The last thing Galen Thorne remembered was the cold touch of steel. It was quick almost too quick. A shout and the screech of tires with a flash of blinding light.
Then… breath.
His eyes fluttered open to an unfamiliar wooden ceiling, not the sterile tiles of a hospital or the chill of the morgue. The scent of damp straw and old timber filled his nostrils. A threadbare blanket covered his body, and beneath it, the mattress prickled with rough hay. He shifted, and his body ached in strange ways slimmer, younger, not quite right.
Galen sat up with a jolt.
But no, he wasn't Galen anymore.
A sudden influx of memories that's not his own yet somehow tangled with his own thoughts that flooded his mind. Farming fields and cold winters. A small cottage on the edge of a village called Darnwich. A quiet woman with tired eyes and long auburn hair. A bright-eyed little girl who clung to him every morning.
His name here was Zayne Cain.
He stumbled to his feet and caught a glimpse of himself in a shard of cracked mirror resting on a worn shelf. He was younger perhaps sixteen, but his eyes were the same. Steely gray, now mixed with an anger he didn't recognize until the memories settled.
His father was a brute of a man who had walked out on them three winters ago. Left Elara, his mother, for a merchant's mistress in the city. No letters, no coin, and not even a goodbye to his children. The villagers whispered about it behind closed doors, but everyone knew the Cain family had been left to rot in the mud while the bastard built a new life elsewhere.
And here Zayne stood reborn into a life of hardship and abandonment.
"Great," he muttered under his breath. "From middle-class to medieval poverty. What kind of reincarnation deal is this?"
"Zayne?" a soft voice called from behind the curtain that separated the room. It was Liora, his little sister, no more than ten, poking her head through. Her big brown eyes sparkled even through the dirt smudges on her cheeks. "You, okay? You were talking funny in your sleep again."
He forced a smile. "I'm alright, Li. Just a strange dream."
She smiled, showing the gap where her front tooth used to be. "Mama's making turnip stew!"
Zayne's stomach growled. He nodded. "Tell her I'll be right out."
The curtain swayed as she left, and Zayne sat back down on the edge of the straw bed. He pressed his hands together and whispered to the universe, as he had countless times in his old life.
"Okay. I'm here. I'm stuck and if this is one of those isekai stories, now would be a great time for a system."
Silence.
He sighed and stood but just as he took a step
[SYSTEM INITIALIZATION: SUCCESSFUL.]
Welcome, Zayne Cain. You have been chosen as a potential World Ascendant.
Select Class Type to Continue:
Guardian Spirit Mage Magic Swordsman Assassin
Zayne froze, blinking at the glowing text suspended in midair.
"Holy…" He reached forward instinctively and the moment his finger hovered over "Assassin," he felt a surge of energy rush through his body.
Class Selected: Assassin
You have received 100 Upgrade Points. Distribute now?
Zayne didn't hesitate. If he was going to survive in this world, sneakiness and speed would be crucial especially in the dirt-poor outskirts of society.
Strength: +15
Vitality: +15
Endurance: +20
Intelligence: +20
Agility: +30
As the last point dropped into place, heat surged through his limbs like liquid fire. His muscles tensed, strengthened. His mind grew sharper, clearer. The fatigue in his body vanished like morning mist.
He flexed his fingers and grinned. "Now that's more like it."
[Status: Level 1 Assassin]
Current Attributes:
Strength: 15 Vitality: 15 Endurance: 20 Intelligence: 20 Agility: 30 Available Skills: Shadow Step (Locked), Poison Crafting (Locked), Dagger Mastery I (Unlocked)
Footsteps approached the soft padding of his mother's worn shoes. He dismissed the screen with a thought just as Elara entered, wiping her hands on an apron.
"You're up early," she said, offering a tired but genuine smile. Her face was lined by years of stress and sun, but her eyes still held the strength of a woman who hadn't given up. "Come eat before Liora steals all the bread."
He followed her into the kitchen that's a rough-hewn space with cracked stone counters and a fireplace where a thin soup simmered. Liora sat at the table, humming a tune as she cradled a wooden spoon like it was treasure.
They didn't have much as the cottage was small, the food was plain, and every day was another fight to survive. However, for the first time in his two lives, Zayne saw it not as the end of the road, but the beginning.
He had power now.
And more than that he had a reason to fight.
He glanced at his mother. Her hands were red from scrubbing. Her back stooped from years bent in fields and kitchens. Liora is bright and kind, despite wearing the same threadbare dress for two years straight.
"I'll change everything," he whispered to himself.
"What was that, dear?" Elara asked.
Zayne smiled. "Nothing, just… thinking."
Thinking of gold, noble houses, power, the scumbag who abandoned them and of the assassin he was going to become.
Zayne Cain was going to climb from the filth and carve his name into the bones of this world.
For his mother and for his sister.
And for the bastard who turned his back on them as he would see just what kind of shadow his son had become.