The ceiling was stained. A faint, brownish water spot in the shape of a crooked smile. Nox stared at it. He hadn't seen that stain in centuries.
He sat up. The bedsprings groaned, a sound of cheap metal and long neglect. He was in his old apartment, the one from before. The air smelled of stale pizza and the damp, gray city outside his window. His body felt thin, weak. Human.
'So this is it,' he thought. The memories were all there, a vast, silent library in the back of his mind. The wars, the power, the love, the long, quiet peace. And now, this. The first page. Again.
He got out of bed. His reflection in the cracked bathroom mirror was a ghost. A skinny, angry-looking seventeen-year-old with dark, messy hair and eyes that held the weight of a thousand lifetimes.
'Okay,' he thought, splashing cold water on his face. 'New Game Plus. Let's see if I can speedrun this.'
