Killed Me? Now I Have Your Power Chapter 2: Reborn

Chapter 2 –

Darkness.

Nothing but shadows filled Boris's vision. Icy, infinite, oppressive.

His mind moved slowly, as if wading through thick molasses.

"W-Where... where am I?" he whispered, his words reverberating into the emptiness.

He glanced at his form—or what passed for one. His physical body had vanished. Only a dim, wavering glow lingered, drifting without purpose in the chasm.

"What in the world is happening..."

DING!

A sharp bell sound resonated across the void.

[System Activated.]

A luminous panel materialized before him.

"Huh?"

[Awakening process initiated.]

An odd heat began to surge from his core—unfamiliar, timeless, immense. It grew, saturating every part of him until he perceived it, detected it, pinpointed it.

It resided within his essence.

And suddenly—

[Awakening complete.]

[Congratulations, Host. You have awakened your personal system.]

Boris would have blinked if he possessed eyes.

A moment of quiet passed.

[You are dead.]

[Emergency measures engaged.]

[You are being reborn in another world.]

[Brace yourself, Host.]

"Hold on—wait, what's happening here?!"

Yet no explanations came.

FSHHHHH—!!!

An unseen power pulled him ahead—tore him across realms at astonishing velocity.

⸻

In a Different Realm—Elsewhere

A field of battle.

Vast and brutal. The soil lay buried under piles of twisted corpses—human and monstrous alike. The odor of demise and iron hung heavy in the atmosphere.

Crimson stained it all.

Scarlet. Ebony. Verdant.

Human lifeblood. Monster ichor.

Pure anarchy reigned.

Dominating the heart of the fray was a colossal figure of a warrior. Immense. Forged like a deity of conflict. His flowing ebony locks danced in the gale, and his scarlet gaze blazed like smoldering coals. Clad in dark plate mail edged in gore-crimson, its front bore an emblem:

Twin blades intersecting. A basin of blood pooling below.

The symbol of the Warborns.

This was Garros Warborn, Patriarch of the Warborn Clan—a mythic hero, a mobile disaster.

Facing him loomed a horde of horrors—serpents as large as wagons, lupines with hide like iron plating, salivating goblins, hulking ogres, regenerating trolls, enormous arachnids...

Farther back, perched upon a seat of skeletons, reclined a lithe, pallid being. Roughly human in form, yet radiating savagery. Silvery tresses cascading down. Ivory orbs for eyes. A see-through appendage curling idly at his rear.

Oren.

The Beast Lord.

Garros advanced, the terrain quaking under his steps.

"Always the coward," he snarled. His tone caused the very atmosphere to quiver.

Oren bared his fangs in a smirk, revealing lines of needle-like incisors. "Now, now, Garros. You understand my style. Why the theatrics? This isn't our initial clash."

"Indeed," Garros replied. "Though it shall be our final one."

He extended his arm.

Oren's smirk dimmed a touch.

"...Certain of that, are you?" the Beast Lord murmured softly.

He motioned toward Garros's rear.

Kneeling amid the gore-drenched earth was a female. Fiery red mane. Deep obsidian gaze. Unmarked by injury, untouched by blood—yet evidently suffering.

Labor gripped her.

Right in the midst of this infernal slaughterground.

Oren's grin resurfaced. "Your spouse... Sarena, correct? Expecting, delivering here of all spots? Madness suits you, Garros."

He inclined closer. "Withdraw at once, or I'll unleash my entire menagerie—and join them—upon her. I'll shatter her. The infant as well. The instant it draws breath in this damned realm."

Arms outstretched, he declared. "Decide then. Triumph... or your kin."

Quiet descended upon the warzone.

Blades lifted. Talons extended. All monsters tensed.

Then—

"HAHAHAHAHAHA!!"

A fierce cackle erupted.

Not from Garros.

From Sarena.

The laboring woman, bowed in pain, erupting in laughter.

"Slay me?" she hissed. "Slay my babe? Force defeat upon us?"

Her stare ignited. "We embody the Warborns. Defeat evades us. Submission is foreign. Shattering impossible."

Garros's lips curved into a broad, feral beam.

"Hear her words, Oren?"

He thrust his arm upward toward the firmament.

"We are the Warborns."

"We. Do. Not. Lose."

His proclamation swelled into a thunderous bellow—celestial and unyielding.

"AERON—COME!!"

BOOOOOOM!!!

The heavens tore open.

CRACK!

SHATTER!

An enormous broadsword descended from above like a falling star, slamming into the midst of the monster swarm. The collision distorted reality, unleashing blasts outward. Creatures exploded into mist. Howls drowned in the tempest.

It was the Worldbreaker Blade—Aeron.

Garros's famed armament.

In an instant, the blade dissolved from the pit and rematerialized in Garros's grip.

Aeron's timbre echoed in his mind—timeworn, known, eager.

'Finally, Garros. She's in labor this very moment, fool.'

Garros let out a low chuckle.

'She's holding strong. See her grin while ushering our heir into existence. Finest woman there is.'

'Insanity defines you both.'

Garros tilted his head back and bellowed in mirth.

Next, he aimed Aeron at Oren, whose face had soured.

"Let us battle until our las—"

WAAAH—!!

A wail cut through the din. Feeble. Delicate. Yet resounding.

The wail of fresh life.

All eyes shifted.

Sarena held an infant boy close.

Ebony tresses. Scarlet irises.

Offspring forged in strife and slaughter.

Garros's smirk broadened.

"No... no battle needed."

"Allow me to conclude this."

His shout rang out.

"MY MEN!"

"YES, COMMANDER!!"

"TODAY—MY SECOND SON ARRIVES!

HE EMERGES INTO THIS REALM AMID GORE—DEFYING A BEAST LORD!"

Silence lingered briefly.

"LET THIS WARGROUND TESTIFY. A WARBORN ENTERS TODAY—AND GORE SHALL SEAL HIS COMING!"

"YESSSSSS!! BLOOD! BLOOD! WAR! BLOOD! BLOOD! WAR!!"

The warriors of humanity lost all restraint, charging ahead with cries of fury and honor.

The monsters faltered.

Oren swore, his tone quivering. "You deranged maniacs..."

Garros hoisted Aeron aloft, his eyes alight with fervor.

SWING—!!

BOOM!!

Reality fractured.

Humanity advanced.

And within the turmoil—

'...What in blazes...?'

Boris found himself in bloodied grasp, stunned and gasping. He embodied the infant.

True rebirth had occurred.

His heart pounded wildly.

Sarena gazed upon him with a soft smile.

"Welcome to our world, little one."

"Welcome, Kaden."

"My boy—born amid conflict and crimson."

—End of Chapter 2—