The wind rolled lazily down the steep hill, brushing over the man's bare shoulders, cooling the raw skin that should have stung from the gashes carved deep into his arms and chest. But they didn't hurt. In fact, they were closing rapidly. He could see it. Watch it. Skin pulling itself back together in a silent miracle.
He flexed his fingers slowly. No tremble. No pain. No stiffness. Only strength, coiling in his limbs like it had been waiting to wake up.
He looked down at his bloodied palms, then up at the endless blue sky. "Am I…" he muttered, eyes narrowing. "...dead?"
No answer came only the rustle of grass and the hum of insects. But everything around him felt too vivid. The hill was steep and mossy behind him, towering like a gentle wall of green. The trees beyond swayed with unnatural grace, and the scent of pine and wet earth filled his nose like incense.
Was this heaven?
Or… something else?
The man rose to his feet slowly at first, then in full. He was taller than he remembered. Heavier with muscle. More grounded in his steps.Off to the left, tucked behind a curtain of willows, a lake shimmered like glass. As he approached it, each step felt lighter, more stable. The pain he should be in from wounds, from death, from whatever happened was gone.
He crouched near the edge and cupped his hands to drink. But just before the water touched his lips, he caught the reflection.
He froze.
The face staring back at him wasn't broken or bruised or ragged. No. This face had sharp cheekbones, eyes that glowed faintly like polished amber, and skin unmarked save for the faint outline of veins that pulsed silver beneath the surface.
"Hell yes…" he whispered, breathless. "This is my real face."
He leaned closer, disbelief coursing through his veins. "What the hell happened?"
Was this a second chance?
He blinked memories flickering in fragments. Cold dirt. Chanting. A scent like burnt flowers and ash. A light... no, a shadow... and then nothing.
He looked down at his hands again, flexing. Clenching. Alive. Strong.
Reincarnation?
Resurrection?
His fingers curled into fists, and he let out a shaky breath. He didn't know who had brought him back — or 'why' but he knew one thing with terrifying clarity
He wasn't the same man who died.
And the world had no idea what was coming.
Under the shaded canopy of an old train station plaza, three figures huddled close, backs turned against the afternoon crowd. They weren't tourists. They weren't locals either. Their suits were crisp, though slightly mismatched, and their expressions spoke more of surveillance than leisure.
One of them the tallest, wearing square-framed glasses held a weathered photograph in gloved fingers. In the faded image, a rugged-looking man stood beside a young girl of about twelve, her hair braided neatly, her hand clutched in his.
"This is him?" the second investigator muttered, eyebrows raised. "Doesn't seem like a job worth dragging us out for. Why's the Roman family so fixated on him anyway?"
The third, older and sterner, didn't look up. "Don't ask," he said flatly. "You don't pry when it comes to the Romans. You do what they want or you end up off the radar. Like Milo."
He slipped a dossier into the fold of his jacket, voice quieter now. "They want him tracked. We track him. End of story."
But just as he said it, the man they spoke of unrecognizable to even the trained eye brushed past them in the crowd. His hair was a striking blend of black streaked with shades of blue that shimmered under sunlight. His eyes? A startling, unnatural crystal blue that caught glances and turned heads.
His walk was smooth, confident, almost too fluid for someone blending in. He moved with the ease of someone who knew how to vanish.
As he passed the three investigators, none of them noticed the subtle flick of his hand. A wallet gone. €4000 richer. The man smirked faintly as he turned the corner, heading down the marble-paved street toward the gold-plated doors of an upscale restaurant.
'€4000 should be enough to fill my stomach," he murmured under his breath, sliding a hand into his coat pocket. "Finally back in my home world. I can't believe how much Earth has changed in just 14 years…"*
He looked up at the towering skyline, glass and chrome glittering against the blue sky.
"But I wonder if it's ready for me..."