It took only a month after the Northwing incident for peace to return.
The world moved on. Stocks stabilised. News forgotten.
And I, Bruce Valen, went back to being a "normal" student—on the surface.
But inside, I was changing again.
Each day that passed, the wall between my two lives grew thinner. The years of experience from my past—the fighter, the programmer, the strategist, the artist, the engineer—all those skills were coming alive again.
It started one ordinary evening after classes.
I was helping Ryan fix the school's broken 3D printer. He was frustrated, muttering under his breath, "I swear this thing hates me."
"Let me try," I said, crouching beside him.
He gave me a doubtful look. "You know how to fix this stuff?"
I smiled faintly. "A bit."
In seconds, I inspected the circuitry, the wiring, and the mainframe connections. "The motherboard's fine," I murmured, tightening one loose screw, "but this model's cooling fan is reversed. Flip the polarity on the connector."
Ryan blinked. "The what?"
I reversed the connection gently, pressed power, and the machine roared back to life, smooth as new.
He stared at me wide-eyed. "Wow. How did you—"
I shrugged. "Just lucky, I guess."
But it wasn't luck.
It was engineering, one of the many things I'd mastered as Aron Tuner.
One skill awakened another.
When the school held a martial arts workshop, I volunteered on a whim. The instructor paired me with a senior who was twice my size. The moment he swung a punch, something inside me reacted by instinct—foot shift, shoulder twist, elbow strike.
In a blink, he was on the mat. Not hurt, just stunned.
The instructor gaped. "Where did you learn that?"
I simply smiled. "From videos online."
The truth was buried in another life—fights on rooftops, missions in blood-stained alleys, wars waged in silence.
And it didn't end there.
At home, when my sisters practised music in the evening, I picked up Clara's violin out of curiosity. My fingers remembered keys, pressure, and rhythm. When I drew the bow, the sound filled the room—soft and deep, like the whisper of memory.
Clara's eyes widened. "You can play?"
I smiled awkwardly. "I just… guessed."
Luna laughed. "You don't guess something like that! You're officially joining our music nights."
So, every Sunday, I played alongside them—violin, piano, and guitar—and somehow every note came naturally, just as fighting, hacking, or art once had.
Piece by piece, the fragments of my old soul began falling perfectly into place.
But regaining skill was only half the story.
The other half was power.
After crushing Northwing silently, whispers began spreading in deeper business circles. Someone mysterious was buying struggling companies and turning them into gold overnight. Unknown investors funded projects that later exploded into success.
Behind that veil, I was the invisible architect.
But to handle higher levels of operations, I needed connections I could trust. Allies—not soldiers.
So, through secure communication channels, I reached out to old underworld contacts—people who once served me as Aron Tuner but had vanished after my death. When I sent them encrypted signals that only I could know, they responded quicker than expected.
My first contact was Felix Dray, once head of my cybersecurity branch in the old world. A genius hacker who disappeared from the grid years ago. His reply came with only three words: You're alive, King?
I smiled faintly at the message glowing on my terminal. "In a way, yes."
From that moment, Felix became my shadow ally again. He didn't know my new identity, only that I was "Ghost Alpha".
He rerouted transactions, shielded my company's signatures, and built invisible firewalls to protect my growing empire. His loyalty had always been practical but sharp.
Soon, another ally returned: Adira Voss, an artist-turned-investor, one of the hidden partners who had once traded secrets with me through black-market auctions. She contacted me after noticing my anonymous account purchasing high-value stocks in her network.
Her message was playful: Only one man buys like a storm and then vanishes. Should I call you Phantom again?
I sent a short reply: If you wish. Business is open.
Adira's investments boosted my empire's influence in the art, tech, and design industries. Through her, legitimate public faces began forming for what used to be shadows.
One by one, the new age took shape.
By the beginning of summer, I had quite a bit of control over fifty-nine small and mid-sized companies scattered across multiple nations—engineering supplies, logistics, green energy, and tech startups.
None of them was large enough to draw attention, but connected, they formed a silent network—my network.
And while my parents believed I was excelling at school, their youngest son had become the invisible hand of dozens of fortunes.
Meanwhile, my daily life remained the same.
I still went to school, listened to teachers drone on about history, and doodled in the margins of textbooks. I still ate with Ryan and stayed late helping classmates with projects. I still smiled and joked like an ordinary kid.
No one suspected that while they worked on simple homework assignments, their classmate was quietly holding meetings with secret partners through encrypted holographic channels late at night.
In the daytime, I blended into their world.
At night, I was building a new one.
I often stood late on the balcony of my Supreme Castle, looking down at the glowing lands that stretched forever. The rivers shimmered under silver starlight, and the floating screens reflected reports of economic progress.
[Master's network expansion: 76% complete. Estimated asset value: 4.7 billion credits. Risk factor: none.]
"Not enough," I murmured. "We go larger. But slowly. Every storm must start as rain."
[Affirmative. Would you like to initiate the next-tier alliance sequence?
"Yes."
[Potential allies: Independent financial guilds, small innovators, and technology startups seeking partnership.]
A long sigh left my lips. "Let's bring them in. But never reveal the real source."
[As you command.]
The Supreme Space lights rippled like a heartbeat. In that endless realm, I could feel my dream becoming solid again—but it was different from before.
As Aron, I built power to prove I could stand alone.
As Bruce, I built power to protect those I loved.
That difference changed everything.
Now, I had meaning—and that made me unstoppable.
Back at school, teachers began noticing my growth, too. I topped every class exam, aced every subject, and even corrected my science teacher once during a lab. Ryan called me a walking miracle.
"Dude, you're good at everything!" he exclaimed one afternoon. "What's the secret?"
I smiled, tapping my chest. "Just… practice."
If only he knew that my "practice" came from thirty-six years of experience in another life.
Late one night, as I watched my growing digital empire expand across the holographic map, I whispered, "This is only the beginning."
The system hummed softly around me, like a living heart.
[Master's network expanding with exponential stability. New suggestions: Foundation Project.]
"What's that?"
[A base in the real world—a front company to legally hold influence without exposure.]
I paused, smiling faintly. "You mean a true beginning."
[Yes. Name?]
I thought for a moment, then said softly, "Phoenix Corp.: the rebirth of what was lost."
[Confirmed. Foundation established.]
And just like that, as I returned to bed before sunrise, the world quietly welcomed a new company name into existence—one that would soon change everything.
But for now, I was still just Bruce Valen.
A student.
A brother.
A reincarnated king reborn beneath the skin of an ordinary boy.
And the night sky above my world shimmered brighter than ever—because for the first time, I wasn't building an empire out of madness or pride.
I was building it out of love.