As a Second Reincarnation Bonus, I Kept Rerolling and Ended Up Reincarnating as the Character Who Should’ve Had the Easiest Life... or So I Thought - Episode 9: My Former Self

Episode 9: My Former Self

A month had passed since that mysterious experience. Since then, the brothers’ lives had gradually begun to change.

At a glance, Atlas seemed to be neglecting his lessons and studies.

But in truth, he was focused on suppressing the powers he had once gained in his past life. Which he could feel steadily returning day by day.

(If my powers from my previous life come back completely, I’ll stand out way too much. That damn angel did something unnecessary.)

He was concentrating on not stimulating those powers. From the outside, though, he just looked like the lazy eldest son who played around all day.

In contrast, Iru was fully absorbed in practicing magic.

He had seemingly mastered the spellbooks they bought. And from time to time, he would show off his fireballs or ice spells to his brother—napping in the garden—hoping to be praised.

However, there was a problem. Sometimes, from overtraining, Iru would run out of magic power and collapse. It caused everyone in the Lothian household to worry.

“Sorry for causing trouble… But why do I pass out when I use too much magic?”

After being carried to bed and waking up, Iru apologized to his brother. He was gazing at the ceiling with frustration.

“When someone who has magic power uses it all up, their body suffers abnormalities. It’s a drawback that comes with being special, maybe.”

To someone without magic power, the concept of magic depletion was difficult to understand.

It was common for users to faint until some of their magic power returned.

“But I can use it way more than before now. I managed five spells today!”

“That’s great. You’re not just good at magic—you’re also smart and kind. I’m sure you’ll grow up to be an admirable man.”

“What about you, Onii-chan?”

“Hm?”

“Are you going to learn magic too?”

Atlas gave a small smile and gently patted his brother’s hair.

“You saw it yourself—I don’t have magic power. And even if I tried, there’s no guarantee I’d ever get it. So I’m fine staying as I am.”

“But magic is fun. Hey, let’s learn together. I bet you could do it right away.”

“If only I were that lucky. But I don’t plan to try. It’s too much of a hassle.”

Around this time, Atlas had begun to feel uneasy about the strange trust people placed in him.

It wasn’t just his brother. Even though he showed such a lack of motivation, his parents still wanted him to be the next head of the family.

He was just a seven-year-old boy. But no matter how much he tried to hide it, even the charm he had cultivated in his past life was beginning to awaken—regardless of his will.

To him, it was an annoying part of daily life.

◇

One day, Atlas had a dream. He was watching his past self from afar. It was a strange sight.

(Am I dreaming? And I know I’m dreaming, somehow. What kind of awful dream is this…)

It was a battlefield, in the middle of the night, where humans and monsters slaughtered each other.

A page of his memories he never wanted to recall again.

Winged demons. Giant lions. Wraiths like grim reapers. Minotaur warriors in steel armor.

Monsters of every kind surged forward in hordes of tens of thousands. Even the word “hell” felt too soft for what this was.

Yet the humans fought bravely. Outnumbered and overpowered, they still didn’t cower. They kept fighting.

But they couldn’t turn the tide.

And in that nightmare era, there was one warrior—just one—who kept winning.

Clad in black armor, he danced with a red demon sword. He slaughtered every monster that stood before him.

His hands were always stained with bl00d. He just kept silently cutting down his enemies.

He had lost his left arm and right eye.

Early in his battlefield days, he’d repeatedly hovered on the edge of death. But no matter how dire the situation, he never gave up his sword.

His comrades had already lost many. He was always the one seeing off the dying. His battles had continued for over ten years.

Even when witnessing hopeless despair, his strength and ferocity never waned—if anything, they sharpened further.

Until the midnight forest turned into a bloody field littered with monster corpses, his sword didn’t stop.

The blade danced as if in a performance. It flung flesh into the air.

How much longer could he keep fighting?

His heart was calm. So calm, even he didn’t understand how the battlefield didn’t bother him anymore.

It was because he was so calm that he could see it—the end of this bl00d-soaked life was near.

The man in black armor became a rumor, then a tale, and finally a legend.

People saw hope in him. But he himself felt only despair inside.

“I have to save that girl. At the very least, her.”

This war was probably going to be lost. That was the harsh reality.

Even so, the man still had a purpose he refused to abandon.

Even now, as he sliced through the monsters swarming him, he was advancing for the sake of saving that girl.

Eventually, he reached it—the stronghold of the monstrous horde that blanketed the world:

The castle of the Demon King, revered by monsters.

A massive purple fortress, more terrifying than the night itself.

The man infiltrated it alone. He was silently killing guard after guard as he advanced.

The red demon sword kept drinking bl00d, intoxicated by the pleasure of battle.

The black armor stirred his killing intent, craving more violence.

“My time with you monsters is almost up.”

He muttered dryly to himself—

Then suddenly, bloodlust closed in from all directions.

Discovered at last by a group of monsters, the man let out a roar so fierce it could make beasts tremble—and charged.

The Demon King’s castle was said to be an impregnable fortress. But more than that, no one ever even got close to it.

Much less alone.

This rare intruder was at first laughed at—like a mouse wandering into a lion’s den.

But with that same mocking smile still on its face, the huge troll had its head cut off.

Hundreds of traps. Spells fired in endless waves. Packs of beasts swarming from all sides.

Yet no matter what came, the man tore through it all.

He possessed monstrous strength.

He could lift boulders, deflect a giant’s club, and send dozens of monsters flying with a single kick.

But above all, he was mad.

Unpredictable power and madness. That was why he, alone, had been able to reach the Demon King.