The Unfortunate End

Cologne, Inside a Small Training Hall

The air was thick with tension, so dense it could have been cut like butter.

The sharp clash of swords echoed through the usually quiet room, accompanied by the ragged breaths of two men locked in combat. They were alone, their duel shutting out the entire world around them.

"Come on, Felix! If that's all you've got, you might as well walk out now."

Adrian's voice rang out, urging his student forward. Felix was already pushing himself past his limits, but he gritted his teeth and pressed on. His body burned with exhaustion, but he forced his reflexes to sharpen, dodging every thrust and slash with everything he had left.

But it still wasn't enough.

Another point. Another loss.

Frustration surged through him. Before he could stop himself, Felix tore off his protective helmet and hurled it to the ground.

"I can't believe this! How many times have I lost already?" His voice was tight with irritation, but it was followed by a deep sigh.

Adrian crossed his arms, his expression unreadable. "That was yet another loss, Felix. If you keep this up, you won't have a place in the tournament—whether you like it or not."

Felix sank to the floor beside an open window, staring blankly at the ground. A cool breeze drifted in, whispering softly through the quiet space. His jaw clenched so tightly his teeth nearly ground together from sheer frustration.

He couldn't bring himself to look Adrian in the eyes—because he knew his coach was right.

No matter how hard he tried, he just wasn't the same after his ankle injury. And Adrian knew it, too.

"Maybe it's time to give up, Felix." Adrian's voice was steady, but there was an undeniable weight behind it. "I know this isn't what you want to hear, especially from me as your coach… but you're not the same anymore. And maybe you never will be."

His words cut deep, like thorns piercing Felix's chest.

A moment later, Adrian tossed a towel onto his head. The soft cotton absorbed the sweat from his skin, shielding his face—and hiding the disappointment written all over it.

"You know I can't give up." Felix's voice was quiet, almost uncertain, laced with the sting of defeat. "This sport… it's all I have left. If I walk away from this too, I'll have nothing."

Adrian let out a sigh and sat down beside him. The cold air from the window drifted over them, brushing against their necks—a fleeting relief in the heavy silence.

Felix looked up, his green eyes glowing faintly. The fire in them still burned—but dimly now. Running a hand through his short blonde hair, he let out a slow breath.

"I know I'm not the best anymore. But my father would have wanted me to keep going. I can't give up—especially not when I'm this close to the trophy!" His voice was soft, but beneath it lay a quiet strength, a determination that refused to fade.

Adrian met his gaze with a steady look.

"Felix… you are not your father. You don't have to prove anything to anyone," Adrian continued.

"Not to me, not to your father's legacy. You're not him, Felix."

His voice was gentle, but the weight of his words was heavy.

"You don't have to follow the path he wanted for you. Your leg won't hold up. If you keep pushing yourself like this, you'll only hurt yourself more."

There was something in his tone—regret. He wasn't just talking about the injury. He was mourning all of it. The accident, the struggle, everything Felix had been through. Even if none of it had been Adrian's fault, Felix could tell his coach still carried that burden as well.

"Think about it," Adrian said, rising to his feet. "We'll talk tomorrow. Go home for today."

With that, the conversation ended. No more words, no hesitation. Adrian simply walked out of the training hall, leaving Felix alone with his thoughts.

'What a joke.'

For a while, he didn't move. He just sat there, staring at the floor like a lifeless zombie, lost in his frustration. Then, out of pure anger, he slammed his fist into the ground beside him.

His knuckles throbbed with a dull ache, but there was no blood—just another reminder of his helplessness.

Leaning against the windowsill, he let the cool night air wash over him. It rushed in like a wild river, refreshing yet relentless.

'Tomorrow, I'll show him.'

The thought burned in his mind as he clenched his fists so tightly his knuckles turned white.

Slowly, he gathered his things, changed, and left the training hall behind.

The streets of Cologne were quiet at this hour, the glow of streetlights flickering softly against the pavement. 

Felix walked at his own pace, his headphones blasting music at a volume that could probably rupture someone's eardrum.

As he crossed a pedestrian lane—something he had done a thousand times before—a blinding light suddenly flared from his right.

His instincts kicked in. He snapped his head to the side just in time to see a massive truck barreling straight toward him.

Panic flooded his body. His legs locked in place. He couldn't move.

There was no chance—no way to dodge.

The truck's brakes screeched at the last second, but it was already too late.

"NO—!"

He didn't even get to finish his sentence.

It all happened in an instant.

His body was flung through the air, weightless and helpless, like a piece of newspaper tossed by the morning postman.

Everything went black.

He couldn't move.

He couldn't feel anything.

But he knew one thing for sure.

He was dead.

It felt like an eternity passed in the endless darkness.

Is this seriously all there is after death?

His thoughts echoed through the void like a cannon blast.

Why can I even think?

Again, his voice reverberated in the vast nothingness. Fear began creeping in. The darkness felt infinite, stretching endlessly like a vast ocean with no shore.

[%#$#%# #%$#]

A deafening noise erupted around him. It was overwhelming—like someone was trying to force water into his ears with unbearable pressure.

"Enough!"

He couldn't take it anymore. His mind screamed, trembling with fear and pain.

Then, suddenly—a light.

Blindingly bright, like staring straight into the sun. It didn't disappear, but slowly, gradually, it softened.

"What's happening?"

He tried to voice his thoughts, but instead, he heard the sharp, piercing wail of a newborn baby.

"My lady! A boy! You've given birth to a boy!"

A voice spoke beside him, though the words barely registered. He turned his head as much as possible and saw several women dressed in flowing robes of white and gold.

Their hair was impossibly long, cascading down to their knees, shimmering under the moonlight that bathed the room in an ethereal glow.

His mind reeled. If he could have, he would have screamed and fled in sheer panic.

Then, he noticed something even more breathtaking—something that shattered whatever fragile grasp he had on reality.

Their ears… they were long and pointy.

Before he could even process it, a voice boomed inside his head, loud, commanding, almost triumphant.

[Congratulations on your reincarnation, Host!]