Darkness. That was all Leon felt at first—a suffocating, endless void pressing against his soul. No warmth, no sound, no breath. Only silence that gnawed at him, dragging his mind back to the memories he longed to escape: his father's lifeless eyes, his mother's severed head, the cold steel piercing his chest. Each image flared in the abyss, tormenting him, as if the void itself mocked his helplessness.
Yet amidst that torment, a whisper stirred. It wasn't his own thought—it was something vast, ancient, and unfathomable, curling through the darkness like smoke. "So… you wish for another chance? To return, to rise?" The voice rumbled inside him, heavy and commanding, as though the void itself had spoken back.
Leon drifted in the midst of eternal darkness when a voice—ancient and boundless—resounded within his very consciousness. Though his eyes refused to open and his lips could not form a sound, he felt it completely. The weight of it pressed upon him like the heavens themselves had spoken, vast and overwhelming, a dominance so absolute that even gods would bow before it.
Leon was stunned, his soul trembling. Shock and bewilderment churned within him, but he no longer had the luxury of expression—his body was already gone. All that remained was his fading soul, flickering like a dying ember.
After a long, suffocating silence, he forced the question out, his voice trembling within his own consciousness.
"W-who… who are you? Who speaks inside my mind?"
The answer came, vast and thunderous, reverberating through the void.
"Me? I am but a fleeting soul—ancient, forgotten—wandering this oblivion for thousands of years. And you, little one… you have stirred my boredom. I seek amusement."
Leon was too shocked to speak again. His thoughts spiraled—was this hell? Had he finally been cast into the abyss to suffer for the sins of his wasted life? It made sense. He had lived selfishly, squandered every blessing, committed countless mistakes. Perhaps this voice was no more than the judge of his damnation.
Yet the presence speaking to him did not sound like judgment. It was too vast, too ancient. Each word carried a weight that pressed upon his soul like chains of iron.
"Say, little one," the voice resounded, its tone heavy and commanding, "do you regret the choices you made in this life?"
The question pierced deeper than any blade. Leon felt the darkness of his thoughts scatter, and the answer tore from him before hesitation could even take root.
"I do… very much so."
A silence followed, cold and suffocating. Then the voice returned, smoother this time, yet edged with curiosity.
"Is that so? Then tell me… what would you do, if you were given another chance to correct those mistakes?"
Leon's chest—though no longer flesh—tightened. His soul quivered. The words rose from him like a vow.
"I would make every second of my life meaningful. I would never waste what was given to me. And for those I lost because of my weakness—for my father, my mother, and the ones who trusted me—I would become worthy of their love and expectations."
His voice cracked, filled with grief. "But… it is too late now. The dead cannot walk back into the living. The only atonement left for me… is to burn in hell for eternity."
His words fell into the abyss, and for a moment there was nothing but silence, as if the void itself was listening.
"Hoho…" The ancient voice rumbled with an amused laugh, echoing through the endless void. It was not kind, nor cruel—only vast, excited, and unbearably dominant.
"Then I shall grant you an opportunity, little one. Show me what you will do with this chance to relive your life. Your previous one was short, pitiful… but this time, make it yours. Long, meaningful, and worthwhile. Prove to me my decision is not a mistake."
Another low laugh rolled across the abyss, shaking Leon's fading soul.
"Hoho…"
Leon's essence quivered, terror and disbelief colliding within him. But before thought could take shape, his consciousness began to splinter. A pain beyond words seized him, as though his very soul was being wrung dry, twisted, and torn apart. His being compressed like a sponge crushed in a merciless grip, then twisted and shredded again and again.
The agony ripped from him a scream unlike any human sound—raw, primal, the howl of a soul breaking apart.
"HRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGHHHHHHH!"
"HRRRAAAAAAAGHHHHHHH!"
"HRRRAAAAGHHHHHHH!"
"HRRAAGHHHHH!"
"HAAAH!"
"HAH—!"
His cries grew shorter, thinner, fading into the suffocating dark… until at last, silence devoured everything.
And then—only nothingness remained.
.....
"HRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGHHHHHHH!"
"HRRRAAAAAAAGHHHHHHH!"
"HRRRAAAAGHHHHHHH!"
"HRRAAGHHHHH!"
"HAAAH!"
"HAH—!"
Leon jolted upright, his scream tearing through the silence of the night. His chest heaved as if it had been crushed a thousand times, sweat streaming down his body in rivers. For a heartbeat, he expected the agony to continue—that unbearable torment of his soul being wrung and shredded.
But it was gone.
The pain that had consumed him, the darkness that had drowned him, all of it had vanished as if it had never been. What remained was the solid, undeniable feel of a bed beneath his body. The rough linen sheets pressed against his skin, warm and familiar.
Leon froze. His hands trembled as he gripped the bedding, his wide eyes darting around the dimly lit room. He could see the wooden beams above, the faint moonlight slipping through the shutters, the little cracks in the old walls.
This… this was his room.
His throat tightened, words barely escaping his lips.
"…I… I'm alive?"
Leon's eyes darted down to his body. His hands—whole. His legs—intact. His chest bore no wound, no blade, no blood. He touched his arms, his face, pressed against his ribs. Everything was there. No pain. No tearing. No darkness crushing his soul.
Instead, what filled his vision was a room—his room. The one he had lived in since childhood. His wooden study desk sat in the corner, cluttered with half-used papers. The old almira leaned crooked, still refusing to shut properly.
The window creaked in the night breeze. Moonlight spilled through, brushing the curtains aside and painting silver patterns across the floorboards. The familiar sight was so ordinary… yet suddenly beautiful, as if he had never seen it before.
Leon's throat tightened. "Wasn't… wasn't I dead? What the hell is going on?" His thoughts spun, clashing between fear and disbelief. Then it struck him—the memory of that voice, that presence in the void.
His lips parted, trembling but rising into desperate excitement. "Wait… is this real? Is this the opportunity that voice was talking about? Am I… alive again?" His voice cracked, almost breaking into laughter and tears at once.
"Very much so." The reply thundered in his mind, smooth and heavy. Each word pressed against him like a decree of heaven. Leon froze, his breath sharp and uneven, his heart hammering in his chest.
"W-who… who's speaking to me?" His voice shook. "Who are you?"
"It is me, little one." The ancient voice resonated, commanding yet faintly amused. Its weight sank into Leon's soul until he felt as if even his thoughts could shatter under it.
Leon shivered. "You… you're the voice from that hellish darkness… Wait—was it you? Did you do this? Did you bring me back?" His tone cracked, tangled between fear and gratitude.
"Yes." One word. Calm. Absolute. Final.
Leon's heart pounded. "Why? Why would you help me like this—grant me my life again? There must be a reason." His voice strained, desperate for an answer that made sense.
The voice responded without hesitation, cold yet casual. "For amusement."
The word rolled through his mind, simple and terrifying, leaving Leon's soul trembling in silence.
"I have given you reincarnation—returned you to your past self. You now stand as a fifteen-year-old youth once more."
The voice thundered with authority, yet beneath its weight was a flicker of excitement. "I want to witness your exploits in this second life… to see the power you will seize, the heights you will ascend. Become someone worthy of this chance—no, become invincible."
The air seemed to tremble as the voice grew sharper, heavier. "And know this—I will not merely watch. I shall guide you, step by step, until the very end."
A low laugh rippled through the void, both amused and commanding. "Hoho… and since you will need a name to curse or to praise, you may call me Azhar."
Leon's eyes widened in shock at Azhar's words. For a long moment, he could only stare into the empty air, trembling. Then, slowly, his expression shifted. Gratitude welled in his chest, tears streaking down his cheeks as he lowered his head.
"Azhar… I'll be forever indebted to you. You have my word—I will not disappoint you." His voice cracked, but it carried the weight of a vow.
A low, rumbling laugh echoed in his mind, followed by Azhar's voice, sharp and merciless.
"Do not get too excited, boy. Remember this—if you repeat the same mistakes, you and I will burn in hell together. You, for disappointing me… and I, for giving you the chance."
Leon swallowed hard, his throat dry. "You need not worry," he said firmly, forcing down the tremor in his voice. "I won't disappoint you."
With that, he pushed himself from the bed. His legs trembled but held steady. Step by step, he walked across the moonlit floor toward the tall mirror in the corner of his room.
Leon stopped before the tall mirror, his breath caught in his throat.
A stranger stared back at him—or rather, the boy he once was.
He stood just under six feet, around five-foot-nine, maybe ten. His frame was lean, almost skinny, the body of a fifteen-year-old who had lived in laziness rather than effort. There was no muscle, no strength in those narrow shoulders. Only weakness.
Yet his face… his face was striking. Black hair framed sharp features, his jawline clean and youthful. A straight nose and well-shaped lips blended perfectly with his deep, obsidian eyes—eyes that once had been dull but now burned with something new. For the first time, he looked at himself and truly saw the potential he had squandered.
Leon reached out, his fingertips brushing against the mirror. His reflection trembled with the candlelight, and his heart thudded with a mix of awe and resolve.
"This life," he whispered, his voice steady despite the tremor in his chest, "I will not waste. I will temper this body, forge it in hardship, and train until it can no longer fail. I will make this chance worth every breath."
The boy in the mirror looked back at him—no longer just a lazy youth, but a soul reborn, ready to carve his rise into eternity.
"And I will become strong enough to crush anyone who dares harm my parents—or any of my loved ones. No matter who they are, no matter what power they wield… I will tear them apart."