I was about five when I realized I was something special.
Honestly, I am not even sure whether I was really five at the time.
I had no name, and my birth had never been registered.
I learned that I was a reincarnator reborn into the past, and that I possessed miraculous abilities,
when the man who was supposedly my father got so drunk even a dog would have shaken its head at him and stomped on my head with his foot.
It was only after my skull cracked and I died for the first time that I realized it.
In my previous life, I was just an ordinary guy who lived an ordinary life.
If I had to name anything special about me...
It would be that I liked Warhammer, especially Warhammer 40K?
Other than that, I lived like Extra No. 1 until I died in a traffic accident and was reincarnated.
And what do you know?
My reincarnated life was no different from misery fiction—misery porn.
A mother who gave birth to me, left me all alone in the middle of a room, and walked out without ever seeing my face.
A father with no job who got drunk every day and beat me half to death like I was a punching bag.
And the piercing stares of those around us.
If I had not possessed regeneration and immortality, it was an environment where I would have died long ago.
After all, that bastard calling himself my father saw my wounds heal immediately no matter how brutally he beat me, called me a monster, and sometimes hit me with a hammer.
I think I died four times back then?
Then, on the day I turned ten.
That pathetic bastard, who had borrowed from loan sharks and had no intention of working, decided to sell me to them.
Think about it.
How valuable would a guy be for organ trafficking if his wounds regenerated no matter how badly he was cut, and he came back to life even after being killed?
Only then did my father give me a name for the first time.
He called me a golden goose.
Yeah. Ridiculously enough, the first name I ever got was Goose.
My mind broken, I sat there blankly like livestock being led to a slaughterhouse.
Then I saw that bastard of a father accepting a stack of cash from the thugs and smiling that disgusting smile.
Something inside me snapped with a crack, and a tidal wave of emotion burst forth.
It contained neither anger nor resentment, only pure killing intent.
When I desperately wished for it to reach that bastard somehow,
what do you know? I, who had been tied up tight like a cocoon, was standing behind him in an instant.
Only the ropes that had bound me were left on the floor where I had been.
While everyone stood there in shock,
I moved without even questioning it, turning confusion into chaos.
I grabbed a rusty screwdriver lying around the shoe cabinet and stabbed my father in the side.
Driving a screwdriver through human flesh was harder than I had expected.
But if you pushed with all your strength, eventually it went through.
I do not remember my father screaming or struggling.
I simply stabbed him without a thought, in a state of selfless absorption, until his body was riddled with holes.
The thick stench of blood spraying everywhere did not reach me.
I felt no joy at taking revenge,
no relief at defeating a monster,
nor any sense of achievement over the sudden change.
I simply liked this killing intent, which had lit a hot fire in my colorless life.
I looked down at the corpse sprawled limply at my feet, then turned forward again.
The thugs who had looked so arrogant before were now pale with shock.
As naturally as moving my own limbs, I folded space once more,
appeared behind them, and drove the old screwdriver in with all my might.
When I came to again, my entire body was covered in blood,
and corpses alone lay scattered around me.
And in the distance, the sound of police sirens drawing closer.
The first thing I thought of after coming to my senses was how unpleasant the blood felt.
Then I thought:
I wanted to see the sea.
I wanted to dive into that endlessly spreading blue horizon and wash all this filth away.
The moment that thought crossed my mind,
a sensation of my body being sucked downward swept over me.
When I opened my eyes, I was standing alone on a beach I had visited once in my previous life.
Without hesitation, I threw myself into the sea. Cold waves enveloped my entire body and washed away the blood.
Amid those refreshing waters, I savored a liberating sensation as though I had been born again.
Now then, that was the story of my miserable past.
After that,
I put myself in an orphanage and obtained an identity.
Since it was a church orphanage, I received the new name Noah and tried to live properly again.
Of course, like the reincarnators in other novels, I planned to use my knowledge of the future to make money through stocks and Bitcoin.
And once I became an adult, I really did become wealthy at a young age and lived wanting for nothing.
I had superpowers, and I had money.
I wanted to enjoy an eternally young-and-rich life.
Yes. Wanted to.
Everything was perfect, but... honestly, I was bored.
I lay on the living-room sofa every day without any motivation, like a plant withering in a flowerpot.
Even when I met women, it was only good for a little while. I quickly got tired of them.
By then, I decided to admit the truth to myself.
I wanted to feel again what I had felt when I killed my father and carried out that massacre.
Then one day, I happened to see news coverage of a war overseas.
And I realized it.
That was where I belonged.
The ruins of war shown on the news looked like a work of art to me.
I sprang up from my listless sprawl and stared intently at the television screen.
My heart pounded with excitement.
That day, I decided to give up living an ordinary life.
The instant I made up my mind, I impulsively left everything behind, boarded a plane, and threw myself straight into the heart of a war zone.
The bullets whizzing past me from every direction breathed life into me.
What was a horrific hell to someone else was no different from an amusement park to me.
As I, belonging nowhere, rampaged across battlefields like a madman,
I began killing those who looked like bad bastards in my judgment.
Of course, I did not touch civilians.
I was not that insane.
If anything, I often protected them.
I wandered battlefields like they were an amusement park, and I died a fucking lot too.
It was true what they said: there were no heroes in war.
People died very easily.
I died from bullets, burned to death alive, and was blown into pieces by bombs.
Even so, I came back to life and kept moving.
As long as even a little of my cellular tissue remained, I regenerated in an instant, picked up another weapon, and fought again.
By then, my ability to connect one space to another had grown noticeably as well.
If I had visited a place even once, I could leave behind coordinates and connect a passage to it.
Using that ability, I stored fresh bodies of myself in safe Korea,
and steadily piled up weapons I had captured or looted from battlefields.
Every time I died, I resurrected in Korea, collected weapons, and immediately returned to the battlefield to fight again.
At the same time, I kept investing in stocks and Bitcoin, while also hoarding precious metals and cash acquired on the battlefield.
Thanks to that, my wealth snowballed as time passed.
Seven years passed as I drifted through battlefields and civil wars.
I had become a ghost story and a legend whispered about on the front lines.
Then, one day, someone came looking for me.
In the middle of a Ukrainian city reduced to ruins by Russian bombardment.
I had just survived the bombardment inside a collapsed building and stepped outside.
Whirr—
What came flying toward me was a suicide drone.
Hit dead-on by the surprise attack, my entire lower body was blown away and I collapsed to the ground.
"Should I just die and come back again this time?"
That was what I was thinking when
someone began slowly walking toward me from beyond the ruins.
He was one of the famous Perpetuals from Warhammer 40K.
Olanius Persson pointed a gun at me and said,
"What the hell are you?!"
Only then did I realize.
Ah. This was the world of Warhammer 40K.
No wonder I could not find any Warhammer miniatures—the company did not exist.
Fuck, I never imagined this.
Slightly out of it, I opened my mouth.
"Me? I am... Goose? Noah? Hm. I do not really know."
"Do not play word games with me."
"Oh, come on. Wait! My head is so messed up right now I could die!"
My thoughts had become so tangled that the Immaterium seemed to spread before me, leaving me in a state of chaotic Chaos.
As I acted like a madman, dragging my entrails along with both hands without even considering regenerating my body,
Persson, watching this mess, wondered whether he should just ignore me.
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