Chapter 1: The Prologue. What a damnable world.

  How many people can say they've lead a fulfilling life?

That's a trick question, in some regard. Majority wouldn't be able to tell you, most life is stripped away in... an instant. You'd consider that unfair, wouldn't you? If suddenly, spontaneously everything ended. It's safe to say, I was. I... definitely was, one of the majority who died without any explanation.

Hard to explain, really. I, myself, don't exactly know what happened. I assume, from what I 'remember' vaguely... A bomb went off in the town square. Typical day, went to the store to get a few things for Ma, and next thing you know. Everything's fucked, flames raging from destroyed buildings. It looked like some artist's interpretation of the ending of humanity... beautiful, if it wasn't terrifying, and a gross extermination of life. That was it, the scene lasted only a second, but it stuck with me.

Now, this should be where everything 'ended'... Right? I mean, I died, probably, but just as soon as it all happened. I came back to, albeit with my own set of bizarre circumstances. Not only was I 'alive', breathing, and laying on a fancy bed. It wasn't my body. Nothing felt 'like home', it was alien. Something I can't describe in detail, since you'd actually need to be me to fully understand what I'm saying.

I found that the most terrifying of that situation. Instead of a 38 year old man taking care of his mother... the sight that befell me was that of a petite young lass. Weirder even was that her features were by no means natural. Silver hair, striking, gold eyes, and a set of black markings that ran across her eyes. Linia. That was probably her name from what vague and flickering memories spoke of.

Of course, you wouldn't understand it, and neither did I at the time, but I soon found out. Trust me, by soon, I mean /soon/ The near instant I got my mind in sync, somehow assimilating years worth of memories in the matter of a second. I witnessed something so familiar, yet unfamiliar, and terrifying at the same time. No, it wasn't her strange appearance, or the architecture that would only befit that of what you'd think a Noble's Manor would look like.

  That terrifying revelation was none other than a game's... interface? I still don't know what it is, but it was labeled [System]. Can you imagine waking up in a body that isn't your own... only to be faced with -

[ `You have died. By God's will, you have been given a more fulfilling purpose, and are tasked with purging the World's evil. You cannot refuse this 'Quest'. Failure to adhere to designated task will resort in punishment via Purgatory.` ]

- I was not one for religious beliefs, nor was I a full blow atheist, but... Would you test fate in my situation? Without even having my own bearings on my situation fully, I was given a rude awakening. Splashed with ice cold water and forced to make an on the spot decision, a countdown was placed firmly in the middle of that damned, floating screen. They knew what they were doing, but... I would only figure such a thing out later on in this long, long life.

Of course, what came next was a miniatured version of all the stages of grief. Denial. 300

"This... This can't be happening."

Anger. 250

"Why- Why me?! What the fuck have I done to be put in this situation? To choose so fucking abruptly!"

Bargaining. 120

"If- Listen, please. If there's anyone out there, can I do something else? is there another way to get out of this shit? I don't think I've lead a bad life!"

Acceptance, by far. That was the worst feeling I've experienced, as a grown man, but perhaps multiplied by... whatever scientific term encapsulates a young woman's heightened emotional responses to stress. It took me the longest, I could only do it when I was at a whopping... 10 seconds left. Most of it was crying, most of it was misaimed swearing at whatever 'God', or force, had put me in the situation.

Pathetic, now that I look back at it, but what else could I have done? Look at this with a cool, rational mind? Sorry, I wasn't that type of person. A bitch, if anything, and I've never done anything that would prepare me for such a situation. I handled my stress just as good as the average person, but the stress of an average, first-world citizen wouldn't exactly be on the same level as:
"Holy shit. Did I just fucking die and now I have to 'purge evil'?"

Once acceptance rolled around, I was briefed. Simple explanation, probably left out more 'on the nose' details that would dissuade a hunting dog. Oh, did I spoil it? My apologies, truly. The briefing was along the lines of -

[ `This world is riddled with corruption, and as God's apostle, you are tasked with dealing with it. Once you leave this room, you will be assigned a /Class/. God's priests will prep you for the journey to come. Good luck, Child.` ]

Obviously, I didn't want to leave the room. As you could guess, however. It hardly mattered if I left or not, since I was 'extracted' out. They were... so 'kind', at the time. It was what I needed. A warm voice to tell me everything was going to be alright, It didn't help that they talked like my Mother used to. Whether or not that was planned in advance, I don't care now, and even welcome it. Boy... did I need it.

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I won't comment on abusive relationships. I've never been in one until that point. Those witches prepped me with all of their ability... introducing me to the world and its history. Althara, it was called. Had no opinion on the name, but it was like straight out of a game. Differences being...

  Some of them weren't like the typical fantasy. One example being, so that I don't go on a tangit that would waste me getting to the point than I've already have is, the Elves aren't prissies nor are they 'Noble'. Professional assassins that use their affinity for nature to remain almost undetectable. 'Slippery bastards' one of the priests stated.

Aside from the boring shit, it was harsh training. My body was very adept in using our God's magic, which consisted of manipulating one's own 'temple, or body, in order to destroy sinners. Working like some sort of 'anti-magic material', my skin, and bodily components, actively disrupted the 'bonds', or whatever the fuck, of magic. Making me deadly against mages or swordsman who used 'Aura'; Aura being a lesser form of magic manipulation, but more potent.

Mages had expansive amounts of mana, but it tended to be less potent than a Swordsman's potent, but meager supply. Mages were still better overall, according to my teacher.
I was taught that soon after, as well. Trained in fighting, those years were probably the hardest. Having never been taught strict, military-like discipline in my entire life. I was berated If I showed weakness only to be reassured that I was doing good in God's image. Obviously manipulation when viewed back now, but I was none the wiser.

I progressed, nonetheless, and soon it was out to the world to spread God's 'glorious word'. My very first mission was to destroy cultists who had been in hiding from the Church.

God... cultists. Even if I detached myself from it all, it was the shittiest experience I've felt emotionally since I came to that blasted shit show. They were... people, just people who didn't agree with the cult I was indoctrinated in, but I, foolishly believing, and wanting to go home, fucking murdered them. I slaughtered them, their blood stained my blade, and my face. I threw up, I threw up so much, but whenever I faltered...

The platoon sent with me finished what I couldn't. Children, poor... fucking children, orphans by the look of it had their throats slit. That was my changing point. I was weak, very weak, and had to run away from it; my conscious. I said: 'This isn't real. It's a game, definitely a game. Why would reality reward me for my travesties?' What made it worse was the tally.

[ Cultist Purged - 120/500. ]

My brain made them faceless enemies. I stopped recognizing features of those I spoke to or killed. It was a means to an end, so I could 'go home', so I could 'live', so I didn't have my soul stranded in fuck knows where. I didn't want to die for these people, just to spare them. Those I've never met. In some aspect, it's a human thought while also that of an incompassionate monster.

After I turned those before me into cogs, my life flashed. Hardship, near death, 'joy at gaining strength'. I racked up experiences, and those once... untouched, smooth hands, I had started out with... became riddled in scars, calluses, and blood. I felt like a machine. I listened, I worked, and I brought results all while adapting the longer I went on.

A biological weapon for the church, their influence grew as my name started to ring throughout the continent - 'Agatha's Angel'. For such a shitty God, her name was oddly human.

  As years slowly felt like days, my bodily functions didn't seem to come to an end. After all, was I even human anymore? Mentally and physically. A human's body could never disrupt magic, how could I have never thought on that more at the time?
I lived for exactly 158 years, 3 months, and 2 days. Even if most of it felt the same, I could remember them down to a T. The ending of that life wasn't like it had been before. Most likely more 'fulfilling'. There were those I actually made happy with my actions, which probably pushed me along with my desire not to be subjected to 'Purgatory'.

Heroes... What you'd expect in a story, what you wished to be as a child. Maybe be reborn as one in another world. Hah. I was reborn in another world, but not as a Hero, I didn't even have the dignity of being a villain. I was merely a puppet.
Those Heroes came together and struck me down. The fight itself was probably the hardest one of my life. They had been powerful opponents... One boy was practically completely in harmony with his sword. I didn't stand a chance against that, who's blade was only trained to kill, let alone 4. Mage, Swordsman, Archer, and another like I; one who could pull apart...atomic bonds, or something along the lines. Never was one for science, and I entirely forgot certain terms over those long years.

I was Linia at that point, completely forgetting whatever name I had at the beginning.
The funniest joke of it all had to be the ending, though. I expected... purgatory, I expected a punishment for failing my 'merciful' God's wishes.

  [ `You have successfully ushered in a new age for the people of this world. Congratulations. Your preliminary results are satisfactory. You have been accepted and you have proven capable of changing a story. Your agent designation is #####.`]

...Preliminary. I had no reaction. Something like a reaction was far too... in the horizon for me by that point. I didn't care whether I live or died by that point. What was terrifying, and what granted me solace, was the fact I didn't have to be aimless. Can you imagine that? Wanting freedom, but not wanting freedom. For one who's done as they're told for their entire life, the most terrifying thing to do for that person would be to throw them into undirected freedom.

That's where this little monologue ends, that's where this entire thing begins. Was it a fulfilling life?

Yes. In some case, It is. More fulfilling than what I had lived beforehand, but... I think.

"I would rather die unfulfilled."

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