The highest tower of Saint Mary's Convent in the city of Wellersburg burned in flames.
Floating in the air, hidden by the darkness of a cloudy night, a shadowy figure, wrapped in an ethereal cloak of dark energy, enjoyed the spectacle of lights and shadows produced by the fire.
The source of that malevolent being's delight wasn't simply the macabre beauty of that pyrotechnic display. The hooded figure was filled with an intoxicating sense of duty fulfilled.
So many months, so many different places, so many failed attempts, but finally, he had completed the mission entrusted to him by his beloved master.
The last heir of the first emperor was dead. He burned amidst the flames in his mother's arms.
Princess Selena's death hadn't been part of the master's plan, but she had made the mistake of giving birth to an heir of the great betrayal; that was a sacrilege that could not be forgiven.
The master would never allow a filthy traitor the slightest chance of becoming the next emperor.
The death of a mere princess was a small price to pay.
The sinister figure couldn't contain his eagerness; he wanted to leave immediately to receive his master's praise.
But then a slight fluctuation in the fabric of reality sent chills through the sinister figure's body. That was the sign of interference from a divine being.
Would some damned god dare interfere with the master's plans? The hooded figure could not believe in that.
The princess was still burning, and in her arms was the disgusting child who bore the mark of betrayal. Both them were already dead.
His mission was already accomplished; not even a damned god could interfere now.
The figure tried to convince himself that nothing was wrong, but his trembling hand betrayed his uncertainty. The master wouldn't forgive another failure. That filthy child shouldn't even have been conceived if the figure had completed his mission months ago.
Only the father would have died. They wouldn't have needed to draw so much attention by killing the mother.
If the figure told the master about that fluctuation, about the probable interference of a god, he wouldn't consider the mission accomplished, and there would be no praise, only insults.
"The master doesn't need to know, right?" the sinister figure asked himself. No, he would never tell the master; he was too eager to receive the long-awaited praise.
In another reality, in another parallel universe, one of the infinite multiverses, another building burned in flames.
Amidst the rubble of the explosion that had been the source of that fire, Edward struggled to breathe.
The heat of the flames was intense, but he knew he didn't need to worry about them; the toxic gases released by those flames would kill him before the fire itself began to melt his skin.
Just when everything in his life was starting to improve, this tragedy happened. Years of suffering in childhood, with a broken family and the constant threat of poverty.
All that suffering, the harsh military training he had never wanted but endured because it was his only chance to study engineering, as he had always dreamed.
Years of humiliation at military school and later at the cadet academy. Forced to deal with the racist elitism of his classmates and army officers. Constantly punished simply for challenging the twisted logic of the prejudiced minds around him.
How could a poor kid like him be the best at everything?
But just as his dream was finally coming true, just as he had secured that coveted position as an engineering officer in the mechanized cavalry, this happened.
That sound earlier had clearly been the shrill whistle of a hypersonic missile. He would never mistake that sound, not after all those hours of study, listening to recordings of different types of missiles.
They had been attacked.
Edward had always known this was a possibility. The facility where he had started working was one of the most heavily guarded areas in the country, but with all the geopolitical tensions brewing, deep down, he knew something like this could happen.
But he had never imagined his luck would be this bad. That an attack would happen so soon after he had finally become an engineer, as he had always dreamed.
Who would have thought his country's defenses would be so easily overcome, that someone could launch such a devastating attack on such a heavily protected facility?
There was nothing left to do. Regret wouldn't change anything.
The toxic gases had already invaded his lungs, and he could no longer breathe. Soon his body would be without oxygen, and his organs would begin to fail one after another.
He simply closed his eyes and waited patiently for the inevitable.
For a moment, everything was darkness. He no longer felt the pain or the heat from the flames warming his face.
"You still has a mission to fulfill…"
He could have sworn he heard a voice just before that strange sensation of his soul being torn from his body. Edward didn't know it, but his soul was being captured.
"I will give you a second chance…"
Someone was interfering with the wheel of reincarnation to ensure he would be reborn in a specific place, to live a specific life, for a specific purpose.
"Do not fail this time…"
Only a powerful god could do such a thing. But it all happened without Edward being aware of what was happening.
"Use your knowledge responsibly…"
It must have been a hallucination, probably from the toxic gases he had inhaled, right? His mind couldn't make sense of the strange phenomenon taking place.
His thoughts still gave him some sense of time, but there was no way to know what happened in the intervals between them.
He felt nothing. But somehow, he still existed. That state, as if he were in some kind of limbo, could have lasted a second or an eternity.
Then suddenly, the heat of the flames returned.
But now it wasn't the unbearable heat from before. This warmth was gentle, pleasant, like the flames of a fireplace on a winter night.
He still had no control over his body, but he could feel air filling his lungs once more. Not that air saturated with toxic gases. This was the cold, damp air of a cloudy night.
He could still detect a faint scent of smoke, but not the strong chemical odor from the uncontrolled reactions that had started right after the explosion. No, what was burning now was wood, but there had been no wood in the facility where he worked.
When he finally opened his eyes, he saw in the distance a medieval building, like the castles of Europe during the Renaissance, its tallest tower in flames.
Floating slightly above the tower was a hooded figure, its long cloak seeming to be made of darkness.
Edward couldn't actually see the figure clearly. He was too far away, and the night was too dark. But his instincts screamed at him, denouncing the malicious presence of that hateful being filled with a perverse intent to kill him.
He didn't know how or why, but he knew that if that being noticed his presence, he would die an extremely unpleasant death.
But how could he die again if he was already dead? Whatever the answer to that question, it wouldn't make sense to him.