The Coming Storm
The morning sun filtered through the window, casting a warm glow across the room.
For a moment, as consciousness slowly returned, he felt a disorienting sense of peace. The vague, lingering stress of project deadlines and corporate meetings felt distant, like a dream half-forgotten.
Then he opened his eyes.
The unfamiliar ceiling, the books on mana theory, the faint scent of wood and polish—it all came rushing back. This wasn't his apartment. This wasn't his life.
The memories of the previous night were sharp and clear. He was Cole Harris now. A seventeen-year-old boy in a world governed by magic.
He sat up, the thin blanket pooling around his waist. His new body felt... strange. It was younger, lighter, but also weaker. A persistent, low-level fatigue lingered in his limbs—the aftereffect of the original Cole's mana burnout. It was a tangible reminder of the boy whose life he had inadvertently stolen.
A quiet sense of responsibility settled in his gut. He couldn't undo what had happened, but he could honor the boy's hard work. He could live this second chance to its fullest.
He got dressed, relying on the ingrained muscle memory of Cole's routine. The clothes were simple, practical. A plain shirt, durable trousers. He made his way downstairs.
The familiar sounds of a family morning filled the house. In the kitchen, Laura Harris stood at the stove, her movements economical and precise as she prepared breakfast. She wasn't just cooking; she was practicing a form of control, her mana subtly regulating the heat of the pan. The scent of sizzling bacon and eggs filled the air.
At the dining table, Leo was meticulously cleaning his practice sword with an enchanted cloth, his brow furrowed in concentration. Across from him, Mia was already on her terminal, scrolling through what looked like student council budgets with one hand while effortlessly eating a piece of toast with the other.
It was a scene of domestic tranquility that felt both deeply intimate and completely alien.
"Morning," Laura said without turning around. "Feeling better?"
"Much better, Mom," he replied. The word felt less foreign this time. He took his usual seat, the motion feeling more natural than it had yesterday.
Mia looked up from her terminal, her sharp eyes giving him a quick scan. "You still look a little tired. Don't push yourself so hard today."
"I won't," he lied smoothly. In truth, his mind was already racing, formulating plans. He was a project manager. His entire career had been about taking chaotic situations and imposing order upon them. This was just the biggest, most chaotic project of his life.
Leo grunted, finally satisfied with his sword. "You should focus more on physical training, Cole. All that thinking just gives you a headache. A strong body is the foundation for everything."
It was simple, straightforward advice, typical of the boy from the memories. But coming from a fifteen-year-old, it felt oddly amusing. "You're not wrong, Leo," he said, a genuine smile touching his lips for the first time.
The family ate breakfast together, the conversation flowing easily around him. School gossip from Mia, a training anecdote from Leo, a reminder about chores from Laura. He played his part, drawing on Cole's memories to provide short, appropriate answers. He was an actor performing a role he'd only just learned. To his relief, no one seemed to notice the man behind the boy's eyes.
After breakfast, he needed data.
He retreated to the living room with his Index Terminal, a device in a way more powerful than the simple tablets of his old world. "Show me the national news," he commanded.
A holographic screen flickered to life in the air before him. The top story was about a trade dispute with the Dwarven Enclaves over a new shipment of magi-steel. Another segment covered a minor dungeon break that had been swiftly contained by a local Hunter guild.
It was all so mundane. So normal. For a moment, he could almost believe this was just a new life, a strange but manageable second chance. He needed to understand the rules of this world, its power structures, its dangers.
His search history, Cole's history, was filled with academic queries. "Theories on Mana Core Mutation," "Runic Efficiency Scaling," "Elemental Affinity vs. Physical Enhancement." He started his own search.
"Top Hunter Guilds."
"National Academy Rankings."
"Most Profitable Dungeon Resources."
He spent hours absorbing information, the mind of a 28-year-old analyst drinking from a firehose of new data. He cross-referenced guild-sponsorship deals with academy graduation rates, trying to map out the flow of power and money. He was building a mental blueprint of his new world.
His goal was simple: security. He wanted to ensure this new family was safe and comfortable. He wanted a life free from the soul-crushing grind he'd known before. To do that, he needed power. Not necessarily personal power, but influence. Resources.
He found an article titled, "The Next Generation: Ten Prospects to Watch for This Year's Academy Exams." It was perfect. A snapshot of the future elite.
The first few names were predictable. Children of powerful families, heirs to major corporations. Scions of noble houses with famous names.
He scrolled down to the section on notable commoners, the dark horses.
The terminal screen showed a grainy photo of a young man with intense eyes and unruly black hair. He was holding a battered sword, his stance radiating a fierce, untamed energy even in the low-quality image.
Beneath the photo was a name.
Zane Cross.
The name struck him like a physical blow.
It wasn't just a name. It was a key. A key that unlocked a flood of memories not from Cole's life, but from his own. Memories of late nights on his old Earth, scrolling through endless chapters on his phone.
He remembered a web novel. A generic but addictive action-fantasy he'd read to pass the time. It was called something like… The Regressor's Blade? No… The Awakened Swordsman. That was it.
He remembered the protagonist. A tragic orphan whose village was destroyed in a dungeon break. A boy driven by vengeance and a fierce desire to protect others. A kid who Awakened a ridiculously powerful ability to absorb and redirect kinetic energy.
A kid named Zane Cross.
His blood ran cold.
He frantically scanned the article's text, his heart hammering against his ribs.
"…sole survivor of the Oakhaven tragedy five years ago… a mysterious but powerful Awakened… rumored to possess a unique kinetic energy manipulation Trait… expected to be a top contender at the Vanguard National Academy entrance exam…"
It wasn't a coincidence.
It was a confirmation.
The vertigo from the day before returned with a vengeance. The world tilted on its axis. He wasn't just in some random fantasy world that resembled the fiction he used to read.
He was in it.
He was a character.
No, not even a character. He had read up to chapter 100, maybe a little further. He remembered the major players of the academy arc. The fiery noble heroine. The stoic rival. The quirky support characters.
The name Cole Harris had never appeared. Not once.
He was a nobody. An extra. A background character destined to live and die in obscurity while a world-shaking plot unfolded around him. A plot filled with catastrophic battles, city-destroying monsters, and villains who could slaughter thousands without a second thought.
He looked at his hands. The hands of a seventeen-year-old Mid-F Ranker.
He was cannon fodder.
The pragmatic resolve from the night before now seemed like a child's naive fantasy. In a world with a protagonist like Zane Cross, trying to survive head-on was a fool's errand. The story wasn't just a threat. For an extra who knew the script, it was a detailed map of risks and, more importantly, a guide to every opportunity everyone else would overlook.