Rohan woke up with a sharp, burning pain splitting through his head. He groaned, clutching his temples as the world around him slowly came into focus. His mind throbbed with confusion and fragments of memory. The last thing he remembered—he had been in a dark alley, scavenging for a half-rotten fruit to silence his hunger.
Then they came. The thugs. Rough voices, mocking laughter, fists raining down. He remembered the taste of blood, the crack of bones, the cold ground beneath him—then nothing. Death.
And yet… here he was. Alive.
He remembered now. The year was 2070—the dark year of humanity. The United States and China had declared war on each other, and the world had paid the price. Cities burned, oceans turned black, and the skies were filled with dust and radiation. Ecosystems collapsed, crops failed, and famine swept across continents.
Rohan had been one of the forgotten ones—just another scavenger trying to survive in the ruins. He had no home, no family, no hope. The last thing he remembered before everything went dark was hearing about the first nuclear strike—China hitting the U.S.—and then chaos everywhere. Two months had passed since that day, and he never found out what became of the world.
He died only a few days later, beaten to death by alley thugs for the scraps he had found.
But now… somehow, he was awake again.
He blinked, forcing his aching eyes open, and tried to focus. The world around him slowly came into view.
Suddenly, a flood of memories surged through Rohan's mind—memories that weren't his. Images, voices, sensations—foreign yet oddly familiar—rushed through his thoughts like a storm tearing through old ruins.
He clutched his head as visions flashed before his eyes: a shining crown, a marble throne, banners fluttering under a golden sun, and people chanting a name that wasn't Rohan.
He was… the youngest crowned king of a nation called Athenia.
The name echoed in his mind. In his old world, there had never been a country by that name. Everything else—the continents, the oceans, the stars—seemed the same, yet Athenia existed which was not present in the last world.
Athenia was a small island nation, a little larger than Japan, surrounded by endless water. But unlike the great powers of the world, it was a backward country, struggling to survive. Nearly sixty percent of its land was barren wasteland—cracked earth, dry plains, and sun-scorched hills. Only the remaining forty percent was fertile enough to sustain life.
Most of its people worked the fields, living simple lives bound to the soil. The nation depended almost entirely on its own crops, forced into isolation by the vast oceans that separated it from the rest of the world. In many ways, Athenia reminded Rohan of the poorer countries of Africa from his previous life—rich in spirit, but left behind in progress.
And somehow, all of this knowledge was already within him—woven into the inherited memories of the body he now possessed.
As Rohan's new memories continued to unfold, fragments of recent events surfaced—news of an American attack on Afghanistan.
That detail struck him like lightning. He froze. Afghanistan? America? Those names existed here too.
And then it clicked.
He wasn't on a new planet or some fantasy world—he was still on Earth, just not the same one. This was a parallel version of it, almost identical to the world he once knew, but with subtle—and sometimes massive—differences.
A strange mix of relief and excitement surged through him. If this truly was a mirror Earth, then he still carried an advantage—the knowledge of his original world's future. Even if this world diverged, history still echoed the same rhythm.
But there were differences. Big ones.
In this world, the Second World War hadn't ended in 1945 with Japan's surrender after the nuclear bomb. Instead, it dragged on until 1948, when Japan finally collapsed from sheer manpower exhaustion. Nuclear weapons existed here too, but they hadn't been invented until 1960—fifteen years later than in his original world.
There were countless such differences—small fractures in a familiar timeline. Yet, overall, the shape of history remained recognizable.
Rohan smiled faintly.
A new world. A second chance. And perhaps… an advantage no one else here could ever imagine.
As Rohan's mind settled, more memories surfaced—the memories of the man whose body he had taken over.
He was the king of Athenia, a small and struggling island nation of nearly ten crore people—around a hundred million souls. The country was poor, its economy weak, its technology decades behind the rest of the world. Innovation was stifled, and progress was slow.
The reason was clear. The kings who had ruled before him had deliberately kept the nation backward. They feared that an educated, culturally aware population would one day challenge their authority. So, they suppressed learning, discouraged invention, and controlled everything—from trade to thought. It was easier to rule a land of silence than a land of questions.
While the rest of the world advanced, Athenia stood still—isolated and stagnant. Its separation from other nations, once considered a strategic blessing, had become a curse.
The previous king, whose memories now pulsed faintly in Rohan's mind, had died of a simple fever that went untreated for days. The kingdom's medical system was so underdeveloped that even the monarch himself could not be saved.
Rohan let out a quiet sigh. A country reflects its ruler, he thought. If the nation is weak, its leaders are weaker still.
He understood something then—something the old kings had never realized.
Only a developed and enlightened nation can create individuals strong enough to change the course of history.
Rohan slowly looked around the room. The royal chamber wasn't what he had imagined a king's quarters to be—there was no luxury, no elegance, just old furniture and peeling walls. His eyes stopped on a bulky object sitting on a wooden table in the corner.
A television.
It was an old-fashioned model, the kind that was popular in the late 1990s or early 2000s—big, boxy, and heavy, with buttons that clicked loudly when pressed. He hesitated for a moment, then walked toward it and switched it on.
The screen flickered to life after a few seconds, humming softly before the image steadied. A news broadcast appeared—grainy picture, static-laced audio, but clear enough for him to catch the date displayed in the corner of the screen.
"October 2006."
Rohan stared at it, stunned. 2006.
He leaned back, thinking hard. In his original world, he had been born in 2020, so he didn't know every detail about this era—but he remembered enough. He knew some of the world events that were coming soon, the rise of companies, the technological booms, the economic shifts.
A slow smile crept across his face.
Even if this was a parallel world, many parts of history still followed the same path. And that meant he could use his knowledge—predict stock markets, anticipate inventions, and prepare for the changes that would come.
Maybe… just maybe, he could lift Athenia out of its poverty.
For the first time since waking up, Rohan felt a spark of excitement—a sense of purpose. The world had given him a second chance, and this time, he intended to use it.
"Ding! Host detected. Welcome to the Mining System."
Rohan froze.
The voice was metallic, cold, yet oddly clear—echoing directly inside his head. He spun around, searching the room, but there was no one there. Only the faint hum of the old TV and the whisper of wind through the cracked window.
Then the voice came again.
"Host, please confirm. Do you wish to bind with the Mining System?"
His pulse quickened. A translucent blue panel flickered into existence before his eyes, glowing faintly in midair. Two options appeared:
> [YES]
[NO]
Rohan stared at it, wide-eyed. His mind raced. He had read countless web novels in his previous life—stories about people gaining systems, powers, and new chances. And in every one of them, the smart choice was obvious.
If the world had truly given him another shot, he wasn't going to waste it.
He took a deep breath.
"...Yes."
The moment his words left his lips, the panel pulsed brightly, flooding the room with light.
"Binding complete. Host successfully linked to the Mining System."
A strange sensation ran through his body—like something ancient and powerful had just awakened within him.
Rohan smiled faintly, his heart pounding with excitement.
So this is it, he thought. A system. My own system.
Maybe this really was his story now—his turn to become the protagonist.