The Infinite Bk. 01 Ch. 01

Prologue

A rare find, that beautiful crimson hair. It was usually the result of cheap dye and a childish personality, desperate to prove individuality by opposing normality. In this case, it was a rare gift from nature, every strand like melting rubies, when most so-called redheads possessed only a diluted orange hue. It drew the eyes of all those around her, including Noah's.

It was after school in early autumn, the light of the setting sun illuminating every strand and reminding him why it was worth it to approach her. She was walking across the empty soccer field, her body trembling from the adrenaline of all the running she had done in her track club. For once, she was without her friends surrounding her or her boyfriend's arm draped over her shoulders like a boa constrictor. He had been waiting for this chance longer than she could imagine.

"Lindsey, hey," he said, meeting her in the open air, free from any interruptions.

"Noah, what are you doing here?"

She asked that question, but knew the answer. What else would draw a boy to her? What other possible desire? He was going to flirt with her, possibly even ask her out. Would he be nervous? Would he be cocky? Would he play innocent and try to start with some small talk, or would he get straight to the point? Had he planned this? Ever since she transferred to his school during their Sophomore year, he had tried to get to know her, but it seemed like something always got in the way.

It was evident in her eyes that she saw through his intentions, but it didn't dissuade him. If anything, it amused him, the paradox of human coupling that became both easier and more difficult with age. Of course, she already knew what he desired, so unless she felt the same way, her heart would be guarded, and he'd be talking to a brick wall. It was a challenge that men and women had struggled with since the dawn of time.

"I heard that you and Sean broke up. I know what that feels like, how much it hurts, and I'm sorry. If it's not too soon, I wanted to ask if you'd like to go out with me this weekend?"

"Sorry, but since we're graduating soon, I'm not sure I want to bother dating. After all, when summer comes, we're all going to split up and go our separate ways."

Though not an optimal outcome, rejection was within Noah's expectations. He just had to convince her to give him a chance, but gently. He had to choose his words with care so that he wouldn't come off as desperate and frustrated, but not try to ham it up by turning it into a sonnet like an out-of-touch nerd.

"Is that why you two broke up? Because you didn't see a point in staying together? I doubt that. I think you believe in love, in giving it a chance. A lot of things will happen between now and graduation; Christmas, Valentine's Day, the prom? That's plenty of time to be happy, and to make up your mind about which path you plan on taking. Plans can change, things can work out. All I want is a chance."

"Sorry, but I'm just not interested in dating, and I'm too busy anyway. Besides, I like you only as a friend."

She crossed her arms to warm herself, but she kept them low. It was an instinctive move that Noah's eyes didn't miss. He gave an exasperated smile and began to laugh. "Ok, I get it. Maybe next time."

Lindsey, wanting this conversation to be over, walked past him, but beneath his continuing laughter, she heard something, a metallic click, and it chilled her blood. She spun around and saw the knife in Noah's hand.

"Jesus Christ, what are you doing?!" she screamed while raising her hands to shield herself.

"Don't worry. This isn't for you."

He swung up his hand and stabbed himself in the throat. The strike was so fast, but gentle, just the tip of the blade breaking his skin and severing his Jugular with pinpoint accuracy. It was a perfect, fluid movement, as if he had spent hours practicing. Blood began to spray from the small wound, and he allowed himself to fall on his back to the sound of Lindsey's scream. She rushed over and tried to stop the bleeding. Covering it with her hand only slowed the outpour, so she reached into her bag for something to use as a bandage.

"Stop, just keep your hand there," Noah said calmly.

The vein he had struck carried blood out of the head and sent it back to his heart, so the rest of the blood in his system would keep his brain oxygenated, for a short time, at least.

"You're fucking crazy! I'm not going to let you die like this!"

"I've already died like this... more than a hundred times before."

"What are you talking about?"

"It's exactly what it sounds like. I know what it feels like to die, because I've experienced it. Reincarnation, transmigration, whatever you call it, I count lives like you count years, and every time I die, return to the time of my birth, but in a new timeline, a new reality. I'll end up in a world where my surroundings are different, or history didn't go the way I remember it, or events will happen in my future that I can't predict. I've been born and died so many times, laughed and suffered through so many lifetimes, burdened with infinite memory."

"That's just blood loss talking. Hang on!" She tried to pull out her phone, but Noah grabbed it with surprising strength.

"You're pregnant, aren't you? Sean freaked out after you told him and that's why you broke up."

Her face became as pale as his. "How could you possibly know that?"

"Because this isn't the first time I've confessed to you. Only in my past seven lifetimes have you been present, and in all seven lifetimes, I could never make you mine, no matter how much I wanted you. Five of those times were because you were pregnant. You and Sean get back together by Thanksgiving, and I and everyone else watch you dance together at the prom. Each time, I kill myself to try again in my next life, with another version of you. These past eighteen years, they've flown by like the blink of an eye for me."

His bleeding was starting to slow, his body going cold, and his mind fogging.

"Why me? Why would you keep going after me? Why am I worth killing yourself over?"

"It's the only way I can live anymore, following some task or game that keeps me busy, grasping at any scrap of meaning that can make me happy. Every life I've lived, it's been a lie, concealing who I am, what I know, what I've experienced. I have to pretend to care, pretend to have a conscience, pretend to feel emotions, because after all this time, I've almost forgotten what they're like."

He gave a self-deprecating laugh, triggering a spurt of blood.

"Noah..."

"But when I see you, I get to experience actual longing. I have a crush, something so simple and childish, but such a wonderful feeling. Maybe I'm just a sucker for a redhead, but that's as good a reason as any other."

"What about your family? What about this life you've built? You're just going to throw it all away?"

With the last of his strength, he removed her hand from his wound so it could bleed freely. Her wrist was limp. Had he convinced her? Or had she simply realized that he had already bled too much and was beyond saving? He covered his left eye with his hand, blinded by the setting sun, while Lindsey's shadow obscured the right side of his face. The light passed through her crimson hair like stained glass, making his blood shine beautifully.

"I've seen so many worlds, so many different realities, but none of them could make me happy. I've never known what it felt like to belong or feel at home. Every world felt wrong to me. This is yet another reality that I am incompatible with. All I can do is hope that the next world is one I can be happy in."

The blood, at last, stopped flowing, and Noah closed his eyes and released his final breath. Then, in his mind, there was a familiar flash of light, and he felt himself being pulled across space and time.

A Whole New Game

Without even opening his eyes, Noah knew that something had gone wrong. His body was still the same size, and he could feel the weight of his limbs, the stiffness of the dried blood on his clothes, and the chill of the hard ground underneath him. This didn't make sense. At this moment, he'd normally be experiencing his own rebirth, coming out of the womb as a newborn baby. So either he survived his suicide attempt and had been moved while unconscious, or he broke into another timeline without properly reincarnating, something which had never happened before.

His hand was still over his face, but just moving it took a tremendous amount of strength. He felt his neck, but there was no wound, and it seemed his blood was replenished, though he was still weak. He opened his eyes and stared up at the blue sky. It was late in the afternoon when he killed himself, but it looked to be midmorning now, and he was lying on an unpaved road in the woods.

He got to his feet and staggered, struggling to breathe. There was no strength in his limbs, and his thoughts were getting weaker by the second. This fatigue was similar to anemia, like he had grown a new muscle and it was hoarding all the oxygen in his blood. If this feeling didn't dissipate soon, he'd pass out again. What in the world? He looked down and realized that he wasn't casting a shadow. The fatigue must have been messing with his vision. Now that he thought about it, his left eye was itching a bit. He gave it a rub, and the fatigue vanished as if that extra muscle had settled, and when he looked down, he saw his shadow.

'That wasn't blood loss. It must have been some kind of leftover trauma from my suicide or this glitchy rebirth. But where am I?'

He had his wallet and phone with him, but there was no service, and the road was unusual. The ground was packed, but the sediment seemed native to the spot. In the modern world, even unpaved roads were made with at least a layer of sand and gravel to prevent them from being overgrown.

A sound reached his ears, one he rarely heard outside of movies and TV. He looked over his shoulder, seeing two adult men on horseback approaching him from down the road, escorting an old man driving a horse-drawn wagon. Behind the wagon, over a dozen men and women of varying ages were bound in chains, wearing rags for clothes and walking barefoot.

This strange caravan came to a halt in front of Noah, and the three men stared at him in confusion. "You're blocking the road. Get out of our way before you end up like them," the driver barked.

It had been a long time since Noah saw a slave shipment. He usually only found them in post-apocalyptic timelines, when society had broken down, or timelines where the south won the Civil War and other such occurrences.

"Did you hear me? Get out of the way!"

"Boss, look at all of the blood he's covered in," one of the men on horseback said.

Noah looked at them. Their clothes were shoddy wool not woven by any kind of modern machinery, and their coats and boots were made of primitively-treated leather. Maybe he had been reincarnated to a third-world country?

'If this was a post-apocalyptic timeline, then whatever happened wasn't manmade,' he thought. 'It happened before the Industrial Revolution, some kind of natural disaster that halted mankind's development. A meteor?'

"I don't think he understands us. He's got some weird clothes. He might be the son of some noble," the other horseman said.

They had sheathed swords but no signs of any guns. 'So, this is an era before the invention of gunpowder. Medieval? It sure seems like it.'

"If he's a noble, we can ransom him back, and if not, he looks healthy and strong enough to sell for a good price. Chain him up with the others."

One of the men got off his horse and approached Noah with a length of rope. None of them were aware that he still had his knife on him. As the man reached out to grab his hands, Noah slashed him across the throat. It wasn't the pinpoint jab he had given himself earlier; this was a bloody smile stretching from ear to ear. It had been ages since he last killed someone, but it was something he was very well-practiced in.

A fountain of blood sprayed forth, and Noah threw his knife at the wagon driver, catching him in the chest. Before his first victim could drop to his knees, Noah ripped his sword from its sheath and charged toward the other horseman, already drawing his blade to avenge his coworker. Noah deflected the oncoming attack and pierced the man's heart.

"Fireball!"

There was a flash of light in his peripheral vision from the old man, and Noah's instincts made him jerk back as a sphere of energy shot by his face. It struck a nearby tree and exploded, spraying fire in all directions like a Molotov Cocktail. Noah looked back at the old man, one hand outstretched while the other covered the stab wound in his chest from Noah's knife. A holographic ring of crimson light floated around his wrist, marked with letters that Noah didn't recognize.

"You can't be serious," Noah muttered.

"Fireball!" the old man shouted again.

Fames appeared and condensed in the old man's hand, then shot at Noah like a burst from a flare gun. Noah dodged and rushed in to close the distance. The first fireball had forced him to let go of his sword, and the second drove him back before he could grab the second man's. He'd have to finish this with his bare hands.

The horses were all throwing tantrums in fear from the fighting, but the old man continued to launch those mysterious shots. Noah circled around the horses, jumped, and tackled the man. He grabbed him by the throat and began beating him with his fist with a rapid pace of controlled savagery. His current body wasn't trained for combat, but he kept it healthy and strong and knew how much force he had to muster to get the job done. Blood started spraying with the third punch, and the old man soon blacked out. Noah promptly retrieved his fallen knife and finished him off.

Noah took his time to catch his breath while he wiped off the blade, folded it up, and stored it in his pocket. He took those few moments to quell his annoyance. He was used to being reborn as a baby after every death and considered those early years to be his vacation between each new life. He used the time to time to dispose of old memories, catalog useful knowledge, and mentally deal with loose ends. No one depended on him, and he usually had a parent or caregiver to look after him, giving him time to rest his mind. Now he had to jump back into a survival mindset and start from scratch in a world with new rules.

Those fireballs the old man had launched were undoubtedly magic, something that he thought only existed in fantasy stories. He had never seen magic before, not in any of the timelines he had already lived in. Under the belief of the Multiverse Theory, there was a timeline for every possible subatomic event, so was it possible for even magic to exist? What did this timeline have that all the previous ones lacked?

The old man would have been a valuable source of information, but with his subordinates now dead, he would never willingly tell Noah anything, and it wouldn't be worth the time and trouble to interrogate him. Oh well, the answers would come in time, and patience was something Noah learned long ago.

He turned his attention to the slaves, staring back at him with uncertainty. They weren't rejoicing at the death of their captors, fair enough. After all, Noah hadn't killed them to free the slaves or anything like that. As far as they knew, he was about to kill all or sell them himself. Each of them was a variable, possibly benefiting or dooming him. It would have been best just to let them go, but he decided to get some use out of them first. The slave traders had spoken with an accent that he had never heard before, but it was English, though they probably didn't call it that. These slaves must also speak it.

"All of you, I give you permission to speak. Do you all understand what I'm saying?" They didn't verbally respond but nodded in the affirmative. "Are there any among you who are familiar with this area?" None of them answered.

Possessing knowledge could either make them valuable or a liability. They didn't want to expose themselves unless they knew what awaited them. Noah sighed and returned to the old man, patting him down until he found an iron key, likely going to all of their collars. He held up the key for all the slaves to see.

"I need one of you to guide me to a safe area with a source of fresh water, off the road where I won't be seen. Whoever volunteers will get their collar removed and can ride in the wagon. Once I'm brought to a suitable location, you will all will be set free." Six slaves raised their bound hands. "You."

He had selected a girl that looked to be around his age. She was dirty and underfed, but appeared healthy enough to be useful to him, and he could undoubtedly overpower her if she tried to betray him. It was hard to gauge her appearance in this state, as she had a pitiful look permanently etched into her face, like a basset hound. If he cleaned her up, she might be a real cutie, but right now, she was so dirty that he couldn't even tell her natural hair color.

"What is your name?"

"Tin, sir." She didn't make eye contact. None of them did.

"Do what I say, Tin, and you'll earn your freedom. Go against me and I'll kill you." He unlocked her metal collar but left her wrists bound. "Now help me take care of these bodies."

Noah searched the corpses of the three slave traders, taking everything of value. Along with their swords, he got a couple daggers, some cord, and three makeshift wallets. They were snake skins with stacks of coins inside, tied to their belts.

"Tin, is there any danger of wild animals in these woods? Anything that I should worry about?"

"Monsters will surely be drawn by the smell of blood here. It would be best if we moved on now."

Noah huffed in annoyance. Great, now he had monsters to worry about. This certainly was a world unlike any he had seen before. "Very well. Remove the clothes from the bodies and put them in the wagon."

She wordlessly obeyed, proceeding to strip the corpses without unease or discomfort. Most girls her age would be too squeamish to do anything like this. As she worked, Noah searched the wagon and found a canvas bag, smelling too rancid to be used for food. He soaked it with a wineskin, and while it wasn't ideal, it was good enough for him to use to put out the fires that the old man had started.

He and Tin completed their tasks, leaving three naked bodies on the road and a few charred trees. Noah retrieved one of the swords, just a crummy machete, but sharp enough to get the job done. He showed no discomfort in decapitating the bodies and storing the heads in the canvas bag.

"Drag these bodies into the woods, out of sight from the road. That should satiate any beasts that search this area."

There was no telling what the value of these slave traders was. If they were even slightly important to someone, their disappearance might lead to an investigation. On the other hand, three nude, headless bodies devoured by monsters wouldn't leave any evidence. They couldn't even be identified. Plus, if they were criminals, then their severed heads could be used to collect a bounty. He had been in a lot of bad situations and chaotic timelines, so this mindset was a skill he knew he could rely on and use as he needed.

Once the bodies were dealt with, Noah took his seat at the front of the wagon, and Tin joined him. The two extra horses were tethered to the wagon's sides and would follow along. Noah cracked the reins, and the horses pulling the wagon began moving forward.

"There is a suitable place several miles down this road. I will show you where."

"Until we get there, I have questions that I need answered. Where am I? What country is this?"