Len stood in the midst of the chaos, the sky above him clear and blue. It was almost surreal, this feeling of life returning to him—the absence of blood, the absence of the death that had once claimed him. He had been given another chance, and it was the only thing that mattered now.
Around him, the crowd was in turmoil. People were confused, frightened, and scattered. Some cried out in despair, others whispered prayers to gods who were long since proven to be absent in this world. The same faces he had seen in his past life, the same lost souls who had clung to others for salvation.
But not Len. Not this time.
He didn't need their pity. He didn't need to rely on anyone else. He had done that before, using morals and false ideals to bind others to his weakness, to keep them close while he hid behind the walls of what was "right." It had all been a lie.
Before, he had believed that weakness deserved protection. He had argued that morality was a shield against the harshness of the world. And in doing so, he had created a prison around himself—a prison built on the pity of others. That false virtue had led him to death.
"Back then," he muttered, looking at the people around him, "I prayed. I begged. I used the idea of morality to shackle others, to make them pity me. And in the end, none of it saved me."
His heart hardened as the realization sank in. He had been the one holding the chains, not the ones who tried to help him. He had wrapped himself in them, bound himself to the weakness he had so often blamed on others. He had relied on the pity of those who were just as weak as him.
The truth was simple: if he wanted to survive in this world, he had to take control. The world was harsh. The world was unforgiving. And there was no place for the weak who could not stand on their own.
Len's eyes shifted to the Dreins.
He knew they were coming before they even arrived. He could feel the tension in the air, the weight of the moment building. And then, in an instant, they appeared.
The Dreins.
Small creatures, about the size of a rabbit. They floated above the ground, their bodies glowing faintly with an otherworldly light. Their limbs were delicate, long, almost insect-like, but they moved with a grace that seemed to defy gravity. In each hand, they held a floating card, the edges shimmering faintly in the air. They did not walk; they hovered, their movements fluid, untethered to the ground.
The crowd recoiled, confused, startled by their sudden appearance. Some thought it was a prank, others stared in stunned silence, unsure of what to do. Len, however, did not flinch. He did not need to be told what was happening.
The Dreins were not here to help. They were here to explain the rules. They were the anchors of this world, the ones who would set the first challenge into motion. Len already knew what that challenge would be.
This world didn't care about morals. It didn't care about pity. The only thing that mattered here was strength. Those who were weak, who clung to others for survival, would fall. It had always been that way, and it would always be that way. The strong would survive. The weak would perish.
Len turned his gaze back to the Drein in front of him, his resolve hardening.
This time, he would not waste his chance. He would not waste his second life.
He would survive. He would grow stronger. He would fight for his own future.
The Drein hovered closer, its card glowing with an intensity that made the air vibrate. Its voice, soft but clear, echoed in Len's mind and in the minds of those around him.
"The first challenge begins now."
And Len was ready.