The email arrived at 9:17 a.m.
No subject.
No warning.
No warmth.
Aiden Cross stared at the screen, his heart a slow, hollow drum. Four lines of text had erased five years of loyalty, five years of late nights, five years of hope.
We regret to inform you that your position has been terminated effective immediately.
The hum of printers, the chatter of colleagues, even the soft whir of the air conditioner—none of it touched him. It was all noise. Empty. Irrelevant.
"Hey… you okay?" Jason's voice cut through the haze.
Aiden turned the screen. Jason's eyes widened. "That… that's… wow. Are they serious?"
"They're always serious," Aiden said, flat. Hollow. He realized he had said "yes" too many times in his life; now silence felt heavier than any word.
The elevator ride down was silent. Outside, the city roared—lights, cars, crowds of people with purpose. He had none.
His phone buzzed. Mom. He didn't answer. He already knew what she'd say: Are you eating properly? Don't worry, everything happens for a reason. Your brother would've figured it out.
His brother.
The memory hit him harder than the email ever could. A younger boy smiling through bruised knuckles. "It's fine, I can handle it."
And then… death.
Life One — The Crushing Car Crash
The road was slick with rain. Aiden held his brother's hand, every muscle tensed, every thought screaming. The tires skidded. Metal screamed. Glass shattered.
The impact wasn't instant. Pain tore through his chest, but worse than pain was the helplessness, the sickening realization that he could do nothing. His brother's small body slammed against his, and Aiden felt every bone, every heartbeat, shattering like porcelain in his arms.
Water filled his lungs. Heat burned his chest. The world narrowed into a single, sharp point: the sound of his brother's scream, cut short.
He thought he would die first, but he didn't. Not yet. He had to feel it all—the crushing, suffocating agony, the smell of burnt tires and blood, the terror mirrored in his brother's eyes. He memorized every second, every sensation, every helpless thought.
And then darkness claimed him.
Life Two — The Fire That Swallowed Hope
Flames roared. Smoke clawed at his throat, black and thick. He ran through the corridor, dragging his child, his lungs burning, his vision narrowing. Every second, the heat pressed into his skin like molten iron. His hands blistered. Every movement was agony.
But the worst was not the fire—it was watching his child's fear, mirrored in the red-orange glow of the flames. Each cry echoed inside his chest, stabbing him deeper than the fire ever could.
A beam fell. Aiden's shoulder cracked. Pain flared like lightning, hot and shattering. His child's hand slipped. Aiden screamed, but his voice was swallowed by the roar of the fire.
The smoke was suffocating, choking, alive with every heartbeat he had failed to protect. His vision blurred, and the last thing he felt before everything went black was the unbearable weight of helplessness.
Life Three — The Drowning That Claimed All Breath
Water. Cold, heavy, merciless. His brother's hand slipped from his. The current was fast, unrelenting, dragging them both into the abyss. Every stroke was a battle; every breath burned his lungs as if fire had replaced air.
Aiden's mind screamed—not for himself, but for the boy he had failed again. The water pressed into every cavity of his chest, mocking him, reminding him of every life he had lost, every moment he had failed, every death he had survived only to feel it again.
Every second was excruciating, the mind refusing to let go, the body screaming for air that wouldn't come. His brother's eyes, wide and terrified, haunted him long after the water claimed them .
This Life — The Awakening
And then… silence
HONG HONG !!!
He woke not in a city, not in a street, not in a building. Metal pressed against his back. Sparks flew. Red lights flashed violently. His hands shook, but for the first time, the terror did not paralyze him.
Stars. Endless, cold stars.
The memories of countless deaths flooded back—the fire, the water, the metal, the screams, the helplessness, the burning pain, the choking, the crushing weight of failure. Every life pressed on him like chains forged from grief.
And yet… he was breathing.
> This is the one
Glowing words hovered before his eyes. Cold. Clear. Real.
> You Have Awakened a Legacy
> System Error Detected… Reconstructing Reality
> Compatibility: Unstable
> Soul Integrity: Confirmed
He could see it all—the streets, the flames, the floods, the blood, the helpless smiles of his family—every death, every fear, every pain etched into him. But now, for the first time, grief did not mean defeat.
"I… I survived," he whispered. Trembling, his voice breaking.
I survived… and this time, I won't fail.
Another line appeared:
> Welcome Back, Reincarnator !!
The Legacy stirred inside him, ancient, forbidden, alive. His soul felt something it had never felt before— strength born from endless pain.
Outside the cockpit, the void shifted. Vast. Silent. Watching. Waiting.
Aiden's lips curved into a hollow, ironclad smile.
"So," he whispered, voice shaking, yet certain, "you tried to kill me. You failed. This time… I survive."
And in that moment, the universe paused. Fate, for the first time in countless lifetimes, hesitated.