NOVEL NEXT Chapter 1.1 - Blood + Memory
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.
And isn't that just perfect? Nick thought bitterly. One moment you're the golden boy with the perfect girlfriend, and the next you're the idiot stumbling through piss-scented alleys.
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 their actions 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.
A sharp pain erupted in his side, sudden and brutal.
The blade slid between his ribs with a sickening wet sound, cold metal transforming instantly to white-hot agony. His breath caught, eyes wide as he staggered back. A hooded figure, little more than a shadow, twisted the knife free from Nick's torso with a nauseating squelch, sending him sprawling into a filthy brick wall that scraped his palms raw.
His legs gave way, the world spinning and shifting, blood hot and slick between desperate fingers. Its copper tang filled his mouth, his heartbeat thundering in his ears like a distant storm.
His vision blurred, the alley tilting, his senses dulling. His body trembled, the creeping cold gnawing at his limbs, starting at his fingertips and climbing steadily toward his core.
So this is how it ends? he thought, a strange calm settling over him despite the panic. Not in battle, not fighting for something meaningful—but alone, bleeding out in a filthy alley, a victim of chance.
His breath grew shallow, each inhale a struggle against the weight crushing his chest. Darkness crowded the edges of his vision, like ink spilling across paper. 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, pulsing with energies he somehow recognized yet couldn't name. 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 techno-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 who could channel arcane energies through crystalline conductors embedded in his blade. He could feel the weight of Arlize's enchanted sword in his hand, the cool metal humming with stored power, ready to unleash devastation at the briefest touch of his will.
He recalled precise incantations that could manipulate the elements—formulas and equations as much as spells, the perfect fusion of mathematical precision and arcane power. He remembered creating glowing sigils in the air that burned with blue-white intensity, runes that obeyed the same laws as complex circuit diagrams.
And he remembered the faces of friends who had plunged daggers into his back during the Great Aurilian War. Their duplicity had been calculated, precise—just like the mana-tech that had defined their civilization.
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 being double-crossed 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, the precise mathematical formulas that governed the flow of mana through techno-arcane constructs, remembered the exact moment Arlize had discovered his lover and his general plotting his demise.
The treachery. 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 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.
Heart racing 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 curls, sharp green eyes, rich brown skin, allmarks 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 my death. Two years to change everything.
"Unbelievable," he whispered, flexing his fingers. For a moment, he swore he saw a faint blue shimmer tracing the lines of his palm—the same cerulean glow that had surrounded Arlize's hands when channeling mana through tech-enhanced weapons.
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Nick frowned, concentrating. He tried to recall the sensation of drawing power from within, the mathematical formulas that Arlize had used to shape raw magical energy into precise, devastating effects. He focused on his palm, imagining energy flowing from his core, down his arm, and—
A tiny spark, no larger than a firefly, flickered briefly in his palm before vanishing.
Nick staggered back, his heart racing. "Holy shit," he whispered, staring at his hand. It had worked. It had actually worked.
His mind raced. If he could access even a fraction of Arlize's abilities in this world, the implications were staggering. But he needed to be smart about this. Careful. Methodical.
One step at a time, he thought. Master the basics, then build. Just like training with a new weapon.
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, now, he would be the top of his class. He would rise to become valedictorian.
And if his suspicions were correct—if he could truly wield Arlize's techno-magical abilities in this world—he would become something far more.
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. The constant buzz of smartphones and tablets around him triggered a memory of Arlize's world—where communication devices had been embedded with mana crystals, allowing instantaneous connection across vast distances.
Different tech, same principle, he thought, eyeing a student's glowing phone. I wonder if modern electronics could be enhanced the same way...
He recognized the expressions on the faces around him—wide-eyed freshmen, brimming with optimism, oblivious to the trials ahead. He had been one of them once. Hopeful. Naive.
Look at them, he thought with a sardonic smile. All excited for 'the best years of their lives.' If they only knew how quickly it all goes to hell.
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.
Carve your own path, Nick thought bitterly. More like get carved up in an alley while the people you trusted most betray you.
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 life.
Before diving into his studies, Nick stared at his palm, concentrating again on the sensation he'd felt earlier. Closing his eyes, he visualized the complex equations Arlize had used—formulas that combined mathematical precision with arcane principles.
Let me see if I can...
He traced a pattern in the air with his finger, a basic circuit design that Arlize had used for simple illumination spells. For a moment, nothing happened. Then, an azure line of light followed his fingertip, lasting only seconds before fading.
Nick's pulse quickened. There was definitely something there—a connection to abilities he shouldn't possess in this world. Abilities that might give him the edge he needed.
Hours passed, the world outside fading into irrelevance as he studied both his textbooks and experimented with small manifestations of his newfound power. Numbers and formulas blurred together, but he pressed on. Every problem solved, every concept mastered, and every small flicker of mana 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, and wasn't expecting anyone. He hesitated before standing and pulling the door open.
A tall red haired 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, quickly assessing if Jordan could be useful to his plans or a potential threat.
"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. Though I'd bet good money you have no idea who pioneered that sound."
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.
Now, he had a plan.
He glanced at his palm once more, concentrating until the lines that danced across his skin.
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.
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.
Alone in the corner of the gym, Nick paused between sets, concentrating on a dumbbell. Drawing on Arlize's memories, he focused on the metal, attempting to sense its composition, its structure. For a moment, he swore he could see faint blue lines tracing the contours of the weight—quantum pathways that Arlize would have used to enhance weapons with mana.
Interesting, he thought. The principles of mana-tech seem to apply here too. Different world, same underlying principles.
By 7 AM, he was back in his dorm, showered, and seated at his desk, reviewing notes for his first classes. Biology 101, Calculus B, 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. Sleep is just evolution's way of making sure we don't accomplish too much in one day."
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. Strategic alliances could be useful.
"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. Let's just say I've seen how this all plays out before. Not interested in repeating past mistakes."
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 B, Bio 101, Stats, and Intro to 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. Though I might be able to help you pass if you're useful."
As they finished up, Nick checked the time. My first class starts 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.