The bitter sting of betrayal cut deeper than any bullet. Vincenzo "Vince" Barone, the once-untouchable mafia kingpin, lay crumpled on the cold concrete floor of the warehouse. His breath was shallow, each exhale carrying the metallic taste of blood. His body was broken, but the betrayal by his closest allies—the men he had raised and trusted—left an even deeper wound in his soul.
Vince's eyes, once sharp and calculating, now fluttered in and out of focus. The last image burned into his mind was Luca, his right-hand man, standing over him with a smoking gun. Vince had expected enemies from outside his empire, but not this. His men had turned on him, orchestrated by a shadowy figure who had slipped into their midst, unseen and unknown.
The warehouse was silent now. The conspirators had left, and the mysterious figure had vanished like a ghost. Only Vince remained, alone in his final moments. Blood pooled beneath him, soaking into his expensive suit, once a symbol of his power and status.
His thoughts drifted, not to the wealth he had amassed, nor the power he had wielded, but to the web of betrayal that had been spun around him. *How could I have missed this?* His mind raced with images of the past, every deal, every conversation with Luca. Signs of betrayal that he had dismissed now seemed glaringly obvious.
But it was too late.
A sharp pain shot through his chest, and Vince gasped. The end was near, and he could feel it. Yet, as the cold grasp of death tightened around him, something strange stirred within him. It wasn't fear that consumed him in those final moments—it was fury.
*"Do you desire revenge?"*
The voice, cold and unfeeling, sliced through the fog of his fading consciousness. Vince's eyes flickered open, his breath shallow. He was alone—wasn't he? But the voice, it was as real as the blood on his hands.
*"Do you desire power?"*
His chest heaved as he tried to make sense of the words. Power had been his life's pursuit, but in the end, it had failed him. Still, as his vision darkened and his body began to shut down, Vince realized something crucial: this was not a question he needed to answer. His very being was forged from a hunger for power.
*"Then rise again, Vincenzo Barone."*
Everything went black.
---
The first thing Vince felt was warmth. Softness beneath his body. His eyes fluttered open, expecting to be greeted by the endless darkness of the afterlife, but instead, he saw sunlight streaming through a window. For a moment, he thought it was a dream, or perhaps a cruel trick by death itself.
His hands pressed into the familiar fabric of a bed—a bed he hadn't slept in for years.
Slowly, Vince sat up, his heart pounding in his chest. His hands, once wrinkled and scarred from decades of battle, were smooth, young. His breath caught in his throat as he threw off the covers and scrambled to the mirror across the room.
Staring back at him was a reflection he hadn't seen in fifty years.
It was him—his seventeen-year-old self. His jawline was sharp, his dark hair full and untamed, and his eyes, once weary and burdened with years of conflict, now gleamed with the fire of youth. He ran his hands over his face in disbelief.
"How...?"
He spun around, scanning the room, and it all hit him at once. This was his old bedroom, back in his family's house. The posters of sports cars, the faded wallpaper—everything was exactly as it had been five decades ago. His heart pounded in his chest, not from fear, but from the sheer impossibility of what he was seeing.
He rushed to the window and looked out. The street below was the same one he had walked countless times as a teenager, the trees lining the road still as he remembered them. It was the day—the day he had broken up with Maria, his first girlfriend, after discovering her betrayal. The day his life had taken its first dark turn.
But this was fifty years ago. He had died.
Or had he?
A sudden jolt of realization hit him. He was alive—alive, young, and in the past. But why? How?
Before he could piece it all together, the cold, mechanical voice returned, resonating within his mind.
*"You have been granted a second chance. Use your knowledge, your experience, and the Mafia System to reclaim what is rightfully yours. Do you accept?"*
The voice was commanding, almost... otherworldly. Vince's mind raced. A second chance? He had fifty years of knowledge—everything from lottery numbers to stock market trends, political shifts, and, most importantly, mafia power plays. He knew every key event that would shape the criminal underworld. And now, there was something else—a *Mafia System*? A tool to help him rise again?
Vince's reflection stared back at him, his young eyes gleaming with the ambition and ruthlessness that had driven him his whole life. A chance to start over. A chance to undo the betrayal. A chance to rule not just a city, but the entire world.
There was no hesitation in his response. His path had been decided the moment he opened his eyes in this new world.
*"Yes."*
The moment the word left his lips, a strange sensation washed over him, like a current of energy flowing through his veins. Suddenly, a transparent screen appeared before his eyes, filled with unfamiliar symbols and text. It was the *Mafia System*—a tool that would help him carve his name into history once more. His mind buzzed with possibilities, the gears of revenge already turning.
He was no longer just Vincenzo Barone. He was a man reborn in blood, with the knowledge and power to ascend higher than ever before.