I Refused To Be Reincarnated

The sun chased the night's darkness for the third time since Yann left Port Vaelora to sink deeper west. Dirt roads, farms, and fields were now replaced by a chain of mountains that sprawled like the broken spine of a gigantic beast.

Winds howled through the cave he stood before, stalactites stretching like jagged teeth ready to devour him, while its abyssal depth seemed to breathe. Yet, where most would have turned back, he stormed inside. He was where he wanted to be.

Musty scents of decaying organisms and clinging dampness assaulted his nose. Even without a light source, he moved through the darkness, his coat untouched by the putrid moss that lined the walls. He didn't see, though. Rather, he knew this isolated place like the back of his hand—perhaps even better.

After a sharp turn where the cave split into seven tunnels and a descent long enough for the clicking of insect mandibles and legs to haunt even the bravest fighter, a light finally appeared.

He instantly unsheathed his new shamshir, the light flickering on its sharp edges. Placing the basilisk's egg on the ground, he approached like a ghost, taking in his surroundings.

Everything was... almost like the last time he'd been here—if he ignored the rotten splinters and glass shards covering the ground. The shelves and jars, once filled with research data, were shattered, their parchments crumbled. The desk's enchanted timber lay broken in a forgotten corner. Nearby, the last magical circle on the ground flickered with dim light.

He ran his palm through the dust, revealing dozens more that had run out of energy.

"The foundation's still there." A heavy sigh escaped his lips as a rusty, metallic device surrounded by glass shards groaned under his touch. The engraved enchantments pulsed softly at the contact of his mana.

"Secret experimental lab number five, closed five hundred and seventy years ago."

Memories of the unholy experiment he had witnessed here resurfaced: magical beasts' limbs, scales, and fur grafted onto young nobles. The walls seemed to remember their agonising screams—his screams. Each one of them had been a volunteer.

And all died.

"Except for me..." He touched the scar on his left eye. "I was as mad as them."

He remembered the stench of the pile of bodies, the scientists' congratulatory claps, and his grandfather's praise. Back then, he had thought that the others were weak, that he was the chosen one.

What a joke. One made crueller after meeting Adam.

"Mana and qi, impossible magic circuits, incalculable energy..." He bit his lip. "Perhaps more. A natural-born monster that dwarfs even grandfather's obsessions. Or is his goal to create mages like him?"

A deep furrow creased his brows as words he had dismissed centuries ago echoed. "Time is weakening the archipelago. We no longer birth mythical individuals—we can only create flawed imitations."

He had laughed back then, answering, "I've assimilated three mythical beasts' essences. Surely, you must talk about the others."

"No," his grandfather had muttered. "The absence of flaw is the flaw in itself. I hope we'll produce a fool soon since chances are low one would appear naturally."

A fool. He hadn't known what his grandfather meant back then, and thought about introducing him to a few drunkards. But decades later, after becoming a respected teacher, he found the answer by infiltrating his grandfather's library. The kind that upturned his world.

He shook his head, chasing this cursed knowledge away from his mind. He didn't want to remember, to know.

Gritting his teeth, he leaned over the flickering magic circle. The spatial symbols answered to his touch by pulsing brighter, and he vanished.

A moment later, he reappeared in the circle, holding salvaged pieces of metal and wood marked with a red four. They were beginning to rot, too, but the spread was much milder, suggesting the fourth lab closed less than a century ago... after another youngster rose over mountains of corpses.

As disturbing as it was, though, he felt fortunate that lab four had been closed. It was located around two days away from Brineheart by ship, giving him access to proper cities instead of that backwards Port Vaelora.

But if he could travel there, the active labs could also visit him. Therefore, mana ignited his finger as he slowly altered the circle's symbols. Sweat trickled down his forehead, and minutes blended into hours before he dropped to his back, groaning.

"They should see it as inactive on their side. Nothing that would alarm them after almost six centuries."

With a final nod, he used the salvaged pieces to repair the rusted metallic device. Fresh pieces replaced the unusable ones, sparks flew as he polished those mildly rotten, and a new glass tube rose in the middle.

New engravings rushed along its surface, brightening the room in a natural green light. Satisfied, he retrieved the egg and placed it inside with a grin.

"I can order the nourishing fluid. With the right proportions, the basilisk will hatch in less than half a year. A year later, I'll have a loyal companion." His grin grew dreamy. "A transportation company sounds good. I can also impress the ladies or simply drink while watching the sunset from its back."

"The dream life is calling me!" He raised a fist overhead, the other subconsciously clenching his chest. He hunched over, breath coming out in ragged gasps, and his vision blurring. "So, why do I feel worse?"

Adam's unmistakable sky-blue hair flashed in his mind, and for a moment, his grip tightened on his chest. "That foolish brat is doomed. Forget about him."

Despite his words, his eyes darted to the basilisk's egg and the shamshir at his belt—both Adam's parting gifts.

"I-I..." He bit his twisted lip, a steely glint flashing in his eyes. "He'll never blend in with the mad nobles and will, sooner or later, attract trouble. I won't ever step in the capital, but I can set up a back door for him."

Plans began to fall into place like puzzle pieces. A transportation company, the minstrels' spy network, his extensive knowledge, and employees he could manipulate.

"I can build it! A way out of Brineheart's college and noble district for you."

Why was he going so far? Because of the gifts? Because Adam didn't give up on him when the Celestial Frost Matriarch froze him to death, or because of the chance he got to return to the archipelago after five hundred years?

All of it.

His lips curled into a soft smile as he surprised himself with a word he had once sworn never to pronounce again. "I'll do it for you, my friend."

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AN: I hope you understand why he might consider Adam a friend. :D