Glimpse of Eternity [A Reincarnation Isekai Fantasy]

Seeing her smiling with what seemed like genuine happiness, as well as noting how he was not notified of her lies, Reivan couldn’t help but sigh in relief.

Just to be considerate, he had always avoided mentioning Helen in Elsamina's presence. A wise man on the internet had once said that a man with many women shouldn’t ever let them meet each other, and Reivan planned to live by those words as much as was allowed.

But it was still better if the women in his life actually got along with each other. On that note, it didn’t seem like there would be any problems on Elsa’s side.

‘Helen… probably won’t kill her or anything... Right? At most, she’ll just ignore Elsa or avoid her completely.’

As for his other concubines, thinking about how he would handle that gaggle of women was a headache and a half, so he left that particular problem to his future self. With any hope, the Reivan of a few years from now would be better equipped to handle such matters.

“Anyway, did you know that…”

Luckily, the rest of their dinner was spent in serene bliss. There were no bombshells or landmines in their conversation, just mundane words with no particular significance. As for the food, it was okay. Reivan would rate everything a six or a seven out of ten — particularly because some of the meat dishes he ate were new to him, so they provided a novel experience, though their taste left much to be desired in terms of complexity.

After that, they boarded the magitech carriage to Ouroboros’ Arkhana HQ — which was actually a tall building with an attached warehouse near the city’s port.

Before they got too close to the base’s general area, Reivan hopped off the carriage and beamed as he looked at the beauty staring at him from within. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“I’ll tell them you’re coming.” Elsamina winked at him, an impish smirk on her face. “I’m busy from morning to afternoon though.”

“Sounds like a plan. I like doing it at night too.”

"You scoundrel."

Reivan sent her a flying kiss and watched as the carriage rode away from him. He then casually strolled down the street, basking in the aftertaste of his time with Elsa while watching the people passing by.

‘Man, it always feels great with her…’

If someone asked him to compare if Elsa or Helen was better though, honestly, he wouldn’t be able to answer. Mainly because he was too busy enjoying the moment to ponder such useless things. A man wasn’t a man if they still had room for such thoughts during the deed.

And anyway, what was the point of debating who was better when both of them were going to be his wives anyway?

In the end, the best answer is always both.

“Both” is good.

“Both” is the best.

“Both” is what Sun Tzu always said. Probably.

‘Man, I miss memes… Anyway, I still have some time before people start wondering where the hell I am, so I should use this time for something productive… Now I just have to figure out what that something is.’

Reivan suddenly stopped walking when he spotted a familiar person.

The man had dark brown skin likely from being baked under the sun for too long and a head full of ginger hair, swept back a little to reveal more of his face — which had been healed of scars using the medicine Reivan gave him.

‘It’s Filth… And he’s hiding his presence.’

Reivan could tell that Filth was using his ability because the bandana artifact on his head was currently activated and because he couldn't sense the man's presence at all.

‘I wonder where he’s going…’

Filth hadn’t been given any specific tasks yet, so Reivan was curious about what Filth was doing during his free time. It would be heartwarming if the man was actually on his way from practicing his marksmanship all morning and afternoon.

Because he was curious and also to make sure Filth got back to wherever he was staying safely, Reivan chose to follow him for now.

Luckily, although Filth’s ability made him downright fraudulent in the art of being unnoticed, his detection capabilities were abysmal — or rather, they were what a normal human being had, which may have been nonexistent as far as someone like Reivan was concerned.

Even when Reivan wasn’t specialized in skulking around, he still went undetected by his quarry. He followed Filth through some winding alleys and eventually arrived at what was very obviously a red-light district.

For a moment, Reivan pondered how to feel about the discovery. But after a bit of thought, he shrugged to himself.

‘Oh, well. He’s a man too.’

Reivan wouldn’t fault the man for spending his wages on women.

Filth could do whatever he wanted with his money. Certainly, many of the women dressed in revealing attires hawking their bodies on the street would be more than happy to rid him of his coin — in exchange for a good time, of course.

As expected of the capital though, even the brothels were different from what he’d heard. Behind walls of glass, doll-like women were displayed for passersby, sometimes giving the men outside a wink or even a peek at what they could be touching instead.

Even Reivan was not safe from their gaze. His expensive attire or maybe his good looks attracted the attention of whores calling out to people outside their establishments. Reivan's eyes couldn’t help but momentarily pass through certain parts almost spilling out of the women’s dresses — a biological response he believed he couldn’t be faulted for — but quickly recovered and focused on his task.

“Hey there, handsome.” A scantily clad brunette called out to him from within one of the establishments. “Wanna have a good time? If it’s you, I’ll even do it for free…”

“Sorry, I’m all tapped out.”

“Really? What if I pay you, instead?”

“Perhaps some other time.”

Reivan shook his head and averted his gaze from temptation. He continued following Filth, curious to see which places were good from a local’s perspective. And to be honest, he’d never been to a real brothel district before, so he felt a bit of childish excitement to explore. At most, he’d visited the one at Worgon Outpost, but that was something haphazardly put up, and could not compare to what he was seeing.

Filth went deeper and deeper into the red-light district, unable to tell he was being shadowed by Reivan — who was, in turn, constantly pestered by whores. While quite a number of the harlots offered to serve him for free, some even went as far as to invite him as an employee.

‘There don’t seem to be any female customers around here, so if they want male prostitutes…’

Reivan’s spine chilled for a moment and his steps slightly quickened. As a brother to a woman who had homosexual preferences, he naturally didn’t fault anyone for liking whoever the hell they wanted to like as long as it was consensual. But at the same time, he couldn’t help but shiver internally at the thought of him taking something up his...

‘Ehem. Well, to each their own…’

In any case, it seemed Filth’s preferred establishment was quite deep into the district, and the number of people out on the streets was steadily diminishing. As the harlots calling out to potential customers dwindled, they were steadily walking into what appeared to be a residential area of some kind.

Reivan naturally noticed how the houses looked a bit out of sorts, or how the few people he could see around the area seemed a bit edgy. Reportedly, crime and slum areas were cleared away in Arkhan’s capital, but if his eyes weren’t deceiving him, the poor were still there.

“Mister! You’re back!?”

The excited cry of what sounded like a child attracted Reivan’s gaze, and he watched as a little girl with very worn-down clothes ran up to Filth and hugged his leg.

Filth — who had apparently dispelled his ability at some point — smiled and rubbed the girl’s head. “Yeah. I told you I’d come back. Didn’t you believe me?”

“I sure as heck didn’t!” The little girl giggled happily and her little arms tightened around the grown man’s thigh. “But I’m glad I was wrong!”

“Oh, yeah? Well, let’s head inside so we can get down to business.”

‘...Well, this doesn’t look good.’

Somewhere very close to the brothel district, his adult male subordinate specifically met up with a little girl who seemed happy to see him. The little girl was cute too — as most little girls were, in Reivan’s honest opinion — and from their conversation, they had met up on a separate occasion.

Some very unsavory doubts popped into Reivan's head.

‘This is probably a massive misunderstanding… But I should still check.’

As a former and current big brother, Reivan felt the need to stop his subordinate from doing anything nasty. Little girls were adorable, he agreed, but they must be protected. Not… defiled.

Reivan’s thoughts went into a dark place when he unconsciously and unintentionally imagined a tiny Kyouka falling into the hands of some pervert. He also remembered how Helen had been a victim of perversion in the past as well.

And then there were Mimi and Jiji. One could not forget his adorable little nieces too, who both couldn't even talk properly yet.

Reivan bit his lips and clenched his fist when thoughts of those things happening crossed his mind for barely a moment.

 

 

 

 

Realizing that he’d gotten all worked up on his own, Reivan pulled himself out of the dark corner of his mind by reminding himself that all the girls were safe — save for the one who’d grown into a granny and died indulging debauchery.

‘Man, I really need to chill out sometimes… But anyway, if Filth’s up to no good, I should stop him, at least.’

He obviously felt less for the other little girls of the world when compared to the ones in his family, and he certainly didn't think he could single-handedly prevent it from happening all over the world, but that didn’t mean he would condone such things when it could potentially happen right in front of him. Reivan hid in an alley and his body evaporated into a dark cloud of vapor that seemed to blend into the darkness of the night.

In this form, there was literally no way for Filth to detect him with the perception level of an ordinary civilian. Furthermore, Reivan wouldn’t attract any attention due to his face or clothes.

‘Hm… they’re only talking about normal stuff.’

The likelihood of Filth’s presumed pedophilic tendencies being a misunderstanding was steadily increasing as Reivan eavesdropped on their conversation. Rumors about this uncle or that uncle, or this auntie cheating on her husband, or how the baker three blocks over had a wart on his butt — really, trivial topics were all that they talked about.

‘Wait a minute…’

Suddenly, a thought crossed his mind.

‘Is Filth using the kid as an informant...?’

Somewhat intrigued, Reivan continued following Filth until he reached a large but dilapidated building. There was a sign outside that depicted the picture of a young boy and a young girl running around and seemingly playing with a ball. In fading black ink, the words “Sia Ampuna” in Arkhanian — which meant “Happy Orphanage” in English.

Filth headed inside, the little girl earlier having already run ahead and shouted for all the other kids to come.

Reivan entered through the small gaps of the door Filth closed and observed the room’s interior. Luckily, it was nighttime, so Reivan could maintain his form for a long time. It was unfortunate that the nearby lamp illuminating the entrance counterbalanced that, but he found a nice dark spot right under it to hide in.

Soon, quite a number of children appeared and ushered Filth into what seemed to be a massive dining room. After a bit of urging, Filth chuckled as a large sack appeared at his feet.

“Right, you little boogers.” Filth opened up the sack and revealed numerous loaves of bread, far too many for the young children to finish even if they had three days. He threw one of the larger loaves to the first little girl and smirked. “Deal’s a deal. I’ve brought your food, so start spilling. If I don’t like what you have to tell me, then you don’t get any!”

Immediately and in a surprisingly orderly fashion, the children lined up and started rattling off what they knew. Reivan listened in and discovered some potentially good information but most were useless neighborhood gossip.

Still, despite what Filth had said about giving food only to the ones who gave him good information, he actually handed out loaves to anybody who stepped forward to say something, regardless of how useful it was.

Soon, it seemed that the children had run out of things to say. And yet, the sack still had quite a bit left. Filth stored it back inside his ring and stood up. “Well, that’s all for now. Make sure to gather up better info when I come back a few days later, alright?”

“Okay!”

"Yeah! I'm gonna get enough for two bread this time!"

"You better not, or you're gonna poop your pants again."

"Sh-shut up!"

The children cheered in boisterous celebration, probably happy that Filth hadn’t tricked them.

“Alright. Where’s the director?” Filth asked around, taking out a small loaf and waving it in front of the children’s faces.

“Ooh, ooh! I know!” one child with all his front teeth missing raised his hand faster than anyone else. “He’s in a shed at the back!”

Filth tossed it to the child, who caught it handily and ran away before anyone could try to get him to share. Then he waved goodbye at them and headed to where the aforementioned shed probably was.

Reivan sent one last glance at the children enjoying their bread like it was the best thing they’d ever eaten before trailing behind his subordinate — whose social credit score was steadily increasing within the prince’s mind.

Filth had found a way to make use of the children and offer charity at the same time. Or rather, it wasn’t charity anymore because he made them work for their meals.

‘He’s a good guy.’

Picking up the former slave was proving to be a good decision.

 

---

 

Soon, Filth arrived just outside the shed, prying it open and barging inside without knocking. He looked around and as expected, there was nobody inside.

Above ground, that is.

Filth strode to a corner at the back of the shed, where a generous pile of hay languished. He plunged his hand into the heap and dug around for something, before eventually pulling out what seemed to be some chains. Holding it with both hands, Filth pulled, hearing a metallic snap right after.

Just as he was about to pull the hidden trap door to head inside, the door suddenly flew open on its own, displacing quite a bit of the hay.

A middle-aged man who looked bulky enough to fold Filth tenfold burst out of the hole in the ground. His eyes were sharp and in his hand was a long rifle, pointed straight at Filth.

"Wait a minute, old man!" Filth hastily backed off, raising his hands in surrender. "It's me."

"Oh." The middle-aged man's eyes immediately softened and he lowered his gun. "Sorry about that, boy. I'm a bit on edge lately."

"Y-yeah? It's fine, it's fine..." Filth secretly heaved a sigh in relief and wiped away the beads of cold sweat on his forehead. "I'm, uh... I'm here to pick up my order."

"I know. Also, I told you not to open the fucking hatch when I'm around."

"Sorry. I didn't want to have to wait for hours in case you were deep inside the sewers."

"Fair enough..." The middle-aged orphanage director seemed to understand his reasoning since he bobbed his head. "I already took it out earlier since the brats wouldn't shut up about what you said. Y'know, about coming today and all that. Anyway, your order's over there, in the crate under the toolbox. Go ahead and check."

Filth followed the man's gaze and immediately found what he was looking for. He couldn't help but grunt in exertion as he labored to pick up the heavy toolbox and set it down on the ground before popping the crate open. "One, two, three, four, five... Seems good. Fifteen boxes of bullets. Thanks, old man Bloyar."

Bloyar leaned on the wall and watched the door to see if anyone was coming from the orphanage. "Can't believe you found it hard to lift that damned toolbox. You even call yourself a man, kid? Did you drop your balls on the way here?"

"Fuck off." Filth grimaced, slightly embarrassed for being so physically weak. The thought of working on that before trying to improve his marksmanship crossed his mind, but he shoved it away.

No matter how good he was at fighting with his fist, he likely wouldn't be able to compete against a gun's power to take people's lives. After all, a punch could put people to sleep, but a bullet to the head ensured that they'd never wake up.

'Well, that's the case for normal people... Some people can kill more people with a punch than with a gun...'

Filth took all the boxes and opened them one by one before storing them inside his ring. "I'll be needing more than this, old man."

"I'll try. But it's gonna be hard. Some stuff happened and I'm trying to lay low for a bit. Let things cool off, you know?"

"What kind of stuff?" Filth tried to sound casual but perked his ears up nonetheless.

Luckily, it seemed the old man was pretty talkative. "Some idiots tried to attack the prince of Aizen."

"Oh... yeah, I heard about that."

"It'd be pretty hard not to. It's been all over the newspapers all week. Even people who couldn't afford to buy newspapers know it now since they can read the old issues thrown away in the trash."

Filth listened, suddenly thinking of a possibility. "Wait... are the weapons they used..."

Bloyar sighed and rubbed his face in obvious frustration. "Yeah. I sold it to those bastards..."

"... And you're fine with telling me?"

"Maybe I shouldn't have..." Bloyar shrugged, his bearded face twisting into what seemed to pass as a kind smile. "But I reckon someone who looks out for the brats like you can't be entirely rotten. Otherwise, I wouldn't have told you I sold weapons as a side business in the first place, right?"

Filth scratched the back of his head awkwardly before changing the topic. "So? Who were they?"

"Hell if I know. They called themselves the Sons of Arkhan or something. Freaks even invited me to join. They said they were going out of town and wanted protection in case of monsters... but then I see their faces on the fucking newspaper. Cock-sucking cunts, the lot of them... I'd kill them all myself if I'd known what they wanted to do. Now the brats might be in danger if the state tries to track down where those bastards bought their guns... Luckily, I didn't sell them here at the orphanage and met up in the sewers instead... but still."

"Right..."

"I can somehow run away or pay off a few enforcers, but I just hope none of those knights try to track me down. I'm pretty confident in my strength, but I can't do shit against those scary fuckers. Not if the stories about them are true, at least. Heard they exterminated an entire forest full of monsters up north because it was too close to the train tracks... And there were only three knights."

Filth nodded along with the man's concerns and spoke to clarify some things. "So... I can't buy bullets from you anymore?"

Bloyar grunted in thought before shaking his head. "That may not be the case..."

"What do you mean?"

"I said I'd lay low, but I didn't say I'd stop. How am I gonna feed so many of those damned brats if I don't do this? The budget the state gives us isn't enough... not after I disobeyed orders and took in more kids than I'm allowed to."

Filth scratched his cheek in contemplation. He wanted to help, but it wasn't like he was rolling in money either. Although his salary was great from the standpoint of an individual or even an ordinary family, this was an orphanage with dozens of mouths to feed and water. Coming around from time to time and handing out some bread was inconsequential, but anything more than that would put him out on the streets.

Bloyar seemed to notice his thoughts since he waved off Filth's concerns with a laugh. "What's wrong with your ugly mug? I'm the director of this orphanage. Me. Not you. It's my responsibility, boy."

"...You think I don't know that?"

"Stop feeling bad about not being able to help more. We barely even know each other... and the same can be said for the kids." The middle-aged gentleman strode forward and patted Filth's shoulder hard. "You can still buy stuff from me, but since I'm taking a bigger risk here, I'll have to mark my prices up... Sorry about that."

Filth nodded and chuckled. "Fine by me."

"If you're okay with me asking, what're you using all these bullets for? With how much you've bought, I would've heard something if you were using them to kill people. So that can't be the reason."

"Oh, uh... I'm practicing."

"Practicing?"

"Yeah... my marksmanship. It's not very good at the moment..."

Bloyar took a few moments to seemingly take that in before slapping his thigh. "Man, I didn't know you were rich enough to practice... With live bullets, at that. Fucking hell, man..."

Filth wanted to protest but he couldn't very well say it was his employer's wealth. He also couldn't reveal the fact that he had an employer.

'I'll just let him misunderstand.'

"Well, if you're loaded, then maybe..." Bloyar muttered to himself for a second before rushing back into the hole, straight into the sewers. And just as Filth was about to follow him in exasperation to ask what the hell was going on, the old man suddenly popped back out, holding a rectangular box above his head. With a heave, he threw it on the shed's dirt floor and climbed back out. "I may have something nice for a price."

"I don't like the sound of this..." Filth sighed. He really didn't have all that much money on him considering this was his first month on the job. But then again, it wouldn't hurt to see what the aged orphanage director was offering.

"Yeah, yeah. Window-shoppin's fine if it's you."

Bloyar used a crowbar that was lying around and pried the box open, revealing what was obviously some kind of gun — a rifle, to be exact. Except that there were strange glass canisters attached to it.

"I ordered this since those fuckers paid double the full price in advance." The old man huffed, getting worked up again. "But I sure as hell ain't selling them shit now that I know what crap they get up to. These things don't come cheap, but I'll give you a discount since just having this on me makes my balls sweat at night."

"What even is this?"

"The hell, boy? You don't know what this is...? Kids these days..."

Filth scratched the back of his head with a frown. "Less yapping, old man."

"Oh, shove off, cunt." Bloyar shook his head in exasperation before picking up the gun and giving it a few good pats. "This is a magitech rifle, you ignorant lout. It's leagues better than your run-of-the-mill gun and can even punch through a knight's armor!"

"Oh, I've heard of those..." Filth rummaged through the garbage dump of his thoughts and pulled out everything that had anything to do with these monstrous weapons. "I also heard that you can't fire it more than a few dozen times."

"Well... That is true..."

"The recoil will more than likely kill you too."

Bloyar frowned. "Yeah, well, that's why they usually have these mounted on golems, numbskull. The recoil just proves how great they are. Aren't you a man? Where the hell is your spirit!?"

'I'm using guns precisely because I'm not strong! That thing will kill me after I fire it once!'

Perhaps after seeing his reluctance to buy the magitech rifle, Bloyar clicked his tongue and held up a few fingers too many. "Fine, fine. You drive a hard bargain. I'll sell it for this much."

"No deal. I said I can't use it, old man."

"Well, just use it for emergencies. Or just as a decoration. Don't you think the ladies will love a man with a big gun?"

"Fuck that..."

"Cheap ass motherfucker..." Bloyar cursed under his breath before pushing the big rifle into Filth's hands. "Fine. Just take it off my hands for now. Put it inside that spatial storage ring of yours."

"Uh..." Filth's arms strained under the weight of the gun that only seemed to be just a head shorter than he was. He was barely able to store it inside his spatial ring before he threw a hesitant glance at the old man. "You sure about this, old man? I could run off with this, you know?"

"Bah. Run off with it, then. I already got paid double for it anyway. Besides, it's better than keeping it in my shed. Even those nasty brats can break into this place."

"Yeah, well, maybe don't keep guns inside sheds at the back of a kid's orphanage."

"Mind your own business, boy. That is unless you got a better idea where I can better hide my goods."

"Beats me. I'm new here." Filth shrugged and then helped the old man by taking the big box and setting it against the wall. Suddenly, he grew curious about something. "Hey, old man."

"Hm?" Bloyar looked up from what seemed to be a bag full of money, most likely doing internal budgeting.

"You know, it's strange how a foul-mouthed old bastard like you runs an orphanage like this."

"Heh. Is it that strange?"

"It is to me, at least."

Bloyar stared into empty space for a second or two before shaking his head with a chuckle. "It's a secret. Don't just go asking about shit like that, boy. You'll get yourself killed."

"Killed my ass. Just say you're an old man with a soft spot for kids."

"Even though it's true, I don't like how you worded that..." Bloyar glared at him sharply before shooing away his customer. "Well, that's all. If you've got no intentions of spending any more money, then get the hell outta here already. Not that I got anything else to sell, really. Gotta say it again, but I'm laying low for a while."

"Ah, wait a minute." Filth suddenly remembered something else he was supposed to find out. "I might move from town to town, so you got any ideas of places I can get restocked on ammunition?"

"You've got a lot of nerve to ask me where to buy stuff other than me, boy."

"I can't come here all the time. And anyway, weren't you gonna lay low for a while?"

"Point taken... Just look for pubs or taverns in downtown areas with green flags next to their signs." Bloyar once again shooed him away but still gave advice. "Order the house brew and a plate of salted nuts. Then leave the nuts alone but drink half of whatever drink they give you before asking to use the loo. Someone'll approach you then."

"How awfully convoluted." Filth grumbled.

"Yeah, well that's just how it goes with these things. Oh, and lemme remind you, not all cities have these pubs. The capital obviously doesn't have 'em anymore. Some assholes also charge extra just because of scarcity too. So stock up whenever you can buy them for the standard price."

"Standard price...?"

"Yeah. Basically, how much I sold them for is the standard price. It normally gets more expensive the more you head west though, just so you know."

Filth nodded and finally turned around to leave. "Thanks, old man. I'll come around every once in a while."

Bloyar grunted. "I told you I'm—"

"To play with the kids, you old codger." Filth laughed before heading back into the orphanage.

'If he can't sell for a while, I guess I shouldn't use up my bullets by practicing too much, huh?'

Or perhaps he could head over to another town by train to buy some more.

Regardless of his bullet procurement issues, Filth intended to arrange his thoughts into a coherent report before divulging the information he discovered to his boss. He couldn't read to save his life, so Filth couldn't even use the holostone he was given to its full potential. Luckily, some of the "buttons" included symbols, so he was somehow able to perform basic stuff with it — including a request to call his employer.

And as expected, Filth was no orator. So of course he would stutter and fumble his words up to the point where the other side could no longer understand him. At least, that was how Filth imagined it would go. He did hope it wouldn't go so badly though.

'Sons of Arkhan, huh?'

Filth ruminated on the news article he'd seen a few days prior, marveling at the sheer stupidity of some people in the world. He hadn't been able to understand the letters, but just from how people talked about it, there was a nationwide consensus that the perpetrators were delusional morons.

Even though Filth couldn't deny that he was an uneducated mongrel, he at least felt thankful that he wasn't at the same level of stupidity as those people.

'Hm... Maybe I can do something here...?'

It was a subject that deserved more thought, but for now, Filth chose to focus on how he could avoid making a fool of himself in front of his boss.