Ficool

Reborn as Magnus The Red Priest in Warhammer

Defamie
7
chs / week
The average realized release rate over the past 30 days is 7 chs / week.
--
NOT RATINGS
454
Views
Synopsis
This is a story about a miserable being who reincarnated as a pathetic character in a miserable universe. Read how he copes with misery using his wits and humor. . It also has some elements of The Lord of the Mysteries. . . . Disclaimer: I do not own anything in this book, including the book cover.
VIEW MORE

Chapter 1 - Oh! The Misery

For my whole life, I was starved of love and care that other people received even as a child.

I was scorned, abused, and hated because my appearance reminded them of their past grievance.

Let me tell you my story, the story that shaped this miserable existence whose words you are reading right now.

Before I died, I was a child born from the union of a renowned actress and the tycoon's son.

I was adored when I was born, but at the age of 7, something changed. My mother and father clashed and were arguing the whole time.

The reason for the arguments was that my mother wanted to resume her career as an actress while my father wanted her to be a housewife.

The argument escalated to divorce, and the eyes of my wretched parents turned cold when they saw me.

I clearly remember the day when my mother packed her bags to leave. I was clutching a transformer toy in my arms, as this was a remnant of the love they showered me with.

As she was leaving, I asked her, "Mom! Can I come with you?" You know what, she answered me with?

She said, "No! You remind me of the past mistakes I have made. You shouldn't have existed in the first place." The reply snapped a tiny bit of something in me.

After she left, her career flourished, and she became an actress worthy of Oscar awards.

She married a director with whom she later founded her entertainment company. And gave birth to a son and a daughter.

On the other hand, my father became an alcoholic, and he started beating me because I reminded him of her or what he had lost.

One day, he beat me so much that I was sent to the hospital. During the beating, he kicked my head repeatedly, and because of this, I had brain damage.

But I persevered, I didn't give up hope to live, but due to brain damage, I lost the sense of touch literally.

I couldn't feel anything if I was hurt, and I couldn't feel when I had to pee. I couldn't taste what food tastes like.

The doctors who saw my abused body tried to report the child abuse, but they were silenced by the threat of losing their careers if they reported it.

When I needed my family the most, my grandfather, for the sake of his son's mental health, decided to send me to the orphanage.

The day I remember clearly, like the day my mother left, the driver left me at the orphanage with my clothes, my tiny left hand in the orphanage director's hand, and my right hand clutching the transformer action figure tightly. While we watched, the car disappeared from my sight.

Life at the orphanage was hard; we were sometimes starved due to insufficient funds.

And the children sometimes are worse when they see a scrawny and abused child, they decided to bully me, they broke my transformer toy. Sometimes they beat me, but joke's on them, I couldn't feel anything.

Some people came to the orphanage to adopt, but they wouldn't adopt someone like me, who has a special condition, as it was a pain in the ass to take care of me.

So I had to grow up fast, though I was a 7-year-old child, I did some shopkeepers' chores to get some food or money. I also work some odd jobs to sustain myself.

The days blurred into years. Then came my high school life. I was academically brilliant because my drive made me work hard, so my parents could see I was of some worth to keep, and I got admitted to the school where the heirs of the business family studied.

I got fat when I left my orphanage at the age of 15, due to starvation as a child, I got traumatized to eat more, so even though I had nothing to eat, I could survive by burning my fat.

That habit turned into an eating disorder, to support that disorder, I took two part-time jobs.

My only solace in this bleak universe was the world of novels, manga, and anime.

But everything changed when our school's belle confessed to me out of nowhere when I was reading the novel.

Of course, I was in doubt that she had been dared by her friends to confess to me. Therefore, I refused.

At that, her friends started laughing at her because the class pig even refused to date her. As a result of that, her ego got bruised, so she began to pursue me relentlessly

While I wanted to ignore her advances, her determination led me to accept her, which led to the second tragedy of life.

She and I started dating first; it was a normal relationship, and then I also developed some feelings for her.

I became invested in the relationship, but some things bothered me; however, when you are in the bliss of love, you ignore some red flags.

Then again, things started to change (Damn you Tzeentch) when a pretty boy from a foreign country transferred to the school.

At that moment, my relationship with her went downhill; she started complaining about small things.

She started to argue about minor matters, making them into full-blown confrontations.

I patiently put up with her crap because I loved her. The attention that she gave to me as an attention-starved child became a drug more potent than cocaine.

As the saying goes, every show comes to an end. The end started when I asked her to go to prom with me, but she refused because she wasn't feeling well.

I accepted her refusal, even though I bought some cold medicine for her to bring home, but when I walked to the end of her street, I saw her.

She was beautiful in a green silk prom dress, her curly red hair tied in a messy bun with an earring, diamonds matching the color of her dress, and her high heels.

She was like a fairy descended into this mortal realm, her smile so bright that it illuminated everything around her, but she was not smiling at me; she was smiling at the pretty transfer boy.

And then she ran up to him and kissed him with passion that I didn't know she had. As we were in a relationship, she never kissed me.

Even holding hands was a rare occurrence, then something clicked in my head, I was just a dare to her that bruised her ego, nothing more.

The one she truly loved was the one whom she was holding in her arms. As she hugged him, our eyes met. There was a spark of surprise in her eyes, then there was nothing.

I gave her a smile with tears in my eyes, it was a big smile, an exaggerated smile that indicated I was being that will never be smiled upon with that brightness.

Then I left, leaving behind the relationship that had given me light in this accursed world.

Afterwards, high school days were blurred into months. In the first tragedy of life, I lost my sense of touch; now in the second tragedy, I lost my emotions.

The trauma that built from my childhood to my teenage years caused something to snap in me. I was an empty husk who lived out of sheer spite toward the people who thought I was a mistake.

Meanwhile, my academic career was excellent, and I got admitted to Harvard Law School.

Afterwards, I became a lawyer, not like those who would do anything to stand on the side of justice.

I became a lawyer whose entire belief was in money. Even if I were given enough money, I would have won the cases of serial killers.

The case of those serial killers whose crimes were damning, but I did it for the money.

Meanwhile, back in my country, my abusive father got remarried and also gave birth to a son and 2 daughters.

My mother was also thriving, but the condition of my ex was bad; her father was a judge who was jailed due to some judicial misconduct.

Her mother died due to a heart attack when she saw her family getting torn apart. Her father also committed suicide shortly after hearing the news of his wife's death.

Again, back to my story, life was good, but I was not, as I was becoming colder emotionally.

Then the call came on my personal phone from an unknown number, which I answered, which started the third tragedy of my life.

(Word count: 1155)

.

.

.

Please donate Powerstone if you like my story.