General POV
It was a cold, rainy autumn night in Japan. The streets were alive with the usual rush of people eager to escape the downpour, their umbrellas forming a sea of black as they hurried home after another exhausting day of work.
That night, tragedy struck. A drunk truck driver, lulled into carelessness by exhaustion and alcohol, dozed off behind the wheel. Fate or perhaps sheer misfortune guided his vehicle toward a group of teenagers standing at the curb, too absorbed in a heated argument to notice the looming danger.
Among the many bystanders, one man did. An overweight, unremarkable 30-year-old, whose life had long since settled into quiet obscurity, acted without hesitation. With a burst of desperate energy, he lunged forward, shoving the oblivious teenagers out of harms way.
But heroism often comes at a price. His body, untrained and sluggish, could not escape in time. The truck slammed into him, the force of the impact blotting out his existence in an instant.
By all rights, his story should have ended there. But fate had other plans.
His consciousness did not fade into the void. Instead, it was pulled toward something else, somewhere else. A world of swords and magic awaited him.
Gadriel's POV
In the heart of Tokyo stood the most advanced hospital in the country, perhaps even the world. A beacon of science and reason, a gathering place for the so-called greatest minds of our time. Here, medicine, biochemistry, bioengineering, and understanding of the human physiology had advanced by leaps and bounds over the past decade.
All thanks to me.
Oh, sure, the doctors and researchers here were considered geniuses, pioneers in their fields. But lets be honest, they wouldn't t recognise true brilliance if it slapped them across the face. And it would, if I was standing right in front of them. My name is Gadriel Adams, and I am widely acknowledged as the greatest medical, biochemical, and bioengineering researcher of the century. But in my eyes, it's not that I am exceptionally gifted, it's that everyone else is a moron.
These so-called scientists are terrified of risk, of pushing the boundaries of what's deemed possible. They're re obsessed with maintaining the status quo, afraid of tarnishing their reputations, losing their medical licenses, or heaven forbid putting their cushy salaries in jeopardy. Cowards, all of them.
Now, I won't deny that I have a bit of an ego. But I didn't get to where I am by playing it safe. My methods? Not always socially acceptable. My ethics? Let's s just say they're flexible. But in the end, the results speak for themselves. Does it really matter if a few terminally ill patients received untested treatments and expired a little earlier than expected? Their sacrifice, however unintentional, paved the way for my greatest achievements: the cure for cancer and pushing the natural human lifespan up to 120 years.
You see, I wasn't t born into privilege. I was an orphan. My parents overdosed when I was two, and with no living relatives, I was tossed into the system. Not that I minded, I shudder to think what my life would've been like if I had been raised by junkies.
I grew up in a small orphanage outside of London, run by Sister Ana, an elderly woman who had lost both her husband and son to cancer before devoting herself to the church. She was the closest thing to a mother I ever had: kind, patient, and endlessly supportive. It was because of her that I developed my passion for medicine. And when she passed away, I vowed to cure the disease that had taken her from me.
I did.
Shortly after her death, I left for Japan and joined the most prestigious hospital in the world. And now, here I am the greatest mind in modern medicine.
But enough about that. Let's s focus on the present which, unfortunately, isn't looking so great.
You might be wondering, What could possibly be going wrong for the greatest medical mind in the world? After all, I have everything: money, fame, and women practically throwing themselves at me.
A fact that annoys me to no end.
Not the attention itself, of course that's s quite satisfying, actually. My ego loves it, even if people have told me (many, many times) that it's not a good thing. No, what irritates me is that all these women are the same. Gold diggers. Status chasers. Every single one is a boring, predictable copy of the next, only interested in my wealth and reputation. I haven't found a single one worth admiring, not for her mind, her character or for who she is.
Truly disappointing.
Especially because it seems I won't be getting the chance to look any further.
Present Time, Operating Room
I stand inside an operating room, the sterile walls closing in around me. In the corner, two nurses huddle together, trembling like leaves caught in a storm. Their wide eyes flicker between me and the lifeless woman sprawled out on the operating table.
She's young early twenties, at most. Her blonde hair cascades over her shoulders, her skin pale as ice, her chest unnervingly still. Beneath the thick layer of dried blood staining her abdomen lies the cause of it all a bullet wound.
She's s been dead for a while now. The blood has already stopped flowing. There's nothing I can do.
And yet…
"Help her!"
A desperate voice cuts through the silence.
I shift my gaze to the source, a young man, no older than twenty-four, standing just a few feet away. His hands tremble, his breathing is erratic, and his wide, panicked eyes scream of a mind on the verge of collapse.
Oh, and he's pointing a gun at my head.
"I can't." I say flatly.
"Why not?!" His voice cracks. "You're the best doctor there is! Help her, or I swear to God.."
His words falter as his grip on the gun tightens. "This wasn't supposed to happen. But I was just so angry!" His voice wavers, as if he's speaking more to himself than to me. "Why didn't she just shut up when I told her to? She never shuts up. It's her fault. She didn't listen. Why are you just standing there?! Help her already!"
His breathing turns ragged, his body trembling as shock and guilt begin to creep in.
I observe him carefully. This guy has completely lost it.
The matching engagement rings on his and the woman's fingers tell me everything I need to know. He didn't just shoot someone, he shot his finance. And now he's in full-blown denial, clinging to the delusion that she can still be saved.
The problem?
He's holding a loaded gun. And he sure as hell isn't going to take no for an answer. Explaining the situation rationally is pointless he's too far gone.
Sigh.
Well, here goes everything.
I let out a small chuckle and smile at him like I'm talking to a particularly slow child.
"Listen, stupid. I know that pea-sized monkey brain of yours might find this hard to process, so I'll try to explain it in the simplest way possible, okay?" I tilt my head slightly, my voice as calm as if I were discussing the weather.
"When you shoot someone with a gun" I mimic pulling a trigger, making a small poc sound, "the person on the receiving end of said gun goes bye-bye."
I let the words sink in, keeping my expression completely neutral.
"Did I dumb it down enough for you?"
Silence.
The man blinks, his mouth slightly open, his brain visibly short-circuiting from the sheer absurdity of what I just said. Even the two nurses who were paralysed with fear just moments ago stare at me in shock. It's s as if they can't believe someone would say something like that while being held at gunpoint.
Well, they clearly don't know me very well.
Then, just as expected
"WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU JUST SAY?!"
The man's voice cracked with rage, his body trembling as he advanced toward me, fury written all over his face. He stopped right in front of me, the cold metal of the gun pressing painfully against my forehead. His breath was ragged, coming in short, uneven gasps. The fear and anger in his eyes were almost palpable, and I could smell the panic wafting off of him.
What many people don't know about me is that I'm not just a medical genius. I've also spent years studying and training in martial arts. After all, you can't truly appreciate the human body without pushing it to its absolute limits, especially in combat.
So, when the man raised the gun, his shaking hand offering me nothing but a grim promise of death, I didn't hesitate.
With lightning speed, I shifted my weight forward, stepping into him, sidestepping the trajectory of the gun. In one fluid motion, I slipped into his guard, my left arm going beneath his armpit and my right hand grabbing the back of his neck.
With every ounce of force, I twisted and threw him to the ground, the sickening thud of his body hitting the sterile floor echoing in my ears.
But, like a fool, he refused to let go.
With a grunt of desperation, he wrapped his arms around me in a bear hug, his legs locking around mine. The sudden weight and movement took me off guard, and we both hit the floor in a heap of limbs, struggling for control. I could feel his breath hot on my neck, his frantic movements spurring me to act faster.
We fought for a few moments, the two of us twisting and wrestling. I could feel his hands slipping free, and my heart raced, he was desperate. And then, just as I thought I had the upper hand, I felt a sharp pain in my lower abdomen.
Bang!
The sound of the gunshot was deafening, and for a split second, time seemed to freeze. I could feel the cold, biting pain spreading through my body as the blood began to pool around my waist. My vision blurred, and I gasped for air, but I forced myself to focus.
The man, still on top of me, froze. His eyes widened as if he couldn't comprehend what had just happened. He shot me. His face was filled with disbelief, his hands trembling as he looked down at the gun in his hand, as if unsure whether he had even fired it.
Idiot.
I wasn't about to die like this. I wasn't about to lose to this idiot. I don't lose.
Taking advantage of his momentary hesitation, I forced my right arm between his and twisted his wrist. The gun slipped from his hand, and I shoved him off, using what little strength I had left to push myself upright. Blood oozed from my wound, staining the floor beneath me. I could feel the warmth of it trickling down my side.
I staggered back, keeping the gun trained on him. He was still stunned, his eyes flicking between me and the weapon, unable to make sense of the situation.
His face, filled with confusion, shifted into a look of complete panic as I slowly levelled the gun at his head. His eyes widened as if begging for some kind of mercy, but I didn't have any. This wasn't a man worth sparing.
"Night, night, fucker. I win."
I spoke the words with the same detached calm as if I were simply offering a parting gift. The words left my lips with a twisted smile, one that didn't reach my eyes.
BAM!
The shot rang out. The world seemed to slow down as the bullet tore through his skull, sending a spray of blood and brain matter across the sterile walls. His body went limp immediately, collapsing in a heap on the floor as if he were nothing more than a rag doll.
For a moment, there was nothing but silence, the echo of the gunshot still lingering in the air.
Then, the nurses screamed.
Their voices pierced the tension, shrill and panicked, their words indistinct but filled with terror. I could hear them in the background, but I was too focused on the warm, sticky sensation spreading across my abdomen.
I looked down, my vision dimming as I took in the sight of the blood pouring out of me in thick, rapid spurts. There was so much of it, way too much. I could feel the dizziness setting in, the familiar pull of darkness at the edges of my mind. If I didn't get a transfusion within the next minute, I was done.
I chuckled bitterly. "Grate."
Of all the ways to go, this was the most pathetic.
"I can't believe I'm dying because of this moron." I muttered, my voice barely audible as the blood continued to pour from my wound. My body felt colder with every passing second, and the edges of my vision began to blur.
It was almost poetic, really. I'd spent my entire life trying to manipulate and control the human body, pushing the limits of science and medicine, only for something as stupid as a bullet wound to take me out.
I tried to take another step, but my legs refused to hold me up. The world around me began to spin as I fell forward, my arms unable to catch me in time. My face hit the cold floor with a dull thud as everything around me went black.
And just like that, I lost consciousness.