Chapter 15: I Was a Soldier in a Past Life

At the far end of the continent, opposite where Frank was previously, a tear in space began to form. Before it could completely open, something was forced through at such a velocity it looked like a blur.

A much healthier Frank soared through the air, practically flying past trees. He glanced at his rapidly draining health and braced for impact.

160/408 HP

He clenched his jaw and tried to relax his body as best he could in hopes of taking less damage. Finally, his momentum started to slow down and he careened straight for the ground. Frank hit the ground head first causing his already cracked head to fracture even more.

As he faded out of consciousness, blood cascading down his head and out of his leg, he heard a voice.

"Hank?! Son? Is that you?" a panicked voice sounded out. As whoever shouted made it over to Frank, he finally succumbed to Hypnos.

…

A knock sounded. "Son? Are you awake?" An aged male voice asked, startling Frank awake. His eyes were still heavy, but he forced them open to take in his surroundings and get a good look at who was speaking.

Frank realized he was in a bedroom, laying on a bed that had soft cotton sheets. To his left was a window that revealed what looked to be a Renaissance-esque city. To his immediate right was a nightstand with a single unlit candle.

Past the nightstand, Frank noticed his ruined armor resting on a wooden desk. Drawing his attention away from what might have been the last of his possessions, Frank looked off into the corner where the door was.

Again, another light rap sounded. "Son? Is everything alright?" The door pushed open to reveal an old, battle-worn man. His hair was ivory white and he had a few small scars on his face. His most notable feature though was his crooked nose. It looked like it had been broken multiple times and had never quite healed properly.

He had a slight hunch, but under the light tunic he wore, Frank was able to see a toned core. Not to mention his exposed arms alone betrayed the feeble look he seemed to have. In his hands, the man held a tray with an assortment of foodstuffs.

Completely stunned, Frank just watched as the man moved closer. He gently placed the tray down in Frank's lap and it was then he noticed something. He felt pressure on both of his thighs.

Frank tried to move his feet, but could only feel the right one. He swallowed as he realized his once-gone left leg was now slightly restored up to the knee. "What happened?" Frank couldn't help but ask himself.

"Son? Can you speak?" The man pulled up the chair and sat beside the bed. Genuine concern covered his face. His brows furrowed and his lips quivered before speaking some more. "The healer told me you probably would have some memory issues."

The man let out a heavy sigh and let his shoulders fall. "I should have never let you join the army, like me. When they… When they told me you died, I refused to believe it." He softly smiled and reached for Frank's free hand.

He stroked the back of it and continued, "When I found you in the forest I was so happy. Even after all the wounds you suffered in the war you still managed to make it home. I—" He struggled to swallow.

"I don't know what I would have done if you were really gone." He squeezed Frank's hand tighter.

Frank was lost; somehow this old man had mistaken him for his son. He didn't know how to respond, so Frank decided to stay silent and let the man continue to speak.

"You were in such bad shape…" A distant look started to grow as the man stared blankly at Frank's hand. "The healer was only able to do so much, and I would go out and make more money so we could get you fully healed, but you needed someone to take care of you."

A twinge of pain flashed on the older man's face and he stood up. He turned around and moved towards the door. "Don't forget to eat before it gets cold."

With that, he closed the door behind him and left Frank alone with his thoughts and a hearty-looking stew. Frank stared at the food left before him and tried to remember the last thing that had happened.

He was too cocky and went to fight the giant woefully unprepared. His golem was destroyed in a single blow and he was thrown around like a rag doll. Frank had managed to deal some damage to the giant, but it wasn't sustainable.

Phantom pain began to emerge as Frank remembered how his leg was torn off and eaten. His head pulsed as he recalled his head smashing against the ground. Everything from then on was fuzzy at best.

The more he tried to look back on what happened after his head cracked open he got nothing but pain.

The aroma of stewed beef filled Frank's nose and lured him in. His stomach roared in response and pleaded with him to eat.

"No way he would poison me after saving me, right?" Frank let out a helpless chuckle and began to eat the food he had been given. The first bite was a burst of flavor. It was surprisingly light on the beef flavor with a light onion aftertaste.

Using the bread on the side, Frank began to tear off pieces big enough to fit in his mouth and dipped them. Not only did the stew have soft tasty beef, but it also had small chunks of potatoes and carrots.

The occasional strip of onion floated into his spoon as he shoveled more and more into his gullet. As he finished off the last bit of bread and stew, Frank leaned back and laid. He stared at the white ceiling and closed his eyes.

"I guess I should check my stats…" And with that, he summoned the blue window to inform him of the changes since his fight with the giant.

Name: Frank Cristuado

Class: Artificer lvl. 22

Title(s): Arsonist, Murderer, Cockroach

Health: 408/408

Mana: 450

Regen: 21.5 mana per minute

Str: 10

Dex: 8

Con: 51

Int: 45

Wis: 43

Cha: 10

Luc: 10

AP: 0

Skills: [Deduction lvl.1], [Appraisal lvl.1], [Arcane Crafting lvl.3], [Low Light Vision lvl. 2], [Flash of Genius lvl.1], [Mycology lvl.1], [Mathematics lvl.2], [Chemistry lvl.1], [Marksmanship lvl.6], [Settling Down], [Create Golem lvl.1], [Crafter's Blessing lvl.1], [1 Unselected Skill]

Spells: [Flames lvl.1], [Sparks lvl.1], [Shape Earth lvl.6], [Grease lvl.1], [Alter Self lvl.1], [Lesser Illusion lvl.1], [Mold Water lvl.1], [1 Unselected Spell]

Traits: [Master Crafter], [1 Unselected Trait]

Seeing the massive change in stats and the fact he now had 51 constitution, Frank tried to search for the notifications he missed. Sadly it seemed the system didn't keep old notifications.

Another thing that was gone was almost every single last possession Frank had. From his gold to his unique weapon. He was also probably wanted now for not paying back the duke if he wasn't presumed dead already.

Frank wasn't even sure how much time had passed. It could have been days or weeks—it was something he would have to ask the old man soon. Putting those thoughts aside, Frank pulled up his new trait list.

[Select (1) option(s)]

[Demonification II: +20% to all stats, race slowly changes from human to a demon as you level.]

[Blessing of the Fire: Gain 50% resistance to fire, 10% increased damage from fire-related attacks.]

[Peerless Inventor: If you have an idea in mind, you'll find a way to create it.]

[Symbiotic Spores: Your proficiency with fungi now allows you to create a symbiotic relationship with them.]

From looking at the list, Frank noted that only the [Demonification] trait remained; it even increased in level. He still wouldn't choose it, but if it kept increasing the bonus it gave him, eventually, it would be too good to pass up.

The next three traits were interesting. [Blessing of the Fire] not only increased his damage with fire related attacks, but would give him a much-welcomed resistance to fire. While it was pretty nice for the resistance alone, it wasn't enough to tempt Frank to take it.

[Peerless Inventor] stood out to Frank the most. It was vague, sure, but it was like a passive version of [Flash of Genius]. It was something that Frank knew would always benefit him. Lastly, Frank looked at [Symbiotic Spores].

Unlike the others, this trait seemed to be directly related to his previous actions. Had his interactions with mushrooms warranted a trait? Frank liked the implications of that, though. It showed him that if he gained an affinity with something he could get a related trait.

To Frank, the decision was a no-brainer. He selected [Peerless Inventor] and decided what to do next. He once again glanced at his status page and saw a new title. He clicked on it and looked at its description.

[Cockroach: You can survive even the worst of attacks. Once per month you can survive a single attack that would kill you outright.]

Frank let out a helpless chuckle at the sight. He had been rewarded for almost dying. It felt insulting, but the boon would aid him so he begrudgingly accepted it. Next, Frank glanced at his new skill options.

[Tinkering: Imbues knowledge on the creation of small-scale mechanical devices.]

[Runic Smithing: Combine the might of smithing with the ancient runes of the giants to produce wondrous items.]

[Perfect Tool: Whatever tool you need, you can make.]

[Recycle: Return objects to their base materials.]

Sadly, unlike his traits, his skills didn't refresh. The only new option was a useful addition. Frank was half tempted to take [Runic Smithing] but [Recycle] sounded like it would benefit him more.

For smithing, Frank would need a forge and raw materials. With this, Frank could gain raw materials from hopefully anything. Another quick decision made, Frank selected [Recycle]. Now, all Frank had left was to choose a spell.

Because of his last fight, he decided he needed something strong, something that would get him out of a pinch. Thankfully, he already had a spell in mind. With it selected and everything system-related Frank had wanted to do, done, Frank climbed out of bed.

He placed the tray on the nightstand and threw off the blanket. Frank looked down and stopped at the sight of his leg. Feeling it was one thing, but now Frank could see that his leg, down to the knee, was healed. While regretful and possibly hindering for most, Frank decided it would serve as a reminder.

[Arcane Crafting] allowed Frank to craft wondrous items, there was no doubt in his mind he couldn't craft himself a new leg. Frank moved his right leg off the bed and onto the cold stone floor.

It was smooth, and for some reason, Frank could tell it was done by hand. Gathering his strength, and using both the bed and nightstand as support, Frank stood up off the bed. He tried to balance on one leg, but it felt wrong.

The missing weight was jarring, to say the least, but Frank pushed on. Using the bed and eventually the wall, Frank hopped over to the door. He was hesitant, but he needed answers. The door creaked open and seconds later he heard the man from before.

"Hank? Son?" Frank began to hear footsteps, each getting louder than the last. Frank hobbled through the doorway and saw the older gentleman rushing towards him.

"Whoa there, Junior, you shouldn't be up yet." The man moved behind, then wrapped Frank's left arm around his shoulders. He helped Frank stay upright and tried to move him back to the room.

"Wh-why do you keep calling me your son?" Frank's voice came out harsher than he remembered it being and he attempted to clear his throat.

The man seemed pained at the question and decided to merely assist Frank in his movements rather than guiding him. As Frank explored the house he was in, along with his new "leg," the man spoke softly.

"The healer said you probably wouldn't remember. My name is Hank, Son. And you are Hank II. You joined the army eight years ago and recently you were caught up in that nasty war." Hank stopped moving and Frank noticed tears streaming down his eyes.

"You- They- I was told you died last year. You don't know how happy I was when I found you in the forest behind the house. It must have been hard with your missing memories, but you found me. You're safe here, Son."

Frank was shocked. Not only by the strange closeness of their names but that this man genuinely thought he was his son. He wanted to refute that he wasn't his son, but looking at Hank's eyes told him all he needed to know.

The man knew he wasn't his son. But he needed this if only to help him cope with his son's death. As much as it pained him to pretend, Frank would go along with it. "D-dad?"

As soon as the words left his lips, a smile bloomed on the veteran's face. "That's right, Son. It's me."

Silence returned as Hank helped Frank move to a living room. Exploring the house left Frank surprised. The style of architecture seemed much more advanced than in the town he was last in. Where previously he saw medieval-styled buildings, this looked more Renaissance.

As he hobbled around, Frank also noticed that his room was the only one with a stone floor. The rest had nice polished wooden floors. Looking outside at a stack of planks though painted the picture for Frank that this place was unfinished.

"Soo.." Frank looked towards his "dad." "How about you tell me everything I forgot?"