Wei Jin woke up to the sound of running water and the clatter of porcelain.
"For heaven's sake, Jin, get up already. You'll be late for school."
The voice came from nearby, familiar in a way that made his chest tighten before his mind could catch up. Jin opened his eyes sharply, his breath hitching as he stared at the ceiling above him.
It was too clean, too intact, with faint cracks he remembered tracing with his eyes when he was younger. His body felt wrong—lighter, smaller, unscarred—and when he lifted his hands, they weren't the rough, calloused ones he had died with.
His heart began to pound.
He pushed himself up and looked around. The room was unmistakable. His room. The desk by the window, the old bookshelf, the school bag tossed carelessly on the chair.
A smell drifted in from outside, warm and ordinary, the smell of breakfast.
"Jin!" his mother called again from the kitchen. "Wash up and come eat. Your father's leaving soon."
Why am I here? Jin thought, his mind racing. Why do I look like this?
He stumbled out of the room and into the hallway. In the living room, his father Wei Ming was adjusting his jacket, tying his tie, his expression calm and focused.
At the dining table, his sister Wei Mei was fixing her hair, half-listening to something playing on her phone while chewing lazily.
Jin's vision blurred.
He walked toward her slowly, every step feeling unreal. Wei Mei glanced up, annoyed. "What are you staring at? You look like a ghost."
Emotion surged up uncontrollably. Jin stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her tightly, holding her as if she might disappear if he let go.
"So you're here too," he said hoarsely. "You were waiting for me in heaven?"
There was a sharp pain in his stomach.
Wei Mei pulled back and punched him without hesitation, right where it hurt. "Are you crazy?" she snapped. "If you say something like that again, I'll send you there myself."
Jin staggered back a step, gasping. The pain bloomed properly, solid and real, not fading the way dreams did.
His hands trembled as he pressed them to his stomach.It hurts.
He stared at her, then at his father, then toward the kitchen where his mother Wei Lan was washing dishes, humming softly to herself.
The sound of water, the smell of food, the dull ache in his body—everything was vivid.
"Mei," Jin said slowly, his voice unsteady, "what's today's date?"
She looked at him like he'd lost his mind. "Are you still half asleep? It's April 16th. Hurry up or you'll miss breakfast."
April 16th.
Jin's breath caught.
One day before the dungeon rupture. One day before everything was taken from him.
His legs felt weak. He leaned against the wall, his mind spinning as reality settled in with terrifying clarity.
I really returned.
His gaze hardened as he looked at his family moving around the house, alive and ordinary and unaware of what tomorrow would bring.
If this is real, then I won't let you die again. No matter what it takes.
Chen Lan came out of the kitchen carrying a plate, her brow creasing when she saw his expression. "Why are you just standing there? Go wash your face. Breakfast is ready."
Jin swallowed hard, forcing the tightness in his chest down. He nodded, his voice barely steady. "Okay, Mom."
He turned toward the bathroom, his steps slow but deliberate. When he came back a few minutes later, his eyes were clearer, his emotions tucked away where they wouldn't spill out again.
He sat down at the table and began to eat, listening to Wei Ming talk about work and Wei Mei complain about school, committing every sound to memory.
This time, he thought, I'll choose the right path from the beginning.
After breakfast, Wei Ming finished adjusting his jacket and picked up his briefcase. He ruffled Jin's hair as he passed, the gesture casual and familiar, then reminded him not to stay out late after school.
Jin nodded, watching his father leave through the door, the sound of it closing echoing longer in his ears than it should have.
The house slowly returned to its usual morning rhythm. Chen Lan began clearing the table, and Wei Mei rushed off to finish getting ready. Jin went back to his room to change for school, but his thoughts refused to settle.
The memory of the dungeon, the pain, the heat surging through his body, and the words that had appeared before his eyes refused to fade.
It had felt too real to be a dream, yet part of him was afraid it had vanished along with his old life.
If it was real… then where is it now?
He sat down on the edge of the bed and stared at his hands, turning them slowly as if expecting something to appear. His heartbeat quickened.
He focused, trying to recall the sensation from before, the moment when something inside him had shifted.
Nothing happened.
A familiar unease crept in. What if it was only a dying illusion? What if this life was a cruel joke, giving him hope just to take it away again?
Jin clenched his fists and closed his eyes, forcing himself to calm down. Think. Last time, it triggered after killing a monster.
After choosing to devour. Maybe it isn't something that activates randomly.
"Still…" he murmured to himself, opening his eyes again. "At least show me you're still there."
The air in front of him shimmered faintly.
Jin froze.
A translucent interface unfolded before his eyes, calm and unmistakably real.
Name: Wei Jin
Gene: Grade 2 (Low Purity)
Star Level: 1-Star (Initiate)
Skills:
– Devour
– Sensory Enhancement (Epic)
His breath caught as he stared at the words.
Grade 2… low purity. So my gene is still weak, just like before.
But his gaze locked onto the skills listed beneath it, and his heart began to pound.
Devour.
Sensory Enhancement — Epic.
It wasn't gone.
The dungeon, the kill, the choice he had made at the edge of death—it had all carried over.
This wasn't a second chance without meaning. This was the same path, reset to the beginning.
A quiet laugh escaped his throat, shaky but real, and before he realized it, Jin was smiling. Not the polite, restrained smile he used at school, but something raw and unguarded.
"So it really wasn't a dream," he said softly.
Relief washed over him, followed quickly by resolve. Last time, he had lived cautiously, surviving on the edges, afraid to gamble his life on uncertain chances.
He had trained, endured, and waited, believing effort alone would eventually be enough.
It hadn't been.
This time would be different.
If his path wasn't the same as everyone else's, then he wouldn't walk like everyone else. If devouring monsters was what it took to grow, then he would hunt them himself. Slowly at first, carefully, but without hesitation.
"I won't live like last time," Jin said quietly, the smile fading into something sharper. "Not again."
He stood up, finished getting ready for school, and grabbed his bag. As he stepped out of his room, the system interface faded from view, but the certainty it left behind remained.
Tomorrow would change everything.
And this time, he would be ready.