Chapter 2: Feeling My Heartbeat For The First Time In 100 K Years
"Alright now that you've learned your lesson let's talk business I can easily fulfill your first wish its nothing hard, the second is a bit tricky but I can manage it"
"As for the third one, it's out of the question! If I allowed you to keep your psionic power It would go against the laws of existence!"
Death said to me angrily as she sat down back onto her gamer's chair.
"F*cking laws of existence..."
I cursed under my breath which didn't go unheard by Death as I spewed out my broken teeth together with my bloody saliva to the side.
And wiped off my bloody mouth with my right hand while relocating my broken nose with my left hand.
"But I am Death itself so bending the rules of existence a little bit for once is as simple as snapping my fingers"
Death who was still pissed off said to me as she massaged her temples whose blood vessels under her skin still pulsated madly threatening to burst at any moment.
"So it settled then? Can I begin my second life?"
"Yeah, it is. Truthfully I'm quite reluctant to let an excellent reaper like you leave my service but a soul contract is a soul contract after all even I can't go against it, so bye-bye for now Drac, and don't expect to escape my embrace like you used to before I finally got my hands on you"
I heard and saw Death say while smiling with a mysterious smile before I blacked out after hearing her snap her fingers.
...
"What the actual f*ck?"
I couldn't help but curse out as I scanned the pitch-black surroundings.
I looked down at my hands only to see them covered in my tattered urban camouflage field uniform.
I could see the maggots squirming and wriggling in my rotting flesh.
F*ck I forgot how f*cked up my soul looked like.
I couldn't help but curse in my mind, the soul's cosmetic option for all grim reapers made me forget my true colors.
There's a reason people say that a soul reflects a person's true identity or whatever the f*ck they say.
"But enough of that where in the actual f*ck am I?"
Just as I dished out a string of curses from my mouth, a blue holographic screen appeared before my eyes.
I quickly set my mind on inspecting the screen.
"That's more like it,"
I muttered with a newfound sense of purpose after inspecting the screen. I eagerly began designing my new body.
I envisioned a striking form—an imposing 8-foot frame, characterized by a V-shaped torso, broad shoulders, a muscular back, bulging pectorals, a well-defined six-pack, and brawny, bodybuilder's arms.
I nodded in satisfaction as I examined the holographic projection of my new self.
My white hair was neatly tied in a high bun, while the sides and back were meticulously shaved clean.
A streak of black hair gracefully draped over my left eye, which boasted a blue pupil, blood-red irise, and ink-black sclera.
My ears were decorated with black ring earrings.
My face, seemingly that of a 20-year-old European ladykiller, bore a stark contrast with my pale skin, where black blood vessels were visible beneath the surface.
My lips took on a dark hue, a testament to my unique physiology.
A grotesque barbed wire scar adorned my neck, a grim reminder of my past life with surgical scars dotting my body which was a cosmetic choice.
Tattoos adorned my right arm, extending to my right chest and half of my left arm. Hanging from my neck were sci-fi dog tags, completing the ensemble.
Once I chose a sleek, all-black space uniform with a futuristic appearance, the holographic image vanished.
For the first time in one hundred thousand years, I felt the dual thumping of my cybernetically augmented biomechanical hearts within my chest.
My body was a composite of countless improvements, akin to a template of everyone's favorite space boys from the universe engulfed in unending war.
Nanobots coursed through my bloodstream, ready to mend any damage.
A mechanical skeleton with a fused into one solid plate ribcage, reminiscent of a time when machines nearly eradicated humanity, fortified my frame.
Cybernetic lenses offered a HUD view, complemented by a first-level AI embedded in my brain.
Neural interfaces integrated seamlessly with my skin, allowing me to don power armor with ease.
Other enhancements included a third lung and more, rendering my new body nearly impervious, only susceptible to ship-killing weaponry.
With a grin on my face, I turned my thoughts to crafting a spaceship.
A triangle-shaped battleship materialized on the system's screen.
The vessel sported three primary and eight secondary colossal Ion thrusters, occupying 20 percent of its length.
A cold fusion plant, taking up nearly a third of the ship's interior, powered it.
Countless sensor arrays dotted its surface. Armaments were impressive—nine kinetic double-barreled artillery cannons, 90 quadruple-barreled plasma cannons, 360 six-barreled flak batteries, and 100 cold fusion torpedo silos.
The ship boasted an 800 mm plasteel armor belt and formidable shields.
Its crew of fifty thousand included an entire division of ten thousand marines equipped with power armor.
The ship featured barracks, armories, a medbay, relaxation zones, and a hangar bay, complete with 48 fighters, 48 bombers, and 48 interceptors, along with the necessary dropships for orbital deployment.
The fans of energy sword-wielding telekinesis users would definitely scream that It's a certain empires destroyer.
"Hahaha..."
I burst into laughter, clutching my stomach. There was no doubt—the Andromeda galaxy was about to witness chaos of epic proportions.
...
In the star system known as K-569, which had earned its codename among the inhabitants of the Andromeda galaxy, a profound disturbance suddenly rippled through the cosmic fabric.
Without warning, a menacing all-black painted 3 kilometers long 1.5 kilometers wide and 500 meters high spaceship materialized.
This vessel was unlike anything ever witnessed in the known universe, an imposing behemoth that radiated an aura of dark power.
The spaceship bristled with an arsenal of devastating weaponry, its hull adorned with massive cannons, ominous plasma emitters, and concealed missile silos.
It bore the markings of a crimson headless skeleton clad in spiked armor, an emblem of doom and destruction.
Resting upon its armored shoulder was a colossal sword, a weapon that seemed forged from the very essence of annihilation itself.
The sword's edge glimmered with an ominous, blood-red hue, promising unimaginable devastation to those who dared to cross its path.
Emblazoned on the ship's hull was a striking emblem—a red wolf made out of metal locked in an eternal struggle, its jaws clamped onto its own tail.
This symbol spoke volumes of unending endurance, an unbreakable cycle of life and death.
The galaxy itself seemed to quiver in response to the arrival of this enigmatic entity, as though the very cosmos had been stirred from its slumber.
Those who beheld this fearsome black spaceship could only watch in awe and trepidation, for it heralded an era of uncertainty and upheaval in the vast expanse of Andromeda galaxy.
...
As I strolled through the pristine, well-organized halls of my warship, accompanied by a crew of imposing eight-foot-tall killing machines who bore a striking resemblance to my own enhanced form, I pondered the ship's name.
It needed to be something befitting its formidable presence.
After a moment of contemplation, I made a decisive choice.
"You know what, f*ck it. Let's name it Einherjar."
My declaration echoed through my thoughts as I continued my walk.
The ship's level two AI, which was only a step away from achieving full sentience, promptly communicated with me through my mind.
"Do you wish to name the ship as Einherjar, Commander? Yes/No? Please confirm."
Despite the AI's voice maintaining a mechanical quality, it was so advanced that, at times, it almost resembled a biological being.
My reason for not installing a level three AI was rooted in the knowledge of countless galaxies where such AIs had gained sentience and subsequently eradicated all life.
"Yes,"
I affirmed, confirming my decision.
In response, the ship's AI deployed a squadron of maintenance drones that swiftly painted the ship's name in bold red letters, solidifying its identity as the Einherjar.
I swiftly arrived at the imposing blast doors leading to the bridge, flanked by an elite guard of over eight feet tall marines.
These formidable soldiers were encased in all-black power armor, adorned with menacing white skull paint jobs on their fully enclosed helmets.
Their blood-red, glowing round visors emitted an eerie, otherworldly aura.
Upon catching sight of me, the marines snapped to attention with impressive precision, their movements precise and synchronized.
With the discipline of a highly trained military force, they executed modern military salutes, which I promptly returned with a nod of acknowledgment.
The atmosphere was charged with an air of unwavering dedication and readiness, as I prepared to enter the heart of the Einherjar.
As soon as I stepped inside the bridge whose blast doors closed themselves.
Inside the bridge, the atmosphere was charged with anticipation.
The senior marine evident from his painted rank on his chest armor plate and the additional cosmetic on his power armor, recognizing my presence, issued a commanding announcement that reverberated through the spacious chamber.
"ATTENTION!"
CREATORS' THOUGHTS 
DRACULAVONDEATH
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