Ever read those novels where some loser dies, reincarnates, and suddenly becomes the hero of some amazing world? Where they wake up in a noble family, discover a legendary power, and go on adventures that change the world? Fun, right? Sounds like a nice way to start over after living a life that sucked.
Well. This isn't that story.
Sure, I died. Fine, whatever. Reincarnated. Cool. But no, I don't get a shiny sword, a glowing aura, or some divine prophecy. Nope. I'm not the chosen one, not even close. I'm at the very bottom. Literally. Lower than shit in every hierarchy that exists.
And do you want to know whose fault that is? Yeah. Those gods.Those fucking gods. The ones who apparently run everything and think they're clever, fair, and all-powerful. Spoiler alert: they're not. And they hate me.
Here's the thing: sure, when I died, I said some… harsh things about the gods. Maybe even a lot of harsh things. Swore at them, blamed them for my miserable life, probably made them laugh or frown. But who cares? I'm not apologizing. In fact…
Here's a middle finger to all of you.
Because that's the difference between me and every other self-righteous hero-in-training story. I don't grovel. I don't beg for mercy. I don't get chosen for your petty "destinies" and glowing swords.
If you really want to understand my situation then i want you to look at this.
Really, just look at this. A grand hall full of noble kids glowing like they swallowed the sun itself. Divine light flares on their hands, their chests, their stupid little faces. And me? I'm standing here, hoping the gods at least had the decency to pretend I exist.
They didn't.
Welcome to the Blessing Ceremony. Everyone gets a shiny mark, a blessing from one of the gods, and their whole lives suddenly become way better than yours. Glorious swords, unstoppable powers, titles, fame all that fun stuff. Ever think about how nice that must be? Waking up in a brand-new life, suddenly special, everyone cheering for you while the bad guy dies dramatically in the first act? Yeah… that's not me.
Nope. I'm Delian Ardent. Born into one of the richest, most powerful families next to the crown. A family so obsessed with Lucitas, the God of Light, that they probably cry when someone uses candlelight wrong. And today, this stupid ceremony is supposed to prove I belong here. Supposed to show the gods "look at our perfect little noble boy."
Except there's a problem. A huge one. A divine-sized problem.
No blessing.
The light flares around everyone else, dazzling, warm, perfect. And me? I stare at my own hand. Nothing. Cold. Empty. Pathetic. Godless.
My tutors are twitching. Priests clutch their staffs like they want to smite me on the spot. And me? I laugh. Yeah, I laugh. Not out of joy. Not even out of hope. Pure, bitter amusement.
You want to know why? Because I knew the gods hated me. Always have. Always will. Thousands of years of divine indifference finally condensed into this perfect moment: their refusal to grace me with a blessing. And, well… fuck 'em.
Sure, when I died last time, I said… things. Harsh things. Blasphemous things. Called out every one of those cocky, all-powerful bastards for ruining my life. Did I apologize? Hell no. Here's a middle finger, Heaven. Right there. That's mine. Take it.
So if you're expecting this to be one of those nice, "legendary chosen hero" stories where I suddenly get everything handed to me, stop right there. It's not. I am the chosen one… kind of. Just… not the way anyone imagines. No glory. No heroic feats. No golden destiny. Not today.
Today, I stand humiliated. At the bottom of the divine hierarchy. A godless noble. And I'm pissed.
But i said a small tiny white lie.
This is important, very important. I know what i said earlier but you see.
I was chosen. yeah! I really was. Just… not the way anyone would expect. Not for glory. Not for honor. Not for the world. I was chosen to be hated. Chosen to be tested. Chosen to have powers no one thought I could survive. Chosen… by the very things I despise. And also....chosen by that thing. That one thing that could propel me and help me achieve my goals. But like everything that thing had a cost. One i am willing to pay for my goals.
And that, dear reader, is where my story begins. With the gods I hate, the powers they fear, and a middle finger to all of it.
So don't worry. I've got plans. Plans that will make those shiny gods regret ever thinking they could ignore me.