His last thought in his previous life was a simple, selfish one. "Just one more level… one more chapter… one more game." The blue glow of the screen reflected in his tired eyes, headphones buzzing softly against his ears. Outside, the world was ending—or maybe it had already ended—but in his little corner, all that mattered was the next manhwa update, the next boss fight, the next adventure.
Then came the crash. A meteor—or what felt like a meteor—tore through the sky, shattering his ceiling and piercing his body with merciless steel. Pain erupted, sharp and bright, stealing his breath, but not his consciousness entirely. In those last fleeting moments, he heard it.
"You… the only one who survived… Find me…"
The voice cut off, distorted, fading into nothingness. His vision blurred, the sounds of his room twisting into a strange echo, until darkness swallowed him entirely.
When he opened his eyes again, the world was silent, still, and unfamiliar. A soft white bandage pressed against his head, the taste of iron lingering in his mouth. He blinked, adjusting to the dim light. The room smelled faintly of wood and dust, far removed from his cramped college dorm.
"Oh… wow." He sat up, heart racing. Another world? I got reincarnated? Finally! I'm going to get my system window, my stats, my OP ability… this is it!"
He spun around, eyes bright with anticipation, expecting floating holograms, glowing orbs, maybe even a tutorial voice guiding him like a game.
Nothing happened.
No system window. No glowing aura. No indication that he was anything more than… normal. He pressed his hands together, shook them, muttered to himself. "Hmm… okay… maybe it's delayed? Yeah, yeah, it's a hidden tutorial or something. Must be!"
As he tried to process the new reality, a sudden wave of frustration and panic hit him. "Wait… wait a second… I actually… got reincarnated?" His hands clutched at his head. "No… no, no, no! How about the anime I was watching? The manga, manhwa, and manhua I was reading? The updates I was waiting for? I didn't even get to play GTA 6!"
He groaned, collapsing back onto the bed. "Everything I cared about… gone. And for what? Some… medieval, sword-and-magic life?" His mind raced, the excitement of being in another world now mixed with bitter disappointment. "Seriously… what kind of cruel joke is this?
But as minutes passed, reality began to sink in. There was no tutorial, no instant strength. He was just… him. A fifteen-year-old boy with snow-white hair and piercing blue eyes, lying in a modest room with no sign of extraordinary power.
A woman peeked in quietly, smiling softly. "You've woken up. How do you feel?"
He blinked at her, confusion twisting his stomach. "Uh… I… I don't know. Everything feels… strange."
Next to her, a very tall, lean, and muscular man with snow-white hair and a vibrant blue eye color, his father, knelt down slightly. His voice was calm but gentle. "That's because it is. You had an accident, son. You hit your head and… well, you lost your memory for a while."
"An… accident?" he echoed, disbelief lacing his words.
His mother nodded. "Yes. You were unconscious for a whole day. But you're safe now. Don't worry—we're here." She reached out, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead, smiling softly.
"And… my name?" he asked hesitantly.
His father smiled faintly. "Your name is Ashborne."
Ashborne repeated it quietly, tasting the word on his tongue. Ashborne… It sounded foreign, yet strangely familiar, as if it belonged to him now.
The small farm he lived on was modest at best. His father had already begun to prepare for the day, hauling baskets of fresh crops for sale in the town market. He joined him, the weight of the baskets far heavier than anything he had carried in his previous life. His mother followed behind, balancing a bundle of clothes she had washed for townspeople, already sweating under the weak morning sun.
As they walked, his eyes drifted across the town. Boys his age practiced sword forms, magic sparking faintly at their fingertips. Nobles. Children of wealth and power, enjoying leisure and abilities he couldn't yet hope to understand. Jealousy stirred in his chest, but before he could voice it, his father's eyes met his, soft and silently apologetic, yet saying nothing. He bit his lip. He could feel the weight of the inequality pressing down on him.
At the market, the harshness of life hit him fully. His father handed over a basket of crops to the store owner, expecting the usual payment. Instead, the man glanced at the produce, then frowned. "Some of these are damaged. Five silver coins." He counted them out and dropped them into the basket. Ten had been the original price.
Ashborne wanted to protest, to yell at the injustice, but he held his tongue. Life wasn't fair, and arguing wouldn't help.
"Go wait over there," his father said gently. "I have some other things to take care of."
Alone, Ashborne wandered through the streets and caught sight of a school. Its tall walls and gates rose imposingly, a symbol of everything he couldn't reach. Students of his age practiced swordplay, wielded magic, laughed freely. He pressed his hand against the wooden fence, staring through the gaps, wishing he could be among them. But unlike the heroes in his games, unlike the characters in his manhwa, there was no cheat, no system. Only walls. Only limitations.
Later, back at home, his father handed him a small book. "Here… I thought you might like to read this."
Ashborne opened it eagerly, flipping the pages, only to find it written in a strange language he couldn't understand. Frustration gnawed at him, but curiosity pushed him forward. He traced the letters with his finger, mumbling, trying to decode the meaning.
Then, suddenly, a strange warmth surged through him—a tingling sensation that made his vision go white for a moment. When he blinked, the world around him had vanished.
He was floating.
Beneath him stretched an infinite expanse of tiny, glittering grains, each shining like a universe unto itself. In one, he glimpsed a boy and a woman—the family he now called his own. Beyond the endless grains, a vast cosmic sea rippled, a fluid of light and energy, stretching infinitely. It looks like a cosmic web. He looks closely and thought it was like a beach. The universe (grain) as the sand, and the cosmic sea, as the sea.
"You… the only one who survived. Find me…"
The voice, distant and distorted, echoed again. Ashborne tried to respond, but the sensation faded, and the world snapped back to the tree where he had been reading, the book resting in his hands. His heart pounded, breath coming in sharp gasps.
It was… a dream, maybe. He shook his head, forcing himself to focus. Nothing I can understand… yet. Maybe someday I will.
That evening, as he carried firewood back to the small, one-room home, Ashborne reflected on everything he had seen. The beds were on the far left, the small kitchen in the center, the table near the door. It wasn't much—certainly worse than the homes of commoners—but the couple he now recognized as his parents smiled as they called him to dinner. They laughed freely, sharing warmth and happiness that no wealth could buy.
He sat at the table, feeling the warmth of family for the first time in a way he had never known. His heart ached with longing for what he had lost, but it also swelled with something new: belonging, love, and the promise of a life that might, one day, be worth living.
And yet, in the back of his mind, a faint echo lingered, a whisper from another life:
"You… the only one who survived. Find me…"