And then —
Light
***
Leon opened his eyes.
A sky of impossible blue stretched above him, so vivid it almost hurt to look at.
He just lay there, blinking, staring, unmoving.
'Where… am I?'
There was no wreckage. No screaming. No smoke.
Only stillness.
Birds chirped in the distance. Leaves rustled gently in the wind. He could feel it—the breeze sweeping across his face, through his hair. The grass beneath him was soft, cool, damp with dew. The air smelled clean, fresh, alive.
No pain. No pressure in his chest. No steel in his side.
Just… peace.
'Am I… dead? Is this… heaven?'
He stared up at the sky, unable to move. Not because he was weak—but because everything was still. Calm.
It felt wrong to disturb it.
'What happend? I...I was in a train wasn't I? Something happen to the train, I died and now?'
Just befor I knew it fear took over him.
The fear of losging my life, of dying. Dying like I did on the train. Even when it is peaceful now moments ago it wasn't.
I was alive.
And yet… not the same.
The wind brushed my cheeks. The grass beneath my fingers felt too real to be a dream. The scent of damp earth and blooming wildflowers clung to every breath I took.
But my heart—my heart still beat like I was under that train.
I leyd there for a long time, knees pulled to my chest, trying to silence the echo of screaming metal and burning lungs. It wouldn't go away. Not yet.
You're not there anymore, I told myself.
As time passed, my heart beat more and more calmly and my thoughts sorted themselves.
'I am not her anymore'
When Leon calmed down, his body relaxed again and he lay on his back
'But when I'am not dead where am I?'
Curiosity eventually pushed past wonder.
Leon slowly sat up. The movement was smooth, easy. His body felt—light. Too light.
The world around him was vivid—grass swaying under a gentle breeze, wildflowers blooming nearby, a narrow stream sparkling under the sun. Trees framed the horizon, tall and quiet.
'Looks like a forest.'
He looked down at himself.
His hands were small. The sleeves of his shirt hung strangely loose. His legs, stretched out in the grass, were shorter than they should've been. Something was off.
'Wait… this isn't right.'
Leon stood up slowly, the grass brushing against his bare ankles. He turned toward the river he had seen shimmering nearby.
His legs wobbled, his center of gravity off. Every step felt strange, like trying to walking after the leg has fallen asleep.
'Why do I feel so… unstable?'
His pants dragged along the ground—way too long. One loose leg wrapped around his foot.
'Wait—'
Thud. Crack. Snap.
He tripped. Fell forward. The world spun. His knees slammed into the dirt, hands instinctively shooting out to catch himself—but too late.
"Ugh!"
Biting back the sting in his hands, he scrambled to his feet and stumbled toward the sound of water.
The river curved gently around a bend, clear and slow-moving. He dropped to his knees beside it, ignoring the pain.
And when he looked down—
He froze.
Reflected in the water was a child.
A young boy—maybe seven or eight years old. Black, messy hair. Pale skin. Blue eyes wide with shock. His face—soft, unfamiliar, too young.
"What the hell…?" The voice that came from his mouth was high-pitched, soft—not his.
"This... is me?" he whispered.
He reached up, touched his face. The reflection did the same.
A nervous laugh escaped him. "I'm really a kid..."
He leaned closer. Stared. Studied the bruises, the scratches, the confusion in those eyes.
He stumbled back from the water, siting on the soft grass. Looking at his hand —small, slender fingers, scratched.
"This… this isn't a dream," he muttered aloud. "It hurts too much."
"I think… I think I've been reincarnated!" he said, grinning like an idiot. "This is insane. This is actually insane!"
Leon looked down at himself, touched his arms, his chest. Everything was smaller. New. Worng. And yet, somehow… right.
'Did I… really die? And come back like this?'
He looked around at the endless green, the sparkling river, the peaceful forest beyond.
'If this really is another world… then maybe… just maybe…'
"…this could be kind of awesome."
I was excited.
Excited about the new world, the new possibilities.
What kind of world could it be? Magic and swords? A martial arts realm like those Murim stories? A modern fantasy setting? Or maybe something entirely original?
I'd read enough light novels, webtoons, and manga to know how these things usually go. Being reincarnated wasn't even that rare a genre anymore. If this was an Isekai… then I should at least test it properly.
I sat up straighter, placing my hands on my knees and raising my voice like an overconfident protagonist.
"Status window!" I called out.
Nothing.
"...Open status. Menu. Character info. Skill screen?"
Still nothing.
I sighed. Okay, maybe it's voice-activated in another language.
"ステータス!" I tried in Japanese.
Nope.
"Status Fenster?" I even tried in German, for fun.
Still nothing.
I waved my hand in front of my face dramatically.
No blue screen. No floating panels. Not even a beep.
"Huh..." I flopped back into the grass. "Guess it's not that kind of world."
I stared at the sky for a few seconds, then sat up again.
"Alright… next cliché."
I held out my hand, fingers stretched.
"Fireball!"
…Nothing.
"Wind Blade!"
…Still nothing.
I tried imagining mana flowing through me, like in all those cultivation novels.
I even whispered, "System, connect me to the gods of this world."
Not a peep.
I sighed again. Long and dramatic.
"No system, no magic, no godly guide… looks like I'm on my own."
As silly as it all felt, I'd honestly been hoping something would respond. A glowing interface. A booming voice. A hint of power inside me.
But reality stayed quiet.
Still… that didn't mean I was powerless.
I looked down at my scraped hands. At the torn, bloodied clothing. The dull ache in my knee.
Focus on what you can control.
I sat up straighter and began a mental checklist.
First: Take care of my wounds.
Second: Check what's in the backpack.
Third: Evaluate my surroundings.
Fourth: Find shelter.
Fifth: Look for food and water.
Sixth: Survive.
"One step at a time," I muttered.
...
Leon crouched by the riverbank, the cool breeze drying the sweat on his forehead.
His eyes stayed fixed on his hands—and the slow trickle of blood from his knee.
The scrapes stung.
"Okay. Nothing deep. But I need to clean this."
He dipped his hands into the stream. Pain shot through his palms as the cold water touched the raw skin.
"Ah—damn it…"
He watched as dirt and dried blood washed away, the water tinting pink around his fingers. Tiny bubbles clung to his cuts as he gently rubbed the grit from them.
Then he turned to his knee.
The fabric of his pants was torn and loose, far too big for his frame. He carefully rolled it up, revealing the shallow gash just below his kneecap. It was still bleeding—slowly, but steady.
"Clean and cover. You know the basics. You've seen it done a hundred times."
He tore a strip from the inner lining of his shirt using his teeth. The cloth was coarse, but clean. He dabbed the wound carefully, biting back a hiss. Then, pressing the makeshift bandage over the cut, he tied it in place.
Crude. But effective.
Thanks, Erik, he thought quietly. For forcing us through that first-aid class, even when we rolled our eyes.
When he was done, he leaned back, resting his hands in his lap, and exhaled slowly.
The bandage on his knee held. His hands still stung, but they weren't bleeding anymore. Leon stood up, brushing the dirt from his oversized pants, and looked around.
"Maybe ist because I am in a younger body, but even small cuts hurt."
He sighed, glanced at the sun—already dipping toward the treetops—and turned back toward the spot where he'd first woken up.
Time to take stock.
He retraced his steps to the grassy patch in the clearing and slipped the backpack from his shoulders. It looked oversized now, almost comically so. He crouched down and unzipped it carefully.
Item by item, he laid everything out on the grass:
- My lunchbox, still sealed, with the sandwich he'd prepared the night before—cheese, lettuce, and egg.
- Three muesli bars.
- A 0.5-liter water bottle, still half full.
- My laptop and charging cable.
Dead. Even though he'd charged it before leaving, it wouldn't turn on.
- My phone.
Also dead. No signal. No response.
- A small blue lighter.
- A few crumpled sheets of paper.
- A pencil case with pens, markers, a ruler—and scissors.
- A coding textbook from school: "Fundamentals of Modern Software Structures."
He stared at the items for a while in silence, running calculations in his head.
No power. No communication. No help.
Just him, some snacks, a book, and whatever this world had to offer.
The wind shifted, cooler now. The golden light turned orange at the edges.
Two hours left, maybe less, before sunset.
He repacked most of the items, keeping the lunchbox and water bottle within reach. Then he gathered some loose leaves and dry grass, found a comfortable spot under a tall tree, and settled in.
Not ideal. But safe enough.
"I'll sleep here tonight," he whispered, pulling his knees close.
No system. No powers. Just me. But I'll manage.
Leon tucked his legs under him as he sat beneath the tall tree. the last rays of sunlight slipping behind the forest canopy.
The clearing was quiet now. Peaceful. Almost too quiet.
He opened his lunchbox and stared at the slightly flattened sandwich he'd prepared the night before—for a day that no longer existed.
He ate in silence.
The taste was bland. Familiar. Comforting.
He drank the last of his water and pulled his backpack closer, using it as a makeshift pillow. Curling up under the tree, he wrapped his arms around himself.
The breeze had grown colder.
Despite his exhaustion, his body wouldn't relax. The grass was damp. The air foreign. The shadows unfamiliar. Every small sound made him twitch.
His mind, heavy from the weight of everything he had experienced, began to drift. The train. The silence afterward. The overwhelming nothingness.
He tried to hold on to the calm he had found earlier, but sleep came only in fragments—restless and light.
As the sky slowly darkened and the first stars began to flicker above the treetops, Leon closed his eyes.
(End of Chapter)