Joseph had always believed that if something dramatic were ever to happen to him, he would feel it coming.
A sign.A warning.Some kind of foreshadowing that his life was about to change.
But the truth was far simpler.
Nothing ever happened.
Joseph's life was painfully ordinary.
Every morning began the same way—his phone alarm buzzing angrily beside his bed, demanding attention. He would silence it with a groan, stare at the cracked white ceiling of his rented room, and wonder why getting up felt harder every single day.
He was a computer science student. On paper, that sounded impressive enough. In reality, it meant long nights debugging code that refused to work, lectures that blurred together, and an endless pressure to "build a future" he couldn't even picture.
He wasn't lazy. He attended classes. He submitted assignments. He passed exams.
But there was no passion behind any of it.
No fire.
Most of his classmates talked excitedly about startups, artificial intelligence, game development, or landing six-figure jobs straight out of university. Joseph listened quietly, nodding at the right moments, pretending their enthusiasm didn't make him feel empty.
He didn't hate his life.
That was the problem.
He didn't love it either.
It was like watching a dull movie you couldn't turn off—waiting for something interesting to happen, knowing deep down that it never would.
That Friday, he packed his backpack and boarded a bus heading toward his parents' house. His mother had insisted he visit.
"You're studying too much," she'd said over the phone. "Come home, eat properly. Rest."
Joseph hadn't argued. Arguing required energy.
The bus ride was quiet. He stared out the window as buildings gave way to quieter streets, his reflection faintly visible in the glass. Dark circles under his eyes. A face that looked older than it should have.
Is this really it? he wondered. Is this what the rest of my life will be like?
No answer came.
When the bus stopped, Joseph stepped out and slung his bag over his shoulder. The neighborhood felt familiar in a way that should have been comforting. Houses lined the street neatly, just as they had when he was a child. The air smelled faintly of rain.
Clouds covered the sky, heavy and gray.
He walked slowly, hands tucked into his pockets, thoughts drifting. He wasn't paying attention to the road. He never did. He'd crossed it a thousand times before.
That was why he didn't notice the car.
The sound came first—tires screeching violently against asphalt.
Then impact.
Pain exploded through his body with brutal force. His vision shattered into fragments as he was thrown forward, the world spinning uncontrollably. Something cracked—maybe bone, maybe something else. He couldn't tell.
He hit the ground hard.
The sky disappeared.
Joseph tried to breathe, but his lungs refused to cooperate. Air escaped him in a strangled gasp. His body felt distant, unresponsive, like it no longer belonged to him.
Voices shouted around him.
Someone screamed.
So… this is how it ends?
The thought drifted through his fading consciousness, strangely calm. There was fear, yes—but also resignation. As if a part of him had always expected his life to end without meaning.
Hands lifted him.
Bright lights burned his eyes.
Sirens wailed.
The ride to the hospital was a blur of pain and half-formed thoughts. He slipped in and out of awareness, catching fragments of conversation.
"Blood pressure dropping—"
"Stay with us—"
"Sir, can you hear me?"
Joseph wanted to answer.
He wanted to say yes, that he was still there, that he wasn't ready to die.
But his mouth wouldn't move.
Every breath became harder than the last. His chest felt tight, then numb. Cold crept into his limbs, stealing sensation piece by piece.
Fear finally took hold—not sharp panic, but a deep, sinking dread.
I don't want to die.
He thought of his parents, waiting at home. Of unfinished projects. Of regrets so small and meaningless, yet suddenly precious.
The hospital ceiling rushed past above him, lights flickering as doctors surrounded his bed. Machines beeped steadily beside him.
For a moment, he thought he might survive.
Then the beeping slowed.
Each sound stretched longer than the last.
Until—
A single, continuous tone filled the room.
Flat.
Final.
Joseph's consciousness slipped away, swallowed by absolute darkness.
Warmth.
That was the first sensation he felt.
Not pain. Not fear.
Warmth.
It surrounded him completely, gentle yet suffocating, as though he were floating inside something alive. Sounds echoed faintly around him—deep, rhythmic, distorted.
Am I… alive?
His thoughts were sluggish, buried beneath a heavy fog. He tried to move his arms, his legs—anything.
Nothing responded.
Panic rose.
Then pressure came.
An overwhelming force pushed against him from all sides, compressing his body. Instinct took over, ancient and uncontrollable.
His mouth opened.
And he screamed.
Air rushed into his lungs, burning and cold. The world assaulted his senses all at once—light, sound, touch. His eyes stung as he squinted, unable to focus.
Voices shouted excitedly.
But they didn't sound familiar.
The language was strange. Harsh and melodic at the same time.
He was lifted, wrapped in rough cloth, cradled against something warm and soft. A face loomed over him—too sharp, too clear, yet undeniably kind.
This isn't a hospital.
Confusion gave way to horror as understanding dawned.
His body was small.
Tiny.
Weak.
His arms flailed uselessly, fingers curling instinctively rather than intentionally.
No…
Memories flooded back in a rush—the bus ride, the road, the car, the hospital monitor going flat.
I died.
There was no doubt about it.
And yet—
He was here.
Born.
Not reborn metaphorically. Not reincarnated as some abstract concept.
He had been born again.
As his mind struggled to comprehend the impossible, something flickered into existence before his eyes.
A faint, translucent shimmer.
Blue.
Symbols appeared for just a fraction of a second—unreadable, unfamiliar, yet unmistakably artificial.
Then they vanished.
Joseph's thoughts spiraled.
What is this place?What happened to me?
Darkness claimed him once more, but this time it felt different.
Not like death.
But like the closing of a door—
And the opening of another.
Somewhere deep within his new body, something stirred.
A warmth far greater than before.
As if something ancient had taken notice of him.
And though Joseph didn't know it yet, his ordinary life had truly ended.
What awaited him now was anything but ordinary.