His hands were stained with the blood of his friends. His eyes were bloodshot red from anger, and the sound of his heartbeat only made the inevitability of his death more apparent. He had fought for 10 days and 10 nights without rest, fighting in a pointless war that could have been avoided. ’If the king wasn’t a greedy bastard,’ he thought to himself as he clenched his sword tighter and looked at the hundreds of soldiers coming toward him.
He cursed the name of the king and every noble who chose to send innocent boys to die for nothing. He watched as his friends fell one by one on the battlefield from hunger and infected wounds. He wept as he saw young men take their own lives from the fear they felt, and that sight made his heart burn even more with rage.
’What kind of life is this? Why was I born in such a world?’ he thought to himself, but no one could answer that question for him. Everywhere he looked he saw only piles of dead bodies and grown men crying like children.
And at last he saw it: a being that could only be described as ’Death’ itself. A being of unimaginable strength descended from the heavens, its aura making even the strongest of men on the battlefield cower in fear.
"What kind of horrors did the nobles burden us with?" a soldier standing beside the young man said before dropping to the ground and dying on impact.
The young man looked around the battlefield. Every ally and foe was dropping one by one, but for some reason that being’s aura did not affect him. Yet he caught the attention of that strange being when it saw a lone man standing over hundreds of dead bodies. The strange creature slowly came to the ground, its huge, white wings beating through the sky as the battlefield went silent.
"What are you, child?" Those were its first words, and they sent chills down the young man’s spine. He tried opening his mouth to speak, but all that came out was heavy breathing.
"What are you, child?" the being asked once more, its voice deep and commanding. So the boy put all his courage into answering.
"I’m but a peasant from the Kingdom of Lunira. Please don’t kill me," the boy begged and bowed his head, but the being put out its hand and gestured for him to stand.
"Do not bow to me, child. I’m but a servant," the being said. "You interest me, child. I shall let your soul live, unlike the rest of these men who died fighting for nothing. You shall be reborn."
Those words left the young man confused. What did this god-like creature mean by this? he thought, but instead of dwelling on the question, he asked the being directly.
"What do you mean I shall be reborn?"
"You still have dreams in those eyes of yours. All these other men on the battlefield gave up a long time ago, but you still have the desire to go back home," it said, and every last word the being spoke was the truth. The young man desired to change his kingdom, to make a world where everyone was equal.
"But what will happen to the friends I lost today? You said only my soul can be saved," His concern for others made the being even more interested in him. He was a child with a pure heart.
"Your friends are going to a place far better than this. They were just victims of greed, children forced to fight for people who never cared for them, so they did nothing wrong."
"Okay, then I’m ready to be reborn. What should I do?" the young man asked.
"First, what’s your name?" the being asked, even though it knew his name, but asked as a gesture of respect. This creature was a gatekeeper, one who guides the souls of dead mortals.
"I am Matthew. What about you, great spirit? What should I address you by?"
The strange being let out a little chuckle at the fact that it was addressed as a spirit. "I am Azrael, and I’m what you may call an angel. But I’m sorry, the only way for you to be reborn is for this life of yours to end and let a new one begin," Azrael said as he pulled out his sword.
"Wha—" Before Matthew could even finish uttering his final words, Azrael had already cut off his head. And that was the death of Matthew.
*_*_
’Cold. Cold. It’s really cold.’ Those were the first words Matthew heard before opening his eyes. The coldness that surrounded him had frozen his eyelids shut, but he tried his best to forcefully open them. When they finally opened, all he could see was endless white snow, and his body was half buried in the snow as if he had fallen from a great distance. His legs and arms were numb from frostbite. He stayed in the snow for 4 hours, unable to move, and he feared that if he closed his eyes he would die again.
"Help. Help," he said in a raspy tone, hoping someone could hear him.
He tried digging himself out of the snow, but his hands were too numb to even move. And only after another 4 hours of waiting in the cold did he finally hear the sound of a carriage and horses heading his way.
"Prince Alexander! My prince!" a voice called out from a distance, but Matthew wondered who this Prince Alexander was. This, however, was also an opportunity for him to be rescued.
"Help! Help!" he screamed with all the energy he had left. The last thing he saw was a man running through the snow toward him before he started losing consciousness.
The man sat next to him and started shaking him. "Hold on, my prince," the man said to Matthew, and that confused him even more. But he didn’t have time to dwell on it as he started losing consciousness. The only thing he felt was his body being dragged through the snow, failing to move at his command, so he just gave up and fell asleep.
He tried opening his eyes again a few hours later, but they were still frozen.
"MROTSERIF," Matthew heard a strange voice speak, but he did not understand the words. A warm sensation ran through his body, and he was finally able to relax. His eyes felt warm too, and when he opened them he saw a beautifully decorated room. The chandelier shined as if it were made of diamonds, the walls were covered in gold, and the bed was made from finely polished wood that seemed too expensive for a peasant to be sleeping on. He jumped out of the bed so fast that he fell to the floor, which made a loud thud, and the man sitting in the corner of the room woke up. Matthew looked up at the man and just awkwardly smiled from fear.
"A prince should not be sleeping on the floor, Alexander," the man said. This unknown man was dressed in a silky purple robe, and what stood out the most about him were his bright green eyes and stature. This strange man looked to be around 7 feet tall, a height few humans had.
’Why do they keep calling me Alexander?’ Matthew thought to himself as he stood up. This was the second time he had been addressed by that name, and that question was answered when he tilted his head to the left. What he saw in the mirror wasn’t the face of a pale-faced, black-haired peasant. What he saw in the mirror was a young man who looked to be around 17 years old. He had hair as white as snow and dark green eyes. He started walking to the mirror and hit his leg against the chairs and tables, but he didn’t even feel the pain because his mind was too focused on the new face. He didn’t even recognize the person he had become. "Is this what he meant by reborn?" he said to himself as tears fell from his eyes, but the words he spoke left the man behind him confused.
"Is everything alright, my prince?" the man asked. A high-pitched noise rang in his head, and he screamed out in pain as the noise only got louder. Memories from a life he had never lived started flooding his mind, and he soon realized that they were the memories of the prince this body belonged to.
’This guy was a shitty person. He truly was his father’s son,’ Matthew thought to himself as all the memories of the former prince came back, both the good he did and the bad, but it was mostly the bad. Matthew looked at the man in the robe.
"Finely woven robe, taller than any knight in the kingdom, and a magic grimoire in his hand. You must be Merlin, right? You are the king’s wizard?" Matthew said excitedly.
"Yes, my prince. I was called here to heal your legs and arms. Did you hit your head during your trip to the mountains?" Merlin asked, and Matthew just nodded his head to avoid more questions. "Alright. The king said he would like to see you as soon as you woke up," the wizard Merlin said. "And oh, please don’t say anything stupid to him. He will kill you," he added.
Matthew knew exactly what to do now. He was no longer Matthew the peasant boy, and he would have to accept that if he wanted his plans to come to fruition.
’From today onward, I am Prince Alexander, firstborn son of King George and heir to the throne of Lunira. I shall make a world where no innocent child has to die in a war or starve to death.’ He made a vow to himself, a vow that would bring chaos to hundreds of kingdoms and make the gods themselves hate a single child.