I took one last drag of my cigarette, the smoke swirling around me in the dimly lit alleyway. It was a bad habit, I knew, but it helped calm my nerves in times of stress. Little did I know that this would be the last cigarette I would ever smoke.
As I flicked the butt to the ground and crushed it beneath my boot, a strange glow caught my eye. A stone tablet, covered in ancient writing, lay at my feet. I reached down to pick it up, my fingers tingling as I made contact with the smooth surface. Suddenly, the world around me began to shake and tremble, as if the very earth itself was coming apart at the seams.
I felt a surge of power coursing through me, a power unlike anything I had ever experienced before. It was dark magic, the rarest and most dangerous form of magic known to man. And it had chosen me as its vessel.
As chaos erupted around me, I knew what I had to do. I had to use this newfound power to save the world, no matter the cost. And so, with a heavy heart and a determined spirit, I set out to do just that.
I fought tirelessly, using my dark magic to defeat the enemies that threatened to destroy everything I held dear. But in the end, it was not enough. I sacrificed myself to save the world, my body consumed by the very power that had once given me strength.
But death was not the end for me. I was reborn, 50,000 years later, in a world once again in danger