Reincarnated User Manual

I was roused from my sleep by the commotion outside. Upon awakening, I realized that the teacher who had been sleeping beside me was no longer there. Looking through the open window, I could see armed forces moving in unison towards a single direction.

Thump Thump Thump Thump.

With a heart filled with unease, I went to investigate, wondering why my ominous premonitions always seemed to materialize. It was indeed peculiar, considering I hadn’t experienced a prophetic dream.

There, I found my brother and the teacher, with Lucia standing in front of them to offer protection, encircled by numerous troops. The moment I comprehended the situation, mana surged throughout my body.

Thump Thump Thump Thump.

My breathing became rapid, and my head felt as though it was on the verge of bursting, but I knew precisely what I was doing.

Roar!

My sole focus was to neutralize the enemy. I spared no effort. Casualties were inevitable, but I did not deem that significant.

My father, along with the other adults in the knight order, didn’t solely combat beasts. They taught me, from the time I could read, that it was necessary to kill people and engage in dishonorable battles if required.

That’s why I, Siriel, even without full knowledge of the post-war situation, harbored no regrets about my actions.

Thump Thump Thump Thump.

She stood with her legs shoulder-width apart, chest puffed out, and arms crossed. It was an unspoken declaration that no one would get past her. She aimed to present her most intimidating self, and given the circumstances, it was clear who was in the wrong and who was in the right.

The adversaries Siriel had defeated bled profusely yet did not succumb.

Even after having their hearts pierced and legs severed, their hearts beat erratically, and their eyes glinted with a murderous intent as fierce as hers.

Although her life has been brief, judging from all the experiences she’s had, this was beyond natural. Sorcery. Deep within her, a sense of self did not perceive this as divine magic but identified it as sorcery.

“Answer.”

Siriel spoke with a murderous glare directed at the puppets.

“…”

Guard Captain Raihan did not respond. It wasn’t that he chose not to, but rather, he couldn’t. As a guardian of Brahham, having memorized the entire registry of foreigners entering Brahham, Siriel’s face and name were absent from his memory.

An unexpected accident.

There was another person capable of neutralizing the elite guards in an instant. This situation was neither desired nor should it have occurred.

Raihan felt panic and fear.

But the elite guards felt rage and hatred. Knowing pain, they acutely understood what their comrades had just endured.

Malice boiled up, and a vow to kill the heretic before them was etched into their chests as a scar.

Light exploded. Siriel’s mana and sword confronted it.

Silver hair fluttered in the open space, and despite the battle, the jewel sword that didn’t lose its shine split. The silver flash began to confront the blinding white light that made every hair stand on end.

Ka-ching!

Light clashed against light. Attacks came from the front and both sides. Dozens, hundreds of sword strikes and magic targeted a single goal. Siriel did not defend against them. She floated blades in the air, matched their trajectories, and tore through the enemies, counterattacking their assaults. Rage-filled blades were shattered by other rage-filled blades. Sparkling dust rose into the air and was swept away by the wind, scattering light.

Twenty lights went out. And twenty blades shone again. Twenty blades became five, and then twenty again. Siriel mechanically eliminated her enemies, and the guards charged with madness in their eyes, filled with emotion.

Whiz-whiz!

The threatening sound rings in my ears. But it doesn’t matter. There are only two of them. Four to attack. The violence of numbers has always been Brahham’s victory. For the past 500 years, since the establishment of Brahham’s guards, this tactic has never failed.

Boom!

The surrounding walls collapsed, and the ceiling crumbled towards Siriel. She deflected all the falling rocks with her limbs. Thud - using psychokinesis to manipulate the jewel sword, Crack - she diverted all attacks from their intended trajectory.

The ceiling was blown open, and attacks from all directions increased to seven. Yet, Siriel stood unyielding. The floor remained intact as well. Siriel paid no mind to the friend standing behind her. Despite the chaos, she instinctively knew that the unbroken ground beneath them was thanks to Lucia’s intervention.

Lucia placed her hands on the ground.

Since when? From the moment the walls began to collapse. She pressed both hands to the floor, drawing mana to conjure the strongest aura she could muster, enveloping the ground with it. The mana encasing the floor rippled like flames. Lucia felt the vibrations of numerous attacks attempting to penetrate the floor.

In this chaos, diverse lights illuminated the surroundings. A building, hundreds of feet from the ground, became a white lighthouse, casting its glow over the city of Brahham.

Blood mist sprayed, and the powder from broken weapons sparkled in the white light.

It resembled a dream. The guards, who kept rushing in, were soon scattered outside, broken into pieces. However, every member of the guard firmly believed that their sacrifice would inevitably lead to victory. The relic within them emitted light, instilling the courage needed to defeat the enemy. Instead of a sharp aura, their weapons were enveloped in a light as bright as the sun.

It was a battle as if lifted from myth or scripture.

A canopy of light rose in the night sky, filled with pale sword glows and shattered blades. A phenomenon created by the holy light emitted by hundreds of guards simultaneously.

The turmoil persisted for a long while.

Her hands hurt. Her core fe;t numb. But Siriel gritted her teeth and endured it. She didn’t count the number of opponents. She didn’t count how many she had killed. Thus, she wasn’t weakened by the murderous intent emanating from all directions. As emotionlessly as possible, she thrust her fists, took her stance, and spun her blade.

Brilliant light.

The jewel sword absorbed the brilliant light.

Tens of guards were cleaved in half by the rotating semi-circle. Tears formed in the eyes of the guards at the death of their comrades. Blood flowed from their bitten lips. They screamed and charged at Siriel.

Ka-chak!

Blood mist sprayed. An attack she couldn’t block grazed her face. She felt the intense heat. She ignored the smell of blood. Everything was open around her, but she could no longer feel the sacred air.

The ground was slippery, a phenomenon due to the remnants of the battle scattered around them. She steadied her stance. A square of red hair shot up to the sky. Mana in her core surged. The ground burned. Siriel felt her ankles burning.

Yet, she did not stop. Siriel, with blood dripping from her clenched mouth, summoned the mana from her core. She did not blink, trying not to miss any of the endlessly rushing enemies. Her vision was red. Yet, she did not stop. She spun the sword. She thrust her fist, charged with aura, into the enemy’s face. Bang! Thump! She kept extending her arms. She did not even utter a battle cry.

The enemies screamed from all around her, but Siriel never raised her voice in response. Her hands did not waver, and her blade precisely sliced through the enemies.

Her strength did not wane, nor did her speed decrease. The light of the jewel sword became sharper.

The number of guards dwindled with each ascent of the stairs or crawl up the walls. The brilliance of those casting holy magic faded. Arms that had fallen off failed to regenerate, and further bleeding ensured certain death. Foes that previously required dozens of strikes to fell now succumbed to a mere dozen sword strikes.

The wind blew.

As the light waned, the blood mist expanded. The protective light around Brahham’s guards dimmed, and the volume of blood they spewed increased.

Siriel, too, bled significantly. Her grip weakened, and exhaustion overtook her. The tip of her sword began to quiver. Yet, the light of the jewel sword remained undimmed. That was sufficient. Siriel’s will was infused in the scant mana that remained.

She can still do this. She will not fall. She will not fall until all the enemies that have come upon her are defeated. She repeated this mantra to herself over and over.

She reached out, grasping the jewel sword. The number of foes had lessened. Her grip ached. Blood from the blade bubbled and then fell to the ground, drop by drop. Lucia silently observed this scene, yet she did not intervene. Because she could not. At this moment, Siriel shone brighter than anyone else.

Lucia did not wish to interrupt her friend’s most resplendent moment.

The onslaught of enemies pressing into this place had ceased. Only one foe remained.

Whoosh-

Siriel spoke once more.

“It’s over.”

“…”

Again, Raihan offered no response. What he witnessed was hard to accept as reality.

Brahham’s guards. All one thousand two hundred and nineteen. Vanquished by a single girl.

There was no glory or sanctity here. Raihan could not perceive the woman before him as a fellow human.

Gray-blue eyes delved into her very essence.

600.

The lion’s gaze spoke of a miracle she could not possibly have achieved.

“It’s a dream…”

Thus, Raihan whispered.

The desert’s night air was cold, the wind striking his cheek. Yet, Raihan felt nothing. Everything seemed like a dream, his skin, which hadn’t sweated, refusing to acknowledge the cold.

His will denied the situation, dismissing it as a mere dream.

‘I’m tired.’

That’s how Raihan felt.

Even in sleep, the tiredness lingered.

Raihan drew his sword from his waist, holding it as a means to awaken from this dream.

A terrible nightmare, he knew, couldn’t be overcome by faith alone. That’s the teaching of Brahham.

“A cunning devil’s work.”

Click- Click-

Thud- Thud-

…

…

Thump-

Rumble-

The night sky of Brahham flipped and rotated several times, gradually staining red…

Whoosh-

Light engulfed everything around.

“…Light?”

It was night just moments ago; how could there be light? Raihan blinked in disbelief at the nonsensical situation.

He squinted, looking around.

It was as if heaven and earth had been flipped. That was the only way to describe it.

The stars that once dotted the night sky had vanished, his vision now filled with a room entirely white.

“It wasn’t a dream.”

He calmly accepted that he must have died. The presence of fallen guards around him and the flickering pillar of light before him served as evidence.

Heaven.

Believing they had reached heaven thanks to the holy battle they fought, Raihan, filled with bliss, shed tears and crossed himself before walking forward. His steps toward the pillar of light were light.

He was certain that upon reaching it, he would meet God’s messenger.

But his steps could never reach the pillar of light.

The flickering pillar of light extinguished, and…

The room was plunged into darkness.