Consciousness returned to me in slow waves, like coming up from underwater. Even though I no longer had a human body, the sensation of waking felt strangely familiar. My new form didn't have eyes, but I sensed the world in a way I couldn't describe—through pressure shifts, faint vibrations, and patterns of energy in the air. Every part of this strange realm responded to me, and I responded to it, as if I had become a living shadow with instincts instead of flesh.
The battlefield around me stretched endlessly. I couldn't see it in the human sense, but my senses painted an image of broken terrain and floating debris. Giant fragments of statues hovered silently, cracked wings and shattered halos drifting like ghosts. Immense weapons—swords as long as highways, spears embedded into floating boulders—were scattered like remnants of a forgotten war. Even in death, they radiated faint impressions of their former owners, echoes of divinity lingering like dying embers.
As I moved, I felt the same painful twist inside me that I'd sensed since my rebirth: hunger, but not the kind humans feel in their stomachs. This one came from somewhere deeper, a calling to absorb, to grow, to change. It wasn't violent or wild—it was more like breathing. Something fundamental to what I was now.
While exploring the area, fragments of my old life surfaced without warning. Paper bills spread across my small apartment table… my landlord's constant threats… the quiet, heavy walk back from work every night… and that suffocating pressure in my chest that refused to let go. My life had slowly collapsed around me until one day there was nothing left to hold up. It was strange how the scenes felt both distant and painfully close. I used to think dying would terrify me, but instead it happened quietly, almost gently, like a dim light simply switching off.
The contrast between my small, suffocating human life and this vast, silent battlefield felt unreal. Here, I wasn't cornered by debt collectors or crushed by circumstances. No one knew me. Nothing expected anything from me. I wasn't failing at life anymore—I was starting from zero in an entirely different form.
A soft vibration called my attention to a half-buried weapon not far from where I drifted. It was a golden spear, cracked and flickering with weak but still living energy. Even without real senses, I felt the warmth it gave off. It wasn't just light; it was something deeper, something divine.
As I moved closer, the hunger inside me sharpened in a way I hadn't felt before, almost like my new body recognized the object instantly. Touching it sent a sharp pulse through me, as though I were swallowing a drop of the sun. It wasn't painful, but the intensity made my entire form ripple.
Something inside me shifted.
A new kind of awareness, like a door unlocking in my mind, opened and presented me with possibilities. Not visuals, not words, but impressions—three possible paths for my evolution. One was a form built for stealth and survival, another revolved around devouring abstract concepts like memories and emotions, and the third was a dangerous fusion of light and void that felt unstable but incredibly destructive.
It should've been terrifying to make such a decision, yet it felt strangely natural. In my old life, I never got to choose anything freely. Every decision had been shaped by circumstances I couldn't control. Here, for the first time, I wasn't choosing between bad and worse. I was choosing a direction for my existence.
I chose the path of the Concept Eater.
Not because it promised more strength, but because it felt adaptable, flexible, and strangely fitting for someone who had been shaped by invisible burdens all his life.
The change that followed wasn't dramatic or painful. My new body simply adjusted, like a muscle relaxing into the shape it was always meant to take. My senses expanded, allowing me to feel the emotional residue left behind by the battlefield. The shattered statues whispered faint regrets. The broken feathers floating nearby hummed with memories of pride. Even the cracked golden spear radiated echoes of its last wielder—a mixture of determination and fear.
It was overwhelming at first, like listening to hundreds of distant conversations at the same time, but slowly everything settled. The impressions became something I could understand, or at least interpret.
That's when I felt it—an enormous presence approaching from a distance.
I froze instinctively. The air, if it could be called that, seemed to tighten and vibrate. This presence was huge, not physically but in terms of power. Its mere existence bent the space around it. Whatever it was, it was hunting for something. And every instinct I had told me that "something" was me.
Panic wasn't the right word, but the closest one my human memories could provide. My body reacted before I consciously did. I flattened myself against the ground and let my form dissolve into a thin veil of shadow. The new abilities granted by my evolution helped muffle my presence, blending it with the residual emotions and chaos scattered across the battlefield.
The presence passed near me, slow and deliberate, sensing the area like someone walking through a dark room and reaching out for unseen obstacles. For a long moment, I thought it had found me. But after what felt like an eternity, the pressure eased, and the presence drifted away, though not entirely convinced.
Only when it was completely gone did I let myself relax.
That encounter made everything clear. This world wasn't mine. It wasn't safe. Even the weakest things here could likely destroy my previous human body without effort. But for the first time since my death, I didn't feel trapped or helpless.
Instead, I felt something unfamiliar—something I hadn't experienced in years.
Determination.
If this new existence came with danger, then I would adapt. If something wanted to erase me, then I would evolve faster than it could reach me. I didn't know what future I had in this void-filled world, but I knew one thing:
I wasn't going to fade away again.
I had died once already.
This time, I planned to live.
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