The first thing Len Fang's nose found, was the smell of normalcy.
He froze.
Smell?
Not the acrid stench of demon blood that had become so familiar. Not the sulfurous reek of dimensional rifts. Not the metallic tang of human fear and desperation that had permeated every corner of the world for the past twenty years.
Just... normalcy. The clean air of an ordinary day. The scent of grass and earth and life continuing as it always had.
It was jarring. Disorienting. Almost painful in its ordinariness.
Len Fang slowly pushed himself to his feet, his joints protesting with every movement—though the protest felt different now, lighter somehow, the complaint of a younger body unused to exertion rather than the grinding ache of accumulated injuries and decades of hard living.
He found his way to his feet, legs trembling slightly as they adjusted to bearing his weight once more, and his eyes instantly caught sight of his surroundings, taking in the scene with a mixture of shock and dawning recognition.
A cemetery.
The realization hit him like a physical blow.
On it, rows upon rows of graves of those who have passed on from the land of the living laid in neat, orderly lines, stretching out in every direction. Leaves were scattered upon them, nature's gentle blanket covering the markers of mortality. Moss was growing upon some even, the older graves showing the passage of years in green patches that clung to weathered stone.
The truck of memory lane suddenly assaulted Len Fang's mind with the force of a charging beast, images and emotions flooding through him in an overwhelming torrent.
"So I came back here? To this day of all days?" His voice was barely a whisper, thick with emotion. "To think regression could be this cruel..."
A heavy breath escaped his lips as guilt surged within him like a rising tide, threatening to drag him under with the weight of memories—both of what had happened and what was yet to come.
This was the day just before the apocalypse had arrived. A day to remember. A day that would be forever burned into the collective memory of humanity as the last day of the old world.
His young self, the version of himself whose body he now inhabited, had come here out of sadness and tiredness from his accumulated misfortunes, seeking some kind of solace among the dead where the living had offered him none.
Having to pay rent, scraping together every penny just to keep a roof over his head, finding money for feeding himself and his younger siblings, managing school fees for all of them while working multiple dead-end jobs—it was no easy task for someone so young, and the ever-buzzing sound of the world's indifference had never favored him.
Every door seemed to close in his face. Every opportunity slipped through his fingers. Every hope was crushed beneath the weight of an uncaring reality.
In truth, his life had been shit! Dog shit! There was no other way to describe it, no polite euphemism that could capture the grinding poverty and soul-crushing despair that had defined his existence.
He had come here, to this cemetery where his parents rested, out of sadness and a single dark thought that had churned inside his mind at that time—Suicide!
The word echoed in his memory, heavy and terrible.
To even think of suicide was considered wrong by every moral and religious standard, not to even talk about wanting to attempt it, to actually plan it out and come here to say goodbye to his parents before doing the deed.
Yet Len Fang had fully wanted to do it, because he was tired! So desperately, bone-deep tired of fighting and struggling and suffering with no end in sight!
And to think that this same Len Fang who had wanted to commit suicide and had even gone to his parents' grave to ask for forgiveness before ending it all, would have lived to see another sixteen years of even greater hardship and suffering, was truly shocking when viewed from this perspective.
If his younger self had known what was coming, would he have gone through with it? Or would the knowledge that he could survive anything have given him strength?
"In this world, when there is life there is always hope!" Len Fang said firmly, his voice cutting through the silence of the cemetery as a flash of determination could be seen burning in his eyes.
It was the truth he had learned through decades of suffering. It was the creed that had kept him alive when death would have been easier.
And now, given this miraculous second chance, he would not waste a single moment of it on despair.
In the next breath, Len Fang redirected his thoughts away from his painful past and now unto his current situation, his mind already beginning to calculate and plan.
He now had the chance to gaze upon himself, to see with his own eyes the young man he had once been. The young man known as Len Fang, aged twenty-four years old.
With a black and slightly disordered raving black hair that fell messily around his face, and a lean build that spoke of too many missed meals rather than deliberate fitness, this youth stood at six feet two inches tall.
He wore a plain black trouser that had seen better days and a black hoodie that was more functional than fashionable, the kind of anonymous clothing worn by someone who didn't want to be noticed. His eyes were a pale black, dark and deep, and his skin was quite rough from exposure to the elements and lack of proper care.
In truth, one is to know that this youth does not look extremely appealing—he was no handsome protagonist from a story, no dashing hero who could charm others with his appearance alone.
But one is also to note, that this appearance is only physical and one is meant to look beyond the physical, to see the potential that lay beneath the surface.
Especially with the changes that the heavens would soon bring upon this earth, appearance would matter far less than strength, cunning, and the will to survive.
Len Fang took calm steps toward his parents' graves, his feet carrying him with practiced ease to the two modest headstones that marked their resting place.
He stood before them for a long moment, memories washing over him—some painful, some precious, all irreplaceable.
Then he paid a calm bow, deep and respectful, his way of saying both goodbye and hello, acknowledging the past while preparing for the future.
Without further ceremony, he turned and walked away, his steps purposeful now.
With his rebirth complete and the River of Time gone backward, granting him this unprecedented opportunity, every second now mattered. Every moment was precious. No need for sentiments that would slow him down or cloud his judgment.
Right now, the most important thing for this Len Fang is to get stronger and secure a safe base before the apocalypse begins, to prepare for the nightmare he knows is coming while everyone else remains blissfully ignorant.
"Survival comes first. I will not live as I did in my past life, struggling and barely scraping by, watching everyone around me die!" His voice was hard, determined. "With my experiences and future knowledge, only time waits!"
The advantages he possessed were immense—he knew what was coming, knew where opportunities would appear, knew which mistakes to avoid.
He would use every single one of them.
As soon as Len Fang had said that, giving voice to his resolve, he drew in a cold breath that filled his lungs with the clean air of the world before its fall, and began his journey toward the first of many preparations.
His footsteps echoed in the empty cemetery as he left, walking toward a destiny he would forge with his own hands.
...
An abandoned warehouse appeared before Len Fang's eyes after nearly an hour of walking through the darkening streets.
The place was desolate, forgotten by time and people alike. Broken machines lay scattered everywhere like the corpses of some mechanical graveyard, their purposes long since obsolete. The air carried a smell of rust and decay, the inevitable result of years of neglect and exposure to the elements.
But Len Fang's expression was serious, focused entirely on his purpose here. He walked forward without hesitation, his steps sure despite the debris and obstacles in his path.
"According to the memories I have, there should be something here," he muttered to himself, his eyes gleaming with anticipation as they scanned the interior of the warehouse.
The world will change by tomorrow and from it monsters will pour forth like a flood breaking through a dam. It is night already, the sun having set while he walked here, and to his knowledge of things from his past life, there should be either an artifact or key here—something valuable, something useful.
Although this youth, Len Fang, did not know the exact details of what is here, did not have perfect information about every location despite his future knowledge, he knows it might still be useful regardless of what it turns out to be.
He has nothing right now—no resources, no power, no advantages except his knowledge. So even finding something that is nothing among the ranks of artifacts or keys, something considered common or low-grade, would be of great help in the beginning.
Every little advantage counted. Every edge mattered.
His feet carried him deeper into the warehouse, navigating between rusted machinery and collapsed shelving units, his senses alert for any sign of the anomaly he remembered.
Suddenly!
His body trembled without warning. An invisible force, like a magnetic pull that gripped his very essence, pulled him toward an old terminal in the corner, half-buried beneath fallen debris and covered in years of dust.
Len Fang's heart beat faster, pounding against his ribs with excitement and nervousness in equal measure. "This is it!"
This was what he had come here for. This was the opportunity he remembered, vague as the memory might be.
He reached out, his hand trembling slightly with anticipation. His fingers touched the cold screen of the terminal, the surface smooth despite its age.
Buzz!
Blue light erupted from the terminal like a explosion of color in the darkness!
The brilliance was blinding, forcing Len Fang to squint against the sudden illumination, but he didn't pull his hand away.
Len Fang's eyes widened as countless words flashed across his vision, appearing directly in his mind rather than on the screen itself.
[ System initializing... ]
[ 3rror: Corrupt3d d@t@ ]
[ Ov3rriding! ]
[ Override Complete! ]
[ Assistant System has been successfully installed! ]
The messages burned themselves into his consciousness, and Len Fang felt something fundamental shift within him, as if a new piece had been added to his very existence.
His heart raced as he realized what had just happened.
He had obtained a system.
The second chapter of his new life had begun.
....
Another one complete. I was feeling really good and decided to update another one. Please dont stop commenting as your comments are needed and please add to your library while this author keeps on writing for you.