Chapter 2 - 02: Dying Wish II

He coughed hard. More blood poured from his mouth, mixing with the puddle below. His voice was barely more than breath. "I... I want to live." [Rebirth authorized. The host will be given a glimpse of the world of rebirth.] He barely heard it. The world tilted. Everything around him turned to shadows. But the voice was still there, clear as ever. [Specify your request. Choose your system type.] John’s mind slowed. The pain, the alley, the cold. All of it began to fade. Images danced behind his eyes. Not memories. Ideas. He saw swords and spellbooks. Towers and castles. Strange creatures and glowing stones. A world not like Earth. A place of magic. He didn’t know why he saw it. But he understood. This wasn’t resurrection on Earth. He wasn’t getting a second chance in the same life. Something had changed. "You’re sending me... somewhere else," he whispered. [Correct. The host will be reborn in a magic based world.] He swallowed hard. Or at least, he thought he did. He could no longer feel his body. "And you... you can give me a system?" [Yes. Input required. Choose your path.] John stared into the void. His body was already gone, dissolved into something less than dust. Only his mind floated now, suspended in the dark. He thought of Earth. Of machines and weapons. Tools and tech. The convenience of modern life. What if he could bring that with him? What if he didn’t have to start from scratch? He didn’t want to crawl his way up with an unknown world with a sword and fireball. He needed something he is familiar with. Something that is only unique to him. "I want a modern trade system," he said. "Give me a way to recreate Earth’s technology. Let me build. Let me combine Earth’s science and magic." Silence followed at first. Then the voice returned. [Request accepted. Construction difficulty: Abyss level. Program complexity: Extreme.] "How long will it take?" he asked. [The system requires eighteen years to develop with modern technology. Time will begin upon rebirth.] He stood in silence. Or maybe he floated. It was hard to tell in this strange void where nothing had shape or sound or even direction. The words echoed inside his mind over and over. Eighteen years. It was not just a countdown. It was a sentence. A promise. A warning. And maybe a chance Eighteen years. That was enough time for a child to be born and become an adult. Long enough to forget a name. Long enough to build something new. Or to lose everything again. He could not deny the weight of it. Eighteen years meant patience. It meant growing up again. Learning to crawl again. Learning to speak again. Maybe even getting diapers again. He shuddered at the thought. Hopefully that part would be skipped Still. What did he have left behind him? A world that had already thrown him away. A name that had stopped meaning anything. No family. No friends. No dreams. The place he came from had become a cold empty corridor where he had been walking alone for far too long. He had nowhere to return. No hand to reach for. No voice waiting to whisper his name. No one to cry for him. There was nothing. So he looked ahead A magic world. That part still felt strange. He had only ever known science and wires and screens that screamed for attention. But the idea of magic. Real magic. Power that bent the laws of reality. It was impossible and yet comforting. A strange kind of hope. A place where the rules were different. Where the weak could become strong. Where the forgotten could rise again If he had to start from nothing then let it be somewhere where nothing had limits He took a slow breath. Even breathing felt fake in this place. It was just a habit now. Like pretending he still had a body In eighteen years he could get used to this new world. He could grow into it. Learn its rules. Blend into its rhythm. Maybe even cheat a little with the help of the system. After all, he was not going in blind. He had a purpose now. A goal and promise of a system. "I accept," he said quietly. No more looking back. He gave his answer not with words but with silence. A deep wordless agreement that echoed through the void like the closing of a door And then time began [Initiating transfer.] The voice faded. The darkness deepened. And then it shattered. Crack. A single noise tore through the void, like glass breaking under pressure. Then came the sound. It was sharp and piercing. It was a baby’s cry. The cry pierced the quiet like a blade. It was high and raw, not yet touched by language or memory. Somewhere in the dark, an infant gasped for breath. Then came another cry, louder this time, as if the child refused to enter the world in silence. Rain tapped gently on wooden shutters. The storm from the alley was gone, replaced by a soft pattering that made the cold cottage feel even smaller. The fire had long since turned to ash. The walls were old and damp, the air was thick with the smell of blood, wet linen, and something bitter beneath it. A single oil lamp flickered in the corner, its flame casting long shadows that stretched across the stone floor. The baby wailed again. The woman on the bed barely stirred. Her skin was pale, lips parted, eyes fluttering half open before drifting shut again. She had no strength left. Sweats were dripping from her face. One hand hung off the edge of the bed, fingers twitching as if reaching for someone... but the person wasn’t there.