Limitless The Strongest Revenant

"Chosen? What the fuck are you talking about, boy?"

As my words confounded my audience, I tried to think of a way to explain. These three were Specters who had lived so long that they had no direction. They were literally the definition of the living dead.

Humans were the only creatures on earth who believed they had a higher purpose. Animals and insects, regardless of breed, race, or gender, all simply wanted to survive.

Man was unparalleled in this regard. Despite having no claws, man hunted. Even without fur or wings, humans could survive in the harshest of climates.

But it was funny, no matter where you were in the world. All humans had the same destiny. They all believed that they were meant for something more. Otherwise, the question "What am I here for?" would not be asked worldwide.

When man had provided enough for himself, he moved on to his community, then his country. Man then saw the whole world, yet still set his sights beyond the stars. Why?

Purpose.

That was what separated man from beast. You could say order, faith, pride, and whatever sophistry men came up with best when asked. But in the end, it was purpose.

Purpose separated those who merely existed from those who truly lived. And the search for purpose was ingrained in everyone.

As people grew older, many failed to find what that purpose was. But for the fortunate few who did, they were so driven that everyone else could only stand in awe.

Much like personalities and memories, purpose was derived from our experiences. So what happens when a Specter loses his purpose?

"Yet, no matter how much we begged, we were not allowed to join the reapers. My master due to the frequent threats on his life, cowered in his mansion. Living a debauched life devoid of purpose. He paid for the hellsgate tax, using wealth made through his businesses."

Vincent's description was mistaken. Raymond was a Specter, which meant he was one of those who invaded and cleared the floors. However, probably due to the deaths of his people, bit by bit he had forgotten his purpose.

After all, a Reaper's life was nothing but hardship and suffering. Without a good reason, most would not even bother with this shit.

Xander, who longed to remember his beloved wife, was nothing but a moving corpse. Even though we were reincarnated humans to begin with, the difference between those who still had a reason to fight and those who did not was like night and day.

I loved the Sirens, but somehow I felt that even if I lost them, I would not stop.

The two dreams I had were the reason I thought this way.

In one, I saw the lonely battle of seven warriors amidst a mountain of corpses. This dream showed a snake tempting the warriors to abandon their weapons.

The other dream was about the death of women who looked like the Sirens, but were not the Sirens. The two were obviously related.

Even when tempted by the serpent to reincarnate the women, none of the warriors gave in.

If I hadn't seen either vision, I might have hesitated. But knowing that Roland came to me and asked, it felt like divine fate. These dreams, or whatever they were, were sent to me for a reason.

My heart, which has always been partial to the sirens, also gave me an idea. How was it possible for me to meet all of them? I mean really. Seven beautiful women who were exactly my type. None of them were wall flowers. Most importantly, each and every one of them appeared in my dreams.

The longer their {Fates} lingered in me, the more I felt it was truly fate. There was something there, something I couldn't understand.

But I didn't fear. Since my journey began with {Rewind}, I somehow believed that as long as I evolved {Rewind} to its limit, everything would become clear.

Of course, I had no intention of simply dying. If they wanted my women, they would have to be prepared to survive whatever I could bring to bear.

"It is as I have said. I will be the one to close the Hell Gate. If they will hurt my girls, I will protect them. If they murder my girls, I will slaughter them in vengeance. Even if I forget, until I draw my last breath, I will fight. This is my mission.

This is my purpose," I declared to Roland.

"..."

The Specters all looked at me with stoic expressions. Xander and Raymond continued to drink in silence. Roland, on the other hand, nodded before he talked.

"If that is the case, then do not speak what I am about to say to anyone below the rank of Specter."

"Wait, if that's the case, then don't tell me either," I snapped.

"You want to be a Revenant, don't you? What difference does it make if you get it now or later?"

"That..."

If I said no, it meant that I was not sure if I would become a Revenant. If I said yes, then I would have to take responsibility for whatever this information was.

"Ugh, fine. Lay it on me," I admitted in defeat.

There must be a reason Roland wanted to tell me. Just like there must be a reason why he decided to turn me into a reaper. What did he call it?

"See you on the other side, John. Welcome to the Revenant Project."

The Revenant Project. It sounded like a plan to create Revenants, or at least a scheme involving them.

Roland then walked to the edge of the balcony and enjoyed the strong breeze. His hair and beard swayed in the strong wind. Contrary to his carefree appearance, his eyes were extremely focused.

I joined him and rested my arms on the railing. Waiting for his next words, I silently enjoyed the pleasantly cool breeze.

"John Smith. All seven continents currently agree on two things.

One is to deny the Formless any support. And two, to ensure that the number of Reapers does not exceed a certain threshold."

"..."

"IRIS appears to each Revenant and shares information about the past. The lessons of IRIS led them all to the same conclusion."

Both were things I already had doubts about.

The difference in power between the Formless and the Manifest. As well as the illogical discrepancy about the Reapers being outnumbered and the murder of the rouges.

Roland turned and remarked in surprise.

"It seems you are not even a little taken aback, boy."

"I had my suspicions from the beginning."

"So it seems. Anyway, I won't tell you the exact reason, but the gist of it is that the Formless must remain out of the limelight. Otherwise, the worst would happen."

Hearing such a grim prediction, I asked reflexively. "What do you mean?"

"Roland, I see no reason for all this sophistry."

"Yeah, just fucking tell him everything, it won't make any difference anyway!"

"Sigh. I guess both of you have a point."

After an exaggerated sigh, Roland looked out at the vast landscape as he continued.

"John Smith, the Formless are believed to be the cause of floor breaks."

"Wha...?"

I almost slipped off the railing at Roland's words.

"What does that even mean?"

"You must be familiar with floor breaks, right? Any dungeon based novel would also call them dungeon breaks."

"I know what they are, but what does the Formless have to do with them?"

"It's quite simple really. IRIS shared that the floor breaks that wiped out the previous generation always happened when Formless Revenants were present.

"At first, they thought it was the number of reapers, but even after they systematically reduced the total number, the floor breaks still came."