"So this is it," Dean said to himself. He was about to skydive out of an aircraft, and there was a hint of hesitation on his face.
Although he had gone through extensive training, this was the first time he would actually skydive on his own. He looked down; the others had already jumped, and he knew he couldn't wait any longer. Taking a deep breath, he prepared himself for the leap.
Soon enough, he began to free fall from the plane, spreading out his arms. It felt ten times better than all the training and practice he had done. This moment felt more serene; he felt free. At this time five years ago, he would have been at Harvard, striving to raise his GPA so as not to disappoint his father. He had always been a bright kid, which was why he had gotten into Harvard, and everyone praised him for his incredible work ethic and readiness to learn. He continued to excel in college, but toward the end of his second year, his interests began to shift.
It all started when Dean was mocked for not being able to play table tennis. Determined to improve, he learned how to play and, within a week, had already mastered it. In the second week, he was better than the guy who had mocked him. After being humiliated, he decided to challenge his tormentor, and to everyone's surprise, he destroyed him in the game.
"Tsk... This is only table tennis. Come and try holding your own in basketball," the guy said.
Dean played basketball with him, but unfortunately for him this time he flopped hard. However, this didn't discourage him; he began to train day and night. The very next month, it was his turn to humiliate the guy in a half-court 1v1. This experience encapsulated his learning journey throughout university; he became increasingly interested in sports and focused on various athletic pursuits. However, as his focus shifted, his GPA began to suffer.
At first, it was acceptable, but as his obsession with sports grew, he found himself with little time to study. Although his GPA dropped, it remained above average. Then came the absurd decision to drop out of school. "How could you?" his father scolded, unable to believe it. No one thought he was serious, but when he stopped attending classes, they realized he meant it. Everyone tried to convince him to stay, wanting to know his reasons. For a time, he quit school, insisting he wanted to develop his own understanding of sports rather than what he was learning in class. Despite the pressure from family and friends, he stood firm, much to his father's anger and resentment.
"Are you really going to give up everything just because you don't like it anymore? Is this what all your education has led to?" His father's pain was evident, but Dean trusted his decision. "Can't you at least wait until you finish school? Then you can do whatever you want?"
Seeing that he couldn't change his son's mind, his father decided to focus on his younger brother, Brian.
Since then, Dean had engaged in all sorts of extreme stunts, experiencing the time of his life while searching for novelty. Now 25, he reflected on those past five years, realizing that he felt more alive during this time than in the previous two decades. On his 25th birthday, he was finally skydiving.
He closed his eyes and savored the scenery as he fell at about a hundred miles per hour. He passed through a medium-density cloud. Contrary to what he had imagined, it wasn't like cotton candy; it felt uncomfortable, like a thousand needles poking his body for a split second. Emerging from the cloud, he felt relieved and continued to free fall, even managing to spin in the sky. If he could live like this every day, it would be amazing. This was what he wanted—freedom from the confines of school.
As he approached the designated altitude for deploying his parachute, he heard the communication ring out. He quickly looked around; some of the others had already deployed their parachutes. He pulled his own release cord, but nothing happened. His heart sank as he tugged on the cord again. Still, the parachute didn't launch. Panic began to rise as he yanked the cord desperately.
Reaching for the emergency parachute, he was met with the same disheartening outcome. His heart raced, and he struggled to calm himself. As he descended rapidly toward the ground, he knew he had to activate the emergency chute. However, he was quickly approaching the earth with no sign of a parachute deploying.
"Ahh...Am I going to die on my birthday?" he thought. Desperate, he closed his eyes and prayed, "Please, God, I don't want to die here." When he opened his eyes, the ground was still there, about a hundred feet below him. His heart dropped as he considered the life he had lived, memories of his parents, his brother, and everything he had experienced flooding his mind.
In that moment, a smile crossed his face, and then—*smash*. He collided with the ground, reduced to a clump of flesh and bone. Screams reverberated around the area as people rushed to see what had happened.
As for Dean, darkness enveloped him. He was dead.
---
Sailing in the coastal waters of the mountainous region, a medium-sized boat with a sharp dragon head pierced through the thick cloud of smoke as it entered a small bay. Onboard were four men and a single woman, each dressed in traditional native attire. The men wore wool tunics that reached down to their hips, with trousers tucked into leather boots and cloaks fastened with brooches for warmth. The woman wore clothing similar to the men's, except her outfit was a flowing long dress with a floral skirt, cinched at the waist with a belt. She had a long wool cloak and footwear similar to the men's, along with a necklace around her neck.
As they navigated through the fog, they spotted the silhouette of a large capsized boat. Countless broken pieces jutted out of the water where it had sunk. Only a few fragments of the boat remained afloat, surrounded by men who were submerged, their clothing in tatters, and the water stained a thick blood red.
"Look at this!" one of the men exclaimed. They climbed down from the boat and began searching the area for survivors.
"What do we do now?" asked a man with a long beard and a balding head, addressing another who appeared wise and authoritative, with white hair tied back. "You and the others go and inspect the situation... and be careful; we don't know what caused this yet."
The man spoke, his words promoting all the others to get off the boat and start observing the area while he remained sitted. After a few minutes, the man with balding hair went to report to him
"How is it?" He asked.
The second man replied, "It could be a slave ship. Judging by the wreckage, it seems this happened just a few hours ago."
"I see," he remarked as his gaze wandered over the surroundings. "What about the people?"
"From their clothing, it appeared that most of them were wearing rags. They might be a group of runaway slaves," the man answered.
"Any idea where they might have come from?"
"Not sure," the other man replied, "but judging by the direction of the current, it seems they escaped from the nearby shores."
"I understand," the white-haired man said, gesturing for them to continue searching. "Gather any valuable resources, and we'll return to our ship."
"Okay."
While they were still discussing, a woman among them called out, "Come and see this! It seems this one is still alive!"
The group hurried over to where she stood, revealing a young man with a skinny figure struggling to breathe.
It was Dean. His vision was hazy, and his head felt like it had collided with concrete. Slowly, his sight began to clear. Fighting to open his eyes, he discovered he was lying on the deck of what seemed to be the wreckage of a boat.
He could see three burly figures looming over him. He closed his eyes again, trying to focus, and finally opened them to see muscular men clad in wool clothing, wielding axes and swords.
"Where am I?" he managed to whisper, feeling disoriented as he searched their faces for answers.