Darkness.
That was the first thing he remembered—absolute, all-consuming darkness. No pain. No fear. Just silence. Then, a voice, calm and powerful, echoed through the void.
"You died. But your story is not over."
His eyes—if he even had any in this form—widened. "Who... are you?"
"I am what you might call a god," the voice replied, neither male nor female. "And you are special. I have chosen you for a second chance… in another world."
A rush of memories came back: loneliness, betrayal, death. "Why me?"
"Because I see potential. And because I am bored," the god said with a chuckle. "You may choose two gifts before you are reborn. Choose wisely."
The void shimmered, and two glowing spheres floated before him.
"The first," the god said, "is the Essence of Blank. A soul empty of limits. You can learn and become anything. Boundaries mean nothing."
The orb pulsed with silver light, endless and ever-shifting.
"The second," the god intoned, "is the Essence of the Mad Scientist. A mind unchained, driven by curiosity and innovation. Logic-defying intellect. Obsession made genius."
It burned crimson and violet, erratic with sparks of chaotic energy.
He didn't hesitate.
"I choose both."
"So be it," the god whispered. "But be warned. Power without purpose is a path to ruin."
A white light surged forward, wrapping around him like a cocoon. He screamed—not from pain, but from the sheer overwhelming flood of knowledge, potential, and madness tearing through his soul.
Then—light.
He opened his eyes to a forest. Birds chirped. Leaves rustled. Sunlight streamed down.
He was alive.
His hand twitched. Skin—warm and real. He sat up, breathing hard, heart pounding.
Clothes covered his lean form—dark, strange, and stylish. A high-collared jacket with violet lining and sleek gloves. His reflection in a pond showed dark purple hair and bright, violet eyes glowing faintly, flickering like a storm was hiding behind them.
The world felt... different. Information flooded his brain. Every scent, sound, and particle in the air made sense. He understood how they worked—down to their molecular composition. His mind raced with ideas for inventions, spells, and constructs no one had ever dreamed of.
And deep in his soul, something else stirred.
Adapt. Become. Break the rules. Rebuild the system.
He laughed—a little too loud. "So this is what insanity feels like…"
He clenched his fist, and raw energy crackled around it. Not magic—something more primal. Something beyond.
Then came a sound. A voice. Distant.
"Oi! Are you okay?!"
He turned, eyes narrowing as a red-haired girl in armor approached, sword on her back. She was beautiful—and dangerous.
"Who are you?" she asked, watching him closely.
He smirked. "I don't know yet."