On Douluo Continent, nestled within the borders of the Heaven Dou Empire, lay the quiet and unremarkable Holy King Village.
'To think I'd end up here,' a young boy mused, perched on the shore of a placid lake. 'The world of Soul Land. A world where gods walk among mortals.' He sighed, a sound far too weary for his small frame. 'No matter how many people in my past life called this a "low-level" world, gods are still gods. This place... is far too dangerous for me.'
The boy had silver hair that seemed to absorb the light rather than reflect it, but his most unsettling feature was his eyes. They were pure, depthless black, not like normal eyes with pupils and irises, but like voids staring out at the world.
"Jin!"
A clear voice cut through his thoughts. Jin turned, his practiced, gentle smile falling into place like a mask. A young girl with long hair, dressed in a simple but clean dress, was hurrying toward him. She was, he had to admit, quite cute.
"Elara," Jin said, the name feeling both familiar and foreign on his tongue. He felt a strange pang in his chest—a feeling he couldn't quite place, but one he knew was a liability. He pushed it down.
"Jin, what are you doing all the way out here?" she asked, her breath catching as she stopped before him. "You should be resting! The Spirit Grandmaster from Spirit Hall is coming for the awakening ceremony tomorrow!"
"Mhm, I'll go back soon," he replied smoothly. "What about you? Why are you out here?"
"I saw you sitting here from my grandfather's window and came to find you," Elara said simply, her honesty a stark contrast to his own calculated existence.
"ELARA!" A gruff, elderly voice boomed from a nearby house.
Elara flinched, her shoulders jumping. "Grandfather is calling! I have to go! Rest well, Jin!" And with a final wave, she was gone in the blink of an eye, running back toward the village proper.
Watching her retreat, Jin allowed his smile to fade. He rose and walked not toward the cluster of houses that made up the village, but further away, to its very edge where a single, crude stone house stood alone.
This was his sanctuary, his fortress of solitude. He opened the heavy wooden door and stepped into the familiar gloom, his mind still reeling.
'That feeling... kindness,' he thought, slumping onto his simple wooden bed. The sensation was like a foreign warmth, a crack in the armor of paranoia he had carefully constructed around himself since his arrival in this world.
The memories of the original "Jin," the boy whose body he now inhabited, were still a murky haze. He knew the boy was an orphan. His mother had died just last year, when he was five. His father... his father was killed when he was only one.
The boy's entire life had been a string of misfortune, a cursed existence marked by his unsettling, pitch-black eyes.
'His father was the same... his luck was just as bad,' Jin remembered, a frown creasing his brow. 'His father's name was... why can't I remember his name? I can see my mother's face clearly in these memories, but anything related to him is a blur. Something isn't right.'
The thought was his last. A wave of exhaustion, both physical and spiritual, washed over him, and Jin fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.
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The next morning, I woke to a familiar, dull headache. It was a constant companion, a faint pressure behind my eyes that I had come to associate with the simple act of existing in this new world, my soul still not perfectly settled in its vessel.
I shook my head, the motion doing little to clear the fog, and washed my face with cold water from a basin. Today was the day. After preparing the simple meal that passed for breakfast, I spent the next three hours in quiet contemplation, steeling my nerves for the ceremony. This was the first great test of my new life: the test of being overlooked.
When I arrived in the village square, a small group of seven or eight children were already gathered around the village chief, their faces a mixture of excitement and anxiety. As I approached, their chatter died down, replaced by whispers and sidelong glances in my direction.
'As expected,' I thought, my face remaining impassive. 'They are only innocent children, but even they have learned to associate me with the misfortune that clings to this bloodline.'
As if to prove my point, my foot caught on a perfectly flat section of ground. I stumbled, catching myself before I fell completely. I glanced down. There was no stone, no root, no crack in the earth. 'Strange,' I analyzed internally, 'Is this just clumsiness, or is it the curse... actively maintaining my reputation?' A cold knot tightened in my stomach. The latter seemed far more likely.
The other children saw my stumble and a few of them giggled. I got up, brushing the dust from my clothes with a practiced, easygoing smile, but my mind was already cataloging the incident. This world was not safe.
After what felt like an eternity, a man arrived. He had an average face but a robust, powerful build that spoke of years of training. The village chief hurried over to him, bowing slightly.
"Esteemed Spirit Master, thank you for gracing our humble village with your presence."
The man waved his hand dismissively. "There is no need for pleasantries, Chief. I don't have much time. Let's begin."
He strode into the village's awakening hall without a second glance. We children followed like a line of ducklings, while the chief stood outside, a hopeful smile plastered on his face.
Inside, the man arranged six black awakening stones in a star-shaped pattern on the floor. With a low grunt, he called out, "Martial Soul Possession: Black Bear!"
Suddenly, his body swelled. Dark fur sprouted from his skin, and his muscles bulged, tearing through the sleeves of his uniform. He grew taller, more bestial, a dangerous aura of power filling the small hall. All the children, myself included, gasped. It was one thing to know about supernatural abilities from a past life; it was another to witness one firsthand. A flicker of excitement, hot and dangerous, sparked within me. I immediately crushed it. Excitement leads to ambition, and ambition leads to exposure.
"Come forward," the Spirit Grandmaster grunted, his voice now a low growl. Two yellow Spirit Rings, a hundred years each, materialized and floated around him, pulsing with power.
One by one, the children stepped into the formation.
"Close your eyes and feel the spirit inside you," the master repeated for each child as he injected his soul power into the stones.
A small bow appeared in one boy's hand. A hoe in another's. Several awakened the ubiquitous Blue Silver Grass. The results were mundane. Each child would then place their hand on the blue crystal sphere the master held out, only for it to remain inert. No innate soul power. One after another, they stepped aside, their dreams crushed before they had even truly formed.
Finally, it was my turn.
I stepped into the awakening array, schooling my features into a look of nervous hope. As the warm light from the stones converged inside me, I felt it. Not one, but two presences deep within my soul.
The first was a swirling, chaotic miasma of dark, unfortunate energy, bound into the form of an ancient, leather-bound tome. The Book of Misfortune. It felt cold and alien.
The second presence was different. It was a feeling of absolute, unyielding purity and terrifying authority. It was a blade of impossible sharpness, a concept of judgment given form. The Primordial Judgmental Sword. I felt my very soul being judged by its presence, and I knew that this was the power I must hide at all costs.
A surge of immense energy—my true, Innate Rank 10 potential—welled up inside me. For a split second, I felt like a god. But the moment the two Martial Souls fully manifested, that power was violently consumed, drained away as fuel for their very existence.
I opened my eyes, feigning confusion as a simple, worn book appeared in my right hand. The Spirit Grandmaster looked at it and grunted, unimpressed.
"A Book. A tool spirit. Hold out your hand."
I placed my hand on the crystal sphere. I held my breath, praying the power drain was as severe as I thought. A faint, almost pathetic blue light flickered within the crystal.
"Innate Soul Power, Rank 2," the Grandmaster announced, a hint of disappointment in his voice. "Better than nothing, I suppose. You can become a Spirit Master. Next!"
I stepped aside, my head bowed to hide the overwhelming sense of relief that washed over me. It had worked. In the eyes of the world, I was nothing special. A mediocre talent with a useless Martial Soul.
I was safe. For now.