Crack!
Daniel's head bounced off the pavement. His vision flickered, blood soaking into the back of his shirt. He couldn't move his arms—too many breaks. Couldn't breathe properly—too many kicks to the ribs.
Boots stomped around him, laughter spilling like cigarette smoke. They weren't from his district. He knew that from the accents. From the jackets with NIFLEIM stitched across the back.
"You Valhalla mutts talk big until it's your bones on the line."
Another kick.
"Sirris Elite doesn't teach you how to scream right, huh?"
They were going to kill him. And they knew it. This was no beatdown. This was execution. He saw it in their eyes.
He was Daniel Valtier, born to the Valhalla district, the weakest heir of a rich family with a fading name. He made it to 24, clawing his way through betrayals and backstabs, manipulating his way up Sirris Academy's rotting ladder—
—and now, he was dying in an alley. Face down in his own blood. Alone.
"Is this all you were?" a voice said.
Not from the gang.
Not human.
"A tool thrown away? Trash in a nice suit?"
The world stopped.
The boots. The voices. The pain.
Everything paused.
Then came the gold.
A soft shimmer of light against the blood-soaked ground. A screen formed in front of him—sleek, metallic, humming like static.
[GOLD SYSTEM AVAILABLE]
[User: Daniel Valtier]
[Condition: Fatal]
[Rewind Access — Confirmed]
[You have one chance to rewrite your fate.]
Daniel could barely speak. But he grinned, teeth red with blood.
"Yes."
He woke up in a bed.
Not a hospital. His bed.
Same dark stone walls. Same reinforced windows with the magnetic locks. The Valtier family estate in Valhalla.
He sat up too fast and clutched his chest, expecting cracked ribs, blood clots, maybe a collapsed lung.
Nothing.
He stood.
Walked.
Looked in the mirror.
Seventeen. Flowing blonde hair almost gold
With bright gold eyes.
Seventeen years old. Still lean, not yet scarred. His jaw hadn't been broken yet. His knuckles were smooth. His eyes weren't bloodshot.
His heart was beating like a war drum—but not from fear.
He walked over to his closet and opened the drawer where he used to hide food from the staff.
Still empty.
[WELCOME TO THE GOLD SYSTEM]
[Your body has been reset. Your memories remain.]
[Growth: 0.00%]
[Beginning synchronization...]
A smirk crept up his face. They gave him a second shot. NIFLEIM killed him. This time, he was going to end them.
Sirris Elite Academy — Valhalla District
His black and gold uniform still fit loose around his shoulders. He remembered why—he used to hunch when he walked, eyes always down, voice barely above a whisper.
That Daniel was gone.
The hallways still stank of cheap cologne and privilege. Students grouped in packs—gangs, really—laughing too loud, acting untouchable because the district backed them.
He walked past a kid getting shoved into a locker. Didn't even blink. He'd been that kid.
[Combat Potential Detected: 3 Targets]
[Option to Engage: Y/N]
[Rewards: Strength, Fear Influence]
He pressed N with a thought. "Not yet."
Cafeteria.
He saw them. All three of them. His old crew.
They didn't know it yet, but each one would betray him by the time he hit 20.
One sold him out to NIFLEIM for cash.
Another tried to kill him.
The last one? Just watched it happen.
Daniel picked up his tray and sat at an empty table. Alone. But not weak. He wasn't here to make friends this time. He was here to build monsters. And aim them at the people who used to laugh when he bled.
Valhalla was at peace. But peace was just the waiting room before a war.
There were four districts—VALHALLA, ASGARD, NIFLEIM, NONIR—and behind their polished schools were battlegrounds, rooftops, and underground fight dens.
Daniel knew all the rules now. He didn't want fame. He wanted to be king.
He wanted to take every name that spit on his, every gang that tore him apart, every traitor that smiled while he died—
—and erase them. One by one. With gold.