Chapitre 2: Reborn?
On an island,
Santa Catarina, Brazil.
Although the island was once called magical, most of its beauty was lost due to corrupt politicians. That fact was well known, but it wasn't an easy one to solve.
Despite that, the place still stood out as one of Brazil's most beautiful places, its people known for their friendliness and vibrant spirit. With 42 beaches the island was renowned to be a good place for tourism during the summer, filling it to the brim.
Connecting the island to the mainland were three bridges. These bridges, while important, were also symbols of the corruption that plagued the island. The money that went into building them was shrouded in mystery —enough had likely been stolen by politicians to build a dozen more.
The bridges stood as silent witnesses to the greed that had taken hold, casting a shadow over the island's natural charm. Yet, amidst all this, the spirit of the island's people remained unbroken, a testament to their resilience and love for their home.
Welcome to Brazil!
*Beep* Beep* Beep*
[Stupid system… let me die in peace!]
The man opened his eyes groggily.
A white ceiling was the first thing he saw. Sunbeams streamed through an open window, illuminating the room and momentarily blinding him.
Feeling the soft bed beneath his back, he took a slow breath of fresh air and realized he felt no pain.
[Am I dead?]
The silence around him was soothing, a quietness that refreshed his mind.
[This can't be Heaven, right?] The Dragon King was confused, he hadn't done enough good deeds to deserve Heaven. It was quite the opposite actually.
*Beep* Beep* Beep*
He looked around carefully without raising his body: an old wardrobe, a table with a notebook, and a cellphone —clearly the source of the noisy sound.
The room where he was, was small but cozy, with faded posters of legendary warriors and fantastical creatures from a famous MMORPG decorating the walls. A bookshelf stood in one corner, filled with well-worn books and trinkets from his childhood. The wooden floor creaked softly under the weight of time, and a small rug, frayed at the edges, lay beside the bed. Sunlight filtered through the thin curtains, casting a warm, golden glow over the familiar surroundings.
[Is this my old bedroom!?] Realization struck him, but he couldn't believe his own eyes! [Am I dreaming? Or perhaps am I in hell and this is some kind of illusion meant to bring me some sort of tragic nostalgic feeling?]
The scent of blood, the desperate screams, everything that happened on his apocalyptic life was far too real to be a dream. He wasn't so creative as to imagine all that... right?
No, he knew that wasn't just a bad dream.
He tried to get up but doing so was the most difficult thing ever. Not because he had no strength but because the bed was so good! How he missed this soft pillow and the clean sheets!
*Beep* Beep* Beep*
[Damn this stupid alarm!] In a fit of rage, he threw the pillow at the table, knocking his cellphone to the floor in the process.
As if mocking him, the alarm rang once more.
"Shit!"
With nowhere to lay his head comfortably now, he had no choice but to get up. Feeling heavier than usual, he got off the bed and picked up the cellphone turning off the alarm.
It had been years since he last used some of this "old technology," but after a few tries, his fingers moved quickly as if they met an old friend.
He checked his apps, and everything seemed fine; the old game notifications were also there.
Unfortunately, before he could enjoy this newfound feeling, he saw the current date on the display: 03. Mar 2030.
A cold sweat ran down his back as his smile froze. The cellphone fell from his shaking hands, but he didn't notice.
Even though nothing special would happen today, fear filled his mind because of what would happen in a month: How could he forget the day that the world started to collapse and his life took a turn for the worse?
"This... is worse than being in hell" he exclaimed, the memories of the harrowing experiences flooding back, threatening to overwhelm him."I don't want to live through that nightmare once again!"
Fortunately, the years he spent in the hellish future weren't for naught, and moments later, he managed to regain his composure. Drawing upon the resilience he had developed during his time in the dystopian world, he steeled himself.
"Calm down, Nikolas." He whispered to himself, his voice barely above a murmur." You have a month in advance, right? That's a massive advantage. This time you can be prepared…"
Taking a deep breath, he felt a glimmer of hope amidst the dread.
However a doubt crept into his mind: what were the last moments of his "life?" He had the impression that he wasn't supposed to hear the system's final words. The system, as the world knew, even though obscure to understand its functions, used to be dead clear with the words it used.
"Did it say it was only a test? But why am I back, and with my memories? Was that the 'gift' it stated?"
The questions lingered, swirling in his mind like a tempestuous storm. Despite the clarity of his memories from the dystopian future, the circumstances of his return remained shrouded in mystery. As he grappled with the uncertainty, a sense of unease gnawed at the edges of his consciousness.
"Wait, if I'm alive and kicking one month before the apocalypse, doesn't that mean that my family…" he muttered to himself.
"Nikolas, come have your breakfast!" As if to confirm his own thoughts, a woman's voice called him from the floor below.
His heart skipped a beat.
For a moment, time seemed to stand still as he processed the implications of the familiar voice. Could it be?
"Y...yes, mother!"
[They are alive!]
The roller coaster of emotions he felt was enough to make anyone crazy. At first, he felt dejected and resentful at his death. Afterwards, he felt calm and delighted. Soon, fear overcame him, and now he was joyful. Each emotion surged within him like waves crashing against the shore, threatening to overwhelm him with their intensity. Yet, amidst the tumult, one undeniable truth remained: the hope of reunion with his family filled him with joy and gratitude that eclipsed all else.
Wasting not a second, he rushed to the bathroom and washed his face to calm down. Unfortunately for him, his emotions surged once more when he glanced at the mirror: he almost had a heart attack!
The reflection that stared back at him was ugly and massive!
Only a few seconds later did he realize that the fat man he was looking at was himself!
[Oh, that is something I didn't miss…] he smirked.
The fatness was disturbing; it showed how much he cared for his health in the past: a lot of zeros.
Don't get me wrong, he had no problems with fat people, that's exactly why he was one. But that fact almost got him killed a thousand times during the apocalypse.
When you have to literally run for your life, all that extra weight gets in the way.
[Gotta work on that as soon as possible! Or else people will call me the Fat King…] And that was a title he didn't want.
********
Before long, he went down the stairs leading to the living room. The familiar creak of the wooden steps brought a rush of nostalgia, grounding him in the reality of his surroundings. As he approached the kitchen, the scent of freshly cooked food wafted through the air, evoking memories of simpler times.
Entering the kitchen, he saw three people seated around a table laden with food. His breath caught in his throat. Ten years. That was how long he had missed them: his mother, father, and younger brother!
His mother, with her warm, gentle smile, was setting down a plate of scrambled eggs. His father, robust and cheerful, was pouring coffee into his favorite mug. His younger brother, still a teenager, was munching on toast, oblivious to the monumental shift in Nikolas' world.
The moment they looked up at him, their faces lighting up with welcoming smiles, Nikolas' heart skipped a beat, and his body quivered. Tears welled up in his eyes, threatening to spill over.
[Hold it Nikolas... don't cry in front of them!]
"Morning, Nik!" his brother called out, a piece of toast still in his mouth.
"Good morning, sweetheart." His mother added, her voice as soothing as he remembered.
"Morning, son. Slept well?" his father asked with his usual strong voice. His eyebrows were tense, indicating he wasn't happy at all. As a retired cop, he had a strong sense of justice that was not satisfied in this country. It was stressful for him, seeing bandits not being arrested or being released day and night.
Nikolas noted the tension in his father's face, a familiar look he had seen countless times. "Yeah, Dad, I slept well." He replied, trying to sound casual while his mind was still reeling from the shock of being back.
As he sat down, he realized just how much he had taken these moments for granted. The laughter, the shared meals, the simple presence of family—it all seemed like a miracle now. The apocalypse, not only killed people, but also destroyed any sense of joy one had in life.
After giving a tight hug to everyone. Nikolas sat down and got something to eat. Completely ignoring the buns and pancakes he grabbed a small apple to eat.
His eyes met his mother's, and he saw her concern.
"Are you okay, sweet?" She asked softly. "An apple?"
"Yeah, Mom." He nodded, forcing a smile. "I'm just really happy to see you all." And he meant it, more than they could ever know. "Just decided to start a diet."
Surprised but pleased, his mother smiled. She had straight dark brown hair just like him. As a teacher of early childhood education, it was she who softened the mood on the kid's side when the father was angry. She was a kind and cheerful person to say the least.
[Didn't know how much I missed them…] Nikolas thought.
"I'm sure it must have been a girl who said something, am I right, brother?" Joked the teenager next to him.
At the age of 16, his brother Erick was bulkier than most of his age. He had well-built muscles from the gym, something Nikolas should have done long ago. With small curly black hair and a big nose, he was a mixture of their parents.
"Ha! I never lost my hopes in you, kid!" Their father added cheerfully.
"Cough... Cough... It's not a girl issue!" Nikolas answered, pretending to be ashamed but laughing inwardly.
"Ah, I pity you!" Erick joked.
"Just when did you become as degenerate as Father, Erick!?"
"Son, you're almost 23… maybe it's time to find someone to date, don't you think?" His mother added smoothly.
[When did they become so interested in my love life!?] Nikolas thought, bewildered by their sudden focus on this topic.
"Hey, when did the conversation turn to my affairs!?" He complained.
"Emi… He will be a dragon eventually, we just need to be patient." His father told her.
Emi was the abbreviation of Emilia, his mother's name.
[I became a dragon after all, but not like they intended.] Nikolas smiled inwardly. Still, that statement made him think. Was it possible to change the future? To change his family's fate? Should he tell them?
No, he knew they would have no reason to believe him if he told them about the apocalypse. He had now way to prove it. Until it happened, he would sound completely crazy.
Nevertheless, he needed to prepare. He might not have a third chance!
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone