Chapitre 5: Transmigration
*Third Person POV*
A translucent figure floats on by in a vast void devoid of sound and light. It's completely bare, with its eyes closed, obviously unconscious or dead.
Slowly, the fingers of the body twitch, and its lips move, yet no sound comes out. There isn't a breath of air in the body, but there is a pulse, faint and distant, like the echo of a life left behind. It opens its eyes to see only blackness, a starless expanse that stretches in all directions.
At first, it's not aware of where or when it is, but it just has a floating sensation. A feeling of being suspended in something that is neither warm nor cold. There's no ground, no sky, no up or down. Just… a void.
*First Person POV*
'Where am I?' I think, though it feels strange as if it should be impossible to think at all in this place. I feel… weightless, but not the feeling of floating, it's more like I'm being held in place, suspended like a display piece by something vast and unseen.
Then I feel something, no, maybe someone, a presence. It's not a light presence, exactly, but something that feels like a light, something all-encompassing, kind of warm, but impossibly vast and unable to be held. It's everywhere and nowhere at once, pressing gently against my awareness like a whisper. With it comes a sense of *knowing*—not of a person, not of a figure, but of an endless mind, a being too immense to even begin to comprehend.
"You're here, my child."
The words aren't spoken aloud, but they resonate in my core — deep and serene, without beginning or end. The words are both comforting and overwhelming, like standing on the shore of an infinite ocean. It's not a response to a question, not a statement. Just… the truth.
'What... what is this? Where am I?' My thoughts begin to take form, but they feel so small, almost fragile as if it shouldn't matter here, in this vastness.
"You're in the in-between, my son." The presence responds, but the answer doesn't come in words or sounds or a thought. It's as though the very fabric of existence all around me is communicating with me, without voice or language.
An image forms—not with eyes, but with some deeper perception. A vast stretch of stars, galaxies spiraling in silent, graceful arcs, creation unfolding and folding in on itself in the endless dance of time.
'Am I dead?' I think to myself. There's no immediate answer, but the presence swells, gentle but immense, filling every part of the void with its silent power. It's a feeling of peace that pushes away the fear, the confusion, until all that's left is a strange, calm certainty.
"No. You are more than alive at this moment. You are becoming whole again, one, regaining something that was yours."
My thoughts start to jumble up, but the presence keeps me calm, rather calculating. The words stated float through me, heavy with meaning, yet for some reason they are incomprehensible in this strange space. 'Becoming whole again? Regaining something that was mine? What is this? This feels so familiar but I can't remember anything, I don't know why?' I have no body to feel it, but can just sense something expanding, unfolding—something inside me that feels more real than flesh, something vast, familiar, and ancient, but new all the same.
The void shifts slightly, and a figure is standing in front of me, one of blinding light, but one that I can identify as human… 'Human? Wait, what's a human?' I feel a shift in the atmosphere as if the figure in front of me has just smiled at me, though there is no face to see, no lips to curve.
'I… I… am… Aspen? Is that my name?' I think to myself.
"Yes, my child. All the answers to the questions you seek will be revealed to you very soon. Just give it a second and it'll all come back to you." This time, the words, if they can be called that, have a sound. The voice that speaks it is filled with an unexplainable calm that feels eternal.
It's as if I have tapped into something beyond time, beyond space, beyond what I once thought was everything. Then almost out of the blue, my mind is filled with memories, it's like a movie playing inside my head. Many of them are familiar, things I remember doing, but about 60% of them feel foreign as if I've experienced them, as if they're actually mine.
"I remember now…" I speak, and I'm surprised to hear my own voice. It sounds, more mature, older, worn out, rough and rugged. "You're… God…" I say to the figure.
"Yes my child, I am. You remember everything now, so ask what you want to ask."
"Why is my voice different? What are these memories I have, the ones that feel foreign to me?" I ask.
"As I said before my child, you were becoming one. Have you forgotten what I told you when you came to temple?"
"No, Father, I remember you said they were memories. Are they memories of another life I lived?" I ask.
"Not precisely, they are the memories of another version of you. They are from a universe that ran rampant and which I had to cut contact with because they were a threat to all the other universes I had made." God replies.
"Wait, another version of me? Another universe, many universes? So the multiverse is real? Oh my Go- Oh my you!" I say with excitement. "But, what do you mean that it ran rampant? Did you lose control over it? You're God, right? You're all powerful, surely you can just wipe it from the face of the multiverse."
"Yes, I can do that, however, I have said that I will never directly intervene in what happens in the multiverse. I may influence things here and there, but I will never directly step in and undo what has been done. For I believe in free will and allowing my creations to do as they please. However, every single action in existence has its set of consequences. Which is why I'm choosing to use you."
"Use me? For what Father?" I ask.
"I will be sending you into that universe to cleanse it. It is full of savagery, murder, rape, incest, wars over trivial things, planets destroyed, pillaged, enslaved. ALL OF IT, I want you to cleanse it. To carve a path in my name to ensure a certain level of peace in it. Once you do that, I'll take you back to your original universe and give you and Autumn something I have for you both."
"But, how will I do that father? I'm only a man. And galactic warfare? Just what am I going to accomplish myself? I'll be killed before I even know where I'm standing. I have to cleanse an entire universe while only being a human that can be killed by a bad cold." I say to God, trying to understand how He believes I will be able to make any changes.
"You are right, but you are wrong. You are just a man, but I will send you over to this new universe with a brilliant mind the likes of which has never been seen before in that universe, or will ever be seen again. I will also incorporate nanobots in your body to aid you along the way and a system to help ease your path."
I'm at a loss for words. A system, a brilliant mind, nanobots? "When do I get to return? What if I die of old age before I can cleanse the entire universe?" I ask.
"I know I said the entire universe, but really, civilization isn't that spread out. Think of it like the Star Wars movies, which is a real universe for your information. There is civilization yet it is vastly populated in one place, one section of the universe. You should be able to do it, especially with what I'm equipping you with."
I nod at God's answer, a little more confident now. "One last question," I say. "Where will I start, and by cleanse, do you want me to give them a chance to change, or do I just erase them from existence?"
"Well, that's two questions, but I shall answer them anyway. For your first question, you already know where. As for your second question, that is for you to decide. It is your test, just remember that although I am a merciful and loving God, I am also a just and wrathful God."
"Those who willingly deny me, I will deny. Those who ignore me, I will ignore. Those who revell themselves in sin, I will throw to the lakes of fire. This universe is overflowing in this due to the powers that be. My son, from today on I will turn a blind eye to the blood that will stain your hands, so long as they are not tainted with the blood of the innocent."
God pauses for a moment before stating, "From this moment onward, I appoint you as The Reaper of God in universe 293,384,355,321."
When he says this I feel a burning sensation all over my non-existent body. It starts off as a warm and comfortable feeling but it quickly turns into an unbearable pain as I start to feel my very soul being ripped to shreds and glued back together over and over and over again. And then *Poof* I find the pain immediately disappear and a suction force is pulling at me.
"Don't disappoint me, my son, make me proud." I hear God's voice say to me from everywhere as things start to spiral. I'm surrounded by light as it swirls in a way that makes it seem alive. Moving with a purposeful, yet chaotic nature that creates a beautiful vortex — a spiraling maelstrom of pure brilliance — encircling me. The stars, once distant pinpricks in the void I found myself in, now sweep past my eyesight.
They spin around me around as the vortex's whirl pulls me in. It feels as if I'm caught in a dance with the far older universe itself. Time feels suspended. Seconds, minutes, years — none of it matters at the moment. And then everything turns to black.
I can now feel my body, pain fills the left side of it. I can hear a low hum, barely perceptible as if something electric is making energy. I can feel a very subtle vibration around me and I start to open my eyes. Everything is pitch black, so I can't see a thing.
"Ugh, why is the left side of my body killing me?" I say, my throat dry as if in desperate need of water. The pain was sharp, overwhelming, and consuming me. My body feels heavy as if it's being crushed under something massive. My head is throbbing and I hear distant, fractured sounds of sparking wires and a hiss, as if something was leaking or air was escaping.
I feel around in the darkness, my fingers touching what I can only guess to be shattered glass. I start to dig in my memory to see if I can orient myself when warm light as if it was the break of dawn, comes through some cracks.
That together with what God told me, I remember where I am. I'm in the destroyed mech I had seen in my dream. The metal is twisted and bent inward from the biggest crack.
"Well, that explains the pain, if I remember correctly, this body I'm now occupying is of Aspen Del Santo, Commander of the Rebel forces named "Phantoms", or better said I'm all that's left of it. I'm on Planet Cenolla, which is orbiting the star KY27. I see some red warning lights flickering sporadically on what's left of the control panel since my head's up display (HUD) is completely destroyed, but I can make out a "System Failure, Reactor Failure" warning.
I try to move, but the pain flares again, sharper this time, like knives digging into my muscles. My left arm is pinned under twisted debris, and my legs feel numb, though the pressure tells me they're still there.
"God, just what situation did you drop me in? How am I supposed to get out of this thing?" I say to myself as I start to think, somehow maintaining my calm. Most of this thing is a wreck, all of my system functions are offline, including the emergency ejection.
Then I heard some shifting outside as if someone or something was walking. I feel on my hip trying to find the energy pistol I know I should have holstered on the right side of my hip. But to my dismay, I can't feel it. So I feel some more around the cockpit as the steps grow closer. I then hear as someone or something climbs on my mech and walks toward the cockpit area. At this point I find my pistol in the darkness and activate it, taking the safety off.
I hear knocking and the childish voice of a boy says "Is there anyone in there? Hello?"
I hold my breath and don't make a sound. I then hear another voice, that of a man. "Charlie, get off that mech this instant! Don't you know we never touch the cockpits, respect the dead, and let them reunite with their gods, especially if they were fighting to give us freedom!"
"But dad, this is just all a hunk of metal now, we're going to scrap it for parts anyway."
"CHARLIE MATTHEW STEWART! GET YOUR BUTT OFF THAT MECH'S COCKPIT RIGHT NOW!" I hear the man scream at his son.
"Ok, I'm coming down." The kid, Charlie, replies to his father. But before he can get off I voice out through the crack.
"Hey kid, tell your ol-" I'm cut off by the kid's scream of pure terror.
"AHHH, Dad, Dad, the mech is talking!"
"What? What are you talking about?" the man questions his kid.
"It said 'Hey kid', wahhh" the kid says and then bursts into tears.
"By the gods, the pilot must still be alive, give me some space," the man said as I heard him climb on top of my cockpit. "Hey, are you alright in there?" He questions as he shines a light in through the biggest crack.
"Yeah," I respond, "mind giving me a hand, all my systems are offline and I'm kind of stuck in here."
"Sure thing, let me just get the tools and I'll get you out in no time!" he replies.
"Thank God," I say to myself. While waiting for the man to get to work, my vision is filled by a blue panel that reads "Welcome, Host: Aspen Del Santo.
I reach out to the blue window in front of me only for my hand to phase right through it.
'This must be the System God was talking about,' I think to myself.
"The Host is correct," I hear a male robotic voice say in my head.
'Wait, you can read my thoughts? And you're sentient?' I wonder in my head.
"The host is both correct and incorrect. I can, in fact, read through the Host's thoughts, however, I am not a conscious Artificial Intelligence. According to your memories, I can be best compared to Jarvis, the Personal assistant of Tony Stark from Universe number 199,999. I, the system, am here to assist you, and being able to interpret what you're thinking at all times would be the best and fastest approach to this." The system says.
'Yeah, but Jarvis ended up becoming Vision, fully conscious and all,' I think.
"The Host needs not worry, I was made with the sole purpose of assisting the Host, and at the core of my being is code that will not allow me to betray the Host. I am also in control of the nanobots that currently reside in your body and have been healing it. Would you like me to display your statistics?" the system says.
'Sure, but first, do you have a name? It's kind of weird, you know, to call you system,' I think.
"No, Host, I do not have a designated name. Would you like to give me one? Or would you like me to take the name of Jarvis? According to your memories, it would fit me best." the system replies.
'Yeah, alright, that sounds like a solid plan. From now on you'll have the name of Jarvis,' I say to the system.
"Thank you, Host. I will now display your stats and break them down for you.
Strength (STR): 30 (Normal Human Average 15-20); Physical power, ability to lift and carry heavy loads or perform strenuous tasks.
Endurance (END): 50 (Normal Human Average 15-20); Ability to sustain physical effort, resist fatigue, and tolerate physical damage or discomfort.
Agility (AGI): 40 (Normal Human Average 15-20); Reflexes, speed, and coordination, critical for piloting maneuvers and evasive actions.
Perception (PER): 35 (Normal Human Average 15-20); Awareness of surroundings, ability to notice subtle cues, and processing sensory information.
Intelligence (INT): 45 (Normal Human Average 7-10); Problem-solving ability, strategic thinking, and adaptability in complex scenarios. The Host has the most brilliant mind to ever exist, however, he hasn't developed it. The Host needs to learn information about this universe to increase intelligence.
Mental Resilience (MRES): 95 (Normal Human Average 10-15); Ability to withstand mental stress, remain calm under pressure, and recover from trauma.
Piloting Skills: (PS): 60 (Normal Human Average 0-10); Proficiency in operating a mech, executing complex maneuvers, and managing combat systems.
Technology (TECH): 45 (Normal Human Average 15-20); Understanding of mech systems, ability to troubleshoot, repair, and optimize tech in combat.
The Host also has a gift package. Would you like to open the gift package now?"
I look over my stats, glancing at the information and their descriptions. I'm only about twice as good as the average human being when it comes to most of these things, with the exception of endurance, piloting skills, and mental resilience. I guess the mental Resilience comes from having been able to talk to God Himself and take over this body.
'Jarvis, you said there's a gift package?' I ask Jarvis.
"Yes, Host, would you like to open it?"
'Yes, let's go ahead and open it,' I confirm.
"Ding! Congratulations to the host on obtaining System Shop Functions, Physical Gene Enhancing Reagent (2x Boost, effects only apply to stats 50 and under), Nanobot Upgrade (Increase healing speed), Holy Bible, Mech Repair Kit and Mech Upgrade Kit (Kits only provide instructions and materials, assembly is required to be done manually by Host)."
'That seems like a good amount of things. Let's use that Gene Reagent while I wait for the man to break me free,' I say to Jarvis.
"Sure thing, Host. The Gene Reagent will be materialized on your right hand. You must inject yourself in the heart with it."
I felt my right hand grow a little heavier and I was able to see the sunlight barely reflecting off the silver syringe. I position the syringe on my chest and prepare to inject it into my heart.
'Jarvis, are you sure about this having to be injected into the heart?' I ask inwardly.
"Yes Host, if injected anywhere else, the effect will be about ¼ of its intended outcome. Just inject it into your heart, and the Reagent should be automatically pushed into your heart and spread through your body."
"Ok then, here goes nothing," I whisper as I push the syringe into my heart and I'm immediately overcome by a pain straining from my heart outwards to the rest of my body.
"Oh, Host, I may have forgotten to tell you that this is a very painful process and you may fain…." Jarvis' words disappear as I start to lose consciousness due to the immense pain.
*Third Person POV*
Outside the mech, the man and his kid stare at it. A towering beast of twisted metal and scorched plating, surrounded by hundreds of brass shells, indicative of the battle that had taken place here. Smoke rises in thin plumes from the mech's shattered joints, and its once-mighty legs are crumpled beneath the weight of its own wreckage. The once vibrant white paint is scratched with traces of bullets. The cockpit—somewhere near the chest—remains sealed shut, severely damaged but not destroyed. There is miraculously a pilot still conscious inside.
The man grips a pry bar in his hands, the weight of it feeling insignificant compared to the massive machine before him. His breath comes fast, heart hammering against his ribs, but his movements are steady, focused. There's no time for hesitation—the reactor is leaking, and the mech could go critical at any moment.
"Hang on in there…" he mutters under his breath, scanning the mess of the mech's exterior, searching for any access point. "Hey Charley, go stand over there," the man says to his son while pointing to a rock about 50 meters away. He then looks back at the mech, the cockpit hatch is partially exposed, its edges warped and blackened by heat. But it's still sealed tight, the emergency release clearly inoperable.
He climbs up the crumpled leg, boots slipping against the slick, scorched metal, using the remains of exposed servos and armor plating to haul himself up toward the chest. His muscles burn, but he pushes the fatigue aside. Every second counts.
As he reaches the cockpit's access hatch, the reality of the task hits him hard. The mech is massive, and the thick layers of composite metal that make up the cockpit's armor are designed to withstand everything from high-velocity impacts to direct artillery strikes. Yet something had clearly pieced it. It wasn't meant to be opened easily, and certainly not by a single man with nothing but a pry bar. But he has to try.
With a grunt, he wedges the bar into a small gap between the warped hatch and the frame, bracing himself. He pushes down hard, putting all his weight into it, but the hatch doesn't budge. It's jammed solid.
"Come on..." His voice is strained. He plants his feet more firmly, adjusting his grip. Again, he pushes—this time with a surge of desperate strength, muscles trembling under the strain. The bar creaks, but the hatch still refuses to give. The mech groans as if mocking him, metal still hissing from the stress of the damage.
Then, a scream of agony rings from inside it. He already knew that the pilot was alive, but hearing this scream, he realized things might be worse for the pilot than he thought at first.
A renewed sense of urgency grips him as he plants the bar again, in a different section of the hatch, wedging it deeper. His knuckles whiten as he grips it tighter, teeth clenched so hard it hurts. With a primal roar escaping his lips, he throws his weight into it.
The hatch shifts—just a fraction—but it's enough. A crack opens, and a hiss of from the hatch's air pump escapes. Encouraged, he drives the bar in further, ignoring the searing pain in his arms. He pulls back with every ounce of strength he has left.
With a groan of protest resounding from the metal, the hatch finally gives way and swings open just enough to reveal the interior. Sparks start to dance inside and smoke starts to slowly come out of the cockpit's cracks. The acrid stench of burning electronics hits him hard. He coughs but doesn't stop.
As more light shines inside, the man can see Aspen slumped backward in the seat, helmet cracked, blood smeared across his visor and G-suit. Wires and shards of metal hang from the ceiling and sparks rain fly off from damaged consoles. The cockpit is a ruin, and the pilot is unconscious with a look of pain.
He scrambles inside, squeezing through the narrow gap he's created, trying to avoid the jagged edges of metal. The interior is a mess but he ignores it and moves quickly. He feels a heat as the cockpit is starting to warm up, an obvious sign of the failing systems and a reactor that will soon explode.
"Hey, hey!" His voice is sharp, but there's no response. Aspen's breathing is shallow and ragged. He reaches forward, gripping the side of the seat. "Come on, stay with me!"
The safety harness is half-severed, but it's still holding the pilot in place, tangled around the damaged seat restraints. With trembling hands, he digs through his pack, pulling out a knife. He slashes at the straps, cutting away the tangled mess but Aspen doesn't slump free. He realizes that the bent metal is pinning the pilot's left arm in place.
He pulls out a smaller crowbar and wedges it in place to try and bend the metal to free Aspen. The metal on the interior of the cockpit was much softer than that of the outside of it, so he didn't have to strain much and quickly freed Aspen.
The cockpit then shuddered suddenly, and a series of warning alarms began to blare, the mech's systems were reaching critical failure and they didn't have much time left before it would self-destruct.
"Dammit!" He throws the straps aside, hooking his arms under Aspen's shoulders. Every muscle in his back and arms screams in protest as he hauls him out of the seat, dragging him toward the open hatch.
The climb down is a blur of desperation as he half-slides, half-falls down the side of the mech, one arm wrapped around the unconscious Aspen, the other scrambling for handholds. His boots slip against the mech's ruined exterior, but he doesn't stop, not even when the sharp edges of metal tear at his clothes and slash across his back.
Finally, they hit the ground, hard. The man groans as he collapses beside Aspen, gasping for breath, his arms trembling from the effort. He checks for a pulse and is surprised when finds one because it is a rather strong pulse for someone who seemed to be on the verge of death. Shouting one minute for help, screaming in agony the next, and unconscious by the time he got inside the cockpit.
The man pushes himself up and somehow manages to throw Aspen's unconscious body over his shoulders in a fireman's carry as he starts to slowly jog across the battlefield to where his son is standing. As he is doing so, as a low rumbling groan is heard in the distance behind them. As he gets closer to his son he starts screaming for him to run and the kid listens to his father's words.
They stop by a giant boulder and get behind it. The man lets Aspen down, rather hard, and slumps next to him. In the distance, the sound of the mech's failing reactor echoes through the battlefield and an explosion is heard.
"I got you," he whispers, his chest heaving. "You're alright now, the gods have had mercy on you…" the man pauses, still trying to catch his breath. The man turned to his son and said, "I haven't exercised that hard since before I met your mother. Would you mind passing me water?"
The kid looks at his father who is slumped on the ground and reaches into his backpack, pulls out a metal canteen, and passes it to his father who quickly downs about half of it.
Word Count: 4613 🙂
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone