For a moment, there was nothing.
No sounds. No light. No sense of time or space. Just an endless, yawning void that stretched on forever, like a dreamless sleep that never ends. Walkins Homer—or whatever name he now bore—was no longer sure of who or where he was. The world he had known was a distant, fading memory, and he felt only a strange sense of weightlessness as though floating in nothingness.
But then, a rush of warmth surrounded him. A strange, gentle warmth that began to seep into his very being, filling him with a sense of calm. Slowly, his senses began to return. First, a faint sound—soft murmurs like the wind brushing against his skin. Then, the dull pressure of something beneath him. And finally, the unmistakable sensation of air—fresh, clean air—filling his lungs.
He opened his eyes, blinking against the brightness. The world was blurry at first, too bright, too overwhelming. He tried to sit up, but his body felt… strange. Foreign, even. It wasn't like the body he had known—thin, frail, and weathered from years of neglect. No, this body was small. So small. Soft. And when he moved, it was with a strange, uncoordinated clumsiness, as though he had no control over the limbs that now belonged to him.
And then, as the world began to sharpen into focus, Walkins found himself staring at a ceiling he did not recognize. A high, vaulted ceiling with beams of dark wood stretching across. He was lying on something soft, warm—no, a bed. He was in a bed, his tiny hands clutching the soft sheets beneath him.
What was happening? Where was he?
The room around him was richly furnished, decorated with tapestries and shelves filled with books, crystals, and other objects that seemed almost… magical. The air had a faint scent of incense, a sweet floral fragrance that made his senses tingle.
A soft voice cut through the haze of confusion. "Floyd, dear, you're awake!"
Floyd.
The name felt odd to him, unfamiliar. But it wasn't his own, was it? Or perhaps it was now.
He turned his head, and a woman entered his vision. She was tall and graceful, her long, flowing hair a deep shade of auburn, and her green eyes glowed with warmth and love. She wore a simple, elegant dress that seemed to shimmer slightly in the soft light of the room. Her smile was gentle, motherly, and when she looked at him, her gaze was filled with nothing but care.
"Mother?" he asked within his thoughts, confused and uncertain.
"Yes, dear," she said, reading his thoughts. her voice soft, soothing, almost musical. "You've been asleep for a few days now. How do you feel? Are you well?"
The words hit him like a sudden storm. Mother? Was this a dream? Had he somehow—?
Before he could finish the thought, another voice, deeper and more commanding, spoke from the doorway.
"Is he awake?"
A man stood there, framed by the light, tall and strong with broad shoulders and a proud posture. His features were striking, angular, his dark hair swept back in a way that spoke of both authority and gentleness. His gaze was firm, but there was an undeniable tenderness in his eyes as he looked at Floyd.
"Father?" Floyd thought again, trying to make sense of it all.
"Ah, he's awake," the man said, his voice deep but filled with warmth. "How are you feeling, son? You've had quite the nap."
Walkins or rather Floyd this time blinked, his mind spinning as he tried to process the situation. This wasn't real. This couldn't be real. A mother. A father. A bed. A life that felt so… foreign. The memories of his past life—his lonely existence, the world of screens and shadows—felt like they were fading, like a distant echo that was slipping further and further away.
"Are they… real?" Floyd wondered, still unable to grasp the reality of his situation.
The man and woman exchanged a glance, and the mother smiled softly.
"We're as real as you are, dear. You've been given a second chance at life. A fresh start," she said, brushing a strand of hair from his face.
Floyd's heart raced. This couldn't be happening. A second chance? But how? Why? His mind reeled with questions, but before he could ask them, something strange began to happen. A voice—no, not a voice. A presence, a sensation, flickered in his mind. It was soft at first, like the whisper of a distant breeze, and then clearer, sharper, like the ringing of a bell.
System online.
His head snapped up, his eyes wide. Was this…? Was this real?
The voice continued, calm and emotionless, yet somehow… comforting.
Welcome, Floyd Jitters. You have been granted a new life in this world. Your new journey begins now.
Floyd's breath caught in his throat. What was this? Some sort of dream? Or was it…?
You are now equipped with the System, a guide to help you grow, learn, and unlock your potential. All of your previous memories, skills, and knowledge are intact. You are the one chosen to wield unmatched power and magic in this world. Use it wisely.
Floyd froze. His mind swirled with disbelief, the weight of the words crashing into him like a tidal wave. Power. Magic. A system. This… this was all happening far too fast. He had questions. So many questions.
But before he could even begin to form them, the warmth of his mother's hand on his forehead brought him back to the present.
"Take your time, Floyd," she said softly. "You've been through a lot, but we're here for you. You don't have to figure everything out right away."
Floyd nodded, trying to steady his breath. His heart thudded in his chest. Was this really happening? Was he truly reborn? And what did it mean? He wasn't sure, but one thing was clear. This was no longer the life of Walkins Homer, the lonely, isolated man. He was Floyd Jitters now, in a world that was strange, unfamiliar, and yet… full of potential.
And as he looked into the faces of his new parents, their love and care surrounding him, Floyd realized that, perhaps for the first time in his life, he wasn't alone.
Perhaps this time, he could find something different. Something more.
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