Materialistic obsession—what do you think about when you hear these two words come to your mind?
Money, luxurious items, grand houses with more rooms than people to live in, high-powered stylish cars that could outrun the thunder, and the list goes on.
Everyone wants to shine brighter than everyone else.
There is no end to the things we want, and the desire to possess them and show off in front of the people has made everyone go crazy. It seems like society places a high value on material possessions, often at the expense of more meaningful experiences and relationships.
And such obsession ran in my family too; my wife, my mother, and my father—the amount of demands they had for material things was never-ending.
Their eyes sparkled more at the sight of gold than at the sight of each other.
For me, having meals three times a day is just enough to keep the mind quiet and body alive.
It's not like I don't understand them. There was a time when I was one of them. I wanted it all—everything an average young man wanted.
But the older I got, the more I realized that you can't own everything. Some things were never meant for you, and life wasn't all about hard work; you should have had a ton of luck too.
Even having to afford a house in these times felt like scaling a mountain barefoot.
Though I was able to secure one for my family, there was happiness and smiles for a week, and then came the bills.
The debts followed, and suddenly, I was just any other ordinary man selling my time and health to keep the roof from collapsing.
And my wife comes to me and says that I am not loving her enough, and I don't have time for her.
Bitch, why don't you work and say that?
I work sixteen hours a day, sometimes twenty.
(Heavy sigh)
No meals worth remembering, no sleep, no laughter, and I can't even talk to my family for five minutes. Just work, work, and more work..
I reminisce back to my college days; those days used to be fun, with no care about the world or the responsibilities.
I used to watch a lot of anime; they were my biggest comfort. But I can't watch them anymore.
Now I don't even have time to breathe, let alone dream.
Maybe it was the reason that I am now lying dead in a casket, working myself to death, just like in one of those anime.
FUCK!!
Yes, I am dead, and now I am standing before my body.
They didn't even put on a suit or a proper casket.
A cheap wooden casket.
Well, the dead can't complain, can they?
Convenient for them.
The strangest part was that im standing right here, among my family, looking down at myself.
I look at my hands; they're blue, faintly glowing—like those of those ghostly souls in anime and the movies.
I wave them in front of my wife, who was staring at the floor; she can't see me.
My mother was, and she was the only one present.
What a sad fucking funeral!
No friends, no coworkers, no neighbors, no relatives, just two of them who look more inconvenienced than heartbroken.
The air is still. No flowers, no music, no one saying kind words about the man I used to be. My bitchy wife doesn't even cry; she keeps glancing at the watch on her hand, as if waiting for the day to end.
My mom—I thought she cared, but she looks bored.
My father wasn't present; I wonder where my father is?
Probably getting drunk, I guess.
The priest says a few lines—cold, mechanical, rehearsed.
"Ashes to ashes, dust to dust."
Then the coffin's lowered, the dirt falls, and that was it.
My grand fucking farewell.
They didn't even stay a second longer; they turned on their heels and left.
My wife goes in one direction and my mother in another.
They are no longer bound by me, I guess.
Judging by their expressions, they would be back to their lives by tomorrow morning, their comforts, their endless race for things.
Funny, I have no heartbeat, no lungs, yet somehow I exist.
And I feel fucking painful and sad.
What did I do wrong? Why? Why aren't they sad?
I've gone senile.
I have been stupid to work my ass off for them. I gave them everything they asked, I took care of their needs, and this is what I get.
I suppose this is how life works; people move on.
No one stands still for the dead.
As I watch them leave, I realize that this world doesn't stop for anyone—not even for a man who worked himself to the death trying to please it.
Maybe that's the last truth I'll ever earn; we spend our whole lives chasing things or people that won't even pause for us when we're gone.
I stand there; rain's falling, but I can't feel it. The drops just pass through. I feel like I want to cry, but tears won't come.
An endless ocean of sadness washes over me. Though I knew, at the back of my mind. How my family was, expectations lead to disappointment.
That's how it is.
(sigh)
I look up, staring at the dark clouds.
If… if at all, I were to get a second chance, I vow to live it for myself… myself alone.
"You want a second chance?"
I hear a voice and I turn to see a woman dressed in a sharp black suit that fits her like it was stitched by the dark shadows themselves. Her hair, midnight black, flows back on her shoulders, and her eyes gleam like polished obsidian—cold, knowing, and impossibly calm.
She doesn't belong here, I can tell.
Not among the graves, not under this dull grey sky.
There's something too real about her presence, something that makes the world around her fade, as if even the air dares not disturb her.
"So you want a second chance, human?" She says it again, tilting her head ever so slightly, her red lipstick-covered lips curling into a smile that's both tempting and terrifying.
I blink; for a moment, I almost laugh.
A second chance? After dying in debt, forgotten by everyone I cared for? Here in this world?
"Who…are you?" words left my mouth. My voice was echoing faintly, as though the wind itself carried it back to me.
She steps closer; the rain doesn't touch her, like some invisible umbrella was stopping the raindrops.
The faint sounds of her heels clicking against the ground feel unnaturally loud, each step slow and deliberate. When she steps, her shadow stretches over my grave.
"Someone who can give you what life never did," she says softly. Her tone is calm, but beneath it lies something vast and dangerous.
My transparent form flickers.
Something tells me that this woman isn't from the world of the living… or the dead.
The woman's gaze didn't waver. Her eyes shimmered faintly, as though galaxies were quietly inside them.
She raises her hand and snaps her fingers, and then the place around changes.
We are now standing in an empty black space filled with white spots.
I don't even know where I am.
My expressions might have given it away, as she said, "Don't worry, I just brought you to my space."
"So…you are a goddess."
"Sort of."
"What do you want with me?"
"Your desire to live again pulled me towards you, so here I am, offering you the chance."
"Tell me," she said, her tone softer now, almost coaxing, "do you want a second chance…in another world?"
I blinked, unsure I heard her right.
"Another world?"
Her smile grew on her lips; they looked enticing and pulled me towards her.
Gosh, it's been so long since I had sex that I feel like this just at the sight of a beautiful woman.
"A world of wizards and witches, dragons, and powerful beings. A world where things don't mean anything. Only power and one's courage matter."
"Strong ones rule the weak."
"Simple."
A fantasy world? Like the ones I used to binge-watch, those anime series.
Isekai worlds!
The kind of world where heroes go on adventures to kill the demon lords and can slash the mountain in half and summon super strong storms with a snap of their fingers.
Ha ha ha.
I laughed, a low hallow, surprised sound.
"You mean like…reincarnation?"
Her red luscious lips turned into a wide grin as she said, "Call it what you want. You will start from birth, nothing like the world you knew, a complete fresh start. And you can have the power you want."
I frown as a doubt creeps up in my mind. If she was giving me this choice, then she would expect something in return, wouldn't she?
I learned from hard experiences that humans don't give anything out of free will, it's always something that is linked with the free will.
There is nothing free in this world.
Even gods too.
"And what do you expect in return?"
Ha ha.
She laughed for the first time since she came.
"First tell me, what do you want?"
I ponder over the things I could have. Magic—it's such a hassle, with all the spell gibberish and waving wands like a maniac; it's not for me. Too much effort.
All that memorizing of spells and formulas for potions, studying grimoires thicker than my mortgage papers. No, thank you.
Swords? Forget it. I barely survived gym class.
Cultivation? I've seen enough anime to know that means years in a cave eating air and meditating until your ass fuses with the floor.
(Sigh)
Rubbing the back of my neck, a habit I sort of developed when I think too long.
"I'm not looking for a full-time job in reincarnation. Just give me something simple, something that doesn't take a lifetime to master."
That woman smiled again, like she'd been waiting for that answer.
"Something that grows with you…without the need for training?"
"Exactly."
"Something that can be done with just your will and imagination?"
"Now we're talking."
"Yes, something like an esper or superhuman."
Her eyes gleamed with a strange light, half amusement and half danger, and I felt something stir in me. Unease.
"Then I shall grant you what you desire."
"I shall grant you the Elipsera Matrix. You won't need to study, chant, or pray; just like breathing, it will be. Your power will obey the speed of your thought. The stronger the mind, the stronger the power becomes."
Sounds too op, I frowned.
"Sounds too good to be true."
She tilted her head. "Everything has a price."
"I knew it, I knew it. You aren't giving me this chance for free."
She chuckled.
"Well, you can always go back to your endless sleep, I mean death."
What? I was shocked at her blunt response.
"You said you would give me a second chance."
"I did. That is if you agree to help me when I ask you to."
Damn it!
I hate being manipulated by people. But it seems like I have no choice but to agree with her.
At that moment, staring into the endless darkness around me, her agreement didn't matter to me. I was tired of being weak and powerless.
As long as she gives me the power, anything is fine.
I wanted power, not philosophy.
"Fine."
Her smile grew wider. "Then your will is your magic."
A pulse of blue light surged around me. I felt something slip into my painful, a cold, buzzing current crawled up my spine and settled behind my eyes. It wasn't painful but it felt…aware, like it was watching me from within.
Then in my mind, a voice whispered:
——
ECLIPSERA MATRIX
User: TBA
Core Attributes:
Enhanced Senses – Sharpened perception that surpasses human limits; can detect life energy, motion, and intent.
Super Physique – Muscular, skeletal, and nervous systems optimized for extreme strength, speed, and endurance.
Flight – Mastery over gravitational forces and air currents, allowing free aerial movement.
Skills:
Arkanum Pulse (Level 1) – Manifest ethereal constructs that mirror the user's will.
Aetherveil Sight (Level 1) – Perceive the world beyond ordinary senses.
Dominion (Level 1) – Telekinetic control over matter, energy, and force allows manipulation of the immediate surroundings.
System Notes:
All abilities are connected to the Eclipsera Matrix, evolving naturally as the user's cognition, willpower, and Arcane energy grow.
Skill progression: Leveling up increases power range, precision, and versatility.
Synergy Potential
As the words rang in my mind, the light began to swallow me whole.
"Wait, you didn't tell me what you wanted?" I shouted, feeling my body dissolve into motes of blue-colored flame.
The woman's voice echoed faintly as everything faded.
Her smile was the last thing I saw. "You'll find out soon enough."
And then—darkness.
And just like that, I was 'poofed' into this world.
No dramatic lightning. No grand fanfare. Just poof—like a magician's cheap smoke trick. One moment, I was staring at the woman in black, her eyes gleaming like onyx under candlelight, and the next...
I was gone.
It was completely dark, and I heard a baby crying.
Oh, wait, it was mine.
I opened my eyes and blinked.
The world was bright, sharper than I remembered. Colors I didn't even have names for danced in the light, and the air smelled… different.
Alive.
Fresh. Magical, somehow.
Then I saw her.
A young woman, barely in her late teens, sitting beside me with wide, startled eyes. Her hair fell in soft waves, catching the light like liquid gold. Her hands trembled as she reached toward me, and for a moment, I thought I was seeing a vision, a hallucination from my last life.
…No. That wasn't a hallucination.
That was my mother.
A young girl… my mother.
I stared at her, my mind struggling to process it.
How could this be?
How could someone so young, so… delicate, be the one who brought me into this world?
A faint smile touched her lips, her eyes wet with joy and fear all at once. She looked far too fragile for the role she had to play, yet I could feel the immense care radiating from her.
Before I could dwell on the strangeness of it all, a sudden vibration thrummed in my mind.
Not sound, not vision—something else.
A presence. A voice.
—
[SYSTEM NOTIFICATION]
User: TBA
Eclipsera Matrix Initialized.
Core Abilities: Enhanced Senses, Super Physique, Flight.
Skills: Arkanum Pulse – Level 1 | Aetherveil Sight – Level 1 | Dominion – Level 1
The words appeared inside my consciousness like glowing runes.
My pulse quickened, and my soul thrummed with the promise of immense power.
Then… the next line.
[Restriction: None of the granted powers may be accessed until the user reaches age ten.]
I froze.
Blinked.
Stared at my tiny newborn fingers.
I couldn't even crawl yet, let alone manipulate reality or summon ethereal constructs.
Ten years.
Ten fucking long years until I could even touch the gifts I'd been promised.
I let out a tiny, instinctive sigh.
Even in this new world, fate had to be cruel.
Damn you, lordess!
I glanced again at my mother, young and trembling beside me, and realized… my survival depended not on super strength or magic, but on something else entirely.
Wits. Instinct.
The ability to live another day without powers.
Well… Old man, you thought life was hard before?
Welcome to round two.
A raggedy, dirty, homeless boy was scurrying through the trash of the home of a wealthy couple. His thin limbs shivered as he dug for scraps that had been thrown away.
He didn't like doing this, yet it was better than staying at the home the constable had placed him in. He tried to help.
He really did. Yet no one, not his care taker, not the cops, no one believed him.
Then once they were all gone, he got beaten within an inch of his life.
Once he was healed enough to walk, he fled that house.
The first night out on the street was the scariest of his life.
He was given up as a baby, his mother left him on the streets and left. She was too young to raise him and seemed like a delicate girl who couldn't handle him.
Still, he did try to help the girls that were still in that house. However, since being on the streets he learned no one cared enough to lend a hand, you were on your own.
"Jack pot!" The disheveled boy said, as he held open the pizza box. "Pineapple?! Who puts pineapple on pizza!"
"Ew! Daddy! Some boy is eating out of the garbage!" Shawna called out for her father.
He stood there like a deer caught in the headlights before the box fell from his hands. He knew from the months he's been on the streets of what to expect from being found out. He had thought he was quiet; his hunger and the cold got the better of him. Turning to run, yet strong hands took a hold of him by the shoulders.
"Boy?! What are you doing... my God, Helen!" He tried to wiggle out of the man's grip, he knew if he was too rough he would tear the only piece of clothing he had that wasn't filled with holes to stave off the cold. His head shot back as the man squatted down, his big thumb pulling down the boy's lower eyelid looking for signs of malnutrition.
"Where're your parents?" He could see concern in the man's big brown eyes. Tilting his head at the strange word. What exactly were parents?"
"I don't have any," he said, wondering when the man was going to let him go.
"Lucas what is it?" Helen asked, walking out in a dark blue dress shirt. Her black skirt hugged her hips tightly, her ebony hair brushed along her jawline as she walked hurriedly to the side of the house.
"Fetch some of Will's old clothes, and fix a plate for a hungry boy," Lucas said, over his shoulder as his wife rounded the corner.
"Boy?! What... oh my... sweety look at you!" Helen's eyes grew wide at the sight of the boy no older than her daughter. "When's the last time you had a bath?!"
"What day is it?" He asked, as he looked up at Helen.
"It's Thanksgiving, do you know what that is?" Helen asked, her warm smile spread along her lush, full lips. "Well come," she held out her hands to him when the boy shook his head, "we'll teach you what it is." Shooting her husband a nod knowing they would be taking the boy in for the night. It was the least they could do. She for one wasn't about to allow him to wander the streets, not with how cold it was going to get that night. "So when was it, when you last had a bath that is?"
"When I ran away," He stated wondering why these people were being so nice.
"Why did you run away?" Shawna asked, peering around his back.
"They were hurting them, I tried to help, I really did. Yet no one believed me. I got this..." Pulling up his shirt, showing the red jagged scar he had gotten from the beating six months ago. "For trying to stop the bad man from hurting them." Pulling down his dirty, filthy, weather beaten shirt at their gasps.
"What do you mean hurting them?" Helen asked, her DA instincts kicking in.
"Every night when I was placed in that house. I'd hear the girls there cry and scream."
"Was there a girl like me there?" Helen asked, her hands gesturing to her adult body.
"Yes, but she couldn't hear. She talked like this," He said, moving his fingers around.
"You mean she was deaf?" Lucas inquired.
"I guess..." He shrugged his shoulders. "So can I go now?"
"Go?! Son... What's your name by the way?" Lucas asked, knowing his wife, she would be putting in a call to her office the moment they got the boy settled.
"I've been called lots of things," he said, as he hadn't heard the worst of it.
"Like what?" Shawna asked, her interest peeked.
"Ass. Son of a whore. Nothing but a waste of space. If I didn't need that check..."
"Okay. How about we call you Jegar, would you like that?" Helen asked, trying not to tear up. Her heart nearly broke when the boy simply shrugged his shoulders. She couldn't think of what this white, dirty, boy had been through the months he's been on the street given the state of his clothes. Obviously, he had found the pair of pants he was wearing somewhere. Did his best to keep them up with the bit of rotten rope. Still she knew even with that his t-shirt would do no good with the dropping temperatures as she saw his teeth chattering.
"So can I go?" Jegar asked, once again.
"Jegar, you're staying with us tonight," Lucas said, in a stern but warm voice. "I bet you're starving... I take that as a yes," he chuckled as Jegar's stomach answered him. "We have a nice turkey, dressing, green beans, yams, sweet potato pie, collard greens. Would you like some?" Lucas asked, with warm caring eyes. Flashing Jegar a toothy grin as he nodded. "But first we'll going to have to give you a bath. Will that be okay?"
"Why are you being so nice?" Jegar asked, arching an eyebrow.
"Because it's the right thing to do, Jegar," Helen said, the back of her fingers ran down his left cheek. Her hand squeezed her husband's forearm tightly as Jegar inadvertently recoiled as if he's been struck. How she just wanted to take him into his arms.
"How about we go get you cleaned up and into some warm clothes," Lucas said, keeping his anger at bay at those that would cause a boy so young such pain.
"Then I can eat?" Jegar asked, tilting his head. Wondering why he needed to be clean. He was just going to get dirty once they kick him out.
"Until this tummy is nice and big," Helen stated. Her nails scratching along his stomach causing Jegar to giggle. She thought that smile was just beautiful and that giggle just as cute as a button.
"I'll get Will to dig through his clothes and see if we can't find him something to wear for the night," Lucas said, as he took hold of Jegar's right hand.
"I think I can rangle your mother and my sister in helping me clean this little one up," Helen said, smiling down at Jegar as she held his left hand as they walked to the front door of their home.
"I want to help too!" Shawna said, running up to her mother's side.
"You can fix up the couch in the den for Jegar," Helen said, brushing her hand along her daughter's hair.
"Helen why are you bringing that dirty cracker into this house?" Stan, Lucas's brother, asked as the family noted the sound of the door. Unlike Lucas, Stan had dropped out of school and took to the gang life. He had just gotten out of prison after five years. Where he had gotten his certification only because his mother told him it was the last time she was going to put him up once he got out, the next time if or when he went in he was on his own. She was tired of it. Then again, it would be his third strike and that would mean life. Stan wasn't stupid, he knew he didn't want to be in prison for life. He hated the last five years.
"Who I bring into my home is none of your damn business!" Helen hissed as her eyes narrowed.
"Stan!" The smack, Dorthey -- Lucas's and Stan's mother -- gave upside her son's head resounded through the house. "I raised you better!"
"Ma!"
"Don't you Ma me! I should beat..." Her voice trailed off as she dragged her son out of the rear door of her son's home.
"Helen he does ask a, while crude, but important question, so why did you bring that boy into your house?" Suzie -- Helen's sister -- asked her older sister. Her sweater sat tight to her chest detailing her 32B breasts. Her low cut jeans hugged her hips as her brown eyes gazed at Jegar.
"Really sis? Are you blind? If you can't see that this boy needs help then I don't know what's wrong with you," Helen sighed shaking her head.
"But that's what the cops are for..."
"So the boy can be held at a police station for who knows how long until child services finally shows up, and that's if they can find someone on a holiday. When I, and my husband, have a nice big house, lots of space, and plenty of food to share with a starving boy. Are you telling me I should just turn a blind eye to him?" Helen asked her sister heatedly.
"Any of you that have a problem with this, there's the door, see yourselves out," Lucas growled gesturing to the front door. "Those that don't live in this house don't have a voice in this matter, am I clear!" His eyes looked around at his in-laws who nodded in support, and his relatives were tight lipped thinking the boy would be better off elsewhere.
"You have crackers?!" Jegar asked, his stomach rumbled in agreement. "Are they yummy crackers?"
Helen released a soft giggle as Jegar looked up at her with those soft green eyes. "We do... but those will spoil your appetite, and I plan on feeding you some hot, yummy, filling food. But first... bath time!"
"Go on, I'll find Will," Lucas said, winking at his wife. He loved this side of her. He knew she's been wanting another child for so long since Shawna had started middle school seeing she no longer needed that much supervision.
"Do you need help?" Dorthey asked, standing in the doorway to the kitchen once she had given her youngest son a tongue lashing.
"Yes... I think this one is going to be a handful," Helen said, smiling down at Jegar giving his hand a gentle squeeze. Casting her sister a glance before she lead Jegar to the downstairs bathroom.
Helen and Dorthey gasped as a large shard of glass wrapped in tape, and a switch blade tumbled out of the pants Jegar was wearing.
"Jegar! Why do you have these?!" Helen asked, worryingly.
"I'm small. Small things don't last on the streets, lots of bad people out there that would like to do... things. Small things need something to protect themselves from the bad ones," Jegar said, in that distant tone.
"But Jegar, you aren't a small thing, you're a person, a human being," Helen said, lovingly. Tears began to gather in her eyes at the confused look in his eyes.
"What's a person...?" Jegar was taken aback as Dorthey and Helen wrapped him in hug not caring if their clothes got dirty due to his soiled body. He could hear Helen whisper: 'What did they do to you?!'
"Honey! What happened to you?!" Dorthey shrieked as they pulled off Jegar's shirt exposing all the scars he had gotten from abusive homes.
"Lucas!" Helen yelled. The sound of feet thundered through the house.
"What is it?!" Lucas asked, thrusting open the door. His eyes widening in terror as he saw the massive scars on the boy's back. It seemed to him not an inch of his skin didn't have a scar marring it.
"Get my phone and the camera!" Helen said, her voice trembling.
"Holy!" Stan stood there in shock as he took note of the life the boy had lived.
"Don't just stand there, either close the damn door or... something!" Dorthey snapped at her son as all the members of both families tried to push their way into the doorway.
"Jegar, don't, it's okay," Helen whispered as he fumbled to try and put his shirt back on. "No one is going to hurt you," she said, in a pleading voice, yet she could see he didn't believe a word.
"Stan?! What are you doing?" Lucas asked, seeing his brother setting down a sheet in the den. His eyes flickering to the barber kit that sat on the seat of the wooden chair.
"Okay, I was an ass," Stan muttered as he placed his kit on the coffee table. The white sanex strip sat beside the cape. Scissors, combs, clippers, and anything else he might need sat snuggly in their pockets, tools he had gotten when he was in prison. He knew he was a screw up; Stan wasn't planning on screwing up again. "Thought I could give the boy a haircut... I've done some things, things I'll always regret, but who can do that to a kid?!"
"I know..." The two brother's hugged for a long time both contemplating on the evil that still lingers in the world.