For months now, Sarasvain had been floating in the Lesser True Void, making no attempt whatsoever to shield himself from its efforts to devour him. Yet, no matter what, it could not harm him in the slightest. His body and clothes remained unblemished, even less influenced than if he had chosen to take a casual dip in a stream instead.
'Everything in life is ultimately in vain.'
This philosophy and way of thinking had long taken complete hold of him, as it was the conclusion that he had painfully come to after an extremely lengthy period of time. He had already given up once before, but then his hope had been rekindled. But when it had popped like a bubble again, it had hit him far harder than last time, and had left him in an even worse mental state plus position. A point where he could neither die, nor live.
Sarasvain had a secret: He did not originate from the worlds under the control of the Heavenly Dao. And based on his Talent alone, he could easily have become a Heaven's Chosen–but unfortunately, he had been born at the wrong time.
Originally, Sarasvain had lived in a world not unlike John's old one. There was nothing supernatural or special about it, and no way for mortals to overcome their weakness and Lifespan limit other than heavily investing in science and technology. All in all, perhaps they could have had a chance to change their fate, and rise above every obstacle.
However, the humanity that he had been born into had ended up utterly annihilating itself. There hadn't been any last glorious blaze of defiance flaring up in the face of the inevitable destruction either. The disgustingly rich businessmen and politicians in charge had doomed the people–and even themselves–due to their greed and arrogance, leading to their downfall. Naturally, they had dragged everyone else with them.
But Sarasvain–at that time known by another name–had not wanted to go out like the rest of his species. No, he had chosen to do so on his own terms.
Disillusioned with reality and with no possible way to save his life, he had taken a leap of faith off a tall building, fully aware that what would meet him was a swift but painful end.
And that was exactly what had occurred. Only, there had been one thing that he couldn't possibly have known: He was a Transmigrator, and upon his demise, his soul had been whisked far away.
When he had opened his eyes once more, he had awoken in the body of a young man by the name of Sarasvain, who had accidentally lost his life in a world very different to his own. One in which cultivation was possible, and Energy was present in large amounts.
Perhaps there had been something or someone greater at play here, because this young man had died in an eerily similar manner to his own–he had fallen from a high cliff. Fortunately, now that he had transmigrated into this body, the newly occupied vessel had been healed completely, and the memories of its previous owner had got assimilated into his own, akin to watching a movie play out inside of his head.
Having read his fair share of stories before he had bitten the dust, he had been familiar with this concept and had readily accepted this development almost immediately. Anybody in his shoes would have done so without hesitation–obviously, he had been no different.
Adopting the name and identity of Sarasvain, he had been elated to discover that he had been recognized by something called the 'Heavenly Dao' and had become able to view his own Status Panel. This had not only aligned closely with what he had anticipated immediately after he had realized that he had transmigrated, but it had also served to ignite his passion once more. With such a clear way of tracking his progress, what else was he waiting for?
Aware of everything that Sarasvain had seen and heard during his days, he had come to know about cultivation, and about how to embark on the path to immortality. With such a wondrous life just ahead of him, how could he not live it to the fullest?
A closer inspection of the Status Panel had also revealed to him what had caused him to appear here after his death to begin with: The Unknown-grade Talent, 'Infinite Transmigration'.
It gave him all of the perks of a usual Transmigrator, yet he had literally infinite lives to work with! There was one part of its description that he had only been able to speculate about, though: It claimed that this Talent couldn't be stripped from him or deactivated in any way.
Not being slow on the uptake, he had almost immediately understood the underlying message. There existed Talents who could deprive people of their own Talents, and others that could inhibit their functions. To be immune to these was certainly a huge benefit and relief.
Having just regained a life of his own, as well as sufficient motivation to actually live it, he had felt a huge burden lift off his shoulders at that revelation. Knowing that death would no longer be the end for him, he could act more boldly, and would not cower in the face of trouble!
The body that he had transmigrated into was almost what he would describe as a stereotypical protagonist of some fictional works. It had great aptitude and a number of very useful Talents for him to work with. And naturally, most importantly of all... its original owner had been shunned by his family and treated like disposable waste.
Whether it be an engagement that had been annulled due to a sudden loss of power by the old Sarasvain, or a suspicious, unassuming amulet that had always been with him–all of the hallmark signs of one chosen for greatness had been present.
With an amused smirk, he had scrutinized the 'totally innocent' piece of jewellery, then had set off in search for the nearest river. This area had generally been safe, and if it hadn't been for being chased by some admirers of his ex-fiancée, then he would have likely not lost his life here.
As he had arrived at the closest water source, he had pretended to take off his clothes to enjoy a much-needed bath, beginning with the amulet. But as soon as he had placed it aside, he had suddenly slapped his forehead, muttering to himself that he had accidentally dropped something.
Looking around to find it, he had 'coincidentally' got further and further away from what he had suspected to be the culprit behind old Sarasvain's downfall. And when he had finally been out of sight, he had run like there was no tomorrow.
At some point during his flight, he had sensed a terrifying presence behind him, but it didn't manage to endure for long before fizzling out. His gamble had worked! Whoever or whatever had been housed within the amulet had not yet regained enough power to act independently for more than a few seconds, allowing him to cast off this unnecessary shackle.
From this moment forward, his rise had been almost unstoppable. There were a few close calls here and there, but with Talents like his, who could possibly halt him in his tracks?
When he had finally risen to the very top of his world, he had returned to the place where he had discarded the amulet a while ago. There, he had discovered–to no surprise–that the senior sealed within had originally been aiming to take over his body once she had recovered to a sufficient point.
Putting her out of her misery without a care, he had proceeded to search everywhere for a method to advance further, until he had eventually come across a ruin that had housed some Voidfaring Vessels.
With nothing tying him to this world, as all attachments and regrets had already been dealt with–permanently, that is–he had begun his lengthy travels. From world to world he had gone, seeking out higher Energy concentrations for him to utilize to break through.
By the time that he had only just stepped into the Celestial Stage, he had come across the ancestors of those who now ruled the Sarasvain Federation. Pitying their circumstances, he had helped them to overthrow their vile rulers, and had installed them as the next generation of leaders.
Having still been a bit vain at the time, he had accepted their proposal to name this new faction after him, and to call him their Undying President–a purely honorary position.
With his breakthrough to the Celestial Stage, he had already effectively become immortal. Old age would claim him no longer, as he had truly surpassed anything even remotely considered mortal. Therefore, this title was not unfitting.
As he had sought out other worlds for his advancements in cultivation, because the ones controlled by the Sarasvain Federation had been too lacking, he had returned every once in a while to guide the people under his protection. He had also weeded out those who had been threatening to infest this society with their rot. Having already borne witness to one entire world's fall to such disgusting creatures before, he did not want a repeat of this happening if he could help it.
For a long, long time–and many generations–all was well. He had improved smoothly until the very peak of the Celestial Stage, and the Sarasvain Federation had thrived.
But then, he had hit a roadblock that he couldn't overcome: The fact that advancing further was absolutely impossible, and prohibited, here in the Heavenly Succession's second round's event venue!
Up until this point, he had had no idea that he had ended up in the middle of some sort of contest–and not even as a participant, but as what he would describe as an 'NPC'.
The moment when he had attempted to force himself to break through to the next cultivation stage was when he had finally been faced with a despair that broke him. A Brocade Guard of the Heavenly Empress had halted him in his tracks. But maybe it had been the inexplicable halo of good fortune that protagonists were born with that had lent him a helping hand–she had not treated him as harshly as the Naxsir had been in the past.
Perhaps, it was because he had depended on solely his own effort to achieve his interrupted breakthrough, not even relying on a whole world and civilization. In any case, regardless of what had caused her to act this way, she had explained the general circumstances of his situation and had suppressed him to the Celestial Stage.
By the time that she had left, a deep despair had begun to sprout in Sarasvain's heart. After all of the effort that he had put in, he was supposed to wait for ages until some Heaven's Chosen arrived, and then become one of their Subordinates? That was the only way to ever get stronger?! Was that really it?
A part of him had sought to deny it, but his rational side had eventually won out. He had already known what would happen if he tried to force his way past. And from the description that he had been given by that unfathomably powerful woman, she was but a pawn of the Heavenly Empress, comparatively insignificant in the greater scheme of things. Even if he managed to overcome her, there would always be others that would stop him.
He was not as rash or foolish as the protagonists in the works which he had read in his past life–he knew that those suppressing him here in this event venue wouldn't allow him to mess up their arrangements. If he went against them and somehow even managed to defeat their weakest link, then they wouldn't idiotically send their second weakest fighter after him, and then their third weakest...
No, they would crush him with incomprehensible might, never giving him a chance. He was well and truly stuck here.
His drive to keep going all but obliterated, and with no desire to become someone else's lackey, he had considered ending himself right then and there. After all, he could transmigrate infinitely. Surely, next time, he wouldn't end up in a frustrating place like this, right?
But that's when the real problem had reared its problematic head: The people that depended on him were still here. If he had left them to die, then he wouldn't have had a clear conscience. And that would have haunted him in an even worse way than wasting away here for all eternity.
He had no problem with being ruthless to his enemies, but to his wards? He couldn't bring himself to do anything to them. And that was what ultimately mentally shattered him.
For ages, he had persisted, time slipping by unceasingly. His depression had deepened with every passing century, until not a hint of enjoyment could be derived anymore from anything at all.
Ultimately, he had ended up like this: Floating in the Lesser True Void, hoping that those under his protection would somehow fail to discover him during their crises, giving him an excuse to let it all end.
After all, if fate wanted it, then they would stumble across him, right?
... who was he kidding. In truth, although he pretended to be this heartless, he would always allow them to discover his tracks at the last moment, unable to be too cruel to them.
And this time, it was no different.