The world vanished in a blinding flash of light, replaced by an ethereal silence. David, a man in his early thirties, found himself adrift in a sea of nothingness. His last memory was the splintering of wood, the metallic shriek of a crane cable snapping, and the sickening lurch of the earth beneath his feet as a half-built skyscraper collapsed in a cacophony of twisted steel and shattered glass. He had been a construction worker, a simple man who built monuments to progress with his hands, and now he was… gone.
As a profound, disorienting peace settled over him, he saw them. Flashes of other worlds, like glimpses through a cosmic windowpane. He saw a planet of gleaming chrome and soaring spires, where technology reigned supreme. He saw worlds of strange, swirling energies, where people cultivated their power and reached for the heavens. He saw a world of colossal beasts and rugged hunters, a world where survival was a daily battle. His soul, a flickering candle in the cosmic void, was drawn towards one particularly vibrant reality. He felt a pull, a magnetic force that tugged at his very essence, and in a heartbeat, he was hurtling towards it.
The world that enveloped him was a symphony of magic and wonder. Ancient kingdoms rose from the earth like gnarled oaks, their stone walls adorned with glittering runes. Great heroes and powerful mages soared through the skies, their auras a testament to their strength. This was the world of Illusion, a world where the extraordinary was the norm.
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David's consciousness reawakened not to the dull ache of a laborer's back, but to the soft rustle of silk sheets and the faint scent of lavender. He was no longer a man in his thirties, but a newborn infant, swaddled in blankets of the finest weave. He had been reborn, a second chance in a world he could have only dreamed of. His new parents were Lord Joseph William, a Duke and a Transformation Five Knight, and Lady Maria Windles, a princess of the royal family and a Transformation Six Mage. He was now David William, heir to one of the five Great Aristocratic Houses of the Windless Kingdom.
His early years were a whirlwind of expectations. From the age of five to seven, his father, a man of iron will and unwavering discipline, took on the task of molding him into a hero. He taught David the art of the blade, the thunderous charge of a knight, and the unyielding defense of a shield. But something was wrong. David's movements were clumsy, his reflexes slow, and his body seemed to resist the very essence of combat. He failed every single test, every single spar, a perpetual disappointment in his father's eyes.
Then came his mother's turn. A woman of gentle grace but formidable power, Maria spent two years, from David's eighth to his tenth birthday, attempting to awaken his magical potential. She taught him to channel mana, to weave spells from the very fabric of the world, and to cast powerful runes. But again, David failed. His mana core, a swirling vortex of energy in every elite, remained dormant. The runes he tried to draw fizzled into dust, and the most basic spells refused to manifest.
The whispers began then, a soft, venomous hum that grew louder with each passing year. The future Duke, a scion of two of the most powerful families in the kingdom, was a dud. A failure. The laughingstock of the Windless Kingdom.
Concern etched itself onto his parents' faces. They couldn't give up. Perhaps his talents lay elsewhere. At age ten, they sent him to the prestigious Pill Guild to be trained as a Pill Master, a rare and revered profession. For two years, he was surrounded by bubbling cauldrons and rare herbs, the air thick with the aroma of alchemical concoctions. He studied formulas, learned the delicate art of refining elixirs, and watched as his peers created potent healing remedies. But David couldn't even manage a basic health potion. His hands were clumsy, and his attempts always resulted in a burnt, useless sludge. The Guild's Masters, with a shake of their heads, sent him back home.
At age twelve, his parents, their hope now a thin, fragile thread, sent him to the Fortress Hall, a place where the kingdom's greatest tacticians and defensive masters gathered. Perhaps he was a born Fortress Master, a genius in the art of defensive formations and strategic planning. David studied ancient blueprints, learned to manipulate stone and earth, and practiced building impenetrable barriers. Yet again, he failed. His formations crumbled, his mental fortitude proved too weak, and by the time he was thirteen, he was back at the William estate, a fresh failure on his record.
The whispers had become a roar. The laughter was no longer contained. He was no longer just a failure; he was the "Scourge of the House of William" and the "Disgrace of the Windless Kingdom." His parents, exhausted and out of options, finally gave up on the idea of him becoming an elite. Their last hope was that he could at least become a happy, ordinary man. Or, failing that, they could send him to the military barracks, where even the most talentless could find a place. The rank of a soldier was far beneath that of a Knight, Mage, Fortress Master, or Pill Master, but a soldier could become a general and rise to a status nearly equal to the elites. It was a humiliating thought for a ducal family, but it was all they had left.
All the while, David endured. The sneers of his peers, the pity in his parents' eyes, the cruel jokes whispered behind his back. He had escaped poverty and destitution in his first life, only to be reborn into a world of immense privilege where he was deemed useless. His new existence, so full of promise at first, felt like a cruel joke. He was a rich man in a world of magic, a lord who couldn't even swing a sword, a prince who couldn't cast a simple spell. The pain was more profound than any physical injury he had ever suffered. He felt a deep, burning resentment. Why? Why was he cursed to fail in two lives?
He secluded himself in the family library, a massive hall filled with tomes of ancient knowledge, forgotten spells, and complex alchemical formulas. He wasn't looking for a quick fix or a forgotten trick. He was looking for something else entirely. He began to experiment, mixing principles of knighthood with the intricate patterns of magic, combining the defensive strategies of Fortress Masters with the subtle art of Pill Masters. He was not just trying to find a path; he was trying to forge a new one. A path that would fit his unique, seemingly useless, talents.
On the eve of his fifteenth birthday, something shifted. A spark, a tiny flicker of energy, ignited within him. It was a moment of profound revelation. The path wasn't about choosing one discipline; it was about embracing them all. His failures weren't failures at all; they were the building blocks of a new, powerful foundation. He could be a Knight, a Mage, a Fortress Master, and a Pill Master. He could be everything at once. He named his new path the "Omnitalent" path. The feeling was exhilarating. He was no longer a useless aristocrat; he was a pioneer, an innovator. He finally felt a sense of purpose and a glimmer of satisfaction with his new life.
The next day, as he stood on the balcony overlooking the bustling courtyard of the William estate, the party for his fifteenth birthday in full swing, the taunts began again. His friends, or rather, his rivals, mocked him openly.
"Look, the great David William! I wonder if he'll finally get a talent this year, or if he'll have to settle for being a foot soldier!" one young noble sneered, a chorus of laughter following his words.
David's parents, sensing the familiar humiliation, tried to calm him, urging him to ignore the barbs. But for the first time in years, David felt no fear, no shame. Only a cold, burning rage. He looked at the sneering faces of the youths he had grown up with and felt a single, powerful desire: to shut them up for good. He strode to the center of the courtyard, his new power humming beneath his skin, and issued a challenge.
"All of you. A duel. All at once," he announced, his voice surprisingly calm and cold. "Let's see what a 'disgrace' can do."
His parents were horrified, his rivals scoffed. Who was this lunatic? A duel against all of them? He was a joke. But the challenge had been made, and the rules of the aristocracy dictated it had to be accepted. The duels began, one after another, and with each passing minute, the smiles on the young nobles' faces faded. Their sneers turned to stunned silence, and then to gasps of disbelief.
David was a Knight, a Mage, a Fortress Master, and a Pill Master, all at once. The sword in his hand hummed with aether, his free hand wove complex spell runes, a shield of hardened earth rose to block a blow, and a subtle miasma of poisonous energy from his pill master's knowledge seeped from his skin. The path he had forged was real, and it was a reality none of them could comprehend. He had become a Transformation One Elite.
The crowd erupted in a clamor of disbelief. The "legendary Multitalent path," a path long thought lost to history, had been rediscovered. And it had been discovered by the very boy they had called a trash and a disgrace.
Though he ultimately lost to his opponents due to their higher cultivation levels, the message was sent. He wasn't garbage. He was a genius. He had defied the gods and the limitations of his world, not by finding a path, but by creating his own. The silence that fell over his birthday party was a victory sweeter than any win. The public humiliation had ended, at least for now.