Nick Valiente stumbled through the dim alleyway, the rough burn of cheap whiskey lingering on his tongue, his pulse a jagged beat in his ears. Neon lights from distant clubs painted murky rainbows over wet pavement, colors smudged by the drizzle. The city's noise felt distant, a dull roar muffled by the betrayal that still churned raw in his gut.

  Every time he blinked, the image seared into his mind resurfaced: Sarah, tangled in the sheets with Matt, his so-called best friend.

  Earlier that evening, he'd finished class early, a rare occurrence. Eager to surprise her, he had practically jogged to her apartment. Instead, the surprise had been his. The weight of betrayal settled deep, carving out something raw and jagged inside him.

  Nick stumbled, numbness wrestling with fury as he navigated the alleyway. It smelled of urine and rot, darkness punctuated by the flickering neon signs of nearby bars. Each step was heavier than the last, grief and anger slowing him, numbing the ache until—

  A sharp pain erupted in his side, sudden and brutal.

  His breath caught, eyes wide as he staggered back. A hooded figure, little more than a shadow, twisted a blade free from Nick's torso, sending him sprawling into a filthy brick wall. Legs gave way, the world spinning and shifting, blood hot and slick between desperate fingers.

  His vision blurred, the alley tilting, his senses dulling. Blood seeped through his fingers, thick and unrelenting, staining the pavement beneath him. His body trembled, the creeping cold gnawing at his limbs.

  So this is how it ends? Not in battle, not fighting for something meaningful—but alone, bleeding out in a filthy alley, a victim of chance.

  His breath grew shallow. Darkness crowded the edges of his vision. His mind drifted, slipping beyond the pain, beyond the present. And then—weightlessness. Suspended in a vast, endless void.

  A light beckoned in the distance, warm and inviting. It would be easy to follow. To let go.

  But then—memories. A flood of them, crashing into him like a tidal wave.

  Not just his life as Nick Valiente, but another. A warrior's life.

  Arlize Dentragon.

  The greatest swordsman and magician of the Aurilia Empire.

  The memories of Arlize Dentragon cascaded through him—a life lived centuries ago in another world. A master swordsman, a gifted magician, betrayed by those closest to him during the Great Aurilian War. He could feel the weight of Arlize's enchanted blade in his hand, recall incantations that could manipulate the elements, remember the faces of friends who had plunged daggers into his back.

  But how? Why did he remember a life from what seemed like a fantasy world? The connection felt impossible yet undeniable—the same soul experiencing betrayal across different planes of existence.

  Nick struggled to make sense of it all. Was Arlize just a character from a game he had once played? A story he had read? Yet the memories felt too real, too detailed to be fiction. He recalled the sensation of channeling magic through his fingertips, remembered the exact moment Arlize had discovered his lover and his general plotting his demise.

  The betrayal. The battle. The moment of death.

  Perhaps he was hallucinating, his dying mind creating elaborate fantasies. Or perhaps... perhaps there was a connection he couldn't yet understand. If he had been given a second chance after Arlize's death, was he now being given a third after Nick's?

  Whatever the truth, one thing was clear—this cycle of betrayal had to end.

  The faces of those who had turned against him. The sting of treachery ran deep in both lives, two fates cruelly intertwined. Rage surged through him, shattering the numbness.

  No.

  Not again.

  Nick gritted his teeth, forcing himself to stay, to resist the pull of the void. He would not walk into the light. He would not accept another bitter end.

  If fate had denied him peace, then he would carve out his own path.

  A third chance.

  This time, he would not be weak. This time, no one would betray him. This time—he would take control of his own destiny.

  The void trembled, the darkness shifting. Something was changing.

  Nick Valiente, Arlize Dentragon—whoever he was—opened his eyes.

  Sunlight filtered through the blinds, casting soft patterns across the dorm room walls. His body jolted upright, heart hammering in his chest. His hands gripped the sheets, solid and real beneath his touch.

  He knew this place.

  Sunlight flooded through half-open blinds, bathing his dorm room in gentle warmth. His heart raced as he sat up sharply, clutching his unharmed abdomen in disbelief. Everything was exactly as he remembered: his freshman dorm, textbooks neatly stacked, his laptop sitting idle.

  Nick reached for his phone on the nightstand, clicking it on with trembling fingers. The date glared back at him: August 24, 2026. Freshman orientation day. His gaze darted to the wall calendar with its red circle around today's date and "FIRST DAY" written in his own handwriting.

  He exhaled sharply. Two years. He had two years before that fateful night in the alley.

  He stood, moving slowly to the mirror. A younger reflection stared back—eighteen years old, tousled brown hair, sharp green eyes, richly brown skin, a mark of his mixed Black and Colombian heritage. He was back, two years before the bitter end, memories from two lifetimes intact and vivid.

  Two years before his death.

  Exhaling sharply, Nick took in his surroundings, his mind racing. The memories of his past lives remained intact, every detail seared into him like an unshakable truth. He wasn't just a naive freshman anymore.

  This time, he would change everything.

  It was his first day of class. The opening ceremony would begin soon.

  He dressed quickly, his mind sharper than it had ever been. He would no longer be the fool, the so-called 'stupid jock' they had mocked behind his back. No, this time, he would be the top of his class. He would rise to become valedictorian.

  The path ahead was clear. He wouldn't waste a second. He had a second chance—and he would seize it with everything he had.

  The university's grand auditorium hummed with restless energy as students poured in, their excited chatter filling the air. Rows of polished wooden seats stretched toward the towering stage, where faculty members sat in a practiced formation, their faces a mix of authority and detachment.

  Nick slouched in the back, arms crossed, watching it all unfold with quiet detachment. He recognized the expressions—wide-eyed freshmen, brimming with optimism, oblivious to the trials ahead. He had been one of them once. Hopeful. Naive.

  Sarah and Matt were somewhere in the crowd. He wasn't ready to see them. Not yet. Not until he had a plan.

  The chancellor took the stage, delivering the same speech Nick had heard before—platitudes about ambition, seizing the future, carving one's own path. He barely listened. His future wasn't something to be seized; it was something to be built, brick by brutal brick.

  When the ceremony ended, the auditorium doors swung open, releasing a flood of students into the courtyard. They formed clusters, shaking hands, exchanging names they would likely forget by morning. Nick kept his head down, moving with purpose through the crowd. Socializing wasn't on his agenda. If he was going to dominate his classes, he needed to start now.

  His dorm was a single-occupancy unit—quiet, no distractions. Just the way he wanted it. Tossing his backpack onto the bed, he pulled out the thick textbooks for his first classes and settled in at the desk. He had coasted through school before, relying on natural ability and charm. That wouldn't cut it this time.

  Hours passed, the world outside fading into irrelevance as he studied. Numbers and formulas blurred together, but he pressed on. Every problem solved, every concept mastered was another weapon in his arsenal.

  A sharp knock on the door yanked him out of his focus.

  Nick frowned. He hadn't ordered anything, wasn't expecting anyone. He hesitated before standing and pulling the door open.

  A tall guy with glasses stood on the other side, hands shoved into his hoodie pockets. He looked relaxed, easygoing.

  "Hey, I'm Jordan," he said with a grin. "I live across the hall and figured I'd introduce myself. You're Nick, right?"

  Nick studied him for a moment. Most people didn't go out of their way to meet their neighbors anymore.

  "Yeah," he said, leaning against the doorframe.

  "Cool," Jordan said. "Just going around meeting people on the floor. Figured it'd be good to know who's around."

  Nick wasn't sure if he admired or distrusted that level of friendliness. But Jordan seemed harmless enough.

  "Nice to meet you," Nick said, keeping his tone neutral.

  Jordan nodded, then glanced past him into the room. "AC/DC and Nirvana? Solid taste, man."

  Nick smirked. "Better than half the crap people listen to these days."

  Jordan chuckled. "No argument there. Anyway, I'll let you get back to it. Just wanted to say hey."

  Nick watched as Jordan strolled back across the hall to his own room, closing the door behind him.

  He turned back to his desk, gaze flicking to his schedule. His workload was stacked, but that was fine. He had time. Financially, he was covered for a few months, thanks to the trust fund his grandparents had set up. But that cushion wouldn't last.

  This time, he had a plan.

  Tomorrow, the real grind would begin.

  Nick's alarm buzzed at 5:30 AM, cutting through the silence of his dorm like a blade. He inhaled deeply, pushing away the remnants of sleep. The old Nick would have snoozed the alarm until the last possible second. Not this time.

  He threw off the covers, stretched, and got dressed in athletic shorts and a hoodie. Before the campus had fully awakened, he was already at the gym, pushing his body to its limits. Strength, endurance, discipline—he would need them all. His past self had coasted on talent and youth. That version of him had failed. This time, he would build himself from the ground up.

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  By 7 AM, he was back in his dorm, showered, and seated at his desk, reviewing notes for his first classes. Calculus, Biology, Statistics, and Intro to Business—the core of his academic journey. The old Nick had struggled with math, leaning on others to help him through. That wouldn't happen again. He would master it himself.

  A knock on his door pulled him from his focus. He glanced at the clock—7:45 AM.

  "Yeah?" he called out.

  The door cracked open, and Jordan peeked in. "Dude, do you ever sleep?"

  Nick smirked. "Not when there's work to do."

  Jordan stepped inside, rubbing his eyes. "I was going to ask if you wanted to grab breakfast before class, but it looks like you're already in overdrive."

  Nick considered it for a second. The last time he had gone through this, he had been too casual about forming connections. But isolation hadn't done him any favors either.

  "Yeah, let's go," he said, closing his notebook.

  The dining hall buzzed with the sounds of students waking up, some lively, others barely conscious. Nick grabbed a plate of eggs, toast, and fruit, opting for fuel over indulgence.

  Jordan, still bleary-eyed, sipped at his coffee like it was his lifeline. "So, what's your deal, man? You just built different?"

  Nick chuckled. "Something like that."

  They found a table near the window, the campus coming to life outside. Jordan scrolled through his phone, then looked up. "So, what classes you got?"

  "Calc, Bio, Stats, and Business," Nick answered between bites.

  Jordan groaned. "You're in my Calc and Stats classes. Guess I picked the wrong friend if I wanted to slack off."

  Nick grinned. "Guess so."

  As they finished up, Nick checked the time. First class started in twenty minutes.

  "Gotta head out. First class is starting soon," he said, standing.

  Jordan looked up with a mouth full of eggs and waved goodbye as Nick walked away.

  Nick's schedule was structured to give his week balance. Mondays and Wednesdays were for Calculus and Biology, a demanding but logical pairing. Tuesdays and Thursdays were for Statistics and Intro to Business, focusing more on applied skills. This structure gave him enough time to master each subject properly while maintaining his routine.

  Today was a Monday, meaning he had Biology first. The class was held in a sleek, modern lab with rows of long black tables. The professor, a middle-aged woman with a sharp gaze, launched straight into a lecture on cellular respiration.

  Nick absorbed every detail, writing down notes meticulously. The old him had never cared much for this subject, but now, every piece of knowledge felt like a weapon.

  After Biology, he had a break before Calculus, so he grabbed lunch from the cafeteria. The dining hall was quieter than it had been during breakfast, with students scattered around eating or studying. He opted for grilled chicken, brown rice, and steamed vegetables—fuel that would keep him sharp for the rest of the day.

  Once he finished eating, he headed to the campus library to review his notes before Calculus. Settling into a quiet corner, he opened his notebook and focused on cellular respiration, reinforcing what he had learned earlier.

  Glycolysis, the Krebs cycle, and the electron transport chain—the three major steps of how cells generate energy. He sketched out diagrams of mitochondria, tracing the path of glucose as it was broken down, ATP molecules forming in the process.

  The sheer efficiency of cellular respiration fascinated him. He had never given much thought to these details before, just memorizing enough to pass exams. Now, though, he found himself wanting to truly understand it. This knowledge was the foundation of biology, and he refused to be anything less than exceptional.

  With Biology reviewed, he checked his email and saw a message from his Calculus professor. The subject line read: 'First Day Quiz – Be Prepared.' Skimming through, he saw that the professor expected them to have a basic understanding of limits and continuity and had attached a set of practice problems.

  He turned to Calculus. Since the professor had emailed them in advance about the quiz, Nick wasn't caught off guard. It was meant to gauge where students stood, and he was determined to ace it. He worked through problems on limits and continuity, reinforcing his understanding of derivatives and their applications. He solved practice questions on differentiating functions and understanding rates of change, making sure he grasped the concepts before they were introduced in class.

  Heading to class, Nick arrived ten minutes early, finding a comfortable seat in the second row, directly in front of the professor's lectern. Calculus 101 was held in one of the expansive lecture halls designed to accommodate large groups of students, especially during the bustling first weeks of the semester.

  As the clock moved closer to 2:00 PM, students trickled in, filling seats around him—some chatting excitedly, others groggy and barely awake.

  At 1:58, Jordan walked into class, eyes half-closed and hair slightly disheveled. Spotting Nick, his expression brightened immediately, and he made his way over.

  "Hey man," Jordan greeted, dropping his backpack heavily onto the floor and sliding into the seat beside Nick. "How was your first class?"

  "Good. Professor Godrudson is teaching my bio class, so it should be interesting," Nick replied.

  Jordan chuckled. "Lucky you. I'm glad I avoided bio this semester. But anyway, I'm guessing you're pretty organized since you picked a seat right up front."

  Nick shrugged. "Just trying to pay attention. How about you? First class of the day?"

  "Yeah, I'm not a morning person," Jordan admitted, rubbing his eyes.

  Nick smirked. "Yeah, I figured. You look like you just woke up."

  "Haha, hilarious," Jordan retorted with a playful eye-roll.

  At exactly 2:00, the professor strode in, commanding attention immediately. He was a wiry man with sharp, alert eyes behind thick-rimmed glasses, giving him an appearance that hinted at a rigorous approach to teaching. Without much introduction, he began handing out quizzes.

  "Good afternoon, everyone. I hope you've reviewed the pre-course material," he announced briskly. "We're starting today with a quick diagnostic to gauge your grasp of foundational concepts."

  Jordan groaned quietly, casting a worried glance at Nick.

  Nick quickly dove into the test, writing methodically. Halfway through, Jordan leaned over, whispering, "Dude, you actually understand this stuff?"

  Nick kept his eyes on the paper but smiled slightly. "Doing my best."

  Jordan sighed in defeat. "Alright, well, if you don't mind explaining some of this later, I'd owe you big-time."

  "No problem," Nick whispered back reassuringly, returning his focus to the test.

  The quiz took the entire two-hour class period. At the end, the professor gathered the quizzes, reminding students to review their syllabus and brush up on the basics for the next class.

  Exiting the lecture hall, Jordan looked at Nick with relief. "Seriously, thanks for agreeing to help. That quiz was rough."

  "No worries, we'll get through it," Nick said confidently.

  As they walked toward the exit, Nick noticed familiar faces waiting outside: Matt and Sarah, talking quietly together, standing near the entrance.

  Nick's jaw tightened slightly, his heart seizing painfully at the sight of them. Sarah's smile—the same smile that had once made him feel invincible—now seemed calculated, a mask hiding darker intentions. Matt's easy confidence, once admirable, now read as arrogance.

  A complicated storm of emotions surged through him. Beneath his anger lay a deeper, more insidious pain. Despite everything, a part of him still remembered loving her. Remembered trusting him. Phantom feelings from a timeline he was determined to erase.

  For a brief, disorienting moment, Nick felt his resolve waver. Would it be so terrible to try again and forge a different path together?

  But then the memory of his own blood pooling on concrete flashed vividly in his mind. The searing pain of the knife. The cold realization in his dying moments that he'd wasted his life chasing people who never truly cared for him. Whatever had happened between Sarah and Matt wasn't just a one-time betrayal—something in his gut told him there was more to it, connections he hadn't seen before.

  No. There would be no reconciliation. Only justice.

  He forced his expression into a neutral mask, burying the conflict beneath a carefully constructed facade, staying focused on his conversation with Jordan.

  As they walked out, Sarah noticed him first, her face lighting up. "Nick!"

  Matt grinned. "Damn, man, you disappeared after the ceremony. What's up?"

  Nick kept his expression neutral. "Busy getting ahead."

  Sarah tilted her head. "That's new."

  He shrugged. "Figured I'd try something different this time."

  Matt laughed. "Are we still on for Friday? Couple of the guys are throwing a thing at the Alpha Phi frat house. We should go!"

  Nick already knew how that would play out. He'd go, get drunk, let his guard down, and everything would slowly unravel.

  "Not really my scene anymore," he said smoothly.

  Matt blinked. "For real? Who are you?"

  Nick just smiled. "Just focused. Catch you later."

  He turned, walking away before they could probe further. Jordan caught up to him, eyebrows raised. "Dude, you okay?"

  Nick nodded. "Yeah. Just making sure I do things right this time."

  Jordan frowned but didn't press. "Well, come on, man. Let's get out of here."

  Nick exhaled, pushing away old ghosts.

  Two classes down. A lifetime of change to go.

  Nick pushed open the door to the campus café, holding it open for Jordan, who sauntered in behind him, hands stuffed deep in his pockets. The tantalizing aroma of fresh pizza and grilling burgers filled their senses, mingling with laughter and chatter from other students unwinding after the day's classes.

  "So, Matt and Sarah, huh?" Jordan said with a raised eyebrow as they lined up to order. "What's their deal?"

  Nick gave a dry laugh, bitterness touching the edges of his tone. "Long story. Let's just say I've seen enough déjà vu for a lifetime."

  Jordan shrugged lightly. "Fair enough. You good, though?"

  "Never better," Nick replied, careful to keep his tone neutral. He studied Jordan quietly, suspicious of the casual friendliness that seemed to come so easily to him. It was too soon, and Nick wasn't about to let his guard down.

  They ordered their meals—two fully loaded burgers with sweet potato fries—and found a quiet table by the window. Nick's mind raced as he picked at his fries, thinking about Matt and Sarah. Anger simmered beneath his calm facade, sharpening into a cold calculation. He was done being played by them, but revenge required patience and careful planning.

  Across the table, Jordan flipped through his tablet, pulling up notes from the calculus quiz they'd taken earlier in the day. "Professor Ellis definitely didn't go easy on us. Those derivatives were brutal."

  "Yeah," Nick replied absently, eyes skimming through the notes. "Chain rule caught me off guard."

  Jordan nodded thoughtfully. "Same here. Should we review the first couple chapters from the book tonight?"

  Nick hesitated briefly, sizing Jordan up once more before finally giving a reluctant nod. "Makes sense."

  Their review session was tense yet productive, each absorbed in their own work, occasionally exchanging insights on tricky problems. Despite his initial wariness, Nick grudgingly acknowledged Jordan's genuine focus and determination. Yet he reminded himself sternly—trust was a luxury he couldn't afford.

  As they were going over a particularly tricky equation, Jordan's eyes grew wide and he had to speak up.

  "Hold on," Jordan said, frowning at Nick's solution to a particularly complex derivative. "How did you know to solve it this way? That wasn't on the quiz answer key Professor Ellis sent us."

  Nick froze, realizing his mistake. He'd worked through these problems in his previous life—struggled through them for weeks with a tutor. Now the solutions came naturally, muscle memory from a future that hadn't happened yet.

  "I... studied ahead," he said, choosing his words carefully. "Did some research online about calc methods."

  Jordan's eyebrows raised. "Pretty advanced stuff to just 'research online.' Where'd you learn to think like this?"

  Nick shrugged, trying to appear casual. "I've always been good with patterns, just never applied myself before."

  "Well, it's impressive," Jordan said, though his expression remained thoughtful. "You sure you haven't taken this class before?"

  The question hit uncomfortably close to the truth. Nick forced a laugh. "First time. Promise."

  Jordan nodded, but Nick noticed him watching more carefully as they continued working. He needed to be more cautious—intelligence was an asset, but drawing too much attention too quickly could become a liability.

  Still, he couldn't help feeling a dark satisfaction. The professors and students who had dismissed him as just another jock would soon discover just how wrong they had been.

  After finishing their food and notes, they stepped out into the cool evening air. Campus lights illuminated their path, casting soft shadows across the pavement.

  "Gym?" Jordan asked, stretching his arms overhead.

  Nick matched his stride cautiously, giving a short nod. "Yeah."

  Inside the gym, familiar sounds of weights clanging and machinery humming filled the air. Nick dove into his workout routine methodically, his body moving through each exercise while his mind raced ahead, strategizing. He glanced periodically at Jordan, who seemed genuinely engrossed in his own workout. Nick reminded himself firmly—everyone had their secrets, and he wasn't about to blindly trust another stranger.

  When Nick finished his final set, he wiped his forehead, glancing over to Jordan, who was eyeing the pull-up bar. "I'm done for tonight. You staying?"

  Jordan nodded, already positioning himself under the bar. "Yeah, got some more left. I'll see you later."

  "Sure," Nick responded quietly, grabbing his towel and heading out.

  The walk back to his dorm was silent and filled with thoughts of revenge and suspicion. Matt's smug expression lingered in his mind, fueling a growing determination. Sarah's false smile irritated him further, igniting a cold fury he carefully controlled.

  Back in his room, Nick showered quickly and slipped into bed, checking his phone. A new message from an unknown number appeared:

  Hey, great seeing you again today! We should catch up properly soon. - Sarah

  Nick's jaw tightened, anger flaring through him sharply. His mind shifted immediately into calculation, considering how best to use this interaction to his advantage. After a moment, he deliberately set the phone aside without replying.

  Sarah and Matt had underestimated him once—he wouldn't let it happen again.

  As he lay in darkness, revisiting the day's calculus problems in his mind, he felt a grim satisfaction settle over him. Trust was dangerous, but strategy was key.

  Nick drifted into an uneasy sleep, his thoughts filled with careful plans, cold revenge, and a future he was determined to control.