I woke up feeling like I'd been plugged into a cosmic battery charger overnight.

  Which should have been terrifying, considering I'd just learned I was apparently some kind of soul-fused magical anomaly called an Eidolon.

  Instead, I felt amazing.

  Like, stupidly, ridiculously, suspiciously amazing.

  Ted wasn't lying about the whole "learning to be myself" thing. Everything felt immediate—no lag between thought and action, like the mana movement I'd developed training with Jeremy but cranked up to eleven.

  Now that I was looking, colors seemed more vivid, sounds clearer, and my body responded to every impulse like a Formula One race car built from pure intention.

  I also felt a lot less scared, which was definitely Valor doing its thing. I had to do something about that, but at least, unlike Bravery, it didn’t make me do objectively stupid shit.

  My body was an order of magnitude stronger than anything I'd been on Earth. I'd like to see anyone back home casually lift well over a metric ton, let alone cook a five-course meal afterward without breaking a sweat.

  Becoming a Seeker had been my first wake-up call to the power that existed out here in the multiverse.

  And now; the more I trained, the more mana I absorbed, the more I pushed past what my mind thought were my limits, the more I realized I was just scratching the surface of something that could reshape reality.

  Not only that—ever since Sylvarus, I had felt good. Like, probably too good. Like I was perpetually having the best day of my life, no matter what was going on.

  It should have been unsettling.

  Honestly? I wasn't complaining.

  We'd rebuilt Katie's bakery in just over three days, several Adepts from the Monster Hunters showing up to do absolutely insane things like driving nails into wooden beams with their bare hands. I'd been reminded of when I saw Chas do the same thing when we first met, only to discover it wasn't actually that complicated.

  It just required enough mana flowing into your hands to reinforce them past the point of caring about physics.

  Eventually, I was hammering nails into wood with nothing but flesh and bone, each impact sending shockwaves up my arm that would've shattered every bone in my arm six weeks ago. Sure, it hurt like hell and took several attempts per nail, but in a world with healing pills and potions?

  It basically counted as training.

  One Adept in particular that I’d met before—Parloux Carmintree, a red-skinned Floran variant with bark-like skin and emerald hair that literally rustled in the breeze—had walked me through what it took to push through to Adept rank.

  Max out my physical capabilities to hold mana, and master my Seal.

  I'd already been working on the first part, but the details were frustratingly hazy on the second. What did "mastering" my Seal even mean when it had moved itself to the top of a mountain in my soul and messed with my head?

  Either way, the terrifying revelation about being an Eidolon just meant I had to keep pushing forward.

  I had to get strong—like Astrid strong, like my mentor Diana strong, or even stronger if I was going to survive whatever the multiverse threw at me next.

  And I had a tournament to win.

  Right. Training.

  But first—I turned to look at Katie, finding her with one arm draped around Red, who'd somehow tucked himself against her side like a sixty-kilo furry heat pack. His tail thumped lazily against the blankets, and I could hear the faint rumble of his contented breathing.

  "You only like me for my dog," I whispered, trying not to disturb the perfect moment.

  "Your cooking isn't bad either," she replied without opening her eyes, burying her face deeper into Red's rust-colored fur. He huffed dramatically, like he was doing us both a tremendous favor by being this adorable.

  "Traitor," I said, leaning down to kiss Katie's forehead before giving Red a gentle scratch behind the ears. His tail wagged harder, but he didn't move from his prime snuggling position.

  Smart dog. I wouldn't move either.

  I stood and stretched, feeling my spine pop in several satisfying places. My clothes materialized around my body in the familiar rush of cool air and settling fabric.

  Soul-storage was awesome.

  Speaking of which...

  I pulled a still-steaming mug of hot coffee from my soul-space, then retrieved a small jar of ice-cold cream and poured it in. The contrast sent wisps of steam curling up toward the ceiling like tiny ghosts.

  Taking a sip, I sighed contentedly as I walked into the hall. The bitter warmth spread through my chest, chasing away the last traces of sleep and replacing them with caffeinated determination.

  I'd finally solved my Dawn-shaped problem. The Primordial was now just strolling around the courtyard outside my soul-space, apparently content with her new name and existence.

  One cosmic crisis down.

  Two to go.

  Now I had to figure out what was wrong with Winchester, and Arryava would be the best place to start. I hadn't visited the Sage since arriving back in La-Roc after they'd postponed the tournament, when she and Diana had their mysterious conversation that definitely hadn't involved any ominous staring.

  Even though I lived in her city—sprawled out in the caverns beneath La-Roc like a mystical underground kingdom—I'd barely seen her.

  Making my way to the usual courtyard where I did my morning Tai Chi, I was surprised to find Magnus sitting on one of the stone benches, sipping coffee from what looked like a child's toy cup in his massive hands.

  The visual was both heartwarming and slightly ridiculous.

  "Morning!" he rumbled in that bass voice that could probably wake the dead and possibly register on seismographs. "Heard Katie came in last night."

  I nodded. "Yeah. She missed dinner, though, which is a shame. It came together pretty well, all things considered."

  "Yeah," Magnus said, his weathered face creasing into a frown that could've carved canyons. "That was weird."

  "Well, that's certainly one way to put it." I took another sip of coffee, savoring the way it seemed to enhance my already heightened senses. "You finally going to try some forms with me?"

  "No." He shook his head, the movement surprisingly gentle for someone his size. "I wanted to speak with you. Cass says you have a home with the Sentarians, but you're always welcome on my farm."

  What Magnus called a farm was more like a small feudal castle complete with defensive walls, but hey—it was surrounded by fields, so technically accurate.

  "Thanks, Magnus. That means a lot. Your family is so..."

  "Annoying," Magnus finished with perfect timing, then casually hurled his empty coffee cup across the courtyard toward a marble statue.

  Instead of shattering against stone, it thudded into something distinctly soft and fleshy.

  The air shimmered and twisted like heat waves dancing over summer pavement, and Henrik materialized from absolutely nowhere, the cup bouncing off his forehead with a satisfying bonk.

  "Ow!" He rubbed his head, scowling at his massive brother. "Come on, there's no way you knew I was there."

  Magnus just scoffed, but I stared at Henrik with genuine respect.

  Until this point, I'd always been able to sense him with Valor when he moved—a faint tickle of awareness that told me someone was lurking nearby. But this time?

  Absolutely nothing.

  My enhanced senses hadn't picked up so much as a whisper. Whatever invisibility trick he was pulling had completely fooled every magical sense I'd developed, which was both impressive and slightly terrifying.

  I really needed to learn more about how he pulled that off. Was it light-based magic, bending photons around himself like some kind of teenage Predator? Or something more fundamental, like convincing reality he wasn't actually there?

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  And how far along was he as an Initiate if he could fool my enhanced perception?

  Henrik looked a little sheepish under my scrutiny, shifting his weight from foot to foot like he'd been caught doing something we hadn’t all caught him doing at least once.

  "Henrik had something to say to you, didn't you?" Magnus prompted, his tone carrying a mix of patience and authority that only came from years of herding younger siblings who could literally vanish at will.

  Henrik seemed to steel his resolve, squaring his shoulders like he was about to face down a Class-D monster instead of expressing basic human gratitude.

  "Uh... Thanks," he said, the words coming out slightly strangled. "For doing my chores the last few days."

  Magnus nodded approvingly. "Good boy. Now come and sit with us for a minute."

  Henrik complied, settling onto the stone bench beside his massive brother with the boneless grace that all teenagers seemed to possess. I reached into my soul-space and produced a copper carafe of fresh coffee—somehow my storage kept it at the perfect temperature—and topped off my mug.

  "Anyone else?" I asked, raising the carafe.

  Both Magnus and Henrik shook their heads, so I stored it again and took another sip. The rich aroma mixed with the crisp morning air, creating one of those perfect moments that made me grateful to be alive.

  Even if that life was apparently more magically complicated than I'd ever imagined.

  "Henrik would like you to know that he'll be taking over his chores now," Magnus continued, his bass voice gentling. "Whatever debt you owed him is more than paid in full."

  Henrik's eyes went wide with teenage indignation. "He said he and Cass would do all my chores!"

  "And they have," Magnus replied, his tone patient but firm. "Have you forgotten that they both have training to do? They're becoming Monster Hunters, Henrik. Would you prefer to fight the actual monsters while they're safely harvesting our ginseng?"

  The color drained from Henrik's face faster than water down a drain.

  "What?! No!"

  "Then let them do their job. Three days was enough. A week is unbalanced."

  Henrik sighed, the sound carrying all the weight of teenage resignation mixed with grudging acceptance of cosmic unfairness.

  It was hard to pin down his exact age—the Winters men all looked way older than they actually were, like their genes had been soaked in concentrated maturity. Erik appeared to be pushing forty even though he was only twenty. Henrik was twelve, but looked more like a late teenager from Earth.

  "Fine..." he said, deflating slightly. "But only because that food last night was so good."

  I smiled at him. Henrik was a decent enough kid, even if he loved terrorizing Cass and her friends with his pranks and invisibility tricks. Thinking back to my younger brother Danny, that sibling dynamic tracked perfectly.

  "Good. Thank you, Henrik." Magnus stood, brushing imaginary dust from his work clothes with hands that could probably crush boulders. "I'll handle your chores today if you wanted to talk to Ben about that thing you mentioned."

  Henrik perked up immediately, his entire demeanor shifting from sullen resignation to excited energy like someone had flipped a switch.

  "Really? Thanks, Maggie!"

  "Really really," Magnus confirmed with a warm smile that transformed his craggy features. "Henrik's been watching you practice your Tai Chi and wanted you to teach him while you're still here."

  Henrik shot a look at his older brother, confusion creasing his features.

  "How did you..."

  Magnus's smile widened, crinkling the corners of his eyes. "I'll go get an early start on the harvest this morning. You two have fun."

  Red eventually caught up with me as I wandered the estate grounds, having spent the better part of an hour painstakingly instructing Henrik on basic Tai Chi.

  Master Jeremy had been the first person I'd shown the forms to, and the Vildar had mastered them in a matter of hours, flowing through the movements like he'd been doing them his entire life.

  Henrik had the grace of a fat man trying to ice skate in sneakers—all flailing limbs and frustrated grunts, attacking each movement with the kind of stubborn persistence that ran in the Winters family bloodline like a hereditary condition.

  But he'd been determined to learn, which was all I could have asked for.

  I scratched behind Red's ears as he approached with that casual canine swagger, his tail wagging in lazy contentment. A few enthusiastic face licks revealed a distinctly sharp cheese smell lingering on his breath.

  "Did you break into Katie's pack and eat all the cheese buns?" I asked, giving him a stern look that fooled no one.

  He sat down and gave me the dog equivalent of a sheepish grin, his tongue lolling out to one side in that universal canine expression of "Who, me?"

  , came his response through our bond, complete with an undertone of unrepentant satisfaction and zero actual remorse.

  "Ugh, you're sleeping in the hall tonight." I shook my head, continuing our walk. "I'm not dealing with your cheese-gas."

  Every time he'd gotten into dairy, my room had become a biological warfare zone that had to violate several international treaties.

  "Hey, uh, did Rosie make any of those for me?

  Rosie was Ted's bizarre nickname for Katie, and I'd learned quickly that Katie’s Gaian tattoos on her chest indeed looked like a rose.

  Between him and Red, I wasn't sure who was more incorrigible with food.

  "Ted, you had your share when you ate my entire stockpile last month,

  He groaned dramatically, the sound echoing through our mental connection like a dying whale.

  "I can't even come out there to eat all the delicious food with Winchester broken. When you fixin' it?

  "Like I know how to fix Winchester," I said out loud, earning what sounded suspiciously like a chuckle from Red.

  Cass would be dead to the world for at least another few hours. I'd discovered she slept until mid-morning every day during harvest, no matter how much her family protested or how many chores needed doing. Which gave me time to check on the malted grain and copper pot that had arrived yesterday.

  She was adamant about learning how to make beer—something about having a productive skill like her friends and family—and I owed her for a lost bet on our first real monster hunt together.

  Maybe I could get something started before she dragged herself out of bed.

  I made my way across the estate's main courtyard, past Erik's meticulously maintained gardens and the training yard where the Winters family had been systematically beating combat skills into each other for generations.

  One of several warehouse-style buildings dotted the property like monuments to agricultural efficiency. The heavy wooden door swung open with a creak that echoed through the cavernous space.

  I froze at the sight that greeted me.

  "Cass?" I asked, blinking in surprise as she set down two enormous buckets of water with barely a grunt of effort.

  Each bucket had to weigh at least sixty kilograms, and she was handling them like they were filled with feathers.

  "Shut up, I know I sleep a lot," she said, wiping sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand. "But I wanted to take stock before we got started on work today."

  "Yeah, about that," I said with a grin, unable to keep the satisfaction out of my voice. "Magnus says we're off the hook."

  "Gaia's Tits, it's about time." She glanced toward the door, then back at me, and I could practically see the gears turning.

  "Just thought about whether you should go back to bed, didn't you?"

  "Damn right," she said without an ounce of shame. "But I'm here now, so we might as well take stock."

  I nodded and sidled up beside her, grabbing one of the massive buckets. Seven weeks ago, there was no way I could have lifted what amounted to a literal drum of water.

  Now it only required effort—like the enormous container weighed about as much as a large sack of flour. Awkward as hell to maneuver, but manageable.

  The casual display of superhuman strength should have been more remarkable, but it was becoming my new normal.

  Setting it down near the huge copper pot that Magnus had somehow carried in single-handedly, Cass swept her hand across the organized chaos behind her like a game show host revealing prizes.

  "This was everything on your list that Mother could translate into anything that made sense." She shook her head, laughing. "Measuring sugar in water through light? What the hell does that even mean?"

  "It’s called a refractometer, they’re kind of high tech, so it was a shot in the dark. I did not expect the level of fermentation knowledge they have in Sylvarus, though," I admitted, surveying the impressive array of equipment with something approaching awe.

  "Catalogues of yeast strains, some actual testing equipment, fermentation vessels that would make craft brewers back home weep with envy... Guess that's what you get with centuries of alcoholism uninterrupted by prohibition."

  "What the fuck are you talking about? You're supposed to be teaching me how this all works." Cass gestured at the gleaming tools like she was trying to summon them into making sense. "You said it was like making tea, but Mother said some of this equipment is worth actual gold coins. I've only killed one Class-D monster, unlike the 'Breaker of La-Roc.'"

  The title still made me shake my head. I'd gotten it for single-handedly defeating a giant crab-monster way out of my league. Though Erik helped more than he let on, and I didn’t really defeat it so much as a “stuffed it full of magical explosives.”

  "We won't need those right away," I said quickly, seeing the skepticism in her eyes. "I thought we'd start with something really simple and work our way up."

  "Okay, we have that mill to crush the grain—that I get," Cass said, pointing to a contraption that looked like it belonged in a medieval monastery run by engineering-obsessed monks. "And we heat the water in the big pot. Then what?"

  "Well, that takes a while, so why don't we get there first." I looked around the organized workspace, trying to remember the brewing process while also marveling at the quality of equipment. "Where's the scale?"

  Cass pointed to a weird contraption that looked more like something from a Victorian doctor's office than a brewery.

  "Okay... I can still work with that, I guess."

  "How are we going to heat the pot?" Cass asked, and I looked around the warehouse.

  I could hear Ted's laughter echoing from my soul-space as the realization hit me like a brick to the face delivered by the universe's sense of irony.

  I'd been so flabbergasted by the sophisticated brewing technology available that I'd completely forgotten to add any kind of heat source to the list. You know, the minor detail that was essential for the entire process.

  "Crap," I said, feeling heat creep up my neck. "Maybe we make a smaller batch?"

  Cass pointed to the enormous barrels of malted barley stacked against the far wall like golden monuments to my ambitious stupidity.

  "We have twenty-four more of those coming in a few weeks. We need to make a lot."

  I gaped at her. "What?"

  Cass shrugged, but there was excitement dancing in her eyes like she'd just discovered the secret to turning water into gold.

  "Ben, if your beer-making skills are half as good as your cooking skills and you can teach me? Mom agrees—we go big. If we can produce a good product, Magnus wants to plant barley and hops. If we could do what we do with the ginseng..."

  The implications hit me like a transport truck loaded with possibility.

  The Winters family's ginseng operation was extremely well known, apparently even in the Empire. Healing items made from Magnus's ginseng made everything else feel watered down, especially potions. If we could replicate that kind of quality and reputation with alcohol...

  "Okay, I get it. We need to go big. But we…" I ran a hand through my hair, staring at the massive copper vessel that suddenly looked like it could hold enough liquid to float a small boat. "But if we're doing that, we need a big-ass fire..."

  I looked down at Red, who I knew could breathe fire when properly motivated.

  But the copper pot was massive—easily five thousand liters—and I was sure it would take hours to bring to temperature, even with magical help. Plus, Red would need to maintain consistent heat for the entire brewing process, which could take most of a day.

  Red returned my look with an expression that clearly communicated:

  "Malcolm?" Cass asked, following my train of thought with perfect accuracy.

  "Malcolm," I confirmed with a sigh, hoping the promise of free beer would be enough to pry him away from studying in the Monster Hunter tower.

  But we needed fire magic on an industrial scale, and he was the only Arcanist we knew on the island who could come up with something that worked.

  Everyone dies, but I get to live again. And again. And again.

  When I died, my soul followed the usual cycle of reincarnation… until I was caught by higher dimensional pirates. Fortunately, I was saved before anything came of that, and along the way I picked up a special skill that made me immune to the usual loss of memories between lives. It also let me keep my stats and my skills—the elements of my new System—which I would gain in each life, carrying them into the next.

  So what’s a guy to do when he’s reborn as a baby in a new world? Learn the local magic, for starters. Navigate how my System works, and learn how to pick up stats and skills to help me survive and thrive in my new life, and all the lives that will follow. Maybe, along the way, figure out how to find some meaning in all of this, setting goals for myself in each life and trying to find fulfillment and happiness across the vast collection of worlds in the multiverse.

  This is my life—or rather, these are my infinite, endless, serial lives. And I’ll keep living them… as long as I don’t get soul-killed or encounter some other disaster I can’t even comprehend yet. Hopefully, I can live them right.

  A slow-burn, slice-of-lives serial reincarnation LitRPG about the journey of living through multiple isekai fantasies.