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⚔
Oscar had been nothing more than an ordinary man. He wasn't rich. He wasn't famous.
His days blurred into nights filled with work, bills, and the unending love for his girlfriend, his eternal trust for his best friend, they weren't rich but the warmth of being among your love ones made their days better.
But that all came crashing on his soul like a Waze when his best friend won a lottery and his girlfriend abandoned him for his friend and they both left him in the slum to fend for himself, what came next was an unending amount of grief and loneliness
He wanted to end everything but he keeps on pushing because he believes he will find his way in these accursed world he keeps on pushing, But if there was one thing he still believed in, it was the instinct to protect.
That instinct sealed his fate.
It was an ordinary afternoon — gray skies, drizzle clinging to cracked sidewalks. Oscar had been crossing a busy intersection, lost in thought, when he noticed the girl. No more than seven or eight years old, with pigtails and a red backpack, standing frozen in the middle of the road.
Time seemed to slow.
A truck roared toward her, horn blaring, tires screaming against wet asphalt.
Oscar didn't think. He moved.
His legs pumped, breath burning in his throat. He felt his arms wrap around the girl, twisting his body to shield her as the world became a blur of blinding headlights and the deafening roar of impact.
Then — silence.
---
When consciousness returned, there was no pain. No cold. No weight of the world.
Oscar found himself adrift in a vast void — endless and star-strewn, like he floated in the heart of a galaxy. Before him stood a figure cloaked in robes woven from the fabric of the cosmos, stars and nebulae drifting across its form.
The voice that spoke was neither male nor female, neither loud nor soft. It simply was, resonating through his soul like the echo of eternity.
> "You who acted without hesitation, who gave your life so another might live... I am the God of Rebirth."
Oscar opened his mouth, but no words came. The weight of his death, the strangeness of this place — it left him speechless.
The God raised a hand, and two radiant icons shimmered into existence between them.
> "Your sacrifice has earned you another chance. A life reborn. And I shall not send you empty-handed."
> "And so you may rise above all limits… a gift."
A golden screen appeared before Oscar's eyes, filled with flickering text:
> 🌟 You have acquired: GAMER SYSTEM
— Level up faster
— Earn stat points
— Unlock hidden quests
— View world as a game interface
Oscar drew a slow breath. A second chance. Power beyond imagination. The chance to shape his destiny with his own hands.
But where would he be sent?
> "You shall awaken in a world of spirits and strength. A world that will test your resolve — Douluo Dalu."
> This time… I'll rise above them all.
He was determined because he knew everything about soul land from the first series to the last, he was confident because he knew the plot and everything no matter which era he was reborn into.
Oscar felt himself pulled into a vortex of light, stars streaking past, as the void dissolved around him. His final thought before darkness claimed him again was simple, clear, and resolute:
The first thing Oscar felt in his new life was cold.
Not the cold of winter winds or falling snow — but a deeper cold. The cold of being alone.
He was barely aware of his tiny body, he didn't even know when he started crying
his soft cries lost in the night air. The stone steps beneath him were damp, worn smooth by the passage of countless feet. Above, the great walls of Spirit Hall loomed like a fortress against the stars.
Somewhere in the shadows, a figure hesitated. A cloaked woman — the one who had placed him there — stared down at the infant boy one last time.
Tears shimmered in her eyes.
"Forgive me… my son…"
Her voice broke, barely a whisper. Then she turned, her footsteps retreating into the darkness as quickly as they had come.
Being abandoned these early left Oscar with a strange feeling, and that feeling left him crying louder
Oscar's cries echoed in the stillness, until at last the heavy doors of the orphanage creaked open.
---
Sister Rong was the first to find him — an elderly caretaker with kind eyes and tired hands. She lifted the baby gently, brushing away the scrap of cloth that covered his face.
Her breath caught.
"Such a beautiful child… who would leave you here, little one?"
His hair, though still soft and thin, was a rare shade of silver, like moonlight caught in silk. His large purple eyes eyes glistened with tears, but even in his fear, there was a strange calm to his gaze — as if he watched the world more than he cried at it.
---
The Days That Followed
Oscar's early days passed in a haze of small moments — the warmth of a bottle pressed to his lips, the softness of worn blankets, the low murmur of Sister Rong's voice as she sang him to sleep.
Yet, even in infancy, Oscar noticed, he planned cause he already notice the strange deviation from his recorded path.
He saw how the older orphans clung together for comfort. How the Spirit Hall priests who visited wore bright smiles that never quite reached their eyes.
He felt the ache of waiting — waiting for parents who never came.
By the time he could crawl, Oscar had become a favorite among the staff. His easy smile, his bright eyes, his gentle nature — they charmed all who met him. But behind his sweet laughter, a quiet understanding grew.
'I was left behind.'
'Whoever they were... they didn't want me enough to stay.'
---
By the age of two, Oscar was already drawing attention.
Visitors to the orphanage often stopped to admire the Silver - haired boy who watched them with thoughtful eyes, who spoke in clear, gentle tones far beyond his age. The young acolytes of Spirit Hall would sneak him sweets or lift him onto their shoulders to parade him about, laughing at his delighted giggles.
But Oscar felt the difference.
He saw how the other children flinched at raised voices. How they hoarded scraps of food, their trust hard-won and easily broken. He learned to share, to soothe, to mediate tiny quarrels — not because anyone taught him, but because he hated the look of hurt in others' eyes.
And at night, lying awake beneath thin blankets, he stared at the ceiling and whispered to the stars:
'Why was I left here? and spirit hall of all places'
---
There were moments when the loneliness became too heavy to bear. When the orphanage grew quiet, and the shadows in the corners seemed to reach for him.
On such nights, Oscar would slip from his bed and creep to the small window at the end of the hall. From there, he could see the great towers of Spirit Hall rising against the moon.
'One day, he thought, I'll stand at the top of those towers. I'll become strong enough that no one will ever leave me again.'
Unknowingly, the feeling of being abandoned left him scarred
---
By the time he was three, Oscar was no longer just the charming boy of the orphanage. He was its heart — the one who comforted the younger children when they cried, who helped Sister Rong with chores, who watched and learned as the priests and instructors came and went.
At these age he was already training, physical training that would have left other kid his age traumatized, he was already planning since he knew there was no way he would be able to escape bibi dong attention when he awakened the sausage martial spirit with innate full soul power , he was already prepared to be taken as a disciple, to swore his loyalty to spirit hall even if it's just a way to avoid being silenced because of his talent
He listened when they spoke of spirits, of power, of the glory of Spirit Hall.
And within him, the first seeds of ambition quietly took root.