That Time an American was Reincarnated into Another World

March 1st, 626

The outside of the Royal Palace was as luxurious as someone would expect. Massive pillars held up a huge stone roof 150 feet above a man’s head. With no walls, the pillars surrounded a floor of white and gold tiles that gleamed with the sun’s light. The entire structure looked, from any Earthling’s eyes, like an oversized Greek temple such as the Parthenon. 

It was merely the entrance to the Palace as a whole, an open air plaza for those visiting.

Two large and pristinely cleaned roads led in and out of the plaza where currently, a few dozen carriages and closed vehicles rolled into. Just outside the plaza was a cluster of helipads bringing in the nobles who were rich enough to order a helicopter and influential enough to have already gotten one despite the months long queue. 

There were dozens of people within the plaza itself already, most lingering around standing tables that servants brought small foodstuffs and pastries to. The doors leading into the Palace proper had yet to be opened, as it wasn’t yet the designated time the King had decreed to enter. 

Not that any disrespectful noble would ever be late. All intended to arrive early, before the doors opened, and they would all wait for the King, not the other way around. 

More and more people gathered. Nobles, rich merchants, Generals, Brigadiers, Marshals, Sovereigns, famous enchanters, celebrities of the arts, their families, and anybody else who had the clout to find a way to be here at this historic gathering. 

A King’s Assembly hadn’t been called in over 20 years. They were only called for matters that concerned the Kingdom as a whole, matters that demanded the attention of everyone with a smidge of authority or influence to their name. 

Those who received the request to present themselves were the most critical. They could bring whoever they wished, and nobody outside of the requested or their entourage could show themselves. 

This meant everyone who was present within the Palace would have a connection of some form to the most important people in the Kingdom. This made it the most seismic gathering of people in the world, and made the Assembly a time of extreme change and turmoil. 

Four hours past sunrise there were already 300 people gathered, the number constantly rising as vehicles ejected their occupants. Opulent carriages gilded with gold, White Crystals, and the insignias of families from all corners of the Kingdom came and went without end. 

Beautiful women, rich men, and people of disastrous power filled the large plaza. A few hundred servants rushed about to make sure that each of their needs and wants were catered to while the personal servants coordinated with the Palace servants to make sure masters couldn’t be displeased. 

Counts were common and Earls and Marquesses were rising in population. At some point Dukes and Duchesses started to arrive, most of them wearing a half cape or sash denoting their military careers with medals and insignias. 

Six hours past sunrise and the plaza was looking crowded despite its expanse. Chatter reverberated off the ceiling, which was covered in vast art pieces depicting the glory of past figures of the Kingdom. 

Everyone was distracted or in conversation, speaking with political allies and opponents, networking or referring to old promises and debts. The battle had already started and yet like the snacks, they were only a taster, an appetizer before the main dish. 

Talexia disembarked from a vehicle only an hour before the Palace doors were supposed to open. Her arrival was announced, as it was for other Marquesses and Dukes, and she caught most eyes. 

Faey and Ikhor were with her, both of them stepping out, dressed in their best for the occasion. There was nothing more formal than this, all three of them presenting completely new clothes designed especially for this occasion. 

The three walked in, Faey standing left of her mother and Ikhor right of his wife. Their faces were neutral, Faey allowing a small smile as she glanced around at the statues and artwork along the pillars. 

Once they had arrived at a small table nearest to the doors to the Palace, Faey sighed and glanced at her mother.

“When were Umara and John coming?”

“I don’t know. They said they would be here not long after us.”

“I’ll send her a message.”

Faey tapped her Aerial with a smile, sending a quick message. 

Then she waited, other people coming up to her parents for talks. Some of her friends flagged her down as well, so she went to mingle. 

10 minutes passed, then 20, and she still hadn’t gotten a response. When 30 minutes had gone by, Umara messaged back and said they’d be there soon. 

She sighed and waited some more, wondering what was holding them up so long. They were already in the capital and supposed to be nearby. John’s house wasn’t that far, so it couldn’t take them long. 

She was slightly absentminded with her friends, all noble girls from other households that she had clung to at the Magisterium. 

She just wanted to see John. 

She continued to glance at the road leading into the Plaza where more carriages and vehicles rolled into, dropping off nobles and celebrities with greater and greater renown. She tried to figure out which one could be theirs but was always disappointed to see other faces pop through the doors. 

She turned away and focused on her conversation with her friends. Trying to pick him out would be no good with this many people and vehicles. 

But then she started to hear murmurs, glancing around before a shout came from the front. 

She and her friends snapped their heads to the road, eyes widening when they saw the vehicle. 

No, it was no vehicle. It was a metal monster. A behemoth. 

It came rolling across the road on two rough sets of metal double treads, standing 17 feet tall, 60 feet long, and 45 feet wide. Its body was completely covered in slanted plates of metal armor, all of them stacked with thick enchantments that visibly glowed with power.

On top of its main body were two thick barrels mounted on two separately rotating segments, one on top of the other. The barrels were 15 feet long and the hole in them were 5 inches in diameter. There were also four double barrel manned turrets, one on each corner of the tank. 

Faey stood and ran over, watching as the tank rolled into the plaza and forced crowds apart as it crushed some tables and parked itself right in the middle of the area. 

It was monstrous, Faey reading the name plastered on its side in crude paint. 

Regret. 

The two main guns rotated to face two different directions before it screeched to a halt. Royal guards were already swarming it, surrounding it and pointing at it with spears, looking hilariously pitiful as a result. 

It sat there for several seconds. In that time, Dukes moved closer, and a couple of Grand Dukes emerged from within the Palace, the doors finally opening. 

Faey gawked when a hatch suddenly opened on the body and saw John climb out. He stepped onto the metal armor beside the massive gun, then reached down, a soft hand responding with a reach and taking his. 

Umara emerged, strikingly beautiful, her ethereal presence compelling everyone’s attention . Faey’s eyes snapped back to John though, soaking up every bit of sharp masculinity radiating from that large frame. 

Why her sister had to be blessed with that man, she didn’t know, but her envy was a foe she fought often. 

The two climbed down the tank gracefully, Umara floating down with air magic and John’s shoes affording him the same capability. They landed together and quickly earned the intimate blades of the guards. 

“State your identity!”

John looked at them with indifference, as if he couldn’t see their spears pointed right at him. 

In his hand appeared the gilded letter from the King, stamped with the Royal seal, and he flourished it as confidently as he should. 

“I am John Cooper, allowed entry by the King’s summons. If you’re intending on threatening a guest, then go ahead, keep pointing those spears at me.”

“We are the King’s Guard.”

A man suddenly walked through the crowds, large and overbearing in presence, with shined, intricate armor covering his body and a cape that flowed behind his steps. 

The Marshal of the Royal Guard, rumored to soon be advancing to Authority 12. He had a gray beard but his presence was only bolstered by his age. 

Wisdom tempered by years. Lethality tempered by battles. Everyone backed away from him as far as they could before being stopped by those who still wanted to get a good look. 

He stepped up to John, both of them the same height. John didn’t feel as overwhelming as the Marshal but there was still something about him that kept him in the minds of others. 

Perhaps it was the massive metal beast behind him. 

The surrounding guards all lifted their spears. With the Marshal here, there was no more need to be on guard. He alone was enough to secure the area from anything short of a Sovereign. 

Faey was nervous, the two looking like they were about to fight to the death. 

“We ensure the sanctity of the Royal Family from all threats, no matter who or where. What is this thing you’ve brought, and why have you driven it into the Plaza of the Royal Palace?”

“Well, how nice of you to ask!”

John smiled nefariously, turning and waving to the mountain of cold steel behind him. 

Faey looked closer at the surface of the metal, suddenly seeing engravings across the body of the monstrosity. She saw names, ages, words beneath them. 

As she concentrated on it, she started to hear voices echo in her mind. The words started to radiate in her vision, feelings of desolation welling up within her. 

Goosebumps rose upon her skin, her breath hitching in fear when she realized what those words were, who the names belonged to. 

The crowds nearby, which started to chatter, hushed as the vehicle began to impose its weight upon the Plaza. 

“This is a gift, Marshal. A monument! To you, it will soon be known as the M300 Superheavy Battle Tank. 640 thousand pounds of cold steel, enchanted to the Authority 9 standard. Two 5 inch smoothbore main guns capable of launching a 50 pound projectile at nearly 2500 meters per second. Four double barrel high-explosive spell turrets. All terrain treads, and a full environmental seal with vacuum rated self-sustainment capabilities. It is a warrior unto itself, a weapon the likes of which this world has never seen. But to me…”

John’s face fell, his gaze forlorn, the entire Plaza falling silent. 

Yet Faey could hear the screams. She could hear the spellfire, smell the blood, dirt, and metal. She gazed at one of the names carved into the armor of the tank. Gerul Fazenborn, 29 years old. 

And she didn’t merely read the words underneath. They flashed through her mind. 

The cold blizzard, a Steed being upturned as hundreds of monsters swarmed them. 

“Jump out! Bring up a line! Fuck, we aren’t going out like this! I refuse to die like this! Fucking kill them! Bring up-!”

The flashing memory was suddenly interrupted, Faey’s body jerking when she nearly felt the massive talon of a horrible monster rip through her neck. 

She felt sweat bead on her neck, realizing what this construct was. 

These were the death throes of the fallen, the echoes of the dead, all of them inscribed into the metal of that tank. 

She pulled her eyes away and focused on John. 

“This Battle Tank is what could have been. If I had enough time, this would’ve been the weapon to hold the line. It is a weapon that will save millions, and yet it hadn’t been made in time to save those who needed it most. So Marshal! This is my gift to the King! To the Kingdom as a whole I bestow this machine of war! Revel in its harrowing beauty! I want all to gaze upon what could have been! And then I want them to remember this as we hold deliberations. 

John walked up to the Marshal, to his side, and spoke in a low tone that yet everyone could hear, only just barely above the screams radiating from glimpses at the tank. 

He glanced at the letter still in his hand and whisked it away. 

“I am here at the request of the King, Marshal. But I am not here as an enchanter or inventor, and I did not respond because of his request.”

“Then, whose authority do you present yourself by?”

“Not authority, Marshal.”

John waved toward the tank, the screams, the bloodshed, the echoes of death radiating from the metal and images imposing themselves onto the Marshal’s mind. 

“I am here as their Envoy. Do not deny their voice.”

John’s arm lowered as he continued walking, Umara’s arm linked to his. 

The cries of the slaughtered, their throes of regret, spilled forth from the metal coffin. Not afraid they wouldn’t be heard, but a condemnation to those who knew they deserved it, and a reminder to the naive and heedless. 

Those who the Assembly had been called for were here.

He was here, who carried their afflictions. 

……

…

The sound of heavy breathing echoed from an alleyway, yet no passerby could see any figures when they walked by, dismissing it as a hallucination or trick of the wind. 

Until there was a sudden blast of power, and a body came shooting out, colliding with another building and cracking the reinforced stone wall. Some black market buildings were built sturdier than others, yet the one who crashed into it lamented that fact, every ounce of impact shooting through her body. 

She clenched her teeth, forcing herself to stand, yet feeling her knee give out. She looked down and noticed a bloody line there. Her tendon hadn’t been cut but for some reason her mind didn’t seem to believe that. She couldn’t seem to use her leg. 

The attacker appeared in front of her, an invisible blade snaking its way around. She couldn’t see it, but that hadn’t stopped her from feeling every ounce of dread the blade carried. The number of battles it had been through, the number of lives it had reaped, both human and Scourge. She couldn’t yet fathom its abyssal depths, and that was merely what that blade carried. 

She looked up, seeing her attacker step out of his invisibility. It was a casual show of unfathomable skill that she couldn’t hope to match, which pissed her off to no end. 

She moved to attack again but he raised his hand in protest. 

“Stop. You’re losing the point of this fight. Again.”

“...I know what the point is.”

She spoke, yet her head fell, as if she didn’t believe her own words. 

He sighed. 

“Theoretically, you do. But your body doesn’t reflect that. Nothing you’ve done in the past 20 minutes has been for the sake of unearthing your Aura. This fight is an opportunity and you’re treating it like a game of survival. Too much time on the battlefield.”

Plex clicked his tongue, looking down at Tana’s pitiful figure. She was bruised and beaten, but according to him, that was all for the sake of learning. When pain was associated with failure, avoiding pain meant success. 

A simple formula that didn’t seem to be working as he had intended. 

“At least you don’t complain as much as John though. Or demand as much. After all the things I’ve done for him, and he ditches me to run off to the military with his girlfriend and make his riches. Then he dumps his friend on me for training without another word. Or even a token of payment!”

“I apologize for being the burden that I am.”

“I don’t like apologies.”

Tana chuckled at that. 

“John says the same thing.”

“Hey, don’t compare me to that ungrateful buffoon! I don’t like apologies because I prefer money instead! It has nothing to do with the principles that kid thinks he holds so close to his chest.”

“Hmm.”

Tana straightened her body out, the lingering effects of Plex’s attacks fading. They were as mysterious as they were effective, which only spoke to his ability. Yet he wasn’t the greatest teacher, as she had learned. 

“I can get you paid.”

“By your father? Wasn’t he that cheap son of a bitch out in the eastern orchards? Or do you come from a different Choron line?”

“...Yes, yes, and no.”

“Heh, then I won’t count on it. Don’t worry, I’ll just go hunt John down. Lord knows the kid is damn near one of the richest men in the world now. Heh, back when he was still scrounging for coin doing odd jobs-”

“I’d like to get back on track, please.”

Tana interrupted before Plex could engage in more storytime. Like some old man reaching the end of his lifespan, he had no issues talking for an hour at a time, and that was if he didn’t go off on a few dozen tangents. 

Plex clicked his tongue again and waved his finger. 

“Alright girl, listen close. I see what you’re trying to do but it’s impossible as you are now. Putting it simply, you fucked up somewhere along your path and you’re trying to backtrack more than develop yourself, but you can’t even do that properly.”

“...Yeah.”

“So, tell me where it all changed? I’ll give you some counseling and go charge John some more.”

Plex leaned against a nearby wall, Tana sighing and doing the same, just out of weakness. 

John may have been busy with his little revolution but he didn’t forget about his friends. After much deliberation and self loathing, Tana had decided to take him up on his offer. 

So he dropped her on Plex’s lap in the Founder’s Market without even asking him for assistance. It was nothing more than a sharp demand and Tana had to press the man lest he get bored and ignore her. 

She wasn’t disappointed in Plex as much as she was herself. After several days of training and getting to know each other, Plex had been able to figure her out and the quality of his training, if it could be called that, skyrocketed. 

By now he had obviously seen through her, and yet what he saw wasn’t hopeful. He had hit the nail on the head and she decided to simply spill everything. 

“I hadn’t had any path back at the Magisterium short of making myself faint. But then I saw Anarchy, and right after that, according to John’s words, I was clinically dead for a few hours. While teetering on the edge of death I felt something. It wasn’t something that I had to reach out for, but something I had to fall into. But I was scared of it so I didn’t allow myself to. That’s when I woke up, and after that, I adjusted my Auric path based on what I had felt. It made me faint, made me nearly invisible to the senses, but it wasn’t great. It was unfinished, scrappy, but far less than a proper technique.”

“That thing you felt.”

Plex looked her dead in the eye. In a rare moment of seriousness, she was able to feel his breadth of experience. 

She didn’t know how powerful the man was but that was precisely why she was so meek before him. Like John, she could feel nothing, and that was always the most dangerous feeling. 

“That was real Death. Had you fallen into it you would’ve simply died. You’re lucky that you got out of it. That by itself is impressive, but like any dream, it is fleeting. Your own mind dispelled those feelings to protect itself and so you’ve never been able to make use of it since.”

Tana remained silent. She didn’t know if he was correct, but it was probably the closest guess to the truth that she had ever heard. In hindsight, it made sense. But she just couldn’t be sure, and that wasn’t because she doubted him. 

She simply didn’t have that feeling anymore. You couldn’t make use of something that wasn’t there anymore. 

“...So what do I do? Do I have to die again? A clinical death as John put it?”

“No.”

Plex shook his head, thinking seriously for a second. 

Tana remained silent, pondering about what John was doing at the moment. She knew that the King’s Assembly was ongoing but she could bring no value to John there. This training was far more important for her. 

She also wasn’t interested in seeing her father, who was assuredly present in every form. That man would never ignore an opportunity like that. 

Finally, Plex snapped, an evil grin on his face. 

“I have just the thing for you.”

“What is it?”

“That will be a surprise. Follow. He should be sleeping but that’ll make it all the more effective.”

Plex shot off, Tana quickly following despite her bruises screaming at her. 

They bounded across buildings before arriving at the Trenches. Tana frowned at the smell and sight of bodies across the ground. The Trenches were a relatively small part of the market but they were a tightly controlled wasteland where all the undesirables flocked to. A small pond of no rules, all headed by one man. 

Tana didn’t know much about it short of John’s stories. It was just as disgusting as his sparse recollections. They even ran across a drug fueled orgy in broad daylight, right in the middle of an intersection. Sweat, fluids, blood, and smoke were creating literal puddles on the dirt floor. 

Tana had to look away before she got nauseous. 

Finally, they made it to the center, the only place with any semblance of structure or order. A gang owned the nearby structures and they were the only things put together in this hellscape. With all kinds of magical tools they patrolled and fended off any drunken Magi. In fact, they were patrolling so thoroughly that she wondered if they were being paranoid. What was there to defend against so vehemently? 

They bypassed the majority of the guards and landed right in the courtyard outside the headquarters. 

Once there, Plex turned to Tana. Already they were catching attention. 

“You experienced death, Tana. And if you didn’t have the talent, you wouldn’t have been able to see that. But you need a sharp reminder of it. You’ve lost it, but not just because your mind purged the memory.”

After saying that, he waved his invisible blade. A sharp explosion of power later, and a major chunk of the headquarters building was blown away outright. Tana couldn’t see anything but the result. 

She figured that he was trying to piss off the boss of this place. Was she supposed to fight him? If fights with Plex weren’t going to be beneficial, then why would a fight with this head honcho be any more?

She wondered, but only until an Aura spilled out of the building, seething with such rage that it sent shivers up Tana’s spine. 

For a moment she thought a King Blood was here. But that was impossible. 

Plex looked at her seriously. 

“This opportunity will only be afforded to you once. You experienced death of the body and your body still remembers that. The experience has fused into your flesh and blood. But you can’t make use of it, because no matter how much knights hate it, the body is only half of the weapon that is the human being.”

The Aura from the headquarters continued to spill out, washing over Tana and filling her vision with hallucinations of a dreaded hell. It reminded her a lot of John’s illusions, but far less complex. 

Instead, their reality came from the sheer power behind them. They were real because the person behind them was telling her that it was real, and he had the power to impose that upon her with impunity. 

Black spikes rose from the ground, pricking her eyes with the mere sight of them. 

“PLEX! YOU UNGRATEFUL SON OF A BITCH!”

The roar almost made Tana pass out with sheer pressure, as if the Aura could snuff out her mind by itself. 

Perhaps it could. 

She looked back at Plex, wondering what the man got her into. 

He smiled at her. 

“Death of the body. Death of the mind. Acquire the other half, and maybe then you’ll find what you’re looking for. John won’t give that to you, but Apocryon will. Completely and utterly.”

Tana’s head snapped back to the headquarters, seeing a lunatic walk out of the building. He was seething with bottomless hatred, but she wondered why. How could destroying a part of a building warrant such thorough hatred? 

Looking back at him for questioning only made Plex laugh. 

“Hehe, you see, Apocryon is only able to sleep once every few months. So naturally, he hates being woken up. Anyway, use this chance wisely. I’m out!”

Plex promptly disappeared, Tana staring into thin air and gawking. 

Then, goosebumps rose on her skin, her body moving on pure instinct and dodging one of the many thousands of black spikes that were jutting out of the ground. 

She looked back and found Apocryon, that psycho, looking down at her from only three feet away. His eyes were bloodshot, his clothes mere rags, chemical burns all over his skin and his body lean but unhealthily pale. 

His voice came out with a shudder, his rage overwhelming. 

“Have you come to fucking kill yourself, girl? Why were you with that human piece of excrement?!”

“...I’ve come to see if death is really as powerful as he claims to be.”

Tana drew her sword, her Aura barely resisting Apocryon’s to rest with her own body. 

The very act of moving placed strain on her mind. 

“Show me.”

“With pleasure.”

Apocryon gave her a mad smile before she suddenly felt a spike shoot through her spine, so fast and so powerful that even with all her Vigor she couldn’t resist it. 

She was paralyzed, incredible pain shooting through her nerves, yet she was barely able to dispel the feeling with her Aura. 

The spikes were illusions. Apocryon was a warlock, she was partially sure, but those spikes still weren’t real. 

At least, that’s what she initially thought. When four hundred new spikes came and shot through every square inch of her body impaling her thousands of different ways, she wasn’t so sure anymore. 

She felt her mind slipping as sheer pain overwhelmed her. The only reason she could remain conscious was because Apocryon willed it. 

He walked up to her body, still skewered by all those barbed spikes. 

“The last man that dared to disturb me lasted 53 hours. You will know death, just as you will know pain.”

She tried to scream as the spikes started growing through her body, tried to rationalize how it was possible that Aura was capable of such. But she couldn’t scream, her mouth mangled, and her mind was so overwhelmed that there was no thinking to be done. 

Apocryon reached out and grabbed her, ripping her disfigured body out of those spikes and making them shatter before throwing her toward the headquarters. 

The two disappeared within, Plex watching from afar, a neutral expression on his face. 

After some time he sat down, still watching, quietly waiting.