Norman woke up in the middle of the night, drenched in sweat.
"Urgh, what a headache."
His breathing was shallow, and his heart was pounding like a war drum. For a few moments, he just sat there on his bed, trying to make sense of what was happening. The last thing he remembered was staying up late, playing games until his eyes were dry and his body felt heavy. That had become his routine.
Norman was 30 years old. Unemployed. Unmotivated. After graduating from college with average grades and vague dreams, he was in a traffic accident that claimed both of his legs. The incident shattered not only his body, but his will to live. He spiraled into depression, lost touch with the few friends he had, and shut himself off from the world.
He became a hikikomori, spending his days immersed in fantasy worlds—anime, novels, MMORPGs—anything to avoid thinking about the bleakness of his own reality. He lived with his mother, Jane, a nurse who worked long shifts at the local hospital. His father had walked out years ago and built a new life with a different family, one that didn't include Norman. Jane, burdened by guilt over what happened to her son, never pressured or scolded him. She tiptoed around him like he was glass.
Then, after years of aimless existence, Norman's body gave out. A heart attack, in the dead of night. There was no one to hear his cries, but even if there was, Norman didn't try to call for help. His body, weakened by neglect and junk food, had reached its limit.
"Ahh, what a sad life—dying alone, huh?"
He lay there in the darkness, a bitter smile on his lips. There were no regrets, because there had never been anything to strive for. Just years of nothingness.
"I'm sorry… Mom."
Then everything went dark.
---
When Norman opened his eyes again, he gasped.
The headache was worse, as if someone had driven a spike into his skull. He sat up, confused, and looked around. Something felt… different. He pulled himself out of bed and staggered toward the water dispenser. He poured himself a glass of water, but what shocked him more than his thirst was the sensation in his legs—he was standing.
"What the hell? Why… am I walking?"
He stumbled to the mirror and looked at his reflection. What he saw made him drop the glass.
He was… young. Not just a little younger, but a teenager again. His face was smoother, his jaw slimmer. The acne he used to hate as a teen had made a small return. He rushed to find his phone, only to discover it wasn't his modern smartphone—it was the model he'd used years ago.
Checking the date, his hands trembled.
February 3, 2020.
"What is happening…? Am I dreaming?" he whispered.
Then the memories hit.
They weren't his old memories. They were new. In these memories, tomorrow—February 4—would be his 17th birthday. But more than that, tomorrow was the awakening day.
A strange world began to unfold in his mind. A parallel Earth, similar to the one he knew, yet vastly different in one fundamental way—mana existed. Some called it chakra, others called it qi, but the scientific community of this world had agreed to standardize it as mana. A naturally occurring energy that existed in all things.
At 17, every person underwent a ritual known as the awakening, where their body would first harmonize with mana, revealing their innate talent. This talent determined how easily they could manipulate mana and what path they could take in the world—warrior, mage, artisan, healer, or even rare hybrid classes.
The world had a clear hierarchy of power, determined by one's mana tier:
1. Mana Apprentice
2. Mana Adept
3. Mana Disciple
4. Mana Knight
5. Mana Champion
6. Mana Master
7. Mana Sage
8. Mana Archon
9. Mana God
In his past life—or whatever the previous world was—Norman hadn't even qualified as an Apprentice. There was no mana there. Only pain.
"Hahahahaha… This is crazy. I must be dreaming. This is some kind of twisted isekai or reincarnation trope," he muttered, pacing. "Am I hallucinating? Did I die and get reborn in some fantasy version of Earth?"
Still dazed, he sat on his bed and pinched his arm. It hurt.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
"Norman, darling? What's going on in there?" came the soft voice of his mother—his younger mother, with a voice full of warmth and strength that had faded in the future. "Shouldn't you be sleeping and preparing for your talent awakening tomorrow?"
Norman froze. That voice…
"I'm fine, Mom. Just a weird dream. I'll go to bed soon," he replied quickly.
"Well, try to get some sleep. Tomorrow is important."
As her footsteps retreated, Norman clutched the blanket on his bed and stared at the ceiling.
He reached down and touched his legs again. Real. Strong. Healthy. No wheelchair. No atrophy. No pain.
"It's good… that I still have my legs," he whispered, voice trembling. "I don't know how… or why… but I've been given another chance."
He took a deep breath and looked out the window at the night sky, the stars burning brighter than he remembered.
"In my last life… I had no direction. No purpose. I wasted everything, and when I lost what little I had, I gave up."
His hands clenched into fists.
"Not this time."
In this world—this second chance—he would make something of himself. He would climb the mana ranks. He would rise to power. He would never again be helpless.
"I, Norman, will not waste this life. I will reach the ninth tier—Mana God—even if it takes me decades."
His heart pounded—not from illness, but from burning determination.
Tomorrow, he would awaken. And this time, he wouldn't be a nobody.
He would become legend.