Reincarnator Returns: Second Shot

Eren struck a deal with Nieve. In exchange for some pointers on needle placements, she gave him free reign to watch how much TV he wanted.

And if he had any questions about the outside world, she’d tell him about it to the best of her knowledge.

About five minutes after she left, she returned with the smuggled TV remote from Dr. Reid’s office.

”Just don’t—”

”Turn it on too loud. Yes, ma’am.” The TV was already on before she finished her sentence.

She pursed her lips. ”Do you want me to keep your bed inclined?”

He shook his head.

”But... doesn’t it hurt? Sitting up straight without support? I’ll at least give you some pain relievers.”

He forced a smile. ”No. I want the hurt.”

>>>

>>>

>>>

That prickly relief from Ræzoň came infrequently. Eren spent 95% of his time in pain, exercising, before he gained the universe’s approval.

Television became his only escape.

He thought that entertainment on Earth would change after the emergence of Ræzoň. It didn’t. The first TV show he happened upon was a gripping romance drama about two lovelorn soulmates finding each other in the middle of a Phantom horde.

He gave it a few minutes of screen time before he changed the channel. It was utterly unbelievable. Their depiction of Ræzoň as the hidden red string that tied the two lovers together was a complete misrepresentation of the universe’s power.

The next show seemed more promising. It was one of those typical young adult action movies, reminiscent of the shows he watched before he reincarnated.

A young man, starting from the bottom of the barrel, working his way up through the Awakener rankings to save his sister, and the world in the process.

It was a good distraction while he performed excruciatingly painful situps. But that didn’t last long. Once the action started, he got bored.

It was too pretty. Too clean. Not in the way that there was no bloodshed; they were plenty. But his complaint laid in the fact that it was too choreographed. Real fights were gritty. Brutal and chaotic. There was no time for pretty moves when a gut shot punch was coming your way.

They didn’t use CGI like the movies from before. They used actual moves and sword forms from Martial Manuals. A point of pride, he realized, for the creators of the movie itself since they had a big banner at the bottom describing the Martial Manuals used for the scene.

But this made his disappointment only grow higher. They were using their techniques for this? They were using the sacred knowledge of cultivators for this shallow plot?

He didn’t know what was more painful. Watching this, or straining his muscles past its burning limits.

He turned the TV off as he took a break. His hospital gown was once again drenched with sweat.

What he would give to swim in the Sparkling Dew ponds of the Palatine right now. It’d have refreshed him, literally and figuratively. Unfortunately, he could only rely on the basic amenities of the hospital.

Throughout the day, nurses came inside his room for their scheduled visits. Checking his condition. Feeding him nutrient slop. Replenishing his medicine tablets.

They mentioned his increased heart rate, the sweat dripping from his forehead, and the obvious pain in his face. They repeated the same warnings to him about taking it slow. He nodded to skip past the conversation.

The TV, they didn’t mention. Nieve must have told them. He’d no doubt become a topic of gossip for them, then.

He asked them for channel recommendations and they gave him answers ranging from another romance show, to current sports competition, to a travel vlog visiting a country on the opposite side of the world.

He watched them all. Valuable information could be gleaned from the few words or terminology that were normalized in the outside world.

Names of countries, familiar and unfamiliar. Historical events. Famous family lineages. None of them made sense until context was given. But he hoarded the information.

The sports channel wasn’t as informative. But it was entertaining.

The one he watched was a modified version of football. The players weren’t allowed to use their Ræzoň (Psion as they called it) aside from the basic body reinforcement.

The defense was more physical, relentlessly aggressive.

Despite the diminished powers, this was more reminiscent of cultivator warfare. He found himself cheering at some point.

By the time the game ended, it was already 7 pm. The ambient noise outside his room turned subdued. Nurses, doctors, and patient visitors were starting to leave the hospital.

He yawned. Exhaustion was starting to take over his body, courtesy of his overnight sit-up exercise yesterday.

He was just about to turn the TV off when something interrupted the post-game interview.

Bold text zoomed into place on the screen.

{United News Presents...}

As the high-beat drums and orchestra audio snippet finished, a well-presented man in a suit appeared to address him. The audience.

”This just in! The Pyrex Organization has successfully liberated the second island of Nipon, ridding it of the disaster-class Phantoms roaming its lands.

They started the assault just a few months ago, led by their illustrious leader, Lance Hearth, who would now find himself in the hotlist to be the next global superhero thanks to this accomplishment...”

The door opened and Nieve came in, her face haggard. She’d had a hard day, it seemed.

”Who’s he?” he asked.

She took one look at the TV and immediately answered, ”Lance Hearth? He’s one of our strongest Awakeners in the country.” She continued, ”the youngest to become a national superhero.”

Global superhero must have been a title reserved for Awakeners at the pinnacle. A National superhero must be just a step below it.

He wanted to ask more, but the newscaster continued on with his report.

”They have already started cooperations with the United Governments for the eventual resettlement of the island, though the details of their negotiation has yet to be determined.”

The newscaster, along with a woman at his side, began to discuss Lance Hearth’s achievement. Praise, more like it. They keep reiterating how young and talented and handsome he was.

He turned to Nieve and asked her to fill in the missing context.

As it turned out, Nipon was a country consisting of multiple islands, most of which were conquered by Phantoms during the Cataclysm.

Not a rare occurrence, it seemed. More than half of the world had succumbed to Phantoms at one point in the ten-year history of the Cataclysm.

Forced by necessity, the rest of the world banded together to form the United Governments. They combined forces. Resources. Everything. They unified Awakeners to start retaking humanity’s lands.

They built infrastructure. Founded organizations. They’re the reason why the world had human sanctuaries, where people could live in protected peace. This country was a part of that, it seemed.

It was all thanks to a system they established, one that helped detect portals so that they could dispatch Awakeners as soon as it appeared.

Eren muted the TV. ”They dispatch Awakeners? Do I have any obligation to do that?”

That would limit his freedom if that were the case. Not ideal.

”Not really. Licensed Awakeners can either choose to serve the United Governments, or go independent. If you go with the former, you’ll be required to go on missions.”

”License?”