A Second Chance

In the dim light of night, Michael walked along the outskirts of the city, heading to the location his uncle had instructed him to wait. 

"Damn, the old man overestimates them. They're nothing but weak fools. I don't know why they haven't been caught yet, but who cares? It seems I'll be returning to my monotonous life," he thought bitterly.

Upon arriving at the station, he spotted his uncle waiting for him.

"Why are you late? I hope you didn't do anything stupid," his uncle said, concern etched on his face.

"Don't worry, old man. The problem is solved."

"What do you mean, 'the problem is solved'? Did you do something reckless?" 

"I called Tom, and he said he doesn't care what happened; he'll leave it be."

His uncle sighed. "You didn't even listen to me. Since you're fine, let's go home."

As they drove, his uncle tried to offer some words of comfort. "Boy, I know you're going through a tough time, but you need to move on. You should find some friends and enjoy life. You can't just stay home reading novels and causing trouble. Why not come work with me at the dojo? You could be a trainer."

"Sorry, old man. I'm not interested."

Another sigh escaped his uncle. "I hope you find peace in your life, boy."

The ride home was quiet, filled with unspoken thoughts. When they arrived, Michael turned to his uncle. "Thank you for everything. Don't worry about me; I think I've had enough of causing trouble."

He stepped out of the car and headed toward his house. Suddenly, a soccer ball struck him from behind. He turned to see two young boys.

"Uncle Michael! I'm sorry! I kicked the ball by mistake!" one of them exclaimed.

"Who are you calling 'uncle'? I'm younger than that!" Michael shot back.

"Uncle Michael, do you want to play with us?" the other boy asked eagerly.

"No, go away. Don't bother me."

"You're mean!" one of the boys pouted.

Michael sighed in resignation. "Okay, just go play."

The boys ran off, and as they resumed their game, Michael noticed a truck speeding toward them.

"What the—? Are you kidding me? Kids, watch out!" 

Without thinking, Michael sprinted toward the boys, pushing them out of harm's way. Unfortunately, he couldn't escape in time; the truck struck him violently, sending him sprawling to the ground.

"Damn, my whole body hurts." He struggled to look around, spotting the boys crying nearby. "Thank God they're okay."

Breathing heavily and bleeding profusely, he realized the severity of his injuries. "This seems to be the end. Damn, I survived a gang only to be killed by a truck. The old man will be thrilled to know I didn't die because of my problems but because I saved some kids."

He felt a strange calm wash over him. "I guess I'll see my father soon. Oh wait, isn't this how heroes die in novels?" With that thought, Michael closed his eyes, hoping that if there was another life, it would be better than this one.

And so, Michael believed he had died in this world.

In a forest, beneath the shade of tall trees, a boy lay unconscious, dressed in ragged, torn clothes. Beside him, a worn wooden sword rested on the ground. 

The boy, appearing around fourteen years old, had dark skin and curly black hair. Suddenly, he opened his eyes, confusion flooding his mind.

"Oh damn, what happened? Why does my body hurt so much? And how am I still alive? What am I doing in the forest?" 

He glanced down at his clothes. "What the hell am I wearing? Where am I?"

As he attempted to rise, he noticed something strange. "Why do my hands look so small? Why do I seem shorter than usual?"

Curiosity piqued, he touched his face, and suddenly, a flood of memories surged into his mind, causing a sharp headache.

He clutched his head and screamed as the memories overwhelmed him. This continued for several minutes until the pain finally subsided.

Once the chaos in his mind settled, he sighed, realization dawning upon him. "Oh shit, I got reincarnated."

As I sifted through the fragments of my memories, it became clear that I was inhabiting the identity of Michael Nightshade—a name that resonated deeply within me. This version of me appeared to be a reflection from a parallel dimension, embodying my likeness at the age of fourteen. The circumstances mirrored my own: his parents had also perished shortly after his middle school graduation. However, this world was distinctly less developed than the one I had known, yet it possessed a unique allure—magic.

The realization that I had been reincarnated into a fantasy realm filled me with unexpected joy. If I had known such an opportunity awaited me, I might have sought an earlier exit from my previous life.

In this world, it was customary for fifteen-year-olds to awaken their mana cores and discover their elemental affinities during a ceremony on their birthdays. Michael's birthday was just a week away, and with it, the prospect of igniting his core, class, and affinity loomed large.

Classes were categorized as follows:

- Common

- Uncommon

- Rare

- Epic

- Legendary

- Forbidden

Elemental affinities ranged from common elements such as water, fire, earth, and air to uncommon ones like plants, fog, and sound. Rare affinities included lightning, ice, and poison, while legendary affinities encompassed darkness, light, shadow, time, and space. The forbidden affinities, shrouded in secrecy, were known only to a select few.

This ranking is according to the rarity of the element, not its strength.

In this world, Michael's parents had possessed legendary classes, though they had never disclosed the details to him. He was aware that his father wielded affinities related to lightning and darkness, while his mother had affinities tied to shadow and space. The true nature of his mother's class remained a mystery, known only to his father.

Michael sighed, a flicker of hope igniting within him. He yearned to awaken a remarkable class and powerful elemental affinity.

Rumors circulated about treasures capable of granting extraordinary affinities, yet Michael had yet to encounter anyone who had discovered such a treasure, particularly one that could bestow an affinity beyond the rarest degree. The scale of affinities varied from person to person, ranked from degree F to SSS.

As the sun began to dip below the horizon, Michael realized it was time to make his way home before darkness enveloped the land.