The alleyway was a black clouded in the shadows of night—narrow, damp, and reeking of rot. Theo sprinted down it like a wild animal, his breath coming in ragged bursts, the soles of his sneakers striking the cracked pavement with frantic rhythm. Behind him, two thugs wielding knives gave chase, their shouts echoing off the concrete walls.
"Stop right there, Theo!" one barked between gasps. "We can't let you get away. Mercy's off the table!"
Theo didn't bother to look back. His grin widened, sharp and reckless, as he vaulted over an overflowing dumpster. "And why would I do that?" he called over his shoulder, laughter spilling from his throat. "You're way too slow to catch me!"
He wasn't lying—he loved this. The gamble of life or death, the adrenaline burning in his veins, the roulette wheel of every sharp corner. Each turn he took felt like a jackpot hitting home, while his pursuers slipped and cursed behind him.
"Geez, this guy's a psycho," muttered the second thug, unnerved by the giddy laughter echoing ahead.
Theo ducked into a side path, sliding between two trash cans and melting into the darkness. He held his breath as their flashlights cut through the alley, their beams jittery with tension.
"You take that side," hissed the first thug.
"Why's mine bigger?" grumbled the second, peering into the shadows.
"Just find him!" snapped the first, his voice quivering despite himself.
Theo fought to contain his laughter as one thug crept past, completely blind to the boy crouched just feet away. Then something warm and furry brushed against his arm. He looked down—and nearly yelped. A rat, fat and wriggling, had crawled between his fingers. On instinct, Theo hurled it. The squealing missile smacked the thug squarely on the shoulder.
"AHHH! Get it off! Get it off!" the man shrieked, thrashing wildly.
"What are you babbling about now?" the second thug demanded, jogging up.
"That rat—came from the sky!" the first cried, trembling.
"Are you high?" the other muttered.
Theo didn't wait. He bolted out from hiding, darting past them like a phantom.
"There he is! Right in front of you!" the second thug roared, smacking his partner before resuming the chase.
Theo's pulse thundered in his ears. He was winning again. Any second now, he'd—
The alley ended.
Theo burst out into the street just as a blinding light filled his vision. A truck's horn blared. Time slowed. He barely had a moment to think, 'of course it's a truck,' before impact sent his world to black.
"Well… I guess he's dead," muttered one thug.
"Does that mean our job's done?" said the other.
"In that case, we'd better call the boss," the first sighed, raising his phone to snap a picture.
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Theo's P.O.V.
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What… happened?
I was running, then—what?
A truck. That's right. A truck out of nowhere. Just like those light novels I've been binge-reading.
So… I'm dead? Killed by a truck? Truck-kun really exists?
Ugh! And I thought I was doing so well too. Lost the gamble after all. Is this death? An eternal void of darkness?
It's quiet here. Peaceful. Almost… boring. There's no thrill, no risk, no heartbeat hammering against my ribs. Heaven? No way. Someone like me—greedy, lustful, a total adrenaline junkie—doesn't belong there. Hell? This place is too calm for that. I guess it's just a void, then. The atheists were right all along.
Time passed. Or maybe it didn't. Then—a glimmer of gold split the darkness, a warmth pulling me closer. The "light at the end of the tunnel"? It's real? I tried to resist but my curiosity overpowered my caution. And I allowed it to pull me in.
When I opened my eyes, I wasn't in darkness anymore. I was cradled against a woman's chest, her heartbeat loud in my tiny ears. Her face was radiant and soft, her expression filled with motherly love.
What…? Why am I so small?
"My son… my beautiful boy. What shall we name you?" she whispered, eyes shining with joy.
A man stood beside her, dark-skinned and broad-shouldered, his smile warm. "How about Elijah?"
Son? Elijah? No way, this can't be real. Have I been reincarnated? Is this real?
If this is another world, then… could magic actually exist here?
My mother's brow furrowed. "Isn't it strange? He hasn't made a sound. Babies are supposed to cry."
"I hope the boy isn't sick," the man murmured. "Or perhaps… he's special. He may even be an Echo."
An Echo? What's that—some magical title?
I decided to reassure them and wailed loudly, filling the room with newborn cries. Both parents relaxed at once.
Magic. Adventure. Monsters. If all that's real, then this world might just be my greatest jackpot yet.
Several years have passed by since I reincarnated into this world, and I've confirmed magic does exist. The only problem is I'm a peasant. Which means no access to books, no access to teachers, and no flashy incantations. Just me, experimenting like an idiot. From stupid hand signs to even more ridiculous phrases—yet nothing worked.
Well—almost nothing. One day, I felt something. I believe it was mana. It was this strange and unfamiliar feeling I could feel in the air. It slipped through my fingers, but that moment has haunted me since.
With a little more time I've gained the ability to sense ambient mana at will—and even the flow of mana inside myself. I've learned that I'm able to circulate the two. But I don't know what circulating it actually does; I know I'm getting somewhere, though.
And pretty soon I'll be casting fire from my hands and flying through the sky. I can't wait to see where this takes me.
My second life is just beginning and this time I'll be sure to make it an even greater risk than before.