I, Alberd Istein—last name pronounced I-stein—died a beautiful death.
Ended in an explosion. Literally.
One moment, the world was fire—roaring, blinding, folding in on itself. The next, silence. No pain. No scream. Just light so bright it consumed everything, and then… nothing.
Most people probably don't remember their last moments. I do. Mine wasn't sad or quiet. It was loud. Brilliant. A death worth remembering.
Or it should have been.
Because instead of oblivion, I opened my eyes.
The void stretched endlessly in every direction. No stars. No ground. Just blackness without end. Yet I stood, steady, as though on some invisible surface. My body felt whole, unburned, alive.
And then I felt it.
A presence. Not a shape. Not a figure. Just awareness. Vast. Heavy. A gaze that weighed on me like a world.
Then came the voice. Not in sound, but in meaning, pressed into my very bones.
"Alberd Istein."
I swallowed, then straightened. My own voice came small but firm. "Present."
"You ended before your time," the voice said. "But you may begin again. One decision will define your new life."
Light appeared, burning words into the dark:
Option A: One billion gold coins in the next world's currency.
Option B: Mastery in all forms of combat.
I studied the choices.
A billion gold. On the surface, it was irresistible. Wealth beyond kings. Enough to buy land, castles, entire armies. But money paints targets. People kill for scraps of silver. Nations bleed for treasuries far smaller than that. Carrying limitless wealth into a strange world would make me prey from the first breath.
Then mastery in combat.
Not scraps of training. Not hints of experience. Mastery. All forms of combat—every stance, strike, and counterstrike. Weapons, unarmed, tactics, battlefield flow. Reflexes etched into bone, instincts sharpened into certainty.
I wasn't a fighter in my old life. My strength was always my mind. I could analyze, adapt, see patterns. But intelligence alone doesn't stop claws. It doesn't parry steel.
With mastery, though? I would never be helpless.
I smiled faintly. "Gold can be taken. Skill cannot."
"I choose mastery."
The change struck instantly.
My body realigned. My breathing settled into perfect rhythm. My stance shifted, weight centered. My hands curled into grips I had never practiced yet now performed flawlessly. Angles of attack and defense shimmered in my mind, movements not yet made but already countered.
It wasn't fire. It wasn't lightning. It was order. A lifetime of battle poured into me like memory.
I exhaled slowly. "Yes. This will do."
The voice pulsed again. "Carry your mind, and your skill."
I hesitated. Then spoke with certainty.
"One request," I said.
The void waited.
"My phone," I declared. "Not just the device—the ability. Let it function here as it did there. Let me use it. Let me buy. Let me store. Let me trade. Without it, I am only another fighter. With it, I can adapt in ways this world has never seen."
The silence thickened, pressing down like a weight.
Then: "So be it."
Weight filled my hand.
I looked down.
It was my phone.
The same hairline crack across the screen. The same scuffs on the case. Battery: 100%. No signal bars. But there, pulsing at the center, was a new app. A green leaf icon labeled JUNGLE.
I tapped it.
The screen bloomed into a storefront. A search bar. Categories. Neat rows of goods—tools, food, weapons, medicine. Anything from Earth.
A prompt flickered:
Storage Function Active.
Items can be transferred in and out.
Double-tap power button to deposit or withdraw.
Another line followed:
Currency & Trade Functions Active.
Funds may transfer between worlds.
Items may convert to credits or be exchanged.
I chuckled, low and sharp. "Not just a phone. A vault. A bank. An item box. A bridge."
I didn't know yet what coins or dollars were worth here. But with this, it didn't matter. I had flexibility. Options. Power.
I laughed, the sound echoing in the endless dark. "If this really works, then I'm not bound by their rules at all."
The void shattered.
I fell.
The wind tore at me, branches clawing as I plunged. The ground hit like a hammer, but instinct carried me through. I tucked, rolled hard, and snapped upright, balanced on the balls of my feet. My stance braced for a fight, breath calm, heart unshaken.
Tall trees speared upward, their crowns tangled against a sky brushed with violet fire. The air carried a bite—pine resin sharp, damp earth heavy, and beneath it all a musky stench that spoke of predators nearby.
The phone glowed faintly in my hand. Its screen read:
Awaiting first order.
Not yet, I thought. The smart man waits to test a blade before swinging it.
I tightened my grip and raised the phone toward the strange violet sky.
"My death was beautiful. But my second life…" I grinned, fierce and certain. "…this will be legendary."