Glimpse of Eternity [A Reincarnation Isekai Fantasy]

Reivan almost wanted to yawn at how incredibly boring the whole operation was. Not only was there nobody worth his time here, but since Helen also decided to come along, all difficulty was all but eliminated.

From his people in Lageton, he already had a good idea of how strong the smugglers were, so he had only picked out peacekeepers who weren't too strong for this operation. They were just weak enough that taking the smugglers out would actually serve as a bit of a workout.

Then Helen found him at the last second and said that her hand was bored.

'Too overkill...'

Reivan felt apologetic when he thought about the peacekeepers, who basically came here only to clean up and transport the prisoners to Grimharbor. With a heavy heart, Reivan jumped off the crate he was sitting on and popped it open.

'This is a somewhat decent haul.'

With a tiny smile on his face, Reivan reached down and grabbed a handful of wands. They were very low quality — rejects, even — but they were much better than nothing. Reivan wouldn't have bent over backward just to get such subpar items, but in this particular case, they had all but landed on his lap. Furthermore, he could even give his public image a small bump.

Low effort, high reward.

Not all of the crates in the warehouse were full of wands, of course. Minor-league smugglers wouldn't have had the capabilities to obtain that many, otherwise, they wouldn't be minor-league smugglers. That's why the vast majority of the cargo the smugglers brought was composed of some luxury goods unique to Pentagoria — like depthstone jewelry and expensive textiles.

'Drugs too, of course. Man, why does everybody like drugs so much? It's bad for you, y'know!'

No smugglers worth their salt skipped out on trading drugs. The goods and textiles could be put to use by the crown, but the drugs would be disposed of in public.

And if that wasn't enough, at the very bottom of the crate was a very small box. Reivan easily destroyed the lock and flipped it open, his smile deepening when his eyes fell on the luminescent fish scales inside.

'Mermaid scales~! Jackpot...!'

The continent of Pentagoria.

It was a much smaller continent than Sentorale and was relatively close and accessible when compared to the other four continents. Even one of the republic's warships would reach it within a month, so it had a much more intimate relationship with the central continent than others. Most curious was that there were five nations perpetually hostile to each other all squeezed into the small continent, yet it hadn't been conquered by Argonia or Arkhan.

Pentagoria remained mostly independent despite it not having a Transcendent to defend it.

The main reason was the existence of mermaids.

'I wonder why they protect that place so fiercely...'

Any sea-faring armada, no matter how big or well-equipped, would succumb to ruin when the ocean literally opened its maw and swallowed it whole. Ascendents could bypass this threat with their innate ability to fly, but then again, it wasn't like Pentagoria would stand by and wait to be slaughtered — they had Ascendents too, though not as many as any of the three nations in Sentorale.

Additionally, even when the five nations of Pentagoria were in eternal conflict with each other, they could unify at the drop of a hat when faced with foreign intervention.

And so, any nation looking to conquer them by sending over a small army of Ascendents would have to face the risk of losing quite a large portion of their invasion forces. It would be a catastrophic pyrrhic victory that would leave them vulnerable to the other two continental powers.

'Except Aizen.'

The kingdom had sky arks, after all. So many sky arks, in fact, that Aizen used them as an express transportation system before trains came along. They even allowed prominent merchants to own small sky arks. Furthermore, the Aizen Kingdom didn't have to rely on just Ascendents to invade Pentagoria — a fact that Pentagoria's leaders naturally noticed as well. This was why they were secretly very wary in various ways, all while trying what they could to somehow improve relations.

'We don't give a shit about them though. Not that they would believe us even if we said that...'

Aizen had bigger fish to fry than bully some small continent — a continent that was closer to the republic and would hence be very problematic to manage without the frequent use of teleportation gates, which would, in turn, consume a terrifyingly large amount of resources for very little gain.

Conquering Pentagoria simply wasn't worth the effort.

In any case, because of how much mermaids aided Pentagoria's independence from greater forces, they were a vital existence and were revered as lesser deities by Pentagoria's natives — and even their very culture. Needless to say, their scales were expensive to an absurd degree. Mermaid hunting was not only banned by law in all Pentagorian nations, if you were even caught talking about wanting to go mermaid hunting, an angry mob would form to silence you forever.

'I wonder how these schmucks got these... Hopefully, they didn't catch mermaid kids or something...'

Reivan frowned at the thought, finding that it was actually very plausible. There was no way these weaklings could handle an adult mermaid. Mermaids rarely left deep waters, which also just happened to be where they were strongest. Only the young ones come close to the shores, curious of humans. So the likelihood that the scales in Reivan's possession belonged to a young mermaid was high.

'I was going to give all of these to Saintess Frey so she can put their medicinal properties to good use, but maybe I should have these sent back to Pentagoria...'

The kingdom wouldn't lose anything by gaining a bit more goodwill from their far-off neighbors in exchange for some fish scales. Plus, Reivan didn't have to surrender all of the items. He would naturally skim some off the top.

All in all, this entire operation had netted him quite a lot for very little effort.

'Hehe. Let's give everyone who participated in this operation a small bonus. To compensate them for the boringness of it all.'

Of course, this bonus would be paid out of his own pocket. But Reivan didn't consider it much of a loss, what with how fat his wallet was. He had more money than he knew what to do with and gained it faster than he could spend it.

Now in a terrific mood, Reivan stowed the box of scales into his storage ring and looked up with a smile, only for his face to stiffen in surprise.

'What the... who the hell is that guy?'

In the dark crevice between two particularly tall crates, there was what appeared to be a man wearing a very thick cloak as black as night. His hair was a gingery orange color and his skin was brown — a skin tone prevalent among those who worked hard under the sun for most of the day. There were scars all over the man's face too, and his dark eyes trembled as they stared at Reivan.

'Uhm... Is it a ghost?'

Reivan blinked a couple of more times, wondering if he was hallucinating.

After all, even if darkness might have hindered most, Reivan was different. And as he grew stronger, so too, did his senses. It wasn't as if every sensation was amplified — more like, they just grew sharper, more refined, and significantly improved in general.

If someone handed him a dish, Reivan could vaguely tell what ingredients were used. It was extremely animalistic, but he could also detect the odors left in the air by someone who had passed by and then track their locations. He could tell the precise location of some talking in a room on a different floor.

Unlike the anime characters he'd watched and read about, Reivan wouldn't suffer significant damage if someone threw a stinky sock at him or shouted into his ear really loud. His senses just worked better, not harder.

It was hard for him to describe since that was simply how it was for warbeasts — and apparently, hybrids too, since it happened to him. But the point was, his sight wasn't his only sensory weapon.

'I don't think I've been sleep-deprived lately. So it shouldn't be a hallucination this time...'

The entity hiding in the dark crevice had no scent nor did they produce any sound despite how hard they appeared to be hyperventilating. And yet, he could see the entity perfectly well.

'Helen didn't notice this guy either.'

She wasn't bad when it came to scouting skills like presence detection. The fact that she had completely left him alone despite being so close meant she hadn't noticed the hidden intruder at all.

'Interesting. Very interesting.'

Reivan unconsciously smiled at something that might make the night a bit more fun.

'For now, I suppose I'll check if this is the effect of some special ability. If nothing pops up, I should probably go to the church and have Frey purify me or something.'

 

'Nice. I'm not being haunted, it seems. Anyway... This guy's name is Light...? Wow, I sure hope he doesn't have a black notebook hidden in that cloak and a death god following him around. Otherwise, we're all absolutely fucked. As expected, he has a special ability. His physical capabilities are pitiful though. Even Elsa can beat the shit out of this guy on paper... Not that that's important.'

Reivan also didn't miss the man's extra skill. It was something he'd very rarely seen. Knights were fairly harsh on themselves, resorting to all sorts of harmful practices to accelerate their growth, and yet, he had never seen any of them have [Suffering Resistance]. He had seen the ability on some criminals and a few people rescued from the empire though.

For the most part, it just gave them a small resistance against mental stress when faced with misfortune. And usually, only those who had undergone some really horrible things had the skill.

'Right... Let's see what [Black Heart] does.'

 

 

'I see. So the invisibility thing wasn't even the actual ability. It was just a sub-skill.'

Reivan looked away from the invisible man who shared a name with arguably one of the most dangerous characters to grace anime. He then pondered what he'd just read.

'That passive is very concerning. And vague too. It also implies that attributes can evolve, which, as far as history is involved, has never happened before. So that's neat.'

Abilities like this one that did stuff to their wielder's mind were the worst. Reivan pitied the man, likening him to Roland — who, fortunately, didn't seem to be suffering from anything yet. Reivan himself would have been fucked if his [Indomitable Willpower] didn't counter [Glimpse of Eternity]'s downsides.

'Tough luck, man. We don't choose our burdens. They choose us.'

"I'm back."

Helen snapped him out of his thoughts, holding a severed head in her hand. It was very gross, but Reivan somehow didn't find it that disgusting on account of the very beautiful young woman holding it.

'No, wait. In the first place, why is she bringing it along with her?'

Reivan sighed and was about to tell her to get rid of that thing but he remembered something. "Why'd you kill him? You just wasted a test subject..."

"He tried to take a hostage. I didn't want to risk it so I just collapsed his lungs and... As you can see." Helen raised the severed head and shook it around. The blood seemed to have been siphoned out since none of it dripped out despite the shaking. "There are a bunch of slaves in the back. What are you going to do with them?"

"Free them, duh." Reivan shrugged. "Slavery's bad."

While he talked with Helen, Reivan discretely kept an eye on the invisible man. Finding him again would be a bitch and a half, considering Reivan only had his sight to go off of. Running around searching for someone through line of sight alone did not sound like his idea of a fun night.

"I figured that was the case." Helen nodded, sitting on the same crate as him even though there were dozens of other crates. "I already destroyed their collars before killing this guy. In case there was some kind of fail-safe after he died or something."

"You're every commander's dream, you know that? Doing whatever the hell you want on your own..."

"What are you going to do with the slaves? Or rather, the former slaves? Now that they're free and all."

Reivan frowned and moved slightly away. Helen was sitting shoulder to shoulder with him, which he didn't mind, but she still had the severed head in her hands.

'Why isn't she throwing it away... Fuck, the guy sure was ugly.'

"Sending them back to the republic would be the easier thing to do afterward. It's also protocol since they're not our citizens," Reivan stopped to gaze at the room in the back, where the former slaves were likely huddled up in a corner. "But that would be the same as slapping a new collar on them right after taking off the old ones. Instead, I suppose I'll set up a facility to get them reacclimated to society first before letting them go for real. Oh, but that's a fate for the slaves forced into this shit. Some of them were obviously enjoying themselves. We'll send the bad eggs to Grimharbor."

'Maybe I'll have Elsa temporarily set the good ones up with employment in Lageton. Or Worgon.'

Reivan wouldn't take care of them for too long though. They had to rise up and take care of themselves if they wanted to have a future. Maybe it was because he was surrounded by hardworking people, but Reivan had grown to despise slackers and leeches who only knew how to depend on others.

Helen smiled, resting her head on her shoulders — which would have been a much more endearing act if she didn't still have a severed head on her lap. "That's nice of you."

"Not really. Anyway... By Sormon's fluffy pillow, Helen. Would you please get rid of that fucking head? It's gross!"

"You finally said something about it." Helen looked up at him with a mischievous grin that would have been a rarity a few years ago. "I was intentionally keeping it to gross you out."

"You're dead."

Reivan poked her side but she vanished before his finger could make contact, leaving only a soft breeze and a pleasant scent in her wake.

Helen casually walked off toward the exit of the warehouse with her empty hands behind her back.

'This little...'

Reivan chuckled as his eyes unconsciously fell on Helen's butt. He quickly peeled his eyes away before she noticed and then called out to her. "Hey. Quick question."

"What is it?"

"Come here for a second."

"That's not a question."

"Just come here."

"I don't want to... You might do something weird to me."

Reivan massaged his temples. "Why are you making it sound like I sexually harass you every time you come close?"

"You don't. But even so..."

"Agh! Shut up and come here!" Reivan got up and then dragged her over to his previous spot. Then he pointed right at the invisible man. "Can you see that guy? Standing right there, with the big black cloak? Oh, look, he's all shocked and looks like he wants to bolt for it. Well?"

Helen squinted as her smooth forehead creased for a few moments. Then she shook her head. "There's nothing there."

"There is though."

"Stop messing around..." Helen sighed and then took out a small throwing knife. "Fine, I'll show you. Watch this."

Reivan hastily stopped her before she killed someone accidentally. "Don't just throw knives randomly."

"Are you crazy? There's nothing there. I can even tell when you did something lewd with those ladies from the Haven. So how can I miss someone so close by?"

"Can you stop trying to... Whatever. Anyway, just don't chuck anything anywhere for now." Reivan spoke in fluent Akhanian as he smiled, staring right at the man trembling in the dark. "Hello there, man in the black cloak. I'm Prince Reivan, the second prince of the Aizen Kingdom. It's nice to meet you. Can you please show yourself? I can see you clearly, but my friend here can't. You have a really nice gift, it seems."

 

---

 

At the silver-locked prince's words, Filth finally threw away all notions of escape. Honestly, he actually thought he had a chance when the prince looked away and started talking with the ridiculously beautiful woman. It wasn't all too rare for Filth to mistakenly think someone was staring at him when, in fact, they were just staring vacantly in the air or looking through him.

'Shit.'

But then he got called out so blatantly.

'Shit. Shit. SHIT!'

Now, without a shadow of a doubt, the young man known as the second prince could see him.

'Maybe if I run, I could... No. No. Dumb idea...'

Filth couldn't even see how the woman moved around. She was just that fast. If someone told Filth that the woman was a legendary Ascendant, then he would slap them on the head for saying something so fucking obvious. Though she couldn't see him, catching him would be relatively easy as long as the prince directed her.

Additionally, the prince himself didn't seem like someone he could run away from. That guy was a different kind of beast. The goosebumps on the back of Filth's neck were all the proof he needed for this conviction. His body just instinctively felt it — that he was a little rat in front of the biggest, fastest, and meanest cat in all of existence.

'Is this...'

Filth felt his lungs screaming for air, and only then did he realize that he'd stopped breathing for a few seconds.

'Is this the end for me?'

The prince's earlier words seemed promising, but Filth couldn't understand most of the words they used. Even if he knew a bit of English, it wasn't good enough to hold a decent conversation. And anyway, he knew better than to trust someone's words by now. Desporion's broken promise was the last straw — Filth now had zero trust in anything but himself.

Aizen was famous for its merciless policy toward enemies. It was a shining beacon in a world of darkness, and Filth was sure most dreamed of being reborn as one of its citizens, but at the same time, it wasn't the kindest place for anyone who wasn't a citizen.

And Filth wasn't really a law-abiding visitor here, even if he was forced by the fear of death. It was the worst first impression to be caught by the literal fucking prince being part of a smuggling gig.

'Maybe I can somehow survive this if I beg... And maybe he'll take me in if I play up my gift. I can even hide from Peacekeepers, so I'll be useful... Hopefully.'

It would be like switching from one master to another, but Filth knew his place — an ant such as himself could only lower his head and wish the giants didn't step on him.

With that in mind, Filth took a deep breath before walking out of the dark crevice and into the light. He lowered his hood and knelt down, placing both palms on the ground. "Mercy. Your Majesty..."

There was a surprised grunt and the prince asked him, still in Arkhanian. "You can speak English?"

"Little. Learn. Old owner..."

"What other languages do you speak? And which one are you most comfortable with?"

Filth tried to find the words in English, but failed. So he hesitantly answered in Arkhanian tongue instead. "Your Majesty, I can understand a bit of every language in Pentagoria. But I am most fluent in Arkhanian."

"I see. Let's speak in Arkhanian then. Oh, and it's Your Highness when talking to royalty other than the king and queen. Just a correction to improve your English. It's Your Highness in Arkhanian, I believe. Also, get up from there, will you? I don't like looking at the back of someone's head while I talk to them. My neck is also very delicate, so I also have trouble looking down for extended periods of time."

"Y-Yes, Your Highness..." Filth hesitantly stood up, making sure to do it slowly so nobody thought he was going to try anything funny. The last thing he wanted was to get killed by someone with a twitchy trigger finger.

"Rein, you're so full of sh—"

"Shush, be quiet. Go away and eat an entire pig or something."

The beautiful woman frowned and pinched the prince's arm. "I don't eat that much these days..."

"Oink oink."

'Well, they seem close, at least.'

It made sense though. A woman as gorgeous as the one in front of him could only be deserved by a handsome prince. Just like every fairy tale book there ever was.

Filth felt bitter at the unfairness of it all, but he kept it from staining his face. He also tried to keep his eyes trained on the prince, avoiding the fairy-like woman. It wouldn't lead to a good end for him if his wandering eyes accidentally aroused the prince's jealousy.

Prince Reivan chuckled and eventually fought off the grumbling woman, turning back his attention to Filth. "You haven't introduced yourself yet."

"Ah... Sorry." Filth bowed his head in apology before clearing his throat. "This humble one is named Filth. I am nobody's son, nobody's husband, and nobody's father. I ask for the prince to take pity on me and spare my life."

"You said your name is... Filth? Well, that can't be right..."

The prince's expression made it apparent how perplexed he was, and Filth understood why. Filth's name was English for garbage, dirt, and generally something undesirable. English was a language that originated in Aizen, so naturally, the prince would instantly recognize the word.

"My name is a word in your language, as I'm sure you've noticed, Your Highness." Filth smiled sheepishly. "I did not choose it myself if that is what you are wondering."

"Ah. Is that so..."

"Yes. The thug who found me on the streets after my mother died was the one who gave me this name."

Prince Reivan's eyes widened and he nodded to himself. "Okay. It's starting to make some sense now."

"Yes."

"It's a horrible thing to name someone though."

Filth chuckled a little. "Well... the world is a horrible place."

"I suppose it has its bad sides. I won't argue. In any case... you are free to go now, Mr. Filth."

The prince snapped his finger and a dull clang rang in Filth's head. Suddenly, his neck felt... well, it felt sore. But the pressure around it was gone.

"I..." Filth's breath escaped his mouth in erratic intervals as his hand vacantly felt around for his collar. But no matter how much he patted his neck, his hand only made contact with his flesh. Every time his fingertips made contact with his neck, it pricked. But even so, Filth didn't stop.

He could not stop.

He had to make sure it wasn't all a lie.

Looking down, between his feet, were two pieces of black metal. He had very rarely seen them on occasions when he found a reflective surface clean enough for him to see himself. But he would never forget what they looked like.

How could he? Every night he dreamed of breaking them with his own hands.

"I'm..." Filth looked up, searching for those golden eyes. "I'm free?"

"Freedom is a very complex idea. And I don't think anyone is ever free from everything." Prince Reivan chuckled before nodding. "But you are certainly not a slave anymore. Congratulations, Mr. Filth."

"Ah, eh, uhm, yes..." Filth's knees shook and he barely kept himself from falling on his ass. But it was slowly sinking in that he'd just gotten what he always wanted. "Thank you..."

"No need. Slavery's not really a thing here. Rich people having free labor for all eternity is not good for taxes, y'know? Oh, and it's unethical too, I suppose."

The beautiful woman elbowed the prince. "Rein. You make it sound like the first king was a sly snake."

"Can you not put words into my mouth?" Reivan scowled at her. "I was just lightening the mood..."

Filth ignored the two and sunk into his thoughts.

'I'm free now...'

Logically, he should have been happy. He had just obtained his greatest wish.

'Now what do I do...?'

But instead, Filth just felt incredibly... lost.

Right now, he was in a foreign land, without friends, without family, and without a single coin to his name. He wasn't smart, nor was he strong. Hell, he couldn't even speak English all that well.

And even if the prince fed him for a while and shipped him off to his homeland of Arkhan... then what?

There was nothing there but bad memories. It was an unkind place for someone like Filth, who didn't belong to an established sorcery clan or merchant family. Getting lucky and landing a decent job somewhere was all but a dream when there were thousands of other candidates who actually had some semblance of education. Plus, those other candidates probably didn't spend twenty-three years of their lives as slaves to criminals.

'I...'

At this point, Filth had the horrifying notion that he would simply end up as a criminal himself. Only this time, he wouldn't have the excuse of being a slave — this time, it would be his choice.

His only choice.

Forced to walk that life even though he was supposed to already be free.

'I don't want that... Anything but that...!'

Filth bit his lip as he was suddenly grabbed by the shoulder. It was the prince.

The prince was grabbing his dirty shoulder.

"Hey, are you listening?" Prince Reivan raised a brow and shook Filth a little. "I said we're getting out of here. Some peacekeepers... Ah, those are the men and women in uniforms, by the way. Anyway, peacekeepers are going to come in here and settle everything. I suggest you cooperate. Spare yourself the beating. They'll set you and the other liberated slaves up. Get you fed too... And bathed. Gods, you reek... And I mean no offense with that. Everybody stinks when they don't bathe for a while. Me included."

"Ah... yes, Your Highness." Filth gulped and nodded.

"Very good." The prince stood up with a smile and then beckoned for the black-haired beauty to follow. "Perhaps we'll see each other again if the Sormon and the heavens will it."

The two walked off side by side until the woman hooked her arm around the prince's, causing him to flinch.

Filth watched them go with a vacant expression before he suddenly jumped to his feet and bolted after them. Now would be his chance — his only chance. At least, that was what he felt in his guts.

'The prince... The prince is my only chance here!'

"Y-Your Highness! I, uhm, I beg your pardon!"

The two covered a surprising distance despite their casual gait. Luckily, his call didn't go unheard since they stopped to wait for him.

Filth's chest burned just as hot as his legs by the time he'd caught up to them, but that hardly mattered at the moment. What mattered was how he found it hard to say anything before his lungs ran out of air.

"Please..."

Filth knelt down and joined his hands together. He had knelt in front of someone many times in his life, but this time felt a bit different.

"Please employ me..."

This time, he wasn't kneeling to apologize for something he wasn't at fault for. Nor was he kneeling for pity or the fulfillment of a promise that the other side never intended to fulfill.

"I can... I can be useful... So please..."

This time, Filth was begging for a future.

"Please give me a chance."