---
In a quiet, grassy lane, a black-haired boy lay sprawled on the ground, bruises scattered across his body. A wooden sword rested nearby, its surface worn from relentless practice. His name was Leon Heart, and at that moment, he was lost in his thoughts.
"Damn it, this hurts," Leon muttered under his breath, grimacing as he shifted slightly. "I can't even beat a twelve-year-old with a sword. What's wrong with me? Why the hell is my talent so pathetic? And to make things worse, I don't even have mana. How am I supposed to survive if the Demon Lord suddenly attacks?"
Frustration welled up inside him as he clenched his fists.
"Now, you might be wondering who I am and why I'm whining like a child," Leon thought bitterly. "Well, to understand that, we need to go back twelve years—to when this all began."
---
Twelve years ago, Leon lived a completely different life. In his previous world, he had everything a person could ask for. His parents were wealthy businesspeople who never missed a chance to spoil him, and he was the kind of guy people would envy—decent looks, a sharp mind, and no real hardships to speak of.
"Life was easy," Leon thought bitterly as he lay in the grass, staring up at the sky. "Too easy."
He spent his days enjoying the luxuries of modern life. The newest video games, endless online shows, and an abundant supply of snacks—he lived the dream of any teenager. But on a sunny afternoon, the illusion of safety shattered in an instant.
"I still remember the sound," Leon thought, a pang of anger and frustration hitting him. "The roar of that truck's engine, the screeching tires... and then the pain."
It was supposed to be a quick trip to the convenience store. He had just grabbed his favorite snacks and a bottle of soda, heading home with headphones in his ears. He wasn't paying attention to the road—why would he? Crosswalks were safe, right?
Out of nowhere, a truck barreled toward him, the driver apparently distracted. Leon had no time to react. The collision sent him flying like a ragdoll. He barely registered the pain as his body hit the asphalt, his vision blurring until darkness claimed him.
When Leon opened his eyes again, he found himself in a strange place—warm, soft, and oddly cramped. He blinked, confused by the fuzzy shapes around him, only to realize his limbs didn't move the way they should.
"What the hell is going on?" he remembered thinking. Panic set in, but then it dawned on him. "Wait a minute… this feels familiar. Is this…?"
The realization hit like a bolt of lightning. He had been reincarnated.
"At first, I was ecstatic," Leon admitted to himself. "This was every anime fan's dream come true. A second chance at life in another world! Surely, I'd be given some kind of cheat ability or overpowered talent. Maybe I'd even get a system. You know, the kind that pops up with quests and stats. Something to make me a hero."
He spent his early childhood convinced that something incredible was waiting for him. "Maybe it'll unlock when I turn five," he had thought. "Or maybe when I start training with a sword."
But the years dragged on, and nothing happened. No miraculous awakening. No hidden power. No system. Just… nothing.
"Okay," Leon had thought, trying to stay optimistic. "No problem. Maybe I'm just naturally talented. Who needs a system when you've got raw skill, right?"
On his fifth birthday, Leon decided it was time to prove himself. He had heard stories of children getting their mana levels tested at the church, and he couldn't wait to show off.
"Take me to the church," he had demanded, his voice brimming with confidence.
His parents exchanged amused glances, entertained by their son's enthusiasm. "Alright," his father had said with a chuckle. "Let's see what our little prodigy is capable of."
The church was a grand building, its towering spires reaching toward the heavens. Sunlight poured through the stained glass windows, painting the stone floor in hues of red, blue, and gold. At the center of the main hall stood a podium, where a glowing blue orb rested. Beside it, a priest waited with a gentle smile.
"Come forward, child," the priest had said, gesturing for Leon to approach. "Place your hand on the orb, and we shall see the mana that resides within you."
Leon's heart raced with excitement as he stepped forward. This was his moment. He placed his small hand on the orb, a grin tugging at his lips. "This is it," he thought. "This is where my destiny begins."
The orb began to glow faintly, its light swirling with soft hues of blue. But as the seconds ticked by, the glow dimmed, and the hall fell silent.
The priest frowned, his expression turning somber. "Zero," he announced.
Leon blinked, confused. "Zero?" he repeated, his voice cracking. "That… that can't be right. Check again!"
But no matter how many times he tried, the result was the same. Zero.
The weight of the word crushed him. He had spent weeks boasting to his parents about how he would become a great mage, the savior of the world. And now, he stood there humiliated, his dreams shattered.
---
Life after that day was hard.
Without mana, Leon couldn't become a mage. And without a system or any special talent, his chances of becoming a hero seemed slim. He decided to focus on swordsmanship instead, clinging to the hope that hard work could make up for his shortcomings. But even that felt like an uphill battle.
"Talent matters in this world," Leon thought bitterly. "No matter how hard I train, I can't keep up with people who have both mana and skill."
He was constantly reminded of his inadequacies. Every sparring session, every failed attempt at magic, every taunt from other kids—it all fueled his frustration.
"I'm a nobody in a world full of somebodies," he thought as he lay in the grass, staring up at the endless sky. "And if the Demon Lord ever attacks… I won't even be able to protect myself, let alone anyone else."
---
"That was seven years ago, huh? Time really flies," Leon thought as he stared at the sky.
After reminiscing about his past, he let out a sigh and got to his feet. Dusting off his clothes, he began walking back home. When he reached the familiar wooden door of his house, he knocked lightly and called out, "Mom, I'm home! Open the door!"
From inside, his mother's voice called back, "Coming, Leon!"
Moments later, the door creaked open, revealing a petite woman with kind eyes and an apron tied around her waist. Her smile faded the instant she saw him.
"How many times do I have to tell you not to train like a maniac and come back all bruised up?" she gasped, her hands on her hips.
Leon scratched the back of his head sheepishly. "Sorry, Mom. I won't do it again." Then, under his breath, he added, "At least, I think I won't…"
His mother gave him a long, unimpressed stare, her lips pursed. Finally, she sighed. "Fine. Go upstairs. I'll come up and tend to your wounds."
Nodding quickly, Leon made his way to his room. He dropped his wooden sword by the corner and collapsed onto his bed, staring at the ceiling.
A few minutes later, his mother entered with a bowl of warm water, some cloth, and a jar of ointment. She set everything down on a small table beside the bed and gently began cleaning his cuts and bruises.
"Leon," she said softly, her voice tinged with concern, "I know you're trying your hardest. And I'm not going to tell you to stop chasing your dreams. But you need to pace yourself. You push too hard, and every day you come home covered in bruises. It hurts me to see you like this."
Leon winced—not from the sting of the ointment, but from her words. He glanced away, ashamed. "I'm sorry, Mom. I'll be more careful next time."
His mother gave him a small smile, brushing his messy hair aside. "That's all I ask."
After finishing her work, she packed up the supplies and stood to leave. At the door, she paused and looked back at him. "Get some rest, Leon. You've earned it."
"I will," Leon replied, watching her disappear down the hallway.
As exhaustion weighed on him, he let his head sink into the pillow. "I'm so tired," he mumbled, his eyelids growing heavy. Before he knew it, he drifted off into a deep sleep.
But when Leon opened his eyes, he wasn't in his room anymore.
He found himself in a vast, white room that seemed to stretch infinitely in all directions. There were no walls, no ceiling—just an endless expanse of white. Confusion gripped him as he sat up, his heart pounding.
"Where… am I?" he whispered.
---