The Reincarnation of Alysara

Comiak

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Credit to SalvationKing0 for editing this chapter.

Ting! Mental Fortitude has obtained levels 87-120!

Ting! Clear Mind has obtained levels 111-130!

It never ceases to amaze me how much control dragons – or, rather, anybody as strong as them – have over their abilities. To be able to confidently and precisely almost kill someone to get near-death breakthrough levels is a terrifying yet impressive feat, one that always leaves me shaking in terror regardless of my trust in the perpetrator’s talents.

"To walk so close to death is never an easy thing," Yrania says softly. "It goes against our instincts and very nature as living beings, so it is both natural and encouraged to be afraid."

Yrania is a lot more considerate in her resistance training than Safyr was, regularly asking me if I'm ready to continue, which is a stark contrast to her grandmother’s ruthless methods. Honestly, I'm not sure which is better. Yrania is more caring, and that helps put my mind at ease, but Safyr's way is like ripping the bandaid off quickly and getting it over with.

It's not easy to receive resistance training; having it done quickly is preferable, but that left me in shock when Safyr did it. Yrania, on the other hand, lets me prepare and helps comfort me, but her method also drags the experience out.

"You now have your resistance Skill above level one hundred, which means that you should be immune to most mental effects, but keep in mind that there are some Skills and breakthroughs that penetrate resistances," Yrania warns. "In addition, there may be rare and strange abilities that you may not have a resistance breakthrough for, so always keep vigilant. The safest resistance skill is the ability to dodge, after all."

I nod, still sitting down after the rough training session; I don't think my shaking legs will let me stand yet.

"We will work on your [Twin Minds] breakthroughs tomorrow, and once that's done I can help you with your past life." Yrania's Bond presence caresses my mind, soothing and dulling the recent trauma.

"How do you know about that? Did Safyr tell you?" I ask.

"No," Yrania shakes her head. "I can't read your memories without a Skill, but I can sense them easily, and I can sense two lives’ worth of memories within you. I've met enough Legacy souls, so I know what to look for."

As much as I wish to get rid of those memories, I can't. One, because of my deal with Myrou, two, they are occasionally useful, and three, they are interconnected with several important memories and bits of knowledge, especially pertaining to mana physics. Getting rid of them may rip holes in my knowledge at best, or at worst take everything about mana physics with them.

"I don't need help." I reject Yrania's offer. "I have what I need, and I don't want any more baggage from my past life."

"You're going to remember eventually, Alysara. You can run from it for a while, but eventually it will catch up to you. It still has influence over you; you need to learn how to accept your past life and let go of it, if you want control over the form that influence takes."

"I am: that life is gone, and I'm not that person anymore," I reply, folding my arms.

"There are risks in shutting those memories away completely, Alysara. Eventually, your subconscious will stop rejecting them regardless of your wishes, and they'll all come at once; think of it as a dam breaking. A large part of what makes us who we are is our memories; a few memories here and there will not erode who you are now in any major way, but when all of those memories resurface all at once, it's going to have a major impact on you."

That terrifies me. I like who I am right now; I don't want to be who I was before. I reject that for a reason, although I do not know why.

"What are the risks?” I ask, then think for a few moments before I continue. “And how does releasing the memories help me now?" I'm still not on board, but Yrania is an expert in the mind...

"I can help dull the memories so they will feel… faded; as for the risk, there is little so long as I am here."

"So, this is my best chance of remaining who I am? Why do that for me?"

"Why not?" Yrania replies curtly, "I like to study minds and psychology, and there are very few Legacy souls and old souls. Some, like you, reject their past life, others embrace them; you are far from an exception."

"Alright, what do I need to do?" I finally relent

"We should focus on the current task for now, so we don't split our attention, even if we have multiple minds."

"You mentioned an old soul; what are they, and how are they different?" I can’t help but ask, noticing how she differentiates them.

"A Legacy soul comes from a now-extinct realm; they are the ones that carry the memories of what was, and have become a legacy of that realm. Old souls are similar, except that they come from a still-living realm. Old souls are uncommon but much less so than Legacy souls; it seems that the passage to the soul sea lies close to the void between realms, and sometimes souls get lost in the void, then turn up somewhere else."

It's getting late in the day, so we say our farewells and I return home, thinking about many things.

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

The drums of war beat, reverberating through Kalin's body from the tops of his ears to the tip of his tail. The Forren Kingdom has begun their attack, headed by a knight in immaculate bone armor that radiates power, sparks of electricity coursing through and over it. Adorned with short shoulder spikes and a billowing cape, the knight looks majestic and frightening.

The enemy general rides a massive war Forron and in his hand, made from the same electric bone, is a massive halberd, appearing too large for any normal man to wield. Behind him is a platoon of one hundred soldiers in the same armor, with matching weapons of war. Accompanying the elite group stands rows and rows of spearmen, flanked by Forron-riding cavalry, and up on the hill stand a large group of archers and mages.

The army Kalin stands with are normally-armored knights at best; how can they fight against such opponents? Kalin hopes the stand-off will last until both sides give up, but there's little chance of that happening.

Both armies stay in rank and file in strategic positions, both atop hills; a small river runs through a valley between them. So far, neither army is willing to move, which Kalin is grateful for; as long as he doesn't need to get anywhere near those knights, he's willing to do almost anything!

Minutes go by with only the drums beating until the winds shift in the enemy's favor. As if on cue, a hail of arrows is launched. Kalin reflexively raises his shield and lowers his profile to be completely covered by it. The heavy metal arrows slam against his shield as if they are sledgehammers, bruising his arm.

Kalin grits his teeth and sends a prayer to Venaro. Once the volley is done and the deafening clang of metal against metal stops ringing in his ears, Kalin peeks out from around his shield, only to quickly hide behind it again as another volley is already in the air.

A second later, the familiar rain of arrows echoes around him, but joining it are sounds of explosions rattling the air, reverberating through his chest. Fear wells up in Kalin; he's not prepared for something like this! Fortunately, no spells hit him, so he just hides behind his shield as the world goes to hell around him. Screams of friend and foe alike join the choir of war, screams of fear and screams of pain. Without realizing, his scream joins the rest as the earth erupts beside him. It's all he can do to stay put.

Waves of heat and cold wash over him, static electricity makes his hair stand on end, and the world seems to dim or brighten as spells are slung around amidst the volleys of arrows.

"One." Kalin counts. It's the only way he's going to stay sane. "Two. Three..." He doesn't know how long it has been, but it feels like an eternity. "...One thousand forty..." it only came out as a whisper, as his throat feels as dry as the Ashlands.

Once the explosions, screams, and hail of arrows stop, Kalin finally looks out from under his shield to see the devastation around. Surprisingly, there isn't as much as he thought. He expected the land to be turned upside down, for the hills to be leveled… that was what it sounded like, but instead, most of the damage seems to suddenly cut off, like a spell barrier had been cast in front of them.

Some spells made it through, and the wounded are being treated and taken to the back, only to be replaced by reserve soldiers.

A horn blows as the drums start up again, and they start marching forward. Kalin has no choice but to either move with his army or be trampled. They don't run, but rather briskly march towards the river. The other army is marching too; whoever reaches the river first will have an advantage, even Kalin knows that.

The march seems to take forever, as if each step he takes toward the river is another added to the distance rather than subtracted. "...One thousand seven hundred fifty-eight..." There is only one thing to do; just keep counting, keep his mind occupied and away from what he had just gone through and what he’s heading towards.

Suddenly, as if the eternity of the march meant nothing, Kalin finds himself before the river, and he is reminded of how thirsty he is. But he doesn't let his guard down for even a moment, the enemy has reached the river at the same time and for the second time, the two armies are in a standoff, each waiting for the other to make the first move.

However, the standoff doesn't last, as the enemy cavalry charges, splitting up as they sprint down the hill for a two-pronged attack at their flanks! A series of horns blow from both sides, and Kalin finds himself waist-high in the cold river.

The enemy wades into the river as well to meet him in a watery battlefield. With his shield raised and spear poised, Kalin's first taste of melee combat starts with a blocked attack, his enemy's spear being deflected by his shield.

Screams echo around him, but they sound distant. Kalin wonders if his hearing is damaged by all that happened, but the only thing that matters is the foe in front of him. They trade strikes, their shields taking the blows; eventually, Kalin notices his foe stumble, and the briefest window of opportunity is open to him.

Kalin lunges forward, piercing his foe in his exposed neck. The enemy clutches at his throat in shock, but Kalin presses his advantage to stab at other weak spots, past his foe's shield and armor. His first kill notification rings in his mind as the weight of the deed presses upon him, but before he can ruminate on it, another foe wades toward him.

Kalin falls into a rhythm: block attack, wait for the enemy to make a mistake, and then strike. There's no use in striking and wasting energy if the attack will only hit a shield or be deflected by armor. He manages to kill one more and injures three, making them retreat, but when a new arrival steps forward, Kalin’s heart plummets. One of the Forren elite soldiers, swinging a long blade sparking with lightning, charges at him. Kalin raises his shield hopelessly, but suddenly he is shoved to the side as a giant suit of armor, perfectly made and well-decorated, stomps past him.

The giant swings a blade of pure ice, freezing the water around the Forron elite in a swift motion that leaves after-images. Another giant armor suit stomps through the water, cleaving enemy soldiers in two with an axe of fire, melting right through all their shields and armor. Together the two giants quickly kill the immobilized Forren elite, making sure to do as little damage to his armor as they can.

Seeing this, the enemy breaks line and tries to flee, which only emboldens his army to give chase. With the enemy routing, several horns blow from both sides, and Kalin finds himself carried along by the current of people shouting warcries.

"With me!" One of the giants shouts, waving a banner.

Now out of the river, Kalin follows the giant suit of armor toward another part of the battlefield, where the enemy is still fighting. They cut through the back of the enemy army, trapping them in between two platoons.

Another series of horns blow from the enemy hill, and the enemy starts retreating wholesale. Shouts of victory erupt from Kalin's comrades, and the rush of battle slowly leaves him as he realizes that the battle is won!