Prologue: The Final Round

  Marcus had always been a fighter—not just in the ring, but in life. Born with the heart of a champion yet cursed with a body that betrayed him, he learned early on that his dream of becoming a professional boxer would never come true. A rare genetic condition robbed him of his stamina, leaving his health fragile. But Marcus never let it break him.

  Instead, he fought in smaller arenas, earning respect not for his victories, but for his spirit. He wasn’t in it for the glory. He took dives when he had to, did gig work on the side, and survived one day at a time. At 44, he was too old for the game, but he stayed in the ring, still swinging.

  Love? He’d passed on that, too—kind of. Boxing was his one true love. And with his condition, how could he risk bringing a child into the world who might inherit his weakness? Better to guard his heart, even if it meant walking through life alone.

  The night he died, the crowd was deafening. Blood trickled from his brow, his breath came in harsh as he squared up against his opponent—a younger, stronger fighter desperate to make a name for himself. The fight wasn’t fair, but that had never stopped Marcus before.

  Then came the final punch.

  A bone-crushing blow to his temple sent him crashing to the mat. The world blurred. The cheers became distant, like echoes from another life. He could feel the darkness creeping in.

  And yet… he smiled.

  He had gone down fighting. Maybe that was enough.

  Then the roar of the crowd faded. The scent of sweat and blood vanished.

  And when Marcus opened his eyes, he was no longer in the ring.

  He was somewhere else.

  Somewhere impossible.

  Marcus opened his eyes to a vast, shimmering void. The space felt infinite, glowing faintly with swirling hues of blue and purple, like an eternal dawn caught in motion. There was no ground beneath his feet, yet he stood steady, his mind unnervingly calm despite the surreal surroundings.

  A figure appeared before him—not with fanfare, but as if he had always been there, blending seamlessly with the fabric of the void. The man looked... ordinary. His unkempt black hair and rumpled white robe clashed with the ethereal atmosphere, and the faint bags under his eyes gave him the air of someone long overdue for a nap.

  “Ah, finally awake,” the man said, stretching like he’d just rolled out of bed. “You’re Marcus, right? Semi-pro boxer, cat enthusiast, scared of deep water, and—oh, yeah—officially dead?”

  Marcus blinked, taking a cautious step back. “Wait, dead? What the hell is this? And who the hell are you?”

  The man sighed, rubbing his temples. “Yeah, I’m terrible at this part. Name’s Kalo. I’m what you might call a god—technically a god-in-training. I handle... let’s call it soul logistics. You were supposed to go through the standard afterlife processing, but, uh”—he gestured vaguely at the void—“someone upstairs clicked the wrong button, and you ended up here.”

  Find this and other great novels on the author's preferred platform. Support original creators!

  Marcus frowned, his brows knitting together. “A god-in-training? Isn’t there, like, someone more *qualified* for this? And what do you mean, I’m dead? This feels too real to be—”

  Kalo raised a hand to cut him off. “Trust me, I’m as annoyed about this as you are. But hey, here we are. And since you’re here, let’s skip the existential crisis and cut to the chase. I can send you back to Earth as a squirrel or something, or...”

  Marcus blinked. “A squirrel? Are you serious?”

  “Dead serious,” Kalo said, his face a mask of sincerity that only made him seem more absurd. “But I’ve got a better offer. Do you believe in second chances, Marcus?”

  The question hung in the air. Marcus hesitated. “I mean... yeah, I guess. Why?”

  Kalo’s tone softened. “There’s a world out there,” he said, gesturing to the swirling void, “one of many. It’s in desperate need of change. People like you—‘transferred souls,’ we call them—are sent there to shake things up. You’d start fresh, born into a land of magic, adventure, and danger. But here’s the catch...”

  Kalo’s gaze darkened. “Most transferred souls fail. They can’t adapt. They don’t survive. And when they fail, the world suffers for it.”

  Marcus tilted his head, suspicion creeping into his voice. “Then why send me?”

  Kalo shrugged. “Because you’re different. You’re a fighter, Marcus. You’ve spent your whole life clawing your way back to your feet, no matter how hard you’ve been hit. You’re not afraid to make mistakes—and learn from them. That’s why I’m giving you this chance. I think you’ll thrive where others haven’t.”

  Marcus scratched his head, trying to process everything. “So... you’re saying I’d get a second shot? A whole new life? In a magical world?”

  “Exactly,” Kalo said, clapping his hands. “But that’s not all. I’m going to stack the deck in your favor. You’ll still have to face challenges—plenty of them—but I’m giving you a gift. A blessing, if you will.”

  “A blessing?” Marcus asked, his curiosity finally overtaking his skepticism.

  Kalo nodded. “I call it the Perma. It’ll let you tap into all three types of magic—Mana, Kī, and Psycha. Normally, people in that world can only use one, and even then, only within the limits of their class. But with the Perma, you’ll have access to all of it. It’ll make you incredibly powerful."

  "Powerful...how powerful?"

  "It's kind of a lot to explain, essentially you'll be able to call on most power with as little as a thought. No hand signs, chants, or sigils. You'll be able to do what many train a lifetime to accomplish."

  "What's the catch... there's always a catch."

  "How would you know, you've never reincarnated before."

  "I just know whenever something sounds to good to be true...there's a catch."

  Kalo rolled his eyes, "the catch is a target on your back if anyone finds out. That’s why I’m also giving you this.”

  He snapped his fingers, and Marcus felt a strange warmth flood his chest. A faint, glowing symbol appeared over his heart, then faded.

  “That’s a mythic title,” Kalo explained. “The Unseen One. It’ll shield your true abilities and stats from inspection skills. As far as anyone else is concerned, you’ll look like an average joe. Use it wisely.”

  Marcus stared at Kalo, a mix of awe and trepidation in his eyes. “Magic, classes, a whole new world... it sounds insane. But why are you doing this for me?”

  Kalo’s weariness returned, dimming his earlier enthusiasm. “Because I’m tired of watching people fail,” he admitted. “Maybe this is my way of making up for it. Or maybe I just want to see someone prove it’s possible. Either way, Marcus, I believe in you. Don’t make me regret it.”

  Marcus took a deep breath, his excitement bubbling to the surface. “Alright, Kalo. I’m in. Let’s do this.”

  “Good,” Kalo said, snapping his fingers again. The void began to ripple and distort. “Remember: survive, adapt, and keep your gift hidden. This world can be ruthless, but I think you’ll find it’s also... beautiful.”

  Before Marcus could respond, the void swallowed him whole. He hurtled through space and time, a kaleidoscope of light and color blurring past him. His last thought before everything went dark was a mix of fear and exhilaration: This is it. My second chance.

  When he awoke, he was lying on cold stone, the sound of distant growls echoing through the air.

  His new life had begun.