Fang Zhen—now William—was utterly disoriented. His mouth hung slightly open, dry and slack, as a flood of new realities washed over him all at once. The frailness of his body, the odd sensation of alien muscles under his skin, the jarring weight of foreign memories, and the pulsating lights before his eyes—all of it struck him like a thunderclap.
'What are these cursed lights?'
[Ding!]
[Memory Linking Initiated…]
A high-pitched chime echoed within his ears as the lights surged brighter. Then, it hit him—a searing headache that split through his skull like an axe. He gritted his teeth, clutching his head in agony as his knees buckled slightly. Staggering backwards a few feet, he struggled to keep upright, groaning beneath the pain.
Flashes of unfamiliar scenes blinked before his mind's eye: a sprawling estate of silver stone, a training ground littered with broken dummies, the cold glare of nobles in silk robes, the withering eyes of a bitter father. These weren't his memories. And yet… they felt oddly familiar.
His breath steadied. The pain dulled. Slowly, the fog in his mind began to clear. He released his head from his grip and blinked at the now-fading holographic panel. Something inside him had changed. Understanding began to bloom.
He turned his head toward the left—finally noticing the source of a voice that had been yelling incessantly in the background.
A portly man with a ruddy face and beady eyes stood there, red with fury. The very same man he had flung a bucket at moments ago.
'If memory serves, this loudmouthed pest is my uncle… A degenerate through and through, with no strength in him, only loud, flapping lips.'
William stood upright, his posture straightening as his body adjusted to its new identity. He locked eyes with the blustering man, giving him his full, undivided attention.
"How dare you hit me back!" the man shrieked, spittle flying. "You'll pay dearly for this, boy. My son will crush you in the Trial of Heirs!" With an indignant huff, the man spun on his heel and stormed out of the room, slamming the heavy oak door behind him with a thunderous bang.
It was sudden and dramatic—but William wasn't fazed.
'So that's how you always were, huh?'
A moment of stillness lingered before a creeping thought wormed its way into his mind.
'Wait… Am I actually becoming comfortable with memories that aren't mine?'
That was… unsettling. He shook his head and began to pace the room, arms crossed behind his back, one hand rising occasionally to rub his chin.
'First things first—I need to understand where I am and how I got here. What exactly is the deal with this place?'
[Welcome to Another World. I'm William… I mean, the original William.]
The glowing panel returned again—obnoxiously persistent. Reflexively, William threw a punch at it, lips curling in frustration.
His fist went straight through.
He stared at his hand, bewildered.
"Another act of mediocre sorcery!"
[It's not sorcery… I think.]
Another message popped up instantly.
[But I summoned you here! Through your desire to live… and my desire to die.]
A pause. William raised an eyebrow, walking cautiously toward the center of the room.
"So, you're the original owner of this body? I have access to your memories, and I must say—it's not exactly something to boast about." He sighed, before collapsing face-first onto the single bed in the room.
From the fractured recollections, he could piece together a dismal portrait of this body's past life: the third son of the Alaric main family, utterly powerless, mocked by servants, shunned by family, and pitied—or worse, ignored—by everyone else. No cultivation potential. No talent. No discipline. No future.
'Wow. You give a whole new definition to failure.'
Another chime sounded, drawing his attention upward once more.
[That's why I summoned you… I needed someone with the same will to survive—someone with the strength to do what I could never do.]
William sat up and narrowed his eyes.
"Can you actually talk? I'm a fighter, not some scholar ready to read essays for the rest of eternity."
A brief cough sounded from nowhere, then came a voice—calm, masculine, and slightly sheepish.
[Oh. Sorry, if that's what you prefer.]
[My goal… is to become the strongest in this world.]
Those words hung in the air.
William smiled, slowly, darkly.
'Just like me. This failure wants to rise to the top… It's almost nostalgic.'
He stood up and began to pace again, mind alight with the possibilities and contradictions.
"How do you hope to do that with me?" he asked. "What makes you think I won't use this second life to become a cheerful farmer? I mean, I've always been curious how bread is planted and harvested," he added with a smirk.
The voice chuckled.
[Because this time, unlike in your first life… you have me. I carry knowledge, experience—and most importantly, the one thing that will help you survive in this cruel world.]
[The Arcane System.]
William stopped in his tracks.
'System? What does that even mean…?'
Before he could think further, a fresh notification slid into view—this one larger and far more detailed than the rest.
{Name: William Alaric}
{Title: Indefinite}
{Abilities: None Registered}
{Physique: 1}
{Discipline: None}
His eyes narrowed as he read over the crude stats. Pathetic as they were, it gave him something he'd never had before—a baseline. Something measurable. Something he could change.
[What do you think?]
He smirked.
"This is amazing. Crude, but amazing. What else can it do?"
{System has awarded you an Ancestral Reputation.}
{Title: Rebirth of the Fallen Deity}
{Weakness: Dormant}
William's eyebrows lifted slightly.
'Dormant? What does that mean?'
A weakness—already? That didn't bode well. Yet, no information was available. He sighed and pushed it to the back of his mind.
Instead, his gaze lingered on the title: Rebirth of the Fallen Deity. Now that had weight.
Another prompt appeared before him.
{Quest Acquired}
"What's this?" he muttered, reaching out a finger to tap the floating box. At his touch, the screen expanded, displaying a basic list.
[It's a list of tasks to help you grow stronger. Think of it like… a game.]
'A game?' That word stirred no memories for him. Where he came from, life was simple: either cultivate to survive or be trampled beneath the feet of those who did. Games were luxuries for those with safety.
Still, he read on.
{Quest: Beginner Physical Reinforcement}
100 push-ups
100 squats
100 sit-ups
100 inclined push-ups
Reward: +1 Physique
He let out a dry chuckle.
"This would've been a breeze in my old body. But this frail artwork I've inherited?" He rolled his shoulders and stretched his arms. "This is going to be hell."
Yet his eyes gleamed with something dangerous—determination.
"So this is what a second chance at life feels like…" he whispered, rising to his feet and clenching his fists tight.
"This time—I'll succeed. No hesitation, no regrets. I will become the strongest… without fail."