Reincarnation. It means dying once, then being born again with the memories of your previous life... I always dismissed that as some fantasy that had nothing to do with me. I kept telling myself it had nothing to do with me... until a situation came along that made it impossible to ignore.
In my previous life, I was the kind of man you could call ordinary to the point of being dull. I had no special goal, nothing I could point to and say, "This is what I want to do!" I drifted through that life half-heartedly. It might sound like a bland, empty existence... but it wasn't only that. If someone around me was in trouble, I helped when I could.
I like to think I lived a decent life, in my own way... but I have no idea what I did wrong, because if I had to be reincarnated, of all places, it had to be ancient Greece—that absolute bottom of the barrel.
Greek and Roman mythology. It's the mythology everyone knows better than any other, because they've read it in books or comics at least once. Old comic versions cleaned up a lot of it, sure, but the truth is that this place is a complete disaster.
This world has no hope whatsoever. The gods are all deranged wrecks who don't deserve their looks, savage beasts and Phantasmal Species run wild, men die at the slightest opening, and women get violated by gods or monsters at the slightest opening. It's every bit as bad as some post-apocalyptic manga world swallowed by nuclear fire.
...But now that I've already been reincarnated, complaining about it is as pointless as throwing rocks into the water. What matters is facing this filthy reality overflowing with people whose personalities are complete trash.
Reborn in this end-of-days Greece as a man named Iskios, I trained myself to survive. I can at least say I'm not weak. But—
"Wait for me! My beloved Iskios!!!"
"Do!!! Not!!! Follow!!! Meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee—!!!!!"
—now that I've turned fourteen, an adult in this era... I'm being chased by a damn homo. And not just any homo, either. If I had to catch someone's eye, it had to be the worst possible bastard, and now I'm running for my life.
Fourteen years after being reincarnated into this apocalyptic world, I did everything I could to survive without dying or getting trampled. I learned whatever was useful, and I threw myself into brutal training with as much resolve as I could muster. So I should be able to shake off most people... but I can't widen the gap.
Ahhh... how did it end up like this...? My life was supposed to be quiet. I was going to keep my head down and live in hiding...
"Wait!!! My love!!!"
"Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck—!!!"
—ah, misery.
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