Chapter One: The Final Wish
"I wish... I could be reborn into a world where power exists... and one can rise beyond their limits..."
These were the final words of a young man whose destiny was cruelly stolen. And so begins the tale of Almond Trustnot—his rise, his trials, and the world he was never meant to lead, yet destined to rule.
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The golden morning sun crept gently through the dusty panes of Chiadika's window, casting narrow beams of light that danced across his sleeping face. A subtle gust stirred the curtains, drawing them aside just enough for the sun to blind him awake.
With a groggy groan, Chiadika lifted a hand to shield his eyes. He sat up slowly, brushing tangled thoughts from his mind, and rose from the bed. The chill of the tiled floor stung his bare feet as he shuffled to the bathroom.
A warm shower rinsed away the heaviness of sleep. Steam filled the air, clinging to the mirrors. Moments later, he emerged from the bathtub with a towel slung around his neck and a toothbrush in hand. As he lazily brushed his teeth, a sudden vibration jolted him—his phone was ringing.
He snatched it off the counter. Emi.
"Where are you?" her voice crackled through the speaker.
"At home. Why?"
There was a brief silence.
"ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!"
The outburst nearly made him drop the phone.
"Don't you know what today is?!"
"Uh... not really."
"IT'S MY BIRTHDAY, YOU GOOF! You were supposed to be here by 8—it's already 10!"
His eyes shot to the clock. "Oh my God. Emi, I'm so sorry! I overslept—I swear I'll be there in minutes. Please forgive me."
Emi let out an exasperated sigh and ended the call without another word.
Chiadika stood frozen for a moment, the weight of guilt dragging down his shoulders. He shook it off, got dressed quickly, and resumed his morning preparations. By the time he stepped out, it was nearly 11 a.m.
Just as he reached the front of his compound, the sudden cries of panic from his new neighbors pierced the air. Screams. Shouts for help. He paused, just for a second—then shook his head and walked on.
Not my business, he told himself.
He had only taken a few more steps when gunshots rang out—sharp and deadly. His heart froze. Instinctively, he glanced back. Four men were storming out of the building, weapons drawn, eyes cold with intent.
One of them spotted him.
"Shit."
A gun was raised—aimed at him.
Without thinking, Chiadika sprinted. A shot cracked the air behind him. Pain seared across his left leg as a bullet grazed him, tearing through flesh but missing the bone. He stumbled into a nearby alley, teeth clenched, blood soaking into his jeans.
Gasping, he limped deeper into the maze of backstreets, trying to reach the expressway, to get to where people could see him, where someone might help. But the pain was growing worse. His vision blurred. He leaned against a crumbling wall to catch his breath.
Then—footsteps.
Fast. Approaching.
He tried to run again, but his leg failed him. One of the assailants caught up and shoved him from behind. He fell hard. The cold concrete scraped his skin. He rolled over slowly, heart pounding like a war drum.
Above him stood four gunmen, cloaked in sweat and tension. They exchanged looks.
"Why did we chase him?" one of them asked.
"He saw us," another replied. "We can't leave any witnesses."
Their eyes turned to him. Chiadika knew it was over.
One stepped forward, his face hidden in shadow. He raised the Glock.
"I'm sorry," he said.
Three shots.
The world slowed.
Time lost all meaning.
His mind drifted—not to fear, but to his mother, who had left him to care for her newlywed sister and mentally ill father. He thought of dreams he hadn't chased. Of the life he never lived.
His final thoughts, as his soul ebbed away, echoed the desire he'd held since childhood:
"If I must die... let me be reborn in a world where power exists—where I can grow, evolve, and surpass every limit."
And then, there was nothing.
Just silence.