Deep within the forbidden Abyssal Forest lay a boy of fifteen. He was sprawled on the cold, damp earth, his body a map of recent, brutal violence. Some wounds were deep, ghastly slashes, evidence of a desperate sword fight. Others were small, countless cuts that marred his pale, sickly complexion. His breathing was so shallow it was barely a whisper against the silence of the forest floor, as if he were either on the brink of death or had already crossed it.
He wore clothing that, only days ago, would have marked him as royalty attending a formal event. Now, the silk and velvet were nothing more than blood-soaked rags, shredded by blade and thorn. Clutched in his right hand was a long sword, its once-pristine blade chipped and cracked along the edge. The dry, dark smears of blood on the steel were a silent testament to the struggle and terror the boy had endured.
A sudden, minute twitch ran through the boy's right index finger, and slowly the hand tightened into a clenched fist. Then a guttural, pained groan came from his throat.
"Uugghh..."
His closed eyes fluttered open, dark blue pupils staring blankly at the dense canopy overhead. He inhaled a deep, ragged breath, a shuddering draw of air that felt like fire in his lungs, before slowly letting it out. Then he blinked, slowly and deliberately, forcing the haze from his vision.
With a voice raspy and low from screaming and exhaustion, he spoke. "One hell of a dream it was..." He paused, his gaze hardening as the new reality solidified. "So I've become a son of a ruined dukedom, huh. What a great start for a new life..."
Zuria Benedict Kalion. For three years in his previous life, he had been a homeless beggar. Now, in this new life, he was still a destitute, heavily wounded homeless dude. Worse, he was wanted, and his bounty would surely be immense. His current body's identity was that of Benedict Inverio V Epemerald, the third son of the deceased Epemerald Duke, whose brother was the Fifth Emperor of the Gwanbelt Empire.
The reason for his predicament? A successful Rebellion that had shattered the Gwanbelt Empire.
Benedict was the only one who had managed to escape the relentless pursuit of the rebel army. His flight had been paid for with the ultimate sacrifice of his two elder brothers and, most devastatingly, the Crown Prince of the empire. The Crown Prince, fatally injured and knowing his end was near, had made the conscious choice to stay behind, buying Benedict the time he needed to flee.
"How utterly depressing..." Zuria murmured, his voice a low thrum of profound, bottomless despair.
The memory of his transition was still jarring: the sensation of being dragged through a dark void, a hateful, angry voice shouting at him and calling him an "insect," insulting him again and again. Then came the sharp, blinding pain as two sets of memories, his own and Benedict's, slammed together inside his skull.
He was awake now, but his body was broken, consumed by pain, and utterly unable to move.
"Wouldn't it be better to just die?" he whispered, the question heavy with desperation. "What a pain..."
As someone with an intense aversion to physical pain, his current agony only compounded his mental collapse.
Zuria Benedict Kalion was not merely sad. He suffered from severe depression and numerous mental problems. He wanted death, but the fear of pain was a paralyzing wall. He wanted to live, but his depression made the effort to continue unbearable. Such a pathetic existence, indeed.
Just as in his previous life, all he could do now was lie still, close his eyes, and wait for death to finally claim his worthless soul.
°°°°°°°°°
Minutes bled into hours, and hours stretched into two full, agonizing days. Zuria remained sprawled on the forest floor, lost in the self-pitying void of his depression.
Yet death never came to claim his pathetic life.
He was deep inside the infamous Abyssal Forest, known as one of the nine forbidden areas of the Westela Continent. Knights and mages entered, and none returned to tell the tale. He had been here for perhaps forty-eight hours, surrounded by supposed death, yet nothing had happened. No demonic beast, not even the buzz of an aggressive insect, had disturbed his mournful vigil.
Then, as if remembering something important, he jolted as an unnerving thought surfaced. He should be ravaged by hunger and thirst. The flight from the rebel army had consumed every ounce of his energy, and it had been days since he last ate or drank.
But he felt nothing. No craving. No ache of dehydration. Even stranger, the agonizing throb of his wounds had receded into a dull discomfort.
What in the nine hells is going on? he thought in confusion.
With a surge of bewildered reluctance, Zuria slowly pushed his weary body upright. His handsome, dirt-streaked face was a picture of confusion.
"What sorcery is this? I'm... healed," he mumbled, letting his broken sword drop onto the mossy ground. He began to pat and prod the places where the ghastly injuries had been. They were gone, reduced to faint, pinkish scars barely visible beneath the grime.
He knew this world had Magic, and he remembered that the previous owner of this body had been an apprentice Magician who had learned to harness Mana. Closing his eyes, Zuria reached inward, seeking the familiar channels and core of energy within.
After what seemed like several minutes, his eyes snapped open, wide with utter disbelief.
"Holy mother of god! This is ridiculous!" he exclaimed, a flicker of genuine surprise, perhaps even a morbid excitement, breaking through the oppressive gloom in his heart.
He confirmed that his Mana Core was indeed located inside his heart. But something truly mind-blowing was happening in there: the Mana stored within was being rapidly consumed, not to fuel a spell, but to sustain his entire body. An impossibly automated, perpetual life-support system, running on Mana, was operating inside him!
And then there was the other thing.
He detected a second, completely unknown energy source. It was like a thick, sludgy current flowing through a newly formed set of extra veins that channeled it directly into his heart. Like a dominant, unforgiving tyrant, this new energy controlled the Mana flow, forcing it to spread through his body in a controlled manner, sustaining him, healing him, and keeping him in an optimal state.
After closer inspection, he found that he could control this new energy just as he could control Mana. However, it was solid, heavy, and sluggish, putting up significant resistance against his mental commands. It would definitely slow his casting, but Zuria had a chilling premonition: spells forged with this heavy, dense energy would be terrifyingly powerful.
The excitement died as quickly as it had arrived, replaced by utter exasperation.
How could he not be frustrated? He was now healthy and apparently didn't need to eat or drink, unlike a normal human. Was he even human anymore? How utterly troublesome!
Zuria sat down again, crossing his legs as he tried to calm his chaotic, broken mind.
"So, in short, here's what happened," he said aloud, analyzing his curse. "I have a Mana Core inside my heart. Because of this unknown energy flowing from the special veins, it's devouring my stored Mana to perpetually sustain my body and heal every injury I got."
He continued the analysis, his voice devoid of emotion. "When the Mana Core is depleted, it automatically and steadily pulls Mana from the atmosphere. This process of perpetual drain and refill means the Core's capacity increases continuously. I grow stronger passively, in a constant, frustrating motion."
He paused, a dark furrow deepening his brow. What was that other energy? It felt like solidified gravity compared to the airy quality of Mana.
What confused him most was that Benedict's memories contained no trace of this heavy energy or the extra veins. They had seemingly appeared the moment Zuria's consciousness took over.
Is this a bad thing? He didn't know. All he knew was that his lazy, passive path to death, the slow fade of starvation and thirst, had been cruelly and completely closed off.
Letting out a tired sigh, Zuria opened his eyes.
"What should I do now?" he pondered.
His first thought was not survival, or escape, or even revenge. His first, most pressing thought was: How do I kill myself now that my body won't let me die the lazy way?
He remained still, a blank look of despair fixed on his face, for a few minutes before slowly rising to his feet. Casting one last, weary glance at his broken sword on the ground, Zuria Benedict Kalion turned to his right and moved his lazy, unwanted, and now immortal-like body toward the deepest, darkest part of the Abyssal Forest. He moved in silence, seeking a death that would require more effort than he truly cared to exert...