Ray had long accepted his fate in the slums. He wasn't born into wealth, privilege, or even love. No, he was born into a life where survival was the only thing that mattered. The small, cramped alleyways he called home were filled with the scent of decay, the sound of distant fights, and the constant hum of poverty. Every day, he wondered if today would be the day he finally died.

The slums weren't a place for the weak. If you didn't have the strength to fight, the smarts to survive, or the luck to avoid trouble, you wouldn't last long. And Ray? Well, he had none of those things. Not really. His muscles were weak, his stomach was often empty, and he had no special skills. He wasn't the brightest either. All he had going for him was the will to survive, but sometimes, even that wasn't enough.

For the past week, he hadn't eaten a decent meal. A stale piece of bread here, a half-rotten apple there—whatever he could scrounge up. His stomach growled in protest, a constant reminder of how fragile his life had become. The hunger gnawed at him, but the worst part was the numbness that had settled in his body. His ribs stuck out, sharp and pronounced. His legs barely carried him anymore, and the darkness behind his eyes was creeping closer.

"Shit…" he muttered, stumbling as he walked down the alley. The world around him was spinning. His legs felt like they could give way at any moment. He was weak, barely able to keep himself upright, and yet, somehow, he kept moving. He had to. There was nowhere else to go.

Ray knew that if he stopped, if he collapsed right there on the street, he might never get up. The slums didn't care if you were alive or dead. It was a place for people to scrape by, or to get crushed. And Ray had been scraping by for too long.

He tried to think back on his life. How did he end up here? How had things gotten so bad? He wasn't always like this. There had been a time when he had dreams. He had imagined a future, a life outside the suffocating walls of the slums. But as the years passed, he realized that was a fantasy. Dreams didn't feed you. They didn't keep you warm when the cold air sliced through your clothes, didn't protect you from the gangs that ruled the streets. The harsh reality had crushed him.

Ray had tried to escape, of course. He'd tried finding work, joining a few businesses that promised to lift him out of poverty. But each time, something went wrong. A shady boss, an accident, a betrayal—whatever it was, his efforts always ended in failure. Every time, he was dragged back into the same hole he had tried to climb out of. And now, it seemed, his life had reached its end.

The pain in his chest was growing. It wasn't just hunger anymore. His breath came in ragged gasps, and he could feel his heart pounding in his chest, too fast, too erratic. It was like something was inside him, clawing its way out.

Not like this, Ray thought, panic setting in. I didn't even get to do anything with my life.

His vision blurred, and for a moment, he thought he might pass out. He stumbled again, this time falling to his knees in the middle of the alley. The cold concrete scraped against his skin, but he didn't care. His body was shutting down. He could feel it. His limbs were numb, his thoughts were clouded, and he was starting to feel like a stranger in his own body.

There were voices in the distance, but they didn't matter. His eyes were growing heavier. He could hardly keep them open anymore.

A voice in his head screamed at him. No! You can't just die here! Not like this!

But Ray couldn't muster the strength to fight it. His body gave in, and the last thing he remembered before the darkness took over was the sensation of his body crumpling against the cold, unforgiving ground. His breath came in ragged gasps until there was nothing left. Just darkness.

When Ray woke up, it was like someone had slapped him across the face with a bucket of ice water. His body jerked awake with a shock, and his eyes snapped open.

But the world around him wasn't familiar. He wasn't in the slums anymore. There were no filthy alleys, no sounds of distant fights, no smell of rot. Instead, the air was cool, crisp, and smelled faintly of pine and fresh grass. It wasn't even night. The sky was bright, but not in a way he'd ever seen before. The colors were all wrong. A soft glow illuminated everything.

Ray blinked rapidly, trying to make sense of what was happening. He was lying in soft grass, his arms stretched out, looking up at an unfamiliar sky. He wasn't sure where he was, but he definitely wasn't in the slums anymore.

What the hell? Ray thought, his mind racing. Did I die? Is this… the afterlife?

Before he could even process that thought, a voice echoed in his head, startling him.

"Reincarnation… granted."

Ray's mind blanked. Reincarnation?

He tried to sit up but found that his body felt… different. Stronger, somehow. His limbs were no longer weak, and his chest didn't hurt. He felt… normal, as if all the pain, hunger, and suffering he had endured for so long had disappeared.

" Ray," the voice continued. "You have been granted a new life in the world of xaldon. Your past life ends here, and your new journey begins."

"Wait, wait—hold on!" Ray shouted internally, unable to speak out loud. "I'm… I'm alive? What the hell is this?! What do you mean, 'new life'? Am I dead?"

The voice didn't respond to his panic but continued as if it had no time for questions. "You have been granted the Death's System. Your new life starts now."

Before Ray could scream, a strange sensation passed through him. Like something had been plugged into his brain. Suddenly, numbers and strange symbols appeared in front of his eyes.

======[Death's System]======

Name: Ray (Now Reese)

Class: Deathbringer

Stats:

Strength: 5

Agility: 4

Stamina: 3

Mana: 0

Luck: 1

Skills:

Death's Embrace: Summon and control the power of death (Limited use)

Rebirth: Revive once per lifetime

---

Ray's heart skipped a beat. What the hell is all this? His mind was spiraling. He wasn't sure if he was having some weird dream or if this was real. But one thing was clear—this was not the slum anymore. He was somewhere else, and it looked like he was stuck here.

"Wait a minute," Ray thought, panic rising. "What the hell is this Death's System thing? Is this like a game? A fantasy world?"

The voice finally returned, a little too calm for Ray's liking.

"Now that you have received your new identity and abilities, you must use them to survive in Xaldon. You will face trials, grow stronger, and build your new life."

Ray wasn't listening. He couldn't even process the last bit of information. He was still stuck on the fact that he was dead and now… somehow, he wasn't? Whatever the hell was happening, it wasn't what he'd signed up for.

"Alright," Ray muttered, shaking his head. "Screw it. This is insane. Let's just see where this goes."

With that, Ray stood up and took his first step into the strange new world that had replaced the slums. Whatever this new life had in store for him, he'd face it head-on.