A New Beginning

Michael awoke to a dull, throbbing pain that pulsed through his skull like a relentless drumbeat. Disoriented and weak, he blinked against the gloom, his vision slowly adjusting to the dim light that barely illuminated the chamber. He lay in a pool of his own dried blood, its dark, rusty hue contrasting sharply with the metallic ashes scattered around him—the remnants of the ancient altar that had broken his fall. His thoughts were hazy, muddled by pain and exhaustion, but the sharp ache in his chest kept him tethered to reality. Every breath felt like a knife twisting inside him, yet it was the memory of Valencia's final moments, the excruciating horror she must have endured, that gave him the strength to push through his own suffering.

Gritting his teeth, Michael tried to lift himself off the cold, unforgiving stone floor. His muscles, stiff and unresponsive, trembled with the effort. As he strained to push himself upright, a strange sensation rippled through his back—a pulling, almost tearing feeling that radiated from his shoulders near his spine. Confused, he hesitated, the faint glow from the statues surrounding the altar casting eerie shadows that danced along the walls. With great effort, he turned his head to glance down at his side, and what he saw left him speechless.

A pair of enormous, grayish-black wings extended from his back, each one nearly double his own height. The wings, with their razor-sharp feathers, gleamed ominously in the dim light, the edges of the feathers glinting like finely honed blades. Stunned, Michael could only stare in disbelief, his mind struggling to comprehend the impossible sight before him. He twisted his body slightly, confirming that the wings were indeed his—they moved with him, responding to the slightest shift in his posture.

Forcing himself to sit up, Michael gingerly tried to move the wings. At first, the effort was clumsy and awkward, like a newborn foal attempting its first steps. The wings felt alien, an extension of his body that he had no control over. But as the minutes stretched into an hour, he slowly began to understand how to manipulate them. Each tentative flap or shift in position brought a new level of awareness, a deeper connection to the strange appendages that now defined him. Eventually, he learned to retract the wings against his back, though they didn't disappear as he had hoped—they remained visible, a permanent reminder of the transformation he had undergone.

As he caught his breath, Michael's attention was drawn to a faint glimmer just above his head. Squinting, he focused on the source of the light and realized that it was a halo—a seemingly lifeless torus floating in the air. The halo was cracked and chipped, its once-perfect form now marred by damage. Fragments of the halo slowly orbited around it like debris from a shattered vessel, casting tiny, flickering shadows on the walls. The sight of the broken halo filled Michael with a strange mixture of sadness and dread, as if it symbolized the fractured state of his own soul.

Taking in his surroundings for the first time, Michael noticed that the chamber was unnaturally smooth, the walls polished to a mirror-like sheen that reflected the dim light from the statues. The floor, too, was unnervingly pristine, as if the chamber had been untouched by time. Ahead of him, a long, semi-cylindrical hallway stretched into the distance, its end marked by an ornately decorated door. Dull green orbs embedded in the walls cast an eerie, sickly light that bathed the entire scene in a ghostly glow.

Determined to understand what had happened to him, Michael muttered the word "status," hoping to gain some clarity. A deep purple screen materialized before his eyes, the text stark against the dark background.

—

"Congrats! Your Menu has been updated and you have full control over it! Do you accept these changes? [Yes/Yes]"

—

There was no hesitation—Michael selected the only option available. The screen flickered, and a completely new menu appeared before him, its layout far more elaborate than anything he had seen before.

—

Main Menu

[Status]

[Skills]

[Inventory]

[Shop]

[Souls]

[SoulForge Coffin]

—

Michael's heart raced as he realized the implications of what he was seeing. This was no ordinary status menu—it offered options he had never encountered before. Eagerly, he selected "Status," his curiosity growing with each passing second.

—

Michael Elliott

Nickname: Accidentally Summoned Hero

Level: 0(0/1000)

Race: Fallen Seraph

Age: 17

Gender: Male

Class: Death Angel

Subclass: Runesmith

Health: 47/250

Mana Capacity: 1500/1500

Strength: 40

Agility: 200

Defense: 15

Magic Defense: 80

Luck: 400

Titles: Rule Breaker, One Watched By The Gods

—

Michael's eyes widened in disbelief. His agility, once average, had been amplified to an almost absurd degree. His mana capacity had skyrocketed, giving him access to a reservoir of magical power he could hardly fathom. But it was the sight of his new titles that truly gave him pause. "Rule Breaker" and "One Watched By The Gods"—what did they mean? What had he become? The questions gnawed at him, but he pushed them aside for the moment, too eager to explore the rest of his menu.

With trembling hands, he selected the next option—Skills:

—

Skills

Bone Chill (D-): Inflicts extreme fear and terror on the target, slowing their cognitive functions and movement.

Undead Necromancy (C+): Attaches a pseudo-soul to a recently deceased creature, making it absolutely loyal but unable to think for itself. Usually weaker than when it was alive.

Advanced Mana Recovery (C-): Mana recovery speed is 200% faster when resting.

[New] Magic Stacking (B-): Allows the user to stack spells to increase their power or potency.

[New] Scythe Mastery (SSS+): Grants perfect theoretical knowledge of scythe usage.

[New] Demonic Angelic Recruitment (SS-): Summons a Demonic Angel of a similar level to aid in battle.

[New] Duel (A): Forces an enemy to exchange a strike with the user. Limit: 1 use per day.

[New] Theoretical Knowledge (???): Bestows perfect knowledge of theoretical magic but prevents the use of other magic types.

—

Michael stared at the list, his mind reeling. The new skills were powerful beyond anything he could have imagined, each one tailored to his new form and abilities. "Scythe Mastery," "Demonic Angelic Recruitment," "Magic Stacking"—they were the tools of a warrior, a reaper. But "Theoretical Knowledge" intrigued him the most. What did it mean? What powers did it hold? The question lingered as he moved on to the next option—Inventory.

The moment he selected it, Michael found himself in a vast, empty void. The floor beneath his feet was a deep red, and golden pedestals stretched out before him in neat, orderly rows. Seemingly in the center of the space he saw a small, bloodied replica of himself, still clad in the tattered remnants of his clothing. He approached it, reaching out to touch it, and felt a strange connection—a sense that he could equip and unequip items with a mere thought. Experimenting, he realized he could summon the replica's gear at will, replacing it with anything he stored within the Inventory.

But it was the brooch on one of the pedestals that caught his attention. Simple and unadorned, the brooch was made of low-quality iron, with a small onyx gemstone embedded in its center. The description, however, sent a pang of sorrow through him:

—

Defensive Brooch (D-) A brooch made by an otherworlder in their original world. Crafted from low-quality iron with a small onyx gemstone embedded in the center. Intended for the otherworlder's childhood friend, who perished before receiving it. It became a defensive artifact upon entering the world.

—

Michael's excitement deflated. The brooch was meant for Valencia—a token of protection that she never received. The weight of her loss pressed down on him, but he forced himself to move on. There was still more to discover.

The next option was Shop, and Michael selected it with cautious hope:

—

Shop

Gold: 0kg

Divine Crystal: 0kg 

Spend 20kg of gold or 0.1kg of divine crystals to unlock the shop.

—

His hope quickly turned to frustration. The Shop was locked, inaccessible without currency he didn't possess. The absurdity of it all—being thrust into a new world, almost dying on several occasions, only to be thwarted by a lack of gold—made his blood boil. He knew capitalism made the world go around but experiencing it for himself made him furious. Gritting his teeth, he moved on to the next option—Souls.

—

Souls 

Shows the collected souls of enemies you have killed. N/A

—

The tab was empty, but its mere existence intrigued him. What could he do with collected souls? How would they aid him in his journey? The questions swirled in his mind, but he knew they would have to wait. There was one final option to explore—the SoulForge Coffin. His heart pounded as he selected it, knowing that within it lay the soul of Valencia.

—

SoulForge Coffin An ornate coffin made of the mythical eternavyx ore, decorated with mortisite gems and exquisite white gold inlays. Created by The God of Death #073, it cannot be replicated. This coffin traps the soul of a recently deceased person and gives the wielder a chance to give the soul a second chance at life.

Uses: 0 Remaining

Capacity: 1

Currently Contained Soul: Valencia Sterling

Soul Race: Human

Gender: Female

Bone Age: 17

Class: Demonic Saint

Soul Quality: Extremely High

Potential: Unmeasurable 

Do you wish to revive this soul? [Yes/No]

—

Michael's breath caught in his throat. Valencia's soul was still within the coffin, waiting for a chance to return to life. The thought of seeing her again, of bringing her back from the abyss, filled him with a renewed sense of purpose. Without hesitation, he selected "Yes."

The screen flickered, and new text appeared:

—

Materials Needed For Revival:

Two SS- Beast Cores

1000ml of User's blood Warning! Upon revival, a new class will be given to the newly revived soul!

—

Michael stared at the requirements, his mind racing. He didn't know what beast cores were, however they seemed important, but why did the coffin need his blood? And what did it mean that Valencia would receive a new class upon revival? The questions gnawed at him, but one thing was clear: he had found his new purpose. No matter the cost, no matter the challenges ahead, he would gather the necessary materials and bring Valencia back. And when she returned, it would not be as a helpless victim, but as an ally—strong, powerful, and ready to face the dangers of this world alongside him.