Chapter 4

Winning the Lottery

Now after having lived through twelve full lives, you are probably asking yourself if I came up with a contingency plan for living the easy life. A fallback plan, a plan that I can rely on when life goes to hell and back. Well thank you for asking and likely doubting, but I do have a plan. It is the same plan all low-income families have to better themselves; I’m going to play the lottery. That’s right the lottery, what most would call a tax on people who are exceptionally bad at math and probability.

See, I made note of this plan my third life. Then my fourth I confirmed the original findings, repeatedly. For nine straight lives the lotto numbers on this night, my reincarnation night has all been the same. See before I could not register for getting a lottery ticket. There are three quick conditions to get instantly disqualified from getting a lottery ticket sold to you. The first is being an officer in the military. This had something originally to do with needing to set an example for the troops by not being a degenerate gambler or something. The second condition is that even if you had to be awakened. The third and final condition was that you couldn’t have Precognition greater than 10%. While I do have Precognition, my 0.01% makes it so that this is a non-factor. In fact, a quick thumb print confirms that I have recently been awakened and am thus old enough to pay the math-tax for a lottery ticket. My condition also states that I am not now or considering to be a military officer. That confirmation complete, the machine happily takes my funds and gives me my self-directed ticket.

Now you might be wondering how it was that I remember the same set of lottery numbers from so many countless lives? The answer is simple, first I set the numbers as my password for everything. When given a new account I set that as the initial password. Then when I set up a quick entry pin to unlock my digi-pad, the same numbers. Every single time, in every single way I can, I use these same numbers. So now, on my first time ever of being allowed to legally buy a Lottery ticket, I buy one and I expect to win.

There is probably a story about this somewhere, one hundred- and fifty-three-year-old inhabits eighteen-year old’s body to buy first Lottery Ticket to win the mega-billionaire jackpot. No, that is not a thing? Well not yet at least. I have all the time in the world to make this lifetime truly memorable.

I remember one time me and the boys were on the front lines, waiting for war to break out with the Endar. That is when Drew Neuinsinger told me the plan he had for if he won the lottery once he got out of his contract. He predicted that his life expectancy would be three months max, as he planned on doing nothing but hookers and crank until his heart literally burst from his chest. I had never been so jealous of a fellow soldier’s zeal at life, as I was of him in that moment.

While I know I could never sink that low, it is still a good ideal to have. Sort of the golden benchmark that all other forms of freedom are measured by.

The great thing about this system, after you’ve chosen your numbers that’s it. You must come back to a kiosk to get your code scanned to see if you won. But if you win, boom. With my first and only real task for the first day of my freedom, I decide to take it easy. I go to the park.

Realistically I should be jogging right now. Even though I don’t have a perfect body yet, doesn’t mean I can’t get one if I work out hard enough. Also with my magical expertise, training is simple. If I pull a muscle, heal slowly. If I run out of air, I purify the oxygen around me. Then if I get dehydrated, I drink purified water. It’s what I used while in the military, especially my first few days while at war college. With that training regimen and already being aware of the course materials, training was simple.

In fact, I plan on doing the same, if only so I can be found attractive to the ladies. I know, I’m shallow, wanting others to find me attractive, but my ex really did a number on me. I can’t explain how many perfectly good dates I ruined by always seeing her either on campus or being stationed with her at various points throughout my military careers. Even in the lives where we never dated, she still had a way of butting into my love life. As if ruining the relationship, we had three times wasn’t enough. In the off years, she wanted to ruin my other lives as well.

Realizing that I am just getting into my own head, I decide to run and at least being doing circuit drills. I sprint forward, then every few hundred meters I stop to do push-ups, squats, sit-ups, and so on. Despite how much my body hates these sensations, I enjoy the release of endorphins. Especially as it is just a mild continuation spell that is needed to continue to make more endorphins and make the endorphins that I do have last longer.

Before I lose track of time, I decide to set a personal timer on my wrist pad. With my alarm set, I continue training for myself. This is truly an amazing feeling as every action I am taking is for me and me alone. Every step I take is for me to live a longer healthier life. Every push-up I give is for me to be that much stronger when I die as an old man.

No wait, dying as an old man is likely not possible. I will say the Gods did seem to keep their promise to me. I might be immortal, that is never aging until I inevitably die of outside causes. So maybe I can’t get old, but each of these exercises will help make it so my older brother won’t steal my future wives from me.

To his defense he doesn’t steal every wife I’ve ever had. All the women that are clearly denoted as train wrecks he steers well clear of. No, there is only one woman he has ever stolen from me. And if it was just the one time, I would be okay. No, screw that I would never be okay. But still regardless he stole her from me three times. Three times. That is why I’ve had such a weird reaction to women these past few lives. It doesn’t help that as an officer it is hard to find a civilian who truly understands the lifestyle of an officer. Thus, the only women who tend to stick around from that end and find me attractive are often damaged goods.

That said as I’m running, I notice a lot more women than usual look at me, then quickly turn their heads in fear. As an eighteen-year-old male I am well used to such actions from women, but it still hurts. And for everyone to look at me like that is a little unnerving. Even a few males look at me the same way.

“Get away freak.” A man shouts out as our eyes lock, and he begins to snarl. Now being trained to spot aggression I do what comes naturally, I stop my run and stare the aggressive person down.

“What the fuck’s your problem?” I ask.

“What the fuck’s yours.” He shoots back. “Trying to play night stalker with those contact lenses?” He asks.

As soon as I hear the words, my chest drops. Of course, with these dark purple eyes while running in the park I either come across as a LARPER or someone pretending to be a vampire. Or if they have a terrible opinion of me, they could think I am LARPing as a vampire.

Definitely going to need shades. I think to myself. I will still be seen as one of the creepy kids running around with shades at night, and likely trip over everything around me. But at least I won’t be considered someone who wants to be a vampire.

“How much did it set you back to get glowing contacts?” His friend next to him pipes up.

“What?”

“Your glowing contacts, how much did they cost? That might be handy. Can you see well in front of you?” He asks.

As he speaks, I realize that I can still see clearly out, though I thought this was mostly due to it still being early evening. When I look up, I see that no it is almost completely dark. It is almost completely dark, but I can see clearly.

“Look man. Sorry if I came across as a little harsh. But this area of the park is for serious LARPERs only. If you want to go play vampire, then find some old broom closet to hole yourself up in.” The man shoots back.

I am being judged by a LARPer, worse I can see where he is coming from.

Just when I am about to explain that I don’t want to LARP or be a vampire, my arm starts to vibrate.

I turn to see the alarm that I set for myself is now going off.

“Oh, look he can’t play anyways, it must be past his curfew.” The elitist LARPer says.

It is past my curfew, or at least it would be if I still lived with my parents or was already booking travel to the nearest military academy, which would be BreakPoint Academy. The Academy where Jessica is likely spending the night at right now.

Still, good riddance. This is my life to stop making the same stupid mistakes. To do this completely I will completely break from every one of my normal habits. The most important habit to break, is to stop thinking about Jess. Besides it has been three lifetimes since I last tried that burning pile of feces, that was our relationship.

Nope, this time I will find Ms. Right and woo her with my cool, I check my watch to tell me the drawing numbers. And let out a yell in excitement “yes!”

My numbers hit. Now all I need to do is go turn them in tomorrow at one of the few lottery stores in the state. Then goodbye old life with a dead-end job that killed me each and every life. And hello perfect life. For this one moment, I felt on top of the world. This was the best day I had, since ever? Well, there was my wedding night to Jess, and NO! I am not going down that train of thought. That night never happened in this timeline. It will never happen in this timeline, and I will never use it as a reference point again. We have spoken about this Kyle. We need to move on, for all our sanities.

Sorry, being reincarnated so many times, I’ve found it is often better to try to disassociate timelines with different personality traits. It gets confusing, but ultimately that is often for the best. Now Kyle remember our motto “multiple reincarnations is not just a problem. It is all of our problems.”

Hearing that, I drop the thought about Jessica, like it was a bloody knife linking me to a previous crime. Then in a moment I stop and focus on the present. Less than a day in, and I have already reached my two personal goals for today. I passed all fifty floors of the Awakening trial, and I played and won the mega-planet lottery. I am a billionaire. Four hundred and fifty billion worth of cryptos are going to be paid to me. Not much, barely enough to buy a small island planet. But still it is so much more than I ever earned in all my previous lifetimes combined.

I take a selfie of myself, with a hologram of my ticket I purchased, and the lottery numbers being displayed next to me. Then I snap the picture, excited beyond belief. My chest is pounding with joy, pure unfiltered joy. Nothing can beat this moment of sheer absolute freedom. I am a civilian who has instantly made it, with a dream and standing on the backs of my twelve previous reincarnations I stand ready to make this life my best life.

Yep, nothing can possibly go wrong from here.

“Mr. Goldman!” A sharp voice ringing with power calls out. I turn to look and see a ghost. No not an apparition, but a ghost, a spec ops officer. Spec Ops is short for Special Operations, which is a fancy way of saying they get shit done when other nations or powers are too obstinate to do things the easy way.

That is Agent Graves. Not only do I recognize him from my previous lives, as he was my personal instructor at the Academies. He was also the person I turned to each time I found out that Jess cheated on me. That said, while this life has no connection to him, I can’t help but feel a deep emotional resonance with him.

“We need to talk.”

“Sorry Agent Graves, I’ve got nothing to say to you.” He twitches an eyebrow. As soon as I see it, I know he’s got me.

“Agent Graves is correct, though I don’t remember ever telling you, my name.” He says back.

As soon as he says that I realize the mistake almost immediately. I am not psychic, or at least I have not declared that I am psychic. If I was psychic that would also be another reason to deny me my lottery ticket winnings. No, I really need to start planning these chance encounters better.

“You didn’t need to. Your mother said you should be stopping by to play.” I quip back. I know, I know a ‘your mother’ joke, but what can I say I am stressed here. My eighteen-year-old body is still producing its own brand of excessive hormones.

“My mother is dead.”

I was prepared for this; he often used that line on unsuspecting soldiers when we were in. I met his mother once, name was Phyllis, made the best lemon cookies.

“Now that is not a very nice thing to say about her.”

He again raises an eyebrow. Dang, again he caught me. I am falling into the routine of speaking to Agent Graves like he was a friend, rather than the three hundred pound killing machine that he is. Also, it should be noted that he is in civilian clothing, meaning whatever he is doing is supposed to be off the official channels.

“So, do I need to say why I am here? Or do you already know?”

“Look if this is about those unpaid parking tickets, I swear the check is in the mail.” I say, not even missing a beat. I don’t have a car, so this should be easy to prove I was just deflecting.

He stares at me.

“Do I actually know you from somewhere?” He asks, as his eyes tend to bore into me.

I am about to pause, but then I realize there was a subtle suggestion hidden in those words. Subtle, he didn’t put power on all the words. Just on the words that made him seem like he would be a friend. I knew he was a manipulator, one who could turn people’s minds to his whim. But I never saw his deft touch so blatantly before. I almost wonder what is different, then I realize my eyes. I could almost see the use of his powers in action.

Instantly I take on a guarded role.

“I suppose this is the part where you tell me you are on my side for a crime I didn’t commit. Then coerce me into believing I committed the non-existent crime all along?”

His eyes flash as I swear, he is trying to do something. Is he trying to hypnotize me now?

“Look buddy, that is two.” I say.

“Two what?”

“Two times you have tried to use your suggestions on me and two times you have failed. Know that should we get to three…”

“You’ll what?” He asks a sneer to his tone.

We lock eyes again, and I see a flash of something. That is all I need, mentally I’ve already sent the probe to his mind. I instinctively use Mind Rend, though not in the way most might think of it. With my level of Power, I am like a fucking surgeon with the power. Just like being a Mage Breaker can permanently seal away portions of the mage’s mental connection to their powers. So too can Mind Rend rip away the tethers that bind a powerful mind to its mental powers.

Normally one needs to be twice as powerful as the opponent to be able to wield the Power this effectively. While my thirty-three in Power is impressive, I know it is not enough to keep up with Marcus Graves’ powers. Still this time I feel a level of control and finesse that I have never felt before, not in any previous life. As I realize this, three words come to mind that instantly tell me how this can be possible [Increased Psionic Potency].

With those three words I strip, fold, and seal the glowing portion of Graves’ mind. The part that he is actively using for attack. With my sight, highlighting the area needing to be targeted is easier than ever. Then with my newfound control I am able to work as swiftly as a four-armed magician folding a piece of origami paper.

“GAHHH!” Graves screams out and begins clutching his head as blood pours down his nose. I have done the mental equivalent of throwing a mental haymaker at his unprotected skull.

“I have sealed this for a week. If you do not come to me within a week, these will become permanent bindings on your mind. If I see you and you or your team force me to run into hiding, they will become permanent and thus irreversible. If you think I am lying to you, please have someone else test the power and efficacy of my seals. I guarantee no one here will be able to read them, let alone break them.” I say with a bit of my true bravado coming through.

“What?” He stammers for a minute. I half expect him to ask any number of different questions. What am I thinking? What did I do? You know the typical questions that would come to anyone’s lips when they had been out played. Still his question catches me off guard completely.

“What happened to you?”

“What?” Now it is my turn to ask, does he know me from somewhere? Is he also reincarnated every time? If he is, he is doing a terrible job of learning from his past mistakes.

“What happened to you, during your Awakening? By all accounts you have changed. At the very least your eyes and hair have changed. What did you see in there? Or what happened to you?” He asked.

As he says that, I wonder if he isn’t a decent human being after all, even if he does try to use his manipulation powers with a subtle grace that I have never seen before. Maybe it is instinctual usage currently? Still, I can’t help but wonder why he would do such a thing to me.

“I’d suggest that you and your team stand down. A lot of…” I trail off as I am about to say a lot of innocent civilians around, but then I realize that everyone in this park is powerful. Not just powerful but trained in their arts. I can seemingly tell the difference in those who have trained in their powers and those who have not. Is this something to do with my eyes and the way they see energy? This is all so new. But I distinctly remember the colors of the other freshly awakened students as being a dull glowing shade. Then the officers that I defended myself against theirs were brighter and all seemed to glow when either in use or about to be in use.

“I guess I don’t need to warn them about being collateral damage. They all probably signed up for this when they took this assignment.” I say, with that I feel the energy of people suddenly come to life. Apparently, they are either listening in directly to our conversation or Graves has a bug on him that allows everyone to hear the conversation.

With that he pauses, he had been trying to take a step forward, but stopped once he realized I was still completely calm surrounded by his allies. Not wanting to lose control of the conversation I push.

“So what was this, a shake down, or a dashing hero scenario?” I ask.

The terms I’m using are codes for the different ops. Shake down is where they come in hot and hard and try to get a confession from the perp. Dashing hero means this entire thing is a set up. Likely a group of the undercover operatives would pose as a gang and gang up on me. Graves would come to my side and try to fight off the gang before having to run for safety. After which point the target would feel grateful to the operative in question. It didn’t hurt that Graves was naturally charismatic, a trait that was only enhanced by his mental manipulation abilities.

At the second one I get a facial tick. Not a true confession, but for a man in his line of work it might as well be.

“I would never…” Graves begins but is quickly cut off by a group of five magi that have taken the time to move into position.

“Well, well well, what do we have…” The first guy goes off, sounding as stereotypical as a bad action web novel.

I don’t even turn to face the five. I just stare at Graves the entire time. With my heightened power and senses, I can feel the power from these five thugs. They are not that impressive, at least not to the current me. These five would have been more than enough for original eighteen-year-old me. Hell, even my third time through I would have been scared to fight them. Not that I thought I would lose, but that if I wanted to win, I would have to completely rely on the full power of Mind Rend. As for now, I had options.

“Hey punk, I’m talking to you.” The leader begins to say, as I feel the power of his man flowing through his body. He is summoning forth a fire spell, one that will produce light and likely blind anyone who turned to stare at the flames.

I just shake my head at Graves. Then my mind moves on autopilot as I quickly subdue all five mages with differently complex and alternating rune locks on their powers. I use a mixture of ancient precursor languages, Endar, and Dwenvar runes along with a few of my own. No one person has the same runes as anyone else. This way there is no way for the people to try to deduce what each rune is and means.

“Hey, what gives?”

“My magic? What happened?”

They begin to walk forward, and I still not even turning around to give them the time of day hold up one finger.

“What do you mean wait?” The speaker begins.

I just shake my head. “No, that is the number of chances you have before I make those bindings permanent.”

“You little shit!” A musclebound hot head shouts as he rushes forward. On his third step he is lifted completely off the ground. Then I make sure to make the runes of binding I have placed on his soul glow brightly so that everyone can see.

Fortunately, it is night time and everyone in the park can clearly see this charade. The man is kicking wildly, trying to fight his way free. I shake my head, then flood the runes with so much energy that they glow light halogen lights, before bursting like fireworks.

“GGAAAAAAAAAHH!” He screams in pain.

The burst of light is so bright that Graves has to blink a few times to have his eyes readjust to the lighting. I use this time to move closer and into the blind spot of Graves.

“I believe this power play is done here Mr. Graves, am I correct?” I ask.

Graves still blinking turns to find that I have moved a few paces behind him. “Look, I know how this might look to you. But I can explain everything.”

“I bet you can. I also bet explaining everything to me with your powers active would make this whole thing go much smoother, right?”

Graves just lowered his head. It was a shame to see a once great friend reduced to this role. But I couldn’t help but wonder if he was part of the problem this whole time.

“Can I at least tell you what the catch would have been?” He asks.

I nod, “in seven days.” It takes a moment before realization strikes him that his runes will detonate in seven days. That is when I add in the helpful note “their blocks will fade in seven days, yours however will not.” I say. This of course is a lie. They will all go off in seven days, the five, well four remaining, of theirs going off slightly earlier in the day, so that word can be sent to Graves. I do want to talk, but from a position of known power.

“I’ll see you in seven days then.” Graves says, a somber tone to his normally melodic voice.

With that I walk away, right through the gaggle of ward locked mages who are tending to their fallen friend. He is alive, but his magic is broken, and he will likely never be able to cast again. At least not without a lot of extensive training. I give a slight smirk to the group as I pass through, daring them to try something. I will let it be known that we are called Mage Breakers for a reason, and it is not just because it is a fancy title. When you begin you are a Mage Stunner, or locker where you lock their spells into place. Then once you go beyond that level of understanding you get to the true realm of power of understanding how a spell flows, how it operates. Then once that is complete you know how to not only stop a spell, but stop a spell user, permanently. I have had multiple lifetimes of training to get down all the esoteric functions of spell casting down. This is also why my knowledge of runes is beyond compare, I’ve even made a few of my own just to keep others off my true scent.

Feeling like I have burnt yet another bridge in this life, I walk out of the park a slight hum on my lips.