Darkness. Endless, suffocating darkness.
A young man drifted in the void, his mind foggy. He reached out instinctively, but there was no hand to move, no body to feel. Just consciousness, alone in an abyss that pressed in from all sides.
The darkness faded.
White. Infinite white stretched in all directions. Just consciousness, adrift in an expanse that pressed in without touch.
"Ah… Where am I? A hospital?" His voice echoed strangely, as if spoken into an empty hall. He looked around. No lights, no beeps of machines, no antiseptic smell. Just nothingness stretching in every direction.
"Welcome, child." A gentle yet resonant voice filled the space, warm like sunlight on skin.
The man—Rahul—froze. "Who…?"
"Do you not remember?" the voice continued, tinged with sorrow. "You saw an old woman being robbed. You tried to stop the thief. He stabbed you. You bled out on the sidewalk before help arrived."
The memory hit like the blade itself—the old woman's scream, sharp and terrified. Steel, cold against his ribs. Pavement rough against his cheek. Red spreading across concrete. Sirens, so close, fading with his vision.
"Yeah… I remember." Rahul's voice cracked. "So this is it? The afterlife?"
"Yes and no," the voice replied. A figure materialized before him—a woman of ethereal beauty, clad in flowing robes of silver and deep blue. Her eyes held the depth of ancient libraries, her hair like starlit night. "I am Minerva, Goddess of Knowledge and Wisdom."
Rahul stared, mouth agape—well, if he had one. "A… goddess? For real?"
Minerva smiled softly. "Indeed. And I have an offer for you, Rahul."
She raised a hand, and a translucent sheet appeared between her fingers: his university degree certificate—Electrical and Electronic Engineering, with honors.
"Your world calls it reincarnation," she continued. "I wish to send you to another—Eryndral—a world rich in magic, yet stagnant in progress. I need someone to advance it, to guide its people toward greater understanding. And you… you have the spark I seek."
Rahul flushed. "Me? That's a huge responsibility. You could've picked one of my professors, or some genius inventor, or—"
"Nonsense," Minerva interrupted kindly. "Your heart is brave, your mind sharp, and your knowledge practical. You intervened for a stranger at the cost of your life. Few would do the same. Besides…" Her expression softened. "I do not choose at random."
She gestured gracefully, and the degree certificate faded, replaced by shimmering images in the air—people of various professions, swirling elemental energies, and mystical objects rotating slowly.
"You may choose your new life," Minerva said. "Your background and station. Your magic affinity—the element that will flow through your veins. And a divine object of your preference, crafted to aid your mission." She paused, her smile gentle but knowing. "You will also carry my blessing from the moment of your birth."
Rahul swallowed hard, nerves twisting his stomach. "That's… incredibly generous, but—" He hesitated. "How are my parents? Are they okay?"
Minerva's gaze turned somber. "They are devastated. The loss of their only son has shattered them. Mortal grief is beyond even divine reach. I cannot mend what your death has broken."
The words hit like another knife. Rahul closed his eyes, or would have if he had any, forcing down the ache. He couldn't change it. He wouldn't waste this second chance wallowing.
"…Okay," he said finally, voice steadier. "If I'm doing this, I need to be in a position to actually change things. Make me a prince—political power opens doors. For magic affinity… electricity. It's what I know best, and it'll synergize with engineering."
Minerva nodded approvingly. "Wise choices. And your divine object?"
Rahul thought fast. Engineering was his field, but civilization needed more—medicine, chemistry, agriculture, logistics… "Something that lets me access any book or knowledge from my old world. Something I can study, reference, learn from properly."
"You'll have to learn and make everything yourself," Minerva said, a hint of pride in her voice. "Very well. You shall be born as a prince with my blessing, gifted with lightning affinity and a divine artifact: a handheld slate. Think of it as an infinite library of Earth's written wisdom. Any book, any text you desire—it will appear for you to read. But comprehension and application… those remain yours to master."
Rahul exhaled. "That's perfect. Thank you."
Minerva stepped closer, placing a glowing hand on his forehead. Warmth spread through him like current through a circuit. "Then go forth, child of two worlds. Carry knowledge as your sword and wisdom as your shield. The kingdom you are born into—Valkoria—teeters on ruin. They think might is everything, and with their thoughts, they are destroying others and even themselves."
"I'll try," he whispered.
The goddess smiled one last time. "I believe you will do more than try."
She waved her hand.
Light swallowed everything.
When Rahul next opened his eyes, the world was soft, warm, and loud.
A woman's face loomed above him—beautiful, tired, joyful. Golden hair framed a powerful yet regal frame. She cradled him gently against her chest, tears streaming down her cheeks.
"My son… my beautiful son," she murmured, voice thick with emotion.
In the background, deep voices cheered. Trumpets blared. A man in ornate armor—tall, scarred, proud—knelt beside the bed, his massive hand trembling as he touched the newborn's tiny fingers.
"Welcome to the world, Roland," the king said gruffly, raven-dark hair falling across his brow. "First Prince of Valkoria, Heir to my throne. You will be a warrior without equal."
The infant—Roland—blinked up at them, ancient eyes in a new body.
In his mind, Minerva's words echoed: They think might is everything.
And deep within, Rahul smiled.
They built this empire on glory. I'll rebuild it into something better.