"Give out boss some respect you unworthy soul!" One of them said. The anger that had been simmering inside him erupted, but his drunken state made him a helpless target. He fell to the ground, a whimper escaping his lips as his ribs screamed in protest. The laughter of the three men filled his ears as they walked away, leaving him to bleed on the cold, grimy pavement.
Wales walked up to him and crouched near him, Xavier stretching out his hand for help, but he instead received a tight slap from him, "I've always got eyes on her and she's not meant for you, you don't deserve her can't you see that, think about your state now, you're the worst person for a girl to end up with, so don't give me those puerile talks about her breaking up with you, you aren't worth her time," he stood up and continued, "just one final kick," he kicked his stomach hard with Xavier coughing out blood and Wales left, walking valiantly to his black car that has it door widely opened, he entered the car giving one last look to Xav who was on the floor, smirking and leaving him.
With all his strength, Xavier pushed himself up, his body aching and bruised. He stumbled out of the alley, his mind a jumble of pain and fury. He walked into the middle of the road, the world around him a blur of flashing lights and loud noises. A blaring horn cut through the night, but it was too late. A blinding light engulfed him, and then there was nothing.
His life flashed before his eyes—a rapid-fire montage of the life he had lived. He saw his childhood, the shy boy who loved to read about detective stories and had the passion on wanting to investigate a crime. He saw his first day of high school, the awkward teenager with braces. He saw the day he met her, their first kiss, their last fight. He saw it all, a beautiful, tragic, and heartbreaking collection of memories.
Then, just as suddenly as it had begun, it stopped. The screen of his life went blank.
A voice, calm and clear, echoed in his mind. It didn't belong to a person; it was a pure, digital hum. "Welcome, Detective. You have just been given a second chance. You have a new purpose, a new mission, a new life." Xavier wanted to speak, but he couldn't since he was dead and the system activation was just like the last flash of his life. His body was gone, his life was over, but he was still here, suspended in a void.
"You have acquired your first set of skills," the system voice continued. "You are a detective now, Miles Corbane."
____________
The blankness was replaced by a gentle, pulsing light that seemed to breathe with a rhythm of its own. Miles's consciousness, once a fractured mess of pain and regret, felt as though it were being meticulously stitched back together. The system's voice returned, no longer an echo, but a direct command that bypassed his ears and resonated in the very core of his being.
"You were a man of raw, untamed emotion, Miles Corbane. Your grief, your anger, led you to self-destruction. In another era, your story would have ended on that cold, rain-slicked street. But in this one, a new chapter begins."
A torrent of data surged into his mind, an overwhelming rush of knowledge that made his head feel as though it would split open. He saw glowing schematics of his brain, new pathways lighting up like a city grid. It was the system, explaining everything.
"The Detective System is a symbiotic entity. It has chosen you to be its host. Your purpose is to solve mysteries, to bring light to the shadows, and to restore balance to a world on the precipice of chaos. To aid you, you have been granted new abilities."
Miles felt a tangible shift in his mind, a blossoming of new senses. A glowing blue screen appeared in his thoughts, its text crisp and clear.
[Skills Acquired]
* Deduction (Level 1): You can now see the invisible threads of a mystery. When you encounter a puzzle, your mind will automatically connect disparate facts and clues, revealing a clear, logical conclusion. It feels like a complex equation solving itself in your head.
* Observation (Level 1): Your senses have been heightened to an unnatural degree. You can perceive the subtle details others would miss—the faint smudge of a fingerprint, the tiny tremor in a person's hand that reveals a lie, the hidden motives behind a single glance. It feels like the world is suddenly in high definition.
* Intuition (Level 1): A deep, resonant gut feeling. Your instincts will guide you when logic fails, pointing you in the right direction even when you don't know why. It is a quiet voice in the back of your mind, a sixth sense that nudges you toward the truth.
[These are your fundamental tools, Detective. They will grow stronger as you solve cases and prove your worth. Now, it is time for you to begin.]
The light intensified, and Miles felt a sickening lurch, a sensation of being stretched and then compacted, as if pulled through a wormhole made of pure energy. He gasped, his eyes snapping open. He was on the ground, in a forest, the air crisp and cold, biting at his exposed skin. He looked down at himself and saw that he was wearing thin, cold clothes, completely unsuited for the chilly environment.
He sat up, his heart pounding a frantic rhythm against his ribs. "I'm... I'm alive?" he whispered, his voice a disbelieving croak. He looked at his hands, turning them over and over. They were clean, unblemished, without a single scar or bruise. He ran a hand over his face, his chest. The excruciating pain from the beating was gone. He was whole. He was alive.
A wave of pure, unadulterated euphoria washed over him. He was a second-chance man. He had died, and now he was alive! A laugh, rich with joy and disbelief, bubbled up from deep in his chest. He sprang to his feet, a gust of cool, crisp air hitting his face. "I'm alive!" he shouted to the world, a world that was completely new to him.
He pushed through the undergrowth, toward a faint sound in the distance. He reached the edge of the woods and peered out, his jaw dropping in utter shock. A wide, dirt road stretched out before him, and on it, a bizarre sight. Horse-drawn carriages rolled alongside sleek, old-fashioned cars, their black bodies gleaming in the sunlight. People in a mix of Victorian-era coats and flapper dresses walked on the sidewalks. It was a complete anachronism, a collision of two separate worlds.
His laughter died in his throat as a cold memory surfaced. The system's voice, a chilling echo in his mind: "You are a detective now,"
"No," he muttered to himself, the euphoria draining away, replaced by a cold dread. "That was a dream. A weird, messed-up dream."
"It was no dream, Miles Corbane."
"Miles Corbane? I'm no Miles Corbane, I'm Xavier Carter." He argued but the system responded.
"Xavier Carter is dead, you've reincarnated into the body of Miles Corbane." It explained
"What about the old Miles Corbane?" His asked in curiosity as his eyes hovered around his new world.
"It's now in your place as the dead Miles Corbane." It replied, it systematic voice resonating in his head.
His body locked up as he noticed he was talking to no one but it was answering him and he was hearing it. The voice was in the forest with him, but it didn't come from any discernible source. Then he asked.
"What...what are you?" Miles stammered, still searching with his eyes where the system was.
"I am the system," it replied, its voice a synthesized hum that vibrated through his bones. "And I am in your head."
"What the hell!? Is this a joke? I'm I going crazy?!" Something appeared in his mind which he could see but not physically all were in his mind.
A glowing quest log materialized in his mind which he could clearly seen but he was smart enough to know it wasn't physical, "this is real!"