Reincarnator Returns: Second Shot

Eren was glad he died. At least, the second time.

After an unfortunate accident back on Earth, he found himself reincarnated as a baby in another world. Slimy, shivering, and vulnerable—but with the memories of his previous life with him as consolation.

With ten years of consciousness as an advantage, Eren thought he’d breeze through his second life like some unprecedented genius. A second chance, he naively thought.

But alas, the heavens were not that kind.

The world he reincarnated in was not the same one he’d been used to. It was a world of supernatural beings: humans who lived for thousands of years, flying on swords instead of planes and cleaving mountains with a single finger.

He thought he’d use his unique past-world experience to cheat his way to the top, living the life of main characters in those fantasy books he’d read during his pastime.

But... he should have known. A disappointed shake from the midwife was never a good sign in any life.

It wouldn’t be till he learned enough of the world’s language to understand why his new parents abandoned him.

He was a cripple.

Not in the way that his previous world considered a cripple. He could walk and talk just like any other human or beast in this world. He just couldn’t cultivate.

It seemed his memories weren’t the only thing he retained during his reincarnation. His mortalness too, as the people here called it.

While his peers defied the heavens and gathered the magical energy in this world called Ræzoň, he was stuck being a normal human. Blind and cut off from the very life force of the universe, never to see or wield its true glory.

At the very least, he wasn’t dropped off in the middle of nowhere to become an orphaned adventurer. His ’parents’ gave him to a scholarly sect called the Palatine of Wisdom where he could live out the rest of his life in academic peace.

His life there was... well, it was filled with studying, but it certainly wasn’t peaceful.

But there was no need to reminisce. He’d soon fall off into the void of nonexistence. No reincarnations this time.

Then, he opened his eyes.

Blinding light assaulted his vision. His ears rang. And his throat was as dry as the Arid Desert of Yore.

*Beep... beep... beep*

This is not death, he realized. Death did not sound like a beeping heart monitor.

”... patient 240 showing signs of awakening!” shouted someone from some place.

Rushed clangor of thin metal instruments, rickety wheels rolling on tiled floors, and a hand moving his head from side to side all worsened his aching, living, bodily senses.

It took Eren a couple of blinks before his vision adjusted.

The darkened silhouette of multiple people appeared at his sides: men and women wearing green and tidy attires, their hair neatly covered in a straight, white hat.

Among them was a woman wearing the only white coat. A stethoscope hung from her neck.

A doctor. A modern doctor. With modern instruments. These were not the ones that poked you with unsanitized pins and diagnosed you with life-threatening diseases just by reading your palms.

”Where am I?”

His vision began to clear. And as he spoke, the doctor and nurses looked down at him with concerned gazes.

”The patient is speaking gibberish. Slurred speech is a possible side-effect of his years-long coma,” said the doctor.

Gibberish?

Eren’s mouth was dry and his jaw ached to even open. But his pronunciation was perfect.

Wait... they didn’t speak Ræzoňic.

”... where... am I?” he muttered. This time, in English.

”The patient appears to be lucid,” said the doctor. She took a pen and waved it around his eyes. ”Patient, you were in a coma. Can you remember anything?”

”...Where am I?” he asked again, now propping himself up from the bed.

Pain shot through his arm and he stumbled to the side, almost falling off the bed. The nurses caught him.

”Don’t try to move. Your name is Eren Grayson and you’ve been in a coma for ten years. Your muscles have atrophied to the point of near paralysis. You’ll need years of intensive physical rehabilitation before you can walk.”

Eren straightened his back, a realization slowly setting in. Eren Grayson. His name. His original name.

Am I back on Earth?

His hands looked young. Emaciated, but full of youth nonetheless. It lacked the scars and calluses he’d been used to.

It was his original body... but ten years older.

He took a moment to digest his new situation. As it turned out, his first life didn’t end in death, just a coma.

Were such things even possible?

In that world, and in all the worlds, reincarnation stayed a fantasy. Only one life for everybody. That’s the reason why cultivators strived to defy the heavens, and why he was so sure his second death was permanent.

His first reincarnation was simply a freak accident. So, was this one too?

Eren let the pain of his aching body flood his thoughts. He had no way to get answers and no need either. Nothing mattered. He’s back in this boring, old world. No continent-eating monsters, no thousand year old hermits, and no—

”We’ll do a physical check on your body. Please do not be alarmed,” said the doctor.

She nudged the glasses up the ridge of her nose. A green, ghostly fire raged on the skin of her right hand.

Then, she checked the pulse on Eren’s wrist. It’s beating wildly, growing even more frantic as the seconds passed.

”What’s happening? His palpitations are off the roof.”

”Is it a complication of his coma?”

”An effect of a phantom, perhaps?!”

It wasn’t until one of the nurses looked over his chart did they realize the problem.

”He was admitted in 2016! He’s been in a coma since before the Cataclysm! He’s frightened by the Psions!”

But in truth, Eren’s heart raced not because of fear, but because of excitement.

His eyes gleamed with recognition.

”Ræzoň,” he mumbled.

That was Ræzoň. No doubt about it. The warmth of the green fire coincided perfectly with the concept he had of it in his mind. It felt—

Eren’s heart skipped a beat. He felt Ræzoň.