Chapter 5: A Twist of Fate
Barrett felt as if he were floating again, his consciousness drifting in and out of the void. Memories of the previous spins swirled in his mind: the Gacha System, the Ascension Deck, the race of a Fallen Angel, and the first world—Harry Potter. And then there was the second spin, the one that had landed on...
"DC," ROB's voice echoed faintly, dragging Barrett from his hazy thoughts.
Barrett's eyes snapped open, but instead of the void, he found himself staring at a new wheel, one with the familiar DC logo glowing in the center. The flickering images around it depicted iconic landmarks: Gotham City, Metropolis, Themyscira, and more.
"Ah, so the second world is DC," Barrett murmured, his curiosity piqued.
"Indeed!" ROB replied with a dramatic flair. "The combination of Harry Potter and DC is a unique one, don't you think? Magic meets superheroes, a recipe for chaos and glory!"
Barrett rubbed his temples, trying to process the implications. "So, let me get this straight. I'm a Fallen Angel with a Gacha System and the Ascension Deck, and now I'm being thrown into a world that combines wizards and superheroes?"
"Exactly!" ROB exclaimed. "And what a grand tale it will be. But before we continue, let me explain a few things."
Barrett crossed his arms, his patience wearing thin. "Go on."
ROB snapped his fingers, and a glowing screen appeared before Barrett, displaying various possibilities. "The DC world will bring its own set of challenges. Superhumans, gods, and villains—all of them will be part of your new reality. Combine that with the intricacies of the wizarding world, and you've got yourself a real adventure."
"Great," Barrett said dryly. "Anything else I should know?"
"Oh, plenty," ROB said, smirking. "But where's the fun in spoiling everything? For now, just know that your powers and skills will adapt to fit this dual-world setting. And remember, you're not just a spectator; you're a player. Make your choices wisely."
Before Barrett could respond, ROB snapped his fingers again, and the void began to dissolve around him. "Good luck, Fallen Angel. Your journey begins now."
Barrett felt a sudden pull, like he was being yanked through space and time. His vision blurred, and the sensation of falling overtook him. He tried to brace himself, but then everything went dark.
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Barrett's eyes fluttered open, and he was immediately struck by the unfamiliar surroundings. The ceiling above him was ornate, adorned with intricate molding and a sparkling chandelier. He turned his head slightly, taking in the room. The walls were lined with bookshelves filled with leather-bound volumes, and expensive-looking furniture was arranged meticulously. A large window let in soft sunlight, the drapes pulled back to reveal a stunning view of a sprawling garden.
"Where... am I?" Barrett muttered, his voice hoarse.
He tried to sit up, but a wave of dizziness forced him to lie back down. As his senses returned, he noticed how small his body felt, how his limbs lacked the strength he was used to. He lifted a hand to his face, the pale, smooth skin confirming his suspicion: he was a child.
A mirror on the far side of the room caught his eye. With some effort, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and made his way toward it, his steps unsteady. When he finally reached the mirror, he froze.
Staring back at him was a boy no older than seven, with striking features that seemed almost too perfect for someone so young. His hair was a deep raven black, tousled in a way that gave him an effortlessly handsome appearance. His eyes were a piercing gray, sharp and intelligent, yet carrying a hint of melancholy. His skin was pale but flawless, giving him an ethereal quality. If he had to compare, he looked like a younger version of Robert Pattinson, but with an otherworldly charm that set him apart.
Barrett touched his face, his fingers tracing the contours of his jaw and cheekbones. "This... is me?"
Before he could dwell on it further, the sound of a door opening drew his attention. A middle-aged woman in a crisp uniform stepped in, carrying a tray of food. She had a warm, professional demeanor, her smile polite but distant.
"Good morning, young master," she said, placing the tray on a nearby table. "I've brought your breakfast. The doctor will be in shortly to check on you."
Barrett blinked, his mind racing. "Young master? Doctor?"
The woman gave him a curious look but said nothing, merely bowing slightly before leaving the room. Barrett sat down at the table, his thoughts a whirlwind. The food in front of him looked exquisite: fresh fruit, pastries, and a steaming cup of tea. Despite his confusion, his stomach growled, and he began to eat, savoring the flavors.
As he ate, he glanced around the room again, trying to piece together where he was. The decor screamed wealth—not just wealth, but old money. Whoever he was now, they were clearly part of a very affluent family.
Once he finished his meal, Barrett leaned back in his chair, his mind returning to the events with ROB. "So, I've been reincarnated," he murmured. "But who am I? And why does this place feel so... familiar?"
The door opened again, and this time, a man in a white coat entered. He had a kind face and a clipboard in hand. "Good morning, young master," he said, his tone gentle. "How are you feeling today?"
Barrett hesitated, then nodded. "Better, I think. Just... a little confused."
The doctor smiled sympathetically. "That's to be expected. You've been through quite an ordeal. But don't worry; everything is being taken care of. Just focus on resting for now."
Barrett nodded, deciding not to press for details just yet. The doctor checked his vitals and asked a few routine questions before leaving him alone again. As the door clicked shut, Barrett stood and walked to the window. He looked out at the garden, his reflection faintly visible in the glass.
Suddenly, a rush of emotions hit him like a freight train—grief, anger, and a profound sense of loss. His head throbbed, and he staggered back, clutching his chest as memories that weren't his own flooded his mind. He saw flashes of a dark alley, a man and woman smiling down at him, a loud bang, and then darkness.
Barrett collapsed to his knees, his breathing ragged. "No..." he whispered, tears streaming down his face. "They're gone."
As he knelt there, something deep within him stirred. A warm, electric sensation spread through his body, and he felt a strange energy coursing through his veins. It was magic—raw, untamed, and powerful. His hands glowed faintly, the air around him crackling with energy.
Barrett clenched his fists, the grief slowly giving way to determination. "I don't know who I am yet," he muttered, "but whoever did this... they'll pay."
For now, though, he needed answers. Answers about this new life, this new power, and the path that lay ahead. Barrett Walker—or whoever he was now—wouldn't rest until he uncovered the truth.