If I had known that a late-night craving for microwave burritos would end my life, I would've just gone to bed hungry.
My name was Mark Jackson. Twenty-six years old. Freelance graphic designer. Regular guy. Lived in a one-bedroom apartment in a decently sketchy part of town. I wasn't trying to be a hero. I didn't have dreams of being famous or changing the world. I just wanted to eat my damn burrito and watch some dumb show until I fell asleep.
But fate had other plans.
It was just past 11 PM when I pulled on my hoodie and shuffled down the block to the convenience store. The streets were mostly empty, the distant wail of a siren echoing like a lullaby in the background. I remember thinking how peaceful the night felt. That's the messed-up part. Peaceful.
The store lights were buzzing when I walked in. Old Mr. Dugan, the cashier who always smelled like pickles and cheap cologne, gave me a nod. I grabbed two burritos from the freezer, a bottle of orange soda, and made my way to the counter.
Then the door slammed open.
I turned, and time seemed to slow.
A man in a ski mask burst in with a gun already raised. He shouted something—probably "Don't move!" or "Hands up!" but I couldn't hear it. My ears were ringing. Maybe from panic. Maybe because my brain had already started shutting down.
Dugan didn't even try to resist. He raised his hands. But I… I flinched.
One wrong move. That's all it took.
BANG
I saw the flash before I heard the shot. A hot spike of pain tore through my chest. I dropped to the floor, clutching at my shirt, which was already soaked in blood. The burritos rolled away from my hand like they were escaping the horror.
My last thought was something stupid, like "Damn… I never even got to eat."
Then, darkness.
I wasn't lying on the cold tile floor of the convenience store anymore. I wasn't in a hospital. I wasn't even in a body, at first. It felt like I was floating in warm water, but there was no sound, no light, just an endless sense of being.
Then, a voice spoke—deep, ancient, and not coming from anywhere I could point to.
"You have died."
No kidding.
"You were not meant to. Your thread was severed prematurely."
Severed? What am I, a piece of yarn? I wanted to speak, to scream, to question everything, but I had no mouth. No body. Just thoughts echoing into the void.
As a result, you have been granted three spins of the Wheel of Second Chances. What you gain, you keep, What you become, is up to fate. Or you could decline this offer graced to you and go to the heaven you humans dream of.What you become, is up to fate."
"But know that this second chance is not without cost. You will awaken as another. In another world. Your past life will remain… just that. Past."
I didn't need to think too long.
I didn't have family anymore. My mom died when I was fifteen. My dad left when I was two. I had a couple friends, sure, but… nothing that anchored me. No one that needed me. If this was real—and I wasn't just hallucinating in a coma—then hell yes, I wanted another shot.
Well who wouldn't say yes to this opportunity?
"So fuck it let's spin," I thought.
The first spin blurred with dazzling light. It clicked, slowed, then stopped.
[Bloodline: Void-Blooded Space Dragon – Juvenile Core]
A surge of something rushed through my soul. I saw visions—stars collapsing, wings that stretched across nebulae, breath that tore through asteroids like tissue paper. Celestial power. Alien majesty.
I was no longer just Mark Jackson.
I was a space dragon.
Born to drift through fate and roam freely.
Spin two.
The wheel spun again, a deep metallic hum accompanying it. This time it landed on:
[Weapon: Evolving Spiked Gauntlets – Unnamed, Soulbound]
A pair of dark, jagged gauntlets appeared in my mind's eye. Covered in crimson etchings, they pulsed with potential. I felt the hunger in them. Growth through combat. Violence made beautiful.
Nice.
Third spin.
This time it stopped at something more practical:
[System Utility: Basic Interface & Inventory Access Unlocked]
A screen popped into view, hovering like a video game HUD.
System Utility: Basic Interface & Inventory Access Unlocked]
A screen popped into view, hovering like a video game HUD.
⸻
[System Booting…]
Welcome, Mark Jackson.
Species: Humanoid (Void-Touched)
Bloodline: Juvenile Space Dragon (Dormant – 10%)
Weapon: Soulbound Gauntlets [Unnamed]
STATS
Strength: 16
Speed: 13
Agility: 13
Vitality: 12
Intelligence: 11
Willpower: 18
Inventory: [5 slots unlocked]
Skills: None
Quests: None
⸻
A beat passed. Then the voice returned, quieter now.
"You will awaken in a vessel suited for your new life. This world is dangerous, but you are not helpless. Survive, grow, and perhaps… reshape fate."
"Hey! Don't leave me hanging! At least tell me if dragons are normal or if I'm going to get hunted down for being one!"
Still nothing.
I don't know why I thought yelling at an all-powerful cosmic force would help. But it felt better than sitting quietly while my entire existence got shuffled into a new reality like a deck of cosmic trading cards.
And yet, as the void began to dissolve, I felt something… familiar. Like gravity returning. Pressure built around me, squeezing from all sides, until—
I fell.
Not metaphorically. I literally dropped through the void and slammed into something hard. My back hit packed earth, air burst from my lungs, and stars danced in my vision.
"Ugh… my everything hurts," I groaned, blinking up at the sky.
Twin moons hovered in the air—one a soft blue, the other a deep violet. Above that, the stars. Not like Earth's stars. These were bright, moving, leaving shimmering trails behind them like they were alive.
Whatever world I was on… it wasn't Atlanta . Or Earth. Or any sci-fi movie set I'd ever seen.
System text flickered into view again:
⸻
[System Interface Initialized]
Environment Scanning…
World: Nytherra
Domain: Magic-Dominant Wilderness
Threat Level: Medium to Cataclysmic
Warning: Unique Bloodline Detected – Suppression Recommended in Civilized Zones
⸻
"Magic-dominant wilderness?" I muttered, dragging myself to my feet. "So… fantasy world with a whole lot of nature and not a power outlet in sight."
I looked down at myself—still the same new body, but different in the details. Dark brown skin, like polished obsidian under the flickering green shadows of the forest. Stronger than I'd ever been. Lean, muscular, and pulsing faintly with energy—like someone fused the cosmos into my bloodstream. The starlit glow in my veins contrasted with my skin in a way that looked surreal, even beautiful.
Definitely not my old Earth self.
But still me.
Still Mark Jackson, a Black man from Atlanta who just wanted a burrito and ended up… whatever this is.
With a thought, the gauntlets appeared—spiked, jagged, forged from something darker than steel and hotter than fire. They wrapped around my arms like they belonged there. I clenched my fists, and they responded with a low rumble, almost like they were alive.
And deep inside me…
I felt it.
A second heartbeat. Slow. Heavy. Ancient.
Not mine.
⸻
[Bloodline: Space Dragon Core – 1% Awakening]
Current State: Sealed
Abilities: None active
Notes: Awaken through sustained combat or extreme conditions
⸻
"Of course," I muttered, rolling my eyes. "Dragon powers locked behind effort. Classic game logic."
I glanced around.
Trees—everywhere. Towering giants with spiraling trunks and silver-green leaves. They rose so high I couldn't see the tops. The canopy above turned daylight into emerald twilight. No signs of roads or ruins. Just raw, untamed wilderness.
The forest smelled alive—wet moss, electric magic, wildflowers I didn't recognize. It was gorgeous, yeah… but I could tell real quick that this place didn't care if I lived or died.
I pulled open the system's inventory just to feel like I had some control.
⸻
[Inventory – 6 Slots Available]
1. Basic survival rations (3 days)
2. Universal Translator Crystal (Active)
3. Blank Map
4. Starter Cloak (Tattered, Warm)
5. System Manual (Unread)
6. Empty
⸻
"Food, a map, and an interdimensional Google Translate… I've started games with worse."
I threw on the cloak, adjusted the fit around my shoulders. The fabric was scratchy, but warm. I glanced at the blank map—just gray parchment for now.
Then—bam. A spike of pain stabbed behind my eyes.
⸻
[System Alert – Proximity Triggered Quest]
[Quest: First Contact]
A humanoid lifeform approaches. Unknown faction.
Objective: Survive the encounter. Learn local knowledge.
Bonus Objective: Avoid revealing your bloodline.
Reward: EXP + Inventory Expansion + Local Language Fluency
⸻
A branch snapped behind me.
I turned on instinct, spiked gauntlets shimmering into place over my forearms with a hiss of energy. My stance dropped. Ready.
But the figure stepping out from the trees didn't flinch. Didn't stop.
She walked straight into the clearing like she owned it.
She wore a long, practical coat lined with light armor—hand-stitched and hardened at the shoulders and chest. Dust clung to her boots and hem like she'd been walking for hours, but there was no weariness in her steps. She carried a tall staff, carved with layered rings of old magic that glowed faintly at the edges.
She was Black—skin smooth and deep, catching the afternoon sun in warm tones. Her eyes, striking and pale gray, locked onto mine with the steady confidence of someone who'd faced worse than whatever she thought I was. Her hair was tightly braided and silver-gray from root to tip—not from age, but something else. Power, maybe. Heritage. Or both.
She stopped a few feet away, planted her staff in the ground, and tilted her head slightly.
"You're standing in a crater," she said evenly. "And glowing."
I blinked. "Yeah. It's been a weird morning."
She didn't laugh. Her gaze flicked to the edges of the blast radius, then to the faint shimmer still fading off my gauntlets.
"You fall out of the sky?"
"Something like that."
She nodded once, like that was enough of an answer for now. "Name's Lina. I'm Warden of Pinebarrow. That's the village west of here. You're in our woods."
[Quest Update – First Contact]
Status: Neutral Encounter
Bonus Objective: Maintain Bloodline Secrecy — ✔
Reward: +150 EXP | Town Unlocked: Pinebarrow | Relationship Unlocked: Lina (Neutral – Observing)
"You're the warden?" I asked, studying her again. "You don't exactly look surprised."
"I've been doing this a while," she said. "Surprise gets people killed. Calm keeps people alive."
Her tone wasn't arrogant—just honest. Grounded. She wasn't here to impress me.
She was here to assess the threat.
I let my gauntlets fade with a thought. She didn't move, but her eyes tracked every motion like a predator sizing up prey.
"You don't look like you need help," she said, "but you definitely don't look like you belong."
"That obvious?"
"Outsiders usually don't drop from the sky into my territory." She paused, then added, "You're lucky it was me who found you. The forest doesn't like strangers."
I hesitated. "And you do?"
Lina studied me a second longer, then relaxed her stance slightly.
"I don't like problems. You're not one—yet."
"Comforting," I muttered.
She smirked, the faintest twitch at the corner of her mouth. "If I wanted you dead, you'd be ash. You're not even the first strange thing I've seen this season."
That made me pause. "You've seen… others?"
She didn't answer.
Instead, she turned and motioned with her staff. "Pinebarrow's half a day west. You'll follow me. You'll keep quiet. And you won't cause trouble."
I hesitated. "And if I do?"
She turned her head, those cold gray eyes locking on me.
"You won't."
And somehow, I believed her.
As I stepped in behind her and we began moving through the trees, I couldn't help but think—whatever power I had sleeping in my blood, whatever dragon waited inside me… I wasn't the scariest thing in these woods.
Not by a long shot.