Alexis pov:

  EmberWane 22nd, 3rd Year, 4th Cycle - Arinotril

  The jarring sound of wood slamming against the ground echoed in my ears as I blinked awake, disoriented and confused. The fuck, where am I?

  The first thing that hit me was the smell—blood, dirt, and a faint, burnt odour that made my mouth curl up in disgust. My eyes flickered open to the sight of splintered wood above me, but to call it a roof? Ha, that’s a stretch! It was more like something had been knocked over, and I was conveniently shoved under whatever the hell it had been. I could barely hear anything over the muffled chaos, but the shrill cries and desperate screams were cutting through the wood like a knife.

  Just fucking great! God-like being, would it have killed you to toss me into a place with some tranquillity for me to get my bearings?

  I pushed myself up to a better crouching position, trying to make the most of the cramped space I had. No way in hell I'm crawling out until ALL those killing noises are gone. Fuck being brave.

  My vision swam, and my head throbbed with overstimulation as I tried to use my ears to figure out the state beyond my little hidey-hole. A quick glance around told me exactly where I was—under an overturned damn carriage. I must've been riding in it when some bastard decided to flip it and turn everything into a disaster zone.

  Probably some bandits or whatever the hell they were. Damn it, of course, my luck wouldn't be so great!

  I looked down at the ground and flinched my hand back as I saw the sticky, dark red stain spread out like a sick painting. I reached up to my head, feeling my new, longer locks matted with blood. Great. But there’s no wound, no gash or cut, so what the hell's going on?

  I frowned. The original's probably dead. There’s no other explanation. I'm the replacement. Just an old body, new soul, new memories shoved into this shell. Typical reincarnation bullshit, I suppose...

  Lucky me!

  My eyes darted to a sign on the wood. What the hell does it say? My brain scrambled to make sense of the letters, but it was a damn mess. And then, like a glitch in the system, a sudden ping cracked through my skull. A blue screen appeared in front of my eyes.

  I blinked, not quite sure what was going on. "Uh... sure?" I muttered, not really expecting anything to happen. Is this my OP system? Why is it sassy?

  I stared at the screen. What the hell? ZIP files? Seriously?? What kind of system uses fucking ZIP files??? I shook my head in disbelief. "Sure, whatever," I grumbled. I didn't have time to waste. I was probably about to get killed, so I just needed answers.

  The moment I agreed, it felt like my skull was being cracked open from the inside. A million tiny drills burrowed into my brain, twisting and turning, pulling at something deep inside me. GOOD GOD, MOTHER OF CHRIST FUCKING HELL AHH—

  I hunched over in pain, trying not to scream, teeth clenched hard enough that I thought I might crack one. It felt like my brain was being rewritten. The agony went on far too long, but after what felt like an eternity—maybe two minutes max—the pain stopped.

  I gasped, sucking in the air like I'd been drowning before I paused and took another listen—No one heard, right? I blinked a few times, but the carnage happening outside seemed to have masked my inner turmoil. I took a few more deep breaths and looked up at the sign again. The letters flickered and shifted, finally making sense.

  Some kind of caravaning service…?

  Before I could think much more about that though, the last few screams outside stopped.

  Silence.

  Then, footsteps. Hard, quick, and relentless, they approached my carriage hideout. My eyes widened in panic. Fuck, I ain't ready to die a second time today!

  "Think we got 'em all, boss?" A voice growled; way too damn close for comfort.

  Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. No, no, no. I know the tone! I know it can't be anything good! They aren't here for tea and biscuits!

  "Ay, doesn't matter much, does it? Any o' 'em fellas still kickin' will bleed out anyway! Stop dwaddlin' and get to looting. I already see a chest o' goods that's got ma name on it!" Another voice barked.

  They were getting closer, and my pulse began to race. I didn't know what the fuck was going on, but I sure as hell didn't want to stick around for whatever nightmare these bastards were planning. A fuzzy sensation in my ears told me they probably weren't speaking English. Probably that new language I'd just downloaded... because of course, isekai life is always a damn video game.

  "OP protagonist system for the win," I muttered under my breath, rolling my eyes at the absurdity of it all.

  I heard clanging, and the carriage shuddered above me as the bandits seemed to thoroughly search through its innards. I heard grunts and laughs as the bandits found whatever the hell they were looking for. Curling up and hiding myself further in the dark, I waited for them to leave when I heard another ping.

  I clicked yes because, duh, I needed the original's memories if I wanted to survive.

  Lemme just take a glance through these while those bastards outside do their thing.

  I forgot what had happened a few seconds ago because I was extremely shocked when the sharp sting at the base of my skull hit like a fucking shockwave, cold as hell, sending a jolt straight down my spine. My vision went blurry, my head spun like I was drunk off my ass, and then—without warning—everything changed. Memories flooded in, crashing through my brain like a tidal wave.

  Why the fuck did I think this would be painless?!

  It was too much, too fast. I couldn't even breathe. These weren't my memories—this isn't MY life—but they were mine now, tearing through my skull like a parasite. It was like I was being dragged under.

  No, no, no—THIS IS TOO MUCH!

  My mind screamed, but I couldn't escape it. It started with a kid. A prince. I am the prince. The royal chambers loomed, grand and oppressive. Polished floors, red tapestries, the gleam of a crown on his father's head. God, what the fuck—he's got horns!

  He was a demon. I was a demon.

  FUCK! WHAT IS THIS?!

  My head throbbed as everything I thought I knew bent, warped, melted. This isn't just some story... It was real. This was me. This was him, and we were shoved together like two souls blended into one. Well, I did ask to be a demon...

  Courtiers laughed, their adoration aimed at him—at me. I felt their warmth, the untouchable kind. I was in his skin, but it didn't make sense. His childhood was mine now—every smile, every step, every goddamn breath. The taste of a life promised, stolen. His father—the king—strong, powerful, with magic and hellfire in his voice. It was all supposed to be mine.

  NOT REALLY! I'm not him!

  I stood beside my—his father. Pride, love, and security filled me, the air humming with life's ease. But then it shifted, cold like ice in my veins. Something was wrong. Memories twisted, darkened, suffocated. I knew what was coming.

  Should've expected the Tragic Backstory?

  Screams. Fire. Chaos. Loss crashed down like an avalanche. I felt like a helpless child despite being well into my early twenties, watching my parents—HIS parents—lying in blood. They're not mine! They weren't my parents! Why am I crying?!

  The coup. The rebellion. The throne—MY throne—stolen, ripped away. Betrayal cut deeper than anything I'd ever felt. Everything I knew was erased, slipping through my fingers like sand. I was cast out. Forgotten. Abandoned.

  No longer royal.

  But wait—WHAT THE FUCK? I was NEVER royal! Why am I feeling this?! STOP, just give me the memories—I don't want the emotions!

  It was suffocating, like drowning in my own skin. The sting of tears, the burn of rage, witnessing the end of a life meant for laughter and power. But no. This life, marred by bloodshed and revolution, ended at fifteen years of age. And yet the memories did not stop, there was more—IT'S NOT OVER. WHY IS IT STILL GOING?!

  Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

  I thought back to the file name. “3 to 118”... More than a hundred years.

  I’M A HUNDRED AND EIGHTEEN YEARS OLD NOW? HOLY FUCK, why did I pick a long-living race?!

  The new royal family's faces swam in my head, their stature unfamiliar, their smiles fake as hell, hiding malice. FUCK YOU TOO. They wore the crown I was supposed to wear. They sat on the throne I should've ruled. Wasn't the 'branch family takes over the current head' a trope from cultivation novels?? Why is it happening in my standard-issue isekai??

  With every passing decade, every passing second, I felt my sense of self slipping away, shifting, twisting until I didn't know who the fuck I was anymore. DEEP BREATHS! You are Alexis Dev Parker! Not mister fancy pants! Come on, babes, get it together!

  FUCK!

  I was nothing but a fucking shadow of a prince. A ghost of a past life that was never meant to be mine. And it felt like my whole existence was slipping out of my hands, like I was being erased by time, by forces beyond my control. The memories weren’t just images—they're feelings. They're regrets. They were emotions that pulse through my veins like poison. I felt everything he felt, all of it. I felt the pain of losing everything, of being nothing.

  STOP!

  And as the memories settled, I was left gasping for air, shaking, disoriented. It wasn’t just something I saw—it's something I lived. Every moment, every fucking loss, every whisper of regret. Those memories, those goddamn memories—they were all mine now. Everything outside had gone silent, and after a few moments, I convinced myself that yes, the bandits had left. I took full, deep breaths, slapping my cheeks to get myself to feel something.

  You are Alexis Dev Parker, you are FUCKING Alexis Dev Parker, and you are NOT Mr. Fancy Pants. Get a hold of yourself!

  After a few tense minutes, my heart calmed, and I took a final deep breath. "Fuck you System... low blow" I muttered disgruntled before remembering the system update. "Open status...?" I said out loud, and the blue screen returned.

  I blinked and took a deep sigh. I read through the first few lines before I stopped. "System. Change user designation to 'Alexis Dev Parker,'" I said, without hesitation. I had a general grasp on the things a System could do if past video games were to be believed.

  No fucking way am I going to see this royal twerp's name every time I look at MY status! I thought with a snort. Another series of breathing exercises later, I finally calmed down and began reading through the rest of the status…before cursing out loud.

  The fuck! Why are half my stats reduced?! Constitution, dexterity, AND strength! Malnourishment, my foot! At least the reincarnation gave me extra Intelligence and Wisdom though...

  I glanced at my Class with contempt and curiosity.

  A bardic mage? Man, I hope magic shit doesn't happen every time I sing a song, that will be a pain... I sighed, trying to sort through my new memories, this time clinically and WITHOUT any of the emotional nonsense weighing me down. Let's see what the fuck is up with this royal pain in the ass...

  -----

  ??? pov:

  █████ ██ , █ ██ , ██ ███ - █████████

  Overseer RZ-9X8 - Designated "Reqxa" found themselves increasingly agitated by the persistent accumulation of celestial documentation. Their task, already burdensome, had been compounded by the necessity of personally addressing a spatial anomaly of above-average complexity within the farthest reaches of their command sector in the multiversal domain.

  The requirement for personal intervention stemmed from the fact that the spatial anomaly had manifested within a "Forgotten" world, an area devoid of any active deities. As a result, no divine entities were present to adhere to the requisite anomaly-suppression directives, thereby necessitating Reqxa's direct involvement.

  To complicate matters further, the realm in which the anomaly manifested had been classified as both "Forbidden" and "Forgotten"—a status that only exacerbated the difficulty of intervention. Upon arrival within the affected realm, Reqxa's celestial sensors were immediately bombarded by an overwhelming influx of prayers, wishes, and pleas from the mortal inhabitants. This assault virtually overwhelmed their processing capabilities and nearly necessitated a directive abortion of the plan.

  After several billion millennia of successfully managing 'God-Operated' universes with minimal personal input, Reqxa's personal systems had developed minor degradations. This lapse in efficiency led to an unfortunate incident: in the process of stabilizing the anomaly, they inadvertently terminated a random mortal bystander. While the deletion of the mortal from all other inhabitant memories could rectify the situation through primordial soul memory alteration protocols, Reqxa's operational preferences did not align with unnecessary interference in mortal affairs.

  They preferred, instead, the creation of deities—allowing these 'Gods' to assume control and then personally overseeing the unfolding of events for themselves from a detached vantage point. However, the accidental soul termination presented a dilemma: releasing the soul back into the reincarnation cycle carried the non-zero risk that its memories might remain intact, hence endangering the life of all inhabitants and the stability of universal space-time.

  Thus, rather than permit the soul to potentially re-enter the cycle with undisturbed recollections, Reqxa opted to extract the soul and bring it directly to their domain. They would grant the mortal a perfect world—a simulated environment designed to minimize any interference with the original realm's time-space continuum.

  What they did not anticipate was the mortal's request for basic desires and complete agency regarding the world's structure, leaving the actual world-building to Reqxa's discretion. The mortal's requests were all very easily addressed and quickly overlooked.

  The request for improved vocal quality, in contrast to the flawed vessel the soul had previously inhabited, would be readily addressed by selecting the appropriate body. Similarly, the desire for an extended lifespan and youthful features could be easily fulfilled.

  The demonic body template, a near-standard inclusion across at least one universe in each sector, ensured that racial compatibility posed no issue. Moreover, providing world-altering power was a trivial task, particularly if the destination realm exhibited low power levels to begin with.

  In fact, such soul transfers often served as covert efforts to elevate the power of a world to more acceptable levels

  Having been prepared for requests involving ascension to godhood or even initiation into the Overseer ranks, Reqxa now found themselves tasked with identifying an appropriate universe for this soul's relocation. To their surprise, the multiversal sector they oversaw contained no viable worlds with a developed enough sonic affinity—an essential requirement for the mortal's desires.

  Despite this setback, they remained committed to fulfilling their promise of providing a perfect world, and thus, reached out to their neighbouring sector manager, Overseer V2-XM - Designated "Vexim". Vexim had a reputation for meticulously crafting each universe within their sector, applying an obsessive level of detail to every cosmic construction.

  Upon receiving Reqxa's request, Vexim reviewed their multiversal options, ultimately narrowing the possibilities to 5.2 × 1013 universes that met the necessary criteria for soul relocation. Following a comprehensive evaluation of the pros and cons of each option—discussed over a shared cosmic cup of StarDusts? —the two Overseers reached an agreement.

  The selected realm displayed marginally substandard operational parameters, a consistent yet insufficient stagnation index, and failed to meet the threshold for sustainable progression. There also remained a high probability of inter-universal cataclysm in its near future, which Reqxa’s prediction algorithms indicated would have a higher probability of being quelled by the addition of the new soul.

  Vexim concluded that the introduction of an external, unclassified variable could potentially induce localized disturbances. These disturbances were theorized to catalyse motivational spikes in the native population, thereby accelerating their advancement. It was further hypothesized that the inherent disparity in conceptual knowledge might serve as a heuristic vector, encouraging native entities toward higher energetic states.

  Reqxa then prepared the soul in the designated universe, offering the mortal a system similar to those provided to other souls within their own sector. The soul was deposited into a suitable body, and Reqxa returned to their office. Unbeknownst to Reqxa, however, Vexim would much later discover a discrepancy:

  The system granted to the mortal soul was one from Reqxa's sector, not the one Vexim had designed for their own inhabitants.

  Vexim had their preference for limiting soul system functionality for the occupants of their carefully crafted realms to maintain control, and they were none too pleased with this breach of etiquette. They would later express their displeasure in no uncertain terms, cursing Reqxa for the oversight. Reqxa, unaware of the impending conflict, glanced up at their cosmic clock. A small smile tugged at the edges of their ethereal lips, and the words that later came out of them were incomprehensible to 99.99999999% of sapient beings in the entire multiverse. Their most understandable translation of these words would be:

  "Only [1,000,000 Earth Years] passed? Remarkable. That is nearly a record for soul-transfer speed! The process usually takes much longer... but perhaps this is a sign of efficiency improvements..."

  With a contented sigh, Reqxa returned to the accumulated surplus of celestial documentation, their focus unwavering.

  END