Reincarnated Hero System

Zebas tried to speak, but Duskhand cut him off, his tone shifting to one of cold finality.

“Did I not tell you before, Zebas? What we need are soldiers who can take orders. Soldiers who can think for themselves. Soldiers smart enough to dodge and avoid damage in the first place—so they don’t even need regeneration.

That’s what we want. If losing their regenerative abilities, enhanced divinity, and pain nullification is what it takes to get that, then so be it.”

He stepped forward, his murky gold eyes glowing as he added.

“It’s a good thing I came here today. Do not send any more of these failures to us at High Command. If you do, some of the others—Generals…and the High-Rank gods—won’t be as lenient. They might cut your funding, or worse, remove you from your position as lead scientist.

And they’ll put someone of their choosing in your place.”

Duskhand paused, his hand coming down to tap Zebas on the shoulder as he walked past.

“Think carefully, Zebas.”

With that, Duskhand turned and left. The cold echo of his footsteps fading, and the tension in the room settling like a weight.

◇　◇　◇

The video cut off there and silence pervaded the area for a good minute before Beatrix finally spoke up.

“What the hell did we just watch?”

Evan, who had been perched on the edge of a dusty desk, got down, brushing off his trousers. He walked over to the old, overheating projector and ejected the VHS tape.

“The early stages of the Fake Divine Project—or as the Aramisians call it, the ‘Artificial Divine Project’.

It’s way bigger than I thought. If this is what they’re doing with artificial divinity, then Gozon’s in deep.”

In response to Evan’s words, Artemisia finally spoke, her voice steady as usual.

“They’ve probably perfected it by now. However, according to Arthur, the drawback with the lifespan is worse. Every time they use divinity, their lives get even shorter.”

“But they’ve gotten what that Duskhand guy said they wanted, haven’t they? Soldiers that can obey orders.”

Evan spoke before tossing the tape toward Artemisia, who caught it effortlessly, though her narrowed gaze questioned why he had thrown it in the first place.

“Didn’t you say you wanted to report what you discovered to your dad?”

“Oh…right.”

It seemed the weight of the discovery had made her temporarily forget about that part.

Evan chuckled, watching her expression shift, then turned away with a yawn.

“This is the 531st Divine Year, right? That makes the video about six years old.”

As his eyes swept across the room, he noticed more tapes, numbering up to 15,000. He had no intention of watching them, though. Instead, he piled them into a corner for Beatrix to store in her inventory.

“When you guys are done, let’s get back to finding a map or something to help us get out of this place.”

◇　◇　◇

The trio left the room, their footsteps echoing through the long, empty hallways.

They found themselves winding through what seemed like a maze—corridors turning into more corridors, each one looking nearly identical to the last.

“Hey, Beatrix. Did you actually know this place was a goddamn maze when you called it ‘Labyrinth of the Forsaken Divines’?”

“I only said that because of the forest outside, I didn’t know about this at all.”

Her words hung in the air as they passed door after door, occasionally stepping into rooms filled with more decrepit machinery and shattered test tubes.

Some rooms looked like they hadn’t been touched in decades, dust thick enough to stir in small clouds as they walked through. Others seemed eerily preserved, as if the scientists could return at any moment.

Despite their best efforts, they failed to find either a map or anything that appeared to be an exit.

Still moving forward, they pushed open the next door, the rusted hinges groaning in protest. Evan found the light switch and turned the lamps on, before taking in the sight of the room.

They spotted a desk, a cabinet, and two bookshelves, plus a sofa and table that seemed to be set aside for receiving guests.

The room was far smaller than the corpse-filled chamber they just left behind, more than adequate for a single person’s use.

Though caked in layers upon layers of dust, the furniture looked expensive and well-made, suggesting the room had been meant for an important person.

“All the shelves are empty.”

“Yeah…”

Artemisia searched the shelves for a map of this place and turned up blank while Evan gazed at the walls and saw the symbol of the Aramisian army again.

He moved over to the desk and began to search it in the hopes of finding something useful, but one of the drawers seemed to be stuck.

With a little bit of force, Evan’s superhuman strength was enough to bend the metallic drawer out of place and he ripped out the entire thing.

Inside, he found an old, faded notebook, and as he picked it up, the two girls jogged over to his side to see what he’d found.

It looked like some kind of journal; its pages yellowed with age.

526th Divine Year, July 23;

Day 364:

It was dated 1 year after the video they had seen earlier.

“The experiments are proceeding as planned. Subject N-3847 showed promising results today—her resistance to corrupted divinity has improved. The gods overseeing this project are pleased with our progress, but their orders are ruthless.

Management sent word to push beyond the usual limits. We’re to ignore safety protocols for the sake of progress. Aramis cannot afford failure now, not with the current state of the war.”

Day 389

“Two days… it’s been two days since we lost control. They’ve sent word from High Command—destroy everything. No questions, no offers of aid, no plan of escape. Just destruction. Is that what we are to them? Part of ‘everything?’ I’ve asked, but no one’s answered.”

Evan exchanged a glance with the others. This journal was 5 years old, but the dread it carried felt fresh, alive, as if the ink had barely dried.

“Succession is a curse. Forced into this place by nothing but bloodline and tradition. What a joke. I wanted to earn this, to rise through merit, not shackled by some birth right. Now I’m here, and for what? We’ve managed to contain the subjects, but the… divinity has become corrupted?! And it spreads to the other subjects, corrupting them too!”

The writing became messier, the lines slanting in erratic angles. It was clear that the author’s hand trembled as they wrote.

“These gods… what are they even fighting for? Protection? Dominion? None of this makes sense anymore. I thought we were fighting to save Aramis from the demons of Gozon! That’s why I signed up, why we all signed up. To protect. But now? Now it feels like we’re the ones being destroyed, inch by inch.

There’s talk that every Prime World that falls under their control vanishes in a matter of years and we’re next. Will we vanish, too? I don’t want to disappear. I can’t. I DON’T WANT TO DIE!!!”

Beatrix leaned in closer, her brow furrowed as she scanned the frantic script.

“This doesn’t sound like a normal experiment report.”

“It’s not.”

Evan muttered, flipping the page and reading further.

“I did everything right, didn’t I? Followed orders, kept my head down, played the game. Made the right connections—or so I thought. Maybe I wasn’t thorough enough. Maybe that’s why we’re here. Is this my fault? Is it?! No. No, it can’t be. I did what I had to do. Damn it!”

“It doesn’t matter. The gods… they’re all insane. If I said that out loud, I’d be killed. But I can write it here. I can at least do that. This place is a nightmare. Rivers of golden blood flow through these halls, sacrificed in the name of ‘progress.’ The gods sacrificed their own! But it’s all been a lie, hasn’t it?”

“We’ve received intelligence that the demons are planning something…are they catching on?

Something… feels different from before. We don’t have all the details, but the gods seem unusually nervous. Their usual bravado is missing. It’s strange, seeing fear in their eyes.

I understand the Low-Ranked gods, but the High-Ranked gods too? The god Lords? These are higher existences! What kind of threat could make even the higher existences tremble?”

There was a smear of something dark on the next page. Blood? Ink? Evan couldn’t tell, but the writing was becoming harder to read, the words jagged, scratched into the paper.

“Artificial?! Children—they took the children. Separated them from their mothers. They’re being fed to the experiment.”

“The demons are growing stronger. The Demon of Light and Darkness… Sargon is a Noble Demon? Noble Demons are stronger? And McEnda—is the son of a DEMON KING?!

What have they done? What have they invited into this world!!! It was all their fault; they never should have enslaved those demons in the first place!!”

“Master Zebas… she killed him. The Frost Demon—she tore him apart. Turned him into shards of ice, scattered like dust! Are we next? No. We are. WE’RE ALL NEXT.”

“They know. The demons know about the project!”

Seeing McEnda and the ‘Frost Demon’ mentioned together, Evan’s thoughts drifted to Sigesi.

That ‘Zebas’ man they had seen in the previous video, it seemed likely Sigesi was the one who killed him.

But the mention of ‘Enslaved Demons’ caught his attention even more. It revealed something deeper—Gozon’s desire for Aramis wasn’t just about their usual conquest of Prime Worlds.

‘It makes this whole war seem personal.’

Demons had once been enslaved here, and now the Gozonians sought vengeance. They weren’t just aiming to conquer Aramis; they were determined to take the entire planet as payback.

Reading further, Evan felt a chill crawl down his spine. The pages were filled with unhinged ramblings, words scrawled so large they spilt into the margins.

It was quickly becoming clear that the writer was losing their mind.

“WHY?! WHY IS THIS HAPPENING?! I DID EVERYTHING I WAS SUPPOSED TO! HELP! I JUST WANTED TO HELP!

What have I done? I wanted to help, and I have helped. Yes, I’ve helped. But at what cost?”

…

“I have helped. I have. I’ve seen it now. I understand everything. I understand everything!

I HAVE ARRIVED AT THE TRUTH!

EUREKA!

They tried to hide it—the gods—they’ve had us under control from the beginning. Aramis was always a pawn, always in their grasp. But now I see. They didn’t want us to know about the information of other planets.

The place they call the Interstellar Stage!

They didn’t want us to wake up.

They didn’t want us to know so they could properly control us! They’ve had Aramis in the palm of their hand and only act benevolent now the Demons want to snatch it away!

But I have. I’ve woken up. And the demons…”

Evan’s eyes narrowed as he reached the final pages. The text was barely legible, written in thick, looping letters. The pages were smeared with blood—both red and gold.

“I am the one in charge now. I call the shots. I decide. Every opposition is dead. But it was worth it. This is how we save Aramis.

This is the only way. It all makes sense now. They were right. I was blind, but now? Now I see.”

Such was written. On the next page, however…

“I’m supposed to be in charge now. All opposition is gone. But… am I really? Or am I just another pawn, like them…?!”

Beatrix inhaled sharply as Evan reached the bloodstained pages. The ink was smeared, intermingled with dark, dried stains.

“Am I not JUSTa pawn just like they are!? Like the gods! Like the god-kings themselves? Like the gods?! Controlled. Always controlled!!”

Artemisia and Beatrix had their eyes widen in shock. god Kings being controlled? Just what in the Universe had they uncovered?

Another page, soaked in red.

“IT WAS ALL HIM!!”

On the next page, still stained in blood.

“IT WAS ALL THE EMPEROR.”

And then, finally, the last page, written in a mixture of red and golden blood, screamed a single name:

“CRAIG!!!!!!”