The Laziest God Mortal Reincarnation

Valerian strode toward the tall healer, his presence commanding the space even within the crowded tent. "Izabella, thank you for holding out while I was gone," he said, his voice steady but carrying a weight that seemed to ease the tension around them.

He paused, letting his eyes sweep over the rows of cots and the countless wounded soldiers lying in various states of pain and exhaustion. A faint furrow creased his brow before he turned back to the healer.

"I will take care of everything from now," he continued. "Could you please take care of Alash?" His hand gestured toward me where I lingered by the entrance, half‑hidden by the folds of the tent. "Get him some food first, and tell him what’s happening here."

Izabella’s gaze followed his gesture, settling on me with a brief flicker of reluctance. For a moment, it looked as if she might object, but no words came. Her shoulders eased with a soft exhale, and she nodded silently, accepting the task.

Without further protest, she moved toward me, her footsteps measured and calm, ready to guide me deeper into the heart of the border camp and the truth that awaited within.

Izabella approached with measured steps, her white coat swaying slightly as she moved through the rows of cots. The soft light filtering through the tent’s canvas ceiling fell over her features, revealing a young woman with messy red hair and striking black eyes, whose calm expression belied the exhaustion etched into them.

She stopped in front of me, her gaze flicking briefly toward Valerian’s back before settling on me fully.

"You must be Alash," she said, her voice steady but soft. "Come with me. First, we’ll get you something to eat. You’ll need the strength, this isn’t an easy place to be."

I hesitated, my gaze sliding over the soldiers in their beds once more. The weight of the room pressed in from all sides: the quiet groans of the injured, the muffled footsteps of the healers, and the lingering scent of blood and medicine. My stomach tightened at the thought of food, though I nodded and forced my legs to follow her.

Izabella led me toward a section of the tent where a small table had been set up with a few trays of simple meals: bread, soup, and some dried fruit. As I sat on a wooden stool, she placed a bowl in front of me and gave a small, encouraging nod.

"Eat," she said. "Valerian will handle the worst of the injuries, but this place... it will test you. You need to keep your strength if you don’t want to crumble under the weight of everything you see here."

I picked up the spoon, glancing back at the rows of broken soldiers, their bodies twisted and scarred by battles I still didn’t understand. "What happened to them?" I asked quietly.

Izabella sighed, her black eyes dimming like the fading embers of a fire. "This is the result of the war."

I tilted my head, confusion knitting my brow. "What war?"

She turned to me in disbelief, her red hair swaying as she faced me fully. "You came here without knowing?"

I nodded. "I was just following Master Valerian. He didn’t mention anything about a war."

A soft thud echoed as Izabella pressed her palm against her face, shaking her head with a pitying look. "Alright... how much do you know about the beastkin?"

I hesitated, then offered the only answer I could. "They are... half‑human and half‑animal?"

The image of bearskin warriors I saw from another world flickered in my mind, though I didn’t dare assume they were the same here.

Izabella let out a slow breath, the corner of her mouth twitching as if fighting between amusement and exasperation. "You really don’t know a thing, do you?"

I just shrugged my shoulders and continued eating, letting the warm broth slide down my throat as I waited for her to continue.

"First, you are right," Izabella said, her voice steady but edged with weariness. "But to be exact, beastkin are humanoid creatures that possess animal traits, fur, tails, animal ears, and, for some, the ability to shapeshift completely into animals. They are not mere animals walking on two legs, nor are they fully human. They are something in between, a race with its own pride and power."

I paused briefly, spoon hovering over the bowl, and listened as she went on.

"Our kingdom was at peace with them for hundreds of years. There were even treaties and occasional trade along the borders. But..." Her voice faltered for a moment, and her black eyes darkened as the memory crossed her mind.

"Everything changed around four years ago. Without warning, they began invading our territory. Villages near the border were the first to fall. At first, we thought it was a rogue faction or misunderstanding, but the attacks spread, and soon, the beastkin armies pushed deep into our lands."

She glanced toward the rows of wounded soldiers in the tent, the quiet weight of their suffering punctuating her words. "Many of these men faced them directly. The beastkin are terrifying opponents, they fight with the strength of beasts and the cunning of humans. Even our knights, trained to face monsters, couldn’t hold the line without suffering heavy losses."

I swallowed another spoonful of soup in silence, the taste muted against the heaviness of what she said. Her voice carried on, softer now, almost a whisper.

"No one knows why it started. Some say a new leader rose among them, uniting the clans. Others whisper that something... darker, more unnatural, drives them. All we know is that the border has not known peace since."

"But you don’t have to worry, the battlefield is far from here. And even if they dare try, Duke Relawear will be here in an instant."

Then she continued with a proud face, "This place is the safest stronghold in the entire borderlands. The walls are blessed with ancient runes, the gates reinforced...."

I stopped listening to her as I thought about the war.

A strange feeling gnawed at me, the suspicion that the demons were behind it all. But how could that be? There were still more than nine years before they could invade this world. Perhaps I was just being paranoid... yet deep down, I knew there was more to this conflict than any human could comprehend.

Sighing, I forced myself to focus. If I wanted answers, I needed to act. My first step would be to find an opportunity to speak with the injured soldiers, to quietly ask questions and gather fragments of truth without drawing attention.

I released another sigh, my head already yearning for the softness of my pillow, even as the weight of the world pressed silently on my shoulders.