. There is, however, a drawback to being immortal. Once you become immortal, you can no longer naturally gain Esotherial essence as you grow older. You can only gain essence from slaying other entities or through other means.

The playfulness returned in her tone. How lovely it is that your real soul’s age is only twenty-four. Loliya have always wanted a little brother to call her own.

Vaeril suppressed a half-hearted chuckle. Can a weapon even have a little brother?

Annoyance mixed with sulkiness transmitted through their bond. Call me Loliya, Your Zenithness, or the Exalted One. Loliya is no mere weapon! What mere weapon has been worshipped and desired by countless mortals and immortals alike!

Very well, Loliya. I did not recognize your greatness. Vaeril saw the need to please the weapon to move the conversation along faster. What other information should I know about my status?

A feeling of contented satisfaction from the bond. The thought of a cat yawning lazily popped into his mind.

What you should know is that you have retained all the titles, talents, and quirks of Loliya’s former Master after combining with but a fragment of his soul. How miraculous. New additions to your titles, talents, and quirks have also been added due to your amalgamated soul.

What are they? Vaeril asked, peering at his status screen, though he already saw the familiar words.

The most important points to note are likely your quirks [Akashic Tongue], [Manifold Compatibility], [Nether Contractor], [System Player], [Transmigration], and [Unhindered Growth]. Then there is the curious abnormality [Soul Fixation] and the [Isekai World Traveler] title. What strange words. Despite Loliya’s long life, she has never heard of this “Isekai” and “Transmigration.”

She paused a few seconds before continuing. The knowledge you have, the knowledge you seek, whether consciously or unconsciously, the Esotherial knows all. Try asking the Esotherial for more information. Say the words in your mind or out loud. Put your will into it. And the Esotherial will reveal the knowledge, however much it deems to reveal, through its script.

What exactly is this Esotherial you keep talking about? Vaeril asked. Was she referring to the system?

The Esotherial is the driving force of creation and destruction. It is the invisible force that moves the soul and governs fate. The force itself suffuses the world, causing random happenings. It is omnipresent, yet not at all. And from the Esotherial, mana and many other types of energy and magic were created.

Her voice became a soft whisper. Don’t tell anyone this, but Loliya remembers hearing a secret from older entities than her that such random happenings by the Esotherial are known as the accursed RNG, though a select lucky few calls it the blessed RNG.

RNG. Vaeril was now certain she was talking about the system. The Esotherial she was speaking of was most likely the energy that the system ran on. Or perhaps the system was the Esotherial itself. He made a mental note to look into it further.

The soft, secretive tone returned back to normal. Being the governor of the threads of fate and the myriad souls themselves, the Esotherial records your very essence. This essence is reflected by the Esotherial Scripts, or what came to be commonly known as “status.” Smugness transmitted through their bond. Isn’t Loliya the most knowledgeable and the most helpful Loliya you have ever seen?

Ignoring the pride transmitting through their bond and her self-praise, Vaeril focused his will on the words. It came easily to him, having done such actions hundreds, if not, thousands of time back on Earth. Multiple status screens, some of them familiar and others not, appeared in front of his eyes. He scrolled through each of them carefully.

Title: [Isekai World Traveler]

Description: Having traveled to another world, you have joined the Isekai Faction, being suitable to be called an Isekai World Traveler. Trucks are now your favorite vehicles and a steady source of fascination. Strange or cliché plots are likelier to happen in your presence. A small, overall stat boost and luck is applied.

An intriguing title. It was likely that the system, or the Esotherial as Loliya had called it, had been watching one too many anime or tv shows involving reincarnation, transmigration, and so on. Or perhaps the Esotherial was simply a consolidation of information from across the worlds, of which included Earth. Vaeril wondered just how many worlds there were. Was he still in the same universe? Or perhaps he was in some kind of parallel universe. Would he meet his doppelganger here?

He moved on to the next status screen, leaving the questions unanswered and in the backburner of his mind.

Quirk: [Akashic Tongue]

Description: A quirk granting the ability to understand almost all spoken and written language. There are exceptions to this, one such being that one cannot understand encryptions. Your words will naturally be translated for others. This is a passive ability that can be turned on or off.

A familiar quirk. It was one of the two quirks Vaeril could use back on Earth when he was still human. Not that it had seen much use. Zombies and the monsters he had met had limited intelligence and did not bother communicating with him. They only salivated at the sight and taste of human flesh. Being a hermit, Vaeril also had limited contact with foreign languages.

And perhaps there were stronger and more intelligent monsters with which he could communicate with, but he had never bothered to meet them. Avoiding them was in his best interest for continued survival.

Vaeril had seen one too many inane deaths from deluded people who had tried to communicate with zombies, attempting to influence or take control of them. Or people who had thought the walking dead that were their relatives could be reasoned with. But Vaeril understood the latter sentiment. He too did not know what he would have done had he been in a situation where he met his dead parents returning as zombies.

Quirk: [Manifold Compatibility]

Description: A quirk granting compatibility to many things. Whether that is a blessing or a curse remains to be seen. The experience of death and your reforged soul has unlocked this quirk.

This was a quirk he had never managed to unlock. The conditions to unlock the quirk had been hidden from him. No wonder too. The experience of death being part of the hidden condition would have been one that he never would have considered. There was an ominous warning added to the already short and ambiguous description. Vaeril could only pray that the warning was merely flavor text.

Quirk: [Nether Contractor]

Description: A quirk granting the ability to contract an entity from the Netherworld every thirty levels. 80% of your total mana and soul energy are necessary to use this ability. The experience of death and your ability to use soul energy has unlocked this quirk. Use with caution, for the fickleness of the Esotherial is cruel.

Another quirk that had death as part of its hidden condition. Was the system some kind of sadistic overlord that took pleasure in watching the demise of its users? Being only level 12 at the moment, Vaeril had no choice but to consider the quirk for later.

Quirk: [System Player]

Description: A quirk granting the ability use system privileges.

Communication: The privilege to peer into an entity’s essence (not applicable to other System Players) three times every thirty days. The answer gained will depend on relevancy, luck, mood, and other hidden factors. Use the word “Scan” to peer into an entity’s essence.

Remaining System Scans: 3 (Reset Timer: 29 Days)

Inventory: The privilege to use the system inventory. Allows you to store items in 5 different storage slots. Each successive five levels will increase storage slots by one. Cannot store anything larger or heavier than yourself. Use the word “Inventory” for further display.

Inventory Slots: 7

Loot: The privilege to loot whatever entities you slay. The corpse will drop random loot of corresponding strength. Can also drop relevant spells, items, equipment, and currency as well as irrelevant loot. The world’s your oyster but one entity’s pearl may simply be trash.

Quest: The privilege to obtain quests from the system. One new random quest will be generated every thirty days. Three quests must be fulfilled each year or this privilege will be lost. Upon completion of quests, various rewards will be given. Use the word “Quest” for further display.

Active Quests: 1

World Map: The privilege to automatically map out places you have already visited. Only geographic details will be mapped. Entities will not show up as details. Other functions are hidden and must be unlocked. Use the word “World Map” for further display.

This was perhaps the most valuable quirk in his arsenal. All the humans on Earth who had been chosen by the system had this quirk, allowing them to gain an edge in the apocalypse. Without this quirk, there would have been far more deaths due to the apocalypse. The privilege to loot whatever entities you slay? Unhindered and beyond the laws of physics, that one privilege was unbelievably valuable. A perpetual motion machine, one that shot out infinite loot with the only caveat being that they came from corpses.

Quirk: [Unhindered Growth]

Description: A quirk granting unhindered and accelerated growth to all aspects, including levels, skills, stats, and energies. The experience of death and your reforged soul has unlocked this quirk. While others can only take one step at a time, you can take multiple steps, even sometimes leaping over them. You are the envy of all others, the purported son/daughter of heaven.

The description sounded well and good, but Vaeril could not get over the hidden condition of experiencing death. Truly, the system was some sadistic nutjob. How would others even unlock this quirk if they did not have any quirks relating to resurrection, reincarnation, or so on.

Quirk: *[Transmigration]

Description: A quirk granting the ability to move your soul randomly throughout worlds before finding a random, suitable body to inhabit. Once transmigration is successful, the abnormality [Soul Fixation] will occur. And if said abnormality is not resolved, transmigration will result in failure, the disintegration of the soul. Can cause random side effects, including but not limited to, transfiguration, transmogrification, perpetual dreaming, dissolution of self, soul mutation, memory loss, gobbledygook affliction, and instant death. The conditions of health below 5% and strong emotions must be met before this ability can be used. Upon usage, will consume current life, 50% of maximum mana, and will damage your soul. Use with caution, for the fickleness of the Esotherial is cruel.

A cold sweat cut across his body. Had he used 4% more mana prior to transmigration, he would have no longer met the 50% maximum mana requirement and would have died.

Looking at the random side effects, Vaeril now realized that he had been afflicted with perpetual dreaming, but the former inhabitant of this body, Azul, had pulled him out of that eternal dream. He thanked his lucky stars that there had been no other serious side effects. Transmogrification, transfiguration, dissolution of self, gobbledygook affliction, and instant death all sounded like serious detriments, the last effect even resulting in instant death. Heck, he didn’t even know what in the world transmogrification or gobbledygook affliction meant.

After seeing all those side effects, Vaeril was grateful he only had a slight memory loss to work with. He could live with forgetting the taste of bacon, despite its godhood status, and he could live with not knowing what jelly was.

Lastly, Vaeril called up the two abnormalities.

Abnormality: [Esotherial Weakening]

Description: An abnormality resulting from the fracturing of the soul and from the erosion of time. This has led to the leakage of Esotherial essence, resulting in a major overall loss, including mana loss, health loss, stat loss, and level loss. Return back to the former level to cure abnormality.

Abnormality: [Soul Fixation]

Description: An abnormality resulting from transmigration as well as soul contract. Random memory loss has occurred as well as transformation (amalgamation) of the soul. Transmigration’s failure, disintegration of the soul, will occur in ten years’ time if transmigrator has not fulfilled the host’s three tasks.

First Task: Slay Khled zo’Gar.

Second Task: Ascertain if there are any descendants of Sanguis or of your own lineage still remaining. If there are descendants still alive, do your best to help them.

Third Task: Pay back your debt to the devil Azazel, the Prince of War and the Master of the Arkani.

Remaining Time: 3649 Days.

There was far too much information and far too many status screens opened. He willed the previously read screens to close and they closed instantly. Convenience at its finest.

Having sifted through the status screens, Vaeril assessed and reiterated his present situation. He had pieced together a more complete story using the newly gained information and his past memories.

He was from apocalyptic Earth. After saving the siblings and dying in the process, his soul had transmigrated into this world, inhabiting the body known as Azul Ragna san’Oblis Xolron. In the transmigration process, he had been afflicted with a perpetual dreaming for an unknown length of time. It was only after he had made a desperate plea for help that the fragment soul of Azul had combined with him. And in doing so, formed a soul contract with him, resulting in the present abnormality [Soul Fixation].

Vaeril could still distinctly remember the words as if they had been seared into the very fiber of his being. From the darkness that had consumed him in his never-ending dream, the solemn voice of Azul had called out to him.

Life to life.

Soul to soul.

Karma must be repaid.

With the last vestiges of my life and soul,

With your consent,

I have helped paved the way for you.

And now you must help me in return.

Three tasks I have assigned to you, O foreign soul.

Ten years’ time, you must fulfill them.

Lest your soul perish alongside mine.

Witness be the Esotherial to our soul contract.

The tasks Azul referred to, no doubt, was the [Soul Fixation]. Vaeril knew he had no choice in this regard. If he did not fulfill the soul fixation, his own soul would be disintegrated after 3649 days or about ten years.

Vaeril stared down at the longsword in his right hand. “Who exactly is Khled zo’Gar?” A hoarse whisper of a voice. Overwhelmed by the information, he had forgotten to mind-speak to Loliya.

The Great Betrayer, Khled zo’Gar, is an ancient black dragon that betrayed his own kind for power and immortality. Many other names he is known by. The Shadow Dragon of Pestilence, Herald of Destruction, The Ancient Calamity, and Immortal Sin. Many have attempted to slay him over the thousands of years, but all have failed.

Vaeril could only bark out a dry cough in response. He had to kill a supposedly ancient immortal dragon in ten years’ time or risk having his soul disintegrated. Truly, there was nothing like having an impossibly grand goal from the very first moment he awakened in a new world. And that was simply his first task. RNG, the system, was a cruel mistress indeed.

Well, I suppose I will be adding another attempt to that. Hopefully, one that will not end in failure.

A cheerful inflection. Such heroism! That is Loliya’s favorite trait for her wielders. Together, the bards will sing of Loliya and her wielder, of how the greatest of all Zenitence weapons and her otherworldly wielder brought down the sword of justice onto Khled zo’Gar, the Great Betrayer!

Vaeril halfheartedly cheered along, infected by her enthusiasm. First things first, how exactly do I get out of this tomb? And where can I find some clothes and water? I’m guessing we need to go through that ominous looking double black gates at the end of the chamber?

Hesitation mixed with embarrassment. Perhaps, mayhap, perchance, reasonably, Loliya has forgotten that we are on a deserted island with the closest land two weeks away by ship.

Vaeril was beginning to think he was doomed. Before he had a chance to even embark on his dragon-slaying task of a quest, he would first starve to death or become desiccated, dried up into a husk—not that he already wasn’t one.

To top it off, he had awoken with only 3% of his health remaining. Don’t even mention an immortal dragon. At this moment, a stray rabbit could have probably killed him.

At least not all hope was lost. Judging from the former status of his new body, his seemingly powerful talking sword, and the synergy of all his quirks, Vaeril could do his damned best to make sure he would be strong enough in time to solve the [Soul Fixation].

But first, there was something Vaeril had to do. In his disorientation, he had almost forgotten a crucial fact. Before he had transmigrated into this new world, into this unfamiliar body, Vaeril had stored spare clothes and food and drink in his system inventory.

Inventory, he willed, calling up the blue screen for the system inventory. Seeing a familiar blue screen, Vaeril sighed in relief as the quirk [System Player] was unaffected by his transmigration. Truly, seeing was believing.

Profanity immediately escaped his parched lips seeing the scene of despair. There were seven empty slots in his inventory screen. Of course they are empty. Looks like my nudity won’t be getting cured anytime soon.

Confusion. Nudity can be cured?

How can you even hear me? I wasn’t trying to mind-speak to you.

Loliya, being the greatest Zenitence weapon that she is, can hear some of your surface thoughts and can feel your emotions through the bond.

Simply marvelous. Vaeril now had a Zenitence weapon, whatever that meant, with the voice of a little girl invading his deepest privacy.

Let me just ask to make sure…but can you transform into a human form?

Surprise. How did you know? Loliya never told you that she can transform when you reach level 60. Can you also read Loliya’s thoughts? A feeling of pride and self-confidence projected through the bond. Being the greatest Zenitence weapon that Loliya is, Loliya reflects her wielder’s level, growing alongside with the wielder.

For what was perhaps the millionth time, Vaeril released another sigh.