Dawn of life - reincarnated as a villain

I never thought dying would feel like this. It wasn't the peace or the eternal rest that people spoke of—it was simply… nothingness. After my last breath, there was no blinding light, no tunnels guiding me to some heavenly realm. Instead, I found myself floating in a silent, dark expanse. It was so silent that even the sound of my thoughts seemed loud.

I opened my eyes—or whatever I now had in place of them—and waved a hand before me, only to stop, stunned. My hand wasn't flesh and bone anymore. It was light, pure and white, glowing faintly in the endless dark. Looking down, I realized my entire body was the same. Or was it even a body?

"Is this what death feels like?" I asked aloud, my voice echoing strangely. But no answer came.

I tried again. "Is this my soul?"

Still, silence.

Confusion set in as I began to move, not knowing what else to do. I couldn't tell if I was walking, floating, or simply being pulled by some unseen force. There was no ground beneath me, yet I felt the motion. Time was meaningless here. It felt like I walked for years, yet at the same time, it could've been seconds. The void was unchanging, infinite, and utterly indifferent.

But then, something appeared—a faint glow in the distance, just barely visible against the darkness. I quickened my pace—or at least, I thought I did—and as I got closer, the glow took shape.

It was another soul, like me. Its body was white and faceless, the same ethereal glow surrounding it. But as I drew nearer, I noticed something that made me stop in my tracks.

This soul was covered in wounds. Cuts and stabs marred its light form, each one looking raw and painful despite the lack of blood or flesh. The sight of it filled me with an ache so deep, it felt like it was mine.

Compelled by something I couldn't name, I stepped closer. And as I did, I felt it—an overwhelming connection to this soul. I didn't know how or why, but I could feel its pain as if it were my own. Betrayals, heartbreaks, anguish. It was as if its entire existence had been marked by suffering.

Tears streamed down my face—or where my face would've been—though I had no physical eyes to cry from. My entire being ached with an unbearable sadness.

Without thinking, I reached out and hugged the soul. My arms wrapped around its wounded form, and for a moment, I feared it would pull away. But instead, it hugged me back.

I didn't know why I did it, but I did. And it felt… right.

The connection between us deepened in that moment, like a river flowing freely between two hearts. I could feel its pain, its sorrow, its longing for comfort. And somehow, I knew it could feel mine too.

Then, something unexpected happened. The soul began to change. Its light grew dimmer, and I felt its essence merging with mine.

"No," I whispered, panicking. "What's happening?"

But the soul's voice, soft and broken, spoke for the first time.

"Thank you," it said, its tone filled with a bittersweet happiness.

Before I could respond, the pain began.

It was unlike anything I had ever felt. A sharp, searing agony that pierced every part of my being. It was as though the wounds the soul bore were now becoming mine, carving themselves into me.

I tried to scream, but no sound came out. My glowing form twisted and flickered as the soul fully merged with me.

In the midst of the unbearable torment, just before I lost consciousness, I felt something strange— an unknown thing also started merging with my soul. It wasn't gentle. It wasn't kind. It was raw and forceful, as if the universe itself was altering my very essence.

Then, everything went black.

---_???_---

The soft warmth of sunlight caressed my face, pulling me from the depths of unconsciousness. My body felt heavy, and my mind was clouded with confusion. Slowly, my eyes fluttered open, and I found myself in a place that was utterly unfamiliar.

I shot upright, my breath coming in sharp, panicked gasps. The bed beneath me was far too soft then I looked around surrounded by a room straight out of a medieval storybook.

Rich red carpets lined the floor, their intricate patterns gleaming faintly in the sunlight streaming through tall, arched windows. Shelves upon shelves of books lined the walls, each bound in leather and gold. The scent of aged parchment and polished wood filled the air. Heavy velvet curtains, embroidered with gold threads, hung by the windows, and the massive bed I was on was draped with silken sheets and an ornate canopy.

"Where am I?" I whispered, my voice shaky and raw.

I looked down at my hands—and froze.

They were small, delicate, and clearly not my own. The fingers were too slender, the palms too smooth, lacking the faint scars and roughness I had grown used to. They looked like the hands of a child.

Panic surged through me as I scrambled out of the bed, my feet touching the cool stone floor. My movements felt awkward, unsteady, as if my body didn't fit right. I needed answers—needed to see what had happened to me.

Stumbling across the room, I found a door and threw it open, revealing large, ornate mirror encased in a golden frame.

I stepped closer to the mirror, my heart pounding in my chest. The moment I saw the reflection staring back at me, I froze.

A boy, no older than twelve, stood in front of me. His hair was white and slightly tousled, his one is red and other is blue both wide with shock. His face was youthful and unfamiliar, yet there was a strange glimmer of recognition somewhere deep inside me.

"Zephyx Everblade" I muttered, the word slipping out before I could stop it.

I reached up, touching my face, and the boy in the mirror mimicked my every move. My mind raced, piecing together fragments of memory. The void. The other soul. The merging. The pain.

And then… waking up here.

"This can't be real," I whispered

[Ding~]