"Samson! Breakfast is ready!"
The voice was warm, familiar, and full of care—the voice he thought he'd never hear again. His mother.
Samson froze. For a moment, he doubted his reality. His heart pounded as the sound of her voice carried through the house. He turned toward the window, the early morning sunlight streaming through the curtains, bathing the room in golden light. The sight was surreal—this was his childhood home, untouched by the passage of time.
His legs trembled as he sat up from the bed, the soft creak of the wooden floor beneath him grounding him in the moment. This isn't a dream, he thought.
"Samson? Are you still asleep? Come on, or the food will get cold!"
Hearing her voice again, Samson's chest tightened. Memories flooded his mind—the way his mother, Maren, had worked tirelessly to care for him and Ayla after their father's death. She had been the pillar of their family, always smiling despite the weight she carried. She had never let them feel the absence of their father, fulfilling their wishes even when it meant sacrificing her own needs.
But he had failed her.
Samson clenched his fists as guilt washed over him. In his previous life, he had squandered the opportunities she had worked so hard to provide. He had failed the national magic exam, the one chance to secure a stable and respectable future. As a result, he had been forced to join the army, a life of hardship and regret.
Meanwhile, Ayla, his younger sister, had succeeded where he hadn't. She had passed the exam with flying colors, her talent shining bright. But as her star rose, the distance between them grew. He had been too ashamed of his failures to maintain their bond.
Not this time, Samson thought, wiping a tear from his cheek.
With newfound resolve, he rose and walked downstairs. The aroma of freshly baked bread and sizzling eggs greeted him, pulling him further into the present. When he entered the kitchen, he stopped in his tracks.
There they were.
His mother stood by the stove, her face radiant as she turned to greet him. "Good morning, Samson!" she said cheerfully, her voice filled with love. Beside her sat Ayla, only five years old in this timeline, her legs swinging beneath the chair as she buttered her toast with a childlike focus.
Samson's vision blurred with tears. He couldn't believe it—he was here, with them, in a time when everything was still whole.
"Samson, are you okay?" Maren asked, her brows furrowing with concern.
Instead of answering, Samson stepped forward and enveloped his mother in a tight hug. "Thank you," he whispered, his voice cracking.
"For what?" she asked, confused but smiling.
"For everything," he said, pulling back to look at her face. Then he turned to Ayla, who tilted her head, staring at him curiously. He crouched down and ruffled her hair, something he hadn't done in years.
"Good morning, Ayla," he said with a wide grin.
Ayla giggled, brushing his hand away. "You're acting weird today, Samson."
Maren laughed softly. "He's probably just hungry. Come, let's eat."
As they sat down together, Samson couldn't help but smile. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, he felt truly alive.
---
That day, as Samson watched Ayla play in the garden and helped his mother with small chores around the house, he made a promise to himself.
He would not waste this second chance. He would top the national magic exam, not just for his future, but for theirs as well. He would honor the sacrifices his mother had made and ensure Ayla could look up to him with pride.
He had knowledge now—skills gained from years in the army and the bitter lessons of war. He knew spells, combat techniques, and strategies that many wouldn't learn until much later. He had an edge, and he intended to use it.
For the next month, Samson poured his heart and soul into preparing for the exam. He studied theoretical magic, memorized runes, and worked on improving his mana reserves. His determination was unshakable.
---
The day of the exam arrived, and Samson walked into the examination hall with confidence. Rows of students filled the room, their faces a mix of nervousness and excitement. But Samson felt calm, the weight of his resolve steadying him.
The test itself was grueling, a combination of written exams, practical demonstrations of potion making and witchcraft and mana endurance trials (A test where a certain amount of mana used to make force field and examine is put under that pressure). But Samson excelled, his military-honed discipline and knowledge guiding him through every challenge.
Hours later, when he stepped out of the hall, the sun was high in the sky, its warmth washing over him. A smile spread across his face, one of genuine happiness.
He had done it. For the first time in years, Samson felt the thrill of success—not for anyone else's validation, but for himself.
And as he stood there, the watch on his wrist glimmered faintly. Looking at it he smiled and thanked it for second chance.