He fluttered his eyes open, a smile spreading across his lips as he ignored the pain radiating through his body upon coming back to life.
He was finally free! Free after being in hell for five thousand years.
However, the happiness in Marilus' heart vanished when his eyes met the foggy atmosphere, and a pungent odor hit him like a blazing ball. Disappointment flashed in his eyes as he realized something was wrong.
The Almighty had tricked him?
"F*ck!" Marilus cursed under his breath, realizing the Almighty might have lied to him.
Hadn't the Almighty promised he would pass through reincarnation? Why was he back in a place that even hell would have been better than?
Or was he dreaming? Hello do look more inviting than the bushy, foggy atmosphere his eyes darted across.
Marilus took stock of his situation. He was lying on the floor in the dark, foggy surroundings. His clothes were torn, his body battered and bruised, and blood seeped from a wound he could not even identify.
And worse, this body wasn't even his.
Even after spending over five thousand years in hell, Marilus could never forget his own body and physique. He had been strong, broad-shouldered, with abs that drew admiration from both men and women, but this body… he struggled to describe the fragile form he now inhabited.
It was worse than a stick.
Sadness weighed heavily on him as he struggled to stand. He let out a loud cry as a wave of excruciating pain shot through his body. A voice emerged from him, and to his dismay, it carried more disappointment than the sadness weighing on him.
The voice was nothing like his.
It wasn't a doubt anymore, the Almighty had truly deceived him.
When Marilus finally rose to his feet, he took a closer look at the body.
The body looked thin, tall, dirty, and weak. He immediately grabbed a mirror lying nearby. A weak sigh escaped his lips as he saw the boy's delicate, almost feminine face.
What in the world was going on?
Yet there was something about him that drew Marilus' attention... it was the striking red-and-white hair of the boy.
And that could mean only one thing: the boy wasn't fully human. Or perhaps, half-human.
He understood the situation now. The Almighty had slipped his soul into this boy for reasons unknown. Marilus had promised he wouldn't return to his old ways, yet the Old Creature refused to trust him.
So He placed Marilus' soul into a weak, fragile body.
Marilus brushed off the visible dirt and picked up the owner's bag and the map lying beside it.
He had to get out of here before anything else. Using the map, he finally located a path leading to the edge of the foggy forest.
As he moved, a faint, unsettling sensation grazed his mind. It felt like something dark and unnatural, something lingering just beyond understanding.
It pulsed faintly from the forest, like a distant heartbeat of something forbidden. Marilus frowned, brushing it off. Probably just the forest, nothing more…
By the time he emerged from the forest, exhaustion clutched at him, and he sank to the ground, gasping for air. This body was the weakest he had ever encountered. A few steps were already draining him.
"You, this Old Creature! How could you do this to me?" Marilus shouted in anger, but he knew his cries were pointless. The Almighty would not answer.
His eyes fell on a signpost nearby. It read: Forbidden Forest, Do Not Enter.
Marilus' brow furrowed. Why had the owner of this body dared to enter the forest despite the warning?
He was about to dwell on it further when a shout echoed through the mist.
"I found him! The Young Master is here!"
Marilus lifted his head and saw three men running toward him. His eyes widened, and a fleeting joy spread across his face.
"Young Master! Are you alright?!"
The three men reached him, worry etched into their expressions.
"We have been looking for you since yesterday night. Why didn't you tell anyone you were going somewhere?! Oh my goodness! Look at those bruises!"
"Young Master Wystan, the Eldest Young Master, was so worried about you! Everyone is so worried," One of the man has tears gathering at the corner of his eyes due to anger but seeing how pitiful Marilus looked, he changed his tone. " Let's get you home first so you can be treated."
At the mention of 'Young Master Wystan,' a sharp headache ripped through Marilus' skull. Memories slammed into him, dizzying and disorienting.
As fragments of the boy's past stitched together, the pain ebbed slightly. His eyes closed completely, and he drifted into unconsciousness.
When he awoke, he was in a carriage, his mood as dark as if he had just experienced a nightmare. The memories of the body's owner were nothing short of torment.
How could a fragile creature endure all this?
The owner's name was Wystan, the illegitimate son of a prestigious family in the small city of Varine, where wealth and power determined value.
Wystan was powerless, unable to wield even a sword, and deemed useless by his family.
The boy had suffered greatly, and Marilus' own memories stirred in sympathy with Wystan's past.
After some minutes, the carriage stopped. Maybe it was due to the slight nap he had in the carriage, he felt as if a little out of his energy has been restored.
Stepping down, Marilus faced a group at the entrance of a grand mansion. Their gazes bored into him, yet there was little surprise in their eyes at the sight of his dirt-covered, bloodied state.
"How could you run away from home during a special day like yesterday?! Are you insane?! Why are you always intending to disgrace the family with your uselessness?" a middle-aged woman said, her voice dripping with malice as if she wouldn't hesitate to hit him.
Marilus examined them all. His eyes darkened as he recognized them.
They were Wystan's family, his nightmare to be precise. The woman speaking was his stepmother. The others were her children, his cousins, nieces, and nephews, all members of the Eryndor Family
"Why should I stay at a party where I'm not wanted?" Wystan's voice cut through the tension. "Why are you surprised I ran away from a place where I'm clearly not wanted?"
The group exchanged bewildered glances. They couldn't believe he had spoken.
"What…" Marla, his step-mother trailed off as she stared at him. When she looked into his eyes, she saw something she had never seen before.
The boy who had always cowered under reprimand now glared boldly at her, unafraid and unfazed by the fire brewing in her eyes.
"You didn't want me here, stepmother. So why should I stay and watch you ridicule me in front of your people?" Wystan said again, his words laced with indifferent.
How could they ignore him, battered and bruised as he was?
Marilus felt even the Almighty could not condone such unfairness. But why allow this boy to suffer? Though he had been warned not to cause trouble in this rebirth, Marilus would not tolerate Wystan being treated like trash.
He was in Wystan's body now, and he would not allow even the slightest disrespect.
"Darius! Please prepare my bath. I need to clean up," Wystan commanded, moving into the mansion.
"If you dare move away from there, I will…"
"Lock me up in the attic?" Wystan interrupted with a scoff. "Trust me, stepmother, you dare not."
Without waiting for a response, Wystan walked into the mansion.