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gangster gets reincarnated into fantasy world

Worldcryy
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Synopsis
Braken was a broke, hungry 16-year-old rapper — surviving off scraps, ducking gunfire, and dreaming of a better life. One wrong step, and he caught a hundred bullets in the chest. But death wasn’t the end. He wakes up in a new world… as a baby. No electricity. No cities. Just mana, monsters, swords, and a wooden cabin in the slums. Raised by an old woman who teaches him magic instead of math, Braken never forgets where he came from — or what he died chasing. Now 12, he’s built his first gun in a world where guns don’t exist. He’s enrolling in a magical academy full of nobles who look down on kids from the gutters. But Braken? He don’t bend. He talks slick, hits hard, and moves like a street ninja. From inventing mana-powered Dracos, to dodging nobles, peeking in bathhouses, and building underground fight clubs — Braken’s here to eat, win, and live like the king he never got to be.
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Chapter 1 - CHAPTER 1: “These Streets Don’t Love Nobody”

I roam these streets in Memphis every day. Ain't nothin' new.

Same blocks. Same sirens. Same broke dreams.

I'm sixteen. I rap sometimes. It helps me think. But truth is…

I'm just another hungry kid tryna find a way out.

My stomach growlin'. Ain't ate since yesterday.

I head to the corner gas station, pockets light, but I know the cashier don't trip if I grab a bag of chips and a Faygo.

Grabbed my usual. Walked out.

Then I saw the headlights.

Then the heat.

Then—

POP POP POP POP POP POP POP POP—

A hundred rounds lit me up like Fourth of July.

I ain't even scream.

Didn't need to. I knew this was it.

"Fuck these bitches… Shoulda known this was comin'."

"Death was never far. This the life. Live by the gun, die by it."

Last thing I felt was the concrete kissin' my back, warm blood leakin' into it like tears.

Then—light.

Not heaven. Not hell.

Something else.

I woke up in a wooden crib.

Real wood. Like… no screws. No metal. No light bulbs. Just candles.

The air smelled like firewood and old books.

Then I saw her.

This old lady leans over me with these kind eyes and a soft smile.

"I'm your grandma," she says.

"I know you don't understand me yet, but hey, my boy. Your parents abandoned you. I'll raise you myself.

The smile's warm. Like, real warm.

But my heart's ice.

"What the fuck? What the actual fuck?"

"Hold on… this… this reincarnation shit real?"

He don't even understand the language yet

Three Years Later

I'm walkin' now.

Talkin'. Thinkin'.

Still stuck in this toddler body, but my mind? Still Memphis. Still Braken.

Grandma teaching me about this thing called mana. Says it flows through the trees, the wind, the blood.

Magic, basically.

"Mana is life," she says. "Every being in this world is touched by it. You'll need it to survive."

I look out the cabin window.

Big mountains. Forests. Dragons in the sky sometimes.

And me?

All I can think is:

"I wonder if I could make a Draco that fires mana bullets."

Yeah. I'm still me.

Age 5

I walk better now. I think sharper. I learn faster than the village kids.

One day, I turn to Grandma, my tiny hands behind my back, and I ask:

"Granny… can mana kill gods?"

She looks at me.

Not shocked.

Just quiet.

Then she says:

"If your will's strong enough… maybe."