NOVEL NEXT Chapter 2 - Second Day, Second Life
Tuesday morning, Nick's eyes snapped open at 5:30 AM without an alarm. The memory of his death jolted him awake—phantom pain echoing through a wound that hadn't happened yet. Another day in the time-traveler's paradox: wake up, remember dying, try not to let it happen again.
He lay still, heart hammering against his ribs as he processed his strange reality. Memories of a murder that hadn't occurred yet. Future betrayals. Skills from two different lives. The knife memory made him touch his side, finding flesh whole and unmarked.
Nick flexed his fingers, focusing on the energy he'd discovered. A faint blue shimmer traced across his palm. His connection to Arlize's abilities was growing stronger but remained unpredictable. He needed to understand it before it consumed him. The Arcadian System exists here somehow, he thought. I need to figure out why.
Yesterday marked his first full day at Westlake University—Biology, Calculus, and that encounter with Sarah and Matt. Today brought Statistics and Intro to Business. In his previous life, he'd barely scraped by those classes, distracted by parties and false friendships. This time would be different.
He checked his phone. Sarah's unread text from last night glowed on the screen: "Hey, great seeing you again today! We should catch up soon. - Sarah" A cold knot tightened in his chest. In his previous life, he'd have responded within minutes, desperate for her attention. Not this time, Sarah, he thought grimly. This time you chase me.
He wouldn't get pulled into their orbit again. The gravitational pull of Sarah's smile and Matt's easy charisma had dragged him into a death spiral once before. This time, he'd set the terms—and keep his distance.
He rose silently and slipped into his workout clothes. The campus would still be quiet—most students either sleeping off orientation parties or nursing fresh anxieties about classes. Perfect for what he needed to do.
The cool morning air bit at his skin as he ran, feet pounding a steady rhythm on the empty paths. His young body protested, muscles not yet conditioned to his punishing pace. Nick pushed through the burn, embracing the discomfort. Pain clarified his thoughts.
Two years until they try to kill me, he thought, breath forming small clouds in the crisp air. Two years to make sure they fail.
Rounding the science building, Nick recalled yesterday's odd interaction with the security panel. On impulse, he approached it, making sure he was alone. Campus cameras wouldn't activate until 6:00 AM—a detail he remembered from a past prank gone spectacularly wrong.
Before the panel, Nick concentrated, drawing on Arlize's memories. The techno-mage perceived mana through conductors, so Nick shifted his perception accordingly.
Faint blue lines traced the panel's circuitry. Digital components glowed, pulsing with energy. Nick traced a basic unlocking rune from Arlize's repertoire. The panel beeped softly, its light shifting to green. The door clicked open.
Nick stepped back, heart racing. It worked. He'd manipulated the system using principles from another world. The Arcadian System isn't just a memory, he realized. Its principles apply here too. Technology responds to the same mana formulas Arlize used for enchanted tools.
The implications staggered him. Mastering this fusion could give him access to security systems, financial networks, communications. But he needed to be cautious. One mistake could expose everything.
By 7:00 AM, he'd showered and dressed in a plain navy button-down and dark jeans—understated, forgettable. In his past life, he'd dressed to impress. That Nick died in an alley, betrayed and alone. This Nick would be a shadow, watching and planning—until the time came to strike.
Morning sunlight streamed through the statistics classroom windows. The room smelled of fresh markers and lemon disinfectant, with coffee undertones. Chair legs squeaked as students settled, voices echoing off the high ceiling.
Nick chose a front seat, ensuring he could hear the professor clearly and catch every detail on the board. He set up his tablet, activating the note-taking app—a habit from war councils with Arlize. Preparation remained essential. Another day, another battlefield, he thought. Different weapons, same principles.
The classroom filled with nervous freshmen. Nick kept his focus forward, avoiding eye contact—a battlefield skill that served him well. Jordan dropped into the seat beside him with his coffee, just like in Calculus yesterday.
"Morning," Jordan said, dropping his backpack with a thud. "You're early again."
Nick noted his casual demeanor. "Yep."
Jordan sipped his coffee, spilling a drop on his desk. "Checked the dining hall for you, but you must've been up at dawn."
Nick shrugged. "Early start, early advantage."
"Man, you're intense," Jordan chuckled, fumbling for his tablet. "Most freshmen are still passed out from last night's parties."
"Not my style," Nick replied, turning back to face forward.
Jordan studied him for a moment. "Those people yesterday—Matt and Sarah? What's their deal?"
Nick kept his expression neutral. "High school classmates. Nothing special."
"Right," Jordan said, glancing toward the door. "Looks like we're about to start."
Professor Feldman entered at exactly 8:00 AM, clutching a stack of papers. A slight woman with steel-gray hair, her sharp eyes swept the room like a military officer surveying troops.
"Good morning, everyone. Welcome to your first statistics class," she announced. "We'll cover the syllabus first, then dive into the key concepts you'll need this semester."
Jordan leaned over and whispered, "Looks like we're starting slow."
Nick stayed silent, pulling his tablet closer. He'd struggled with statistics before—barely scraped by with a D+. But now, with Arlize's tactical mind merged with his own, he could see patterns and probabilities everywhere.
As Professor Feldman explained confidence intervals, a memory from Arlize's life surfaced unbidden. During the Aurilian Wars, Arlize had predicted enemy troop movements using scraps of intelligence, developing a crude but effective form of medieval statistical analysis that saved his entire regiment from ambush.
A formula materialized in Nick's mind—not the standard equations from textbooks, but a variation incorporating mana flow patterns. Arlize had used these calculations to predict enemy movements on the battlefield.
Nick suddenly understood that statistics wasn't just abstract math—it was about predicting patterns and outcomes, exactly like the Arcadian System. He began sketching Arlize's notations in his notebook, the symbols flowing naturally from his pen. These weren't just borrowed memories anymore—they were genuine skills from his past lives. How deep did this connection run? Could he actually control which aspects of Arlize emerged during critical moments?
Concepts that had once seemed bewildering now appeared as clear as troop movements on a battlefield map. Nick grasped statistics with an intuitive clarity that would have been impossible just days ago.
When Professor Feldman asked the class about sampling distributions, Nick's hand shot up first.
"Mr. Valiente?" she prompted, eyebrows raised.
"The central limit theorem tells us that the sampling distribution of the sample mean approaches a normal distribution as sample size increases," Nick explained confidently. "This lets us make reliable predictions even when we're dealing with non-normal population distributions."
Professor Feldman paused, clearly surprised. "That's... precisely correct, Mr. Valiente. Excellent work."
Nick ignored Jordan's curious sideways glance. Another small victory in his academic campaign.
During the rest of the lecture, Nick noticed something extraordinary. By focusing his perception the way Arlize once had, he could see faint blue lines tracing the flow of electricity through the projector and computer systems. The Arcadian System let him perceive reality in an entirely new way, revealing the energy flows that powered the modern world.
By class end, Nick's tablet overflowed with notes—half statistics, half encoded Arcadian formulas only he could decipher. The fusion of knowledge from two lives was becoming a powerful advantage.
Nick and Jordan grabbed lunch at the campus café, discussing class while avoiding personal topics. Nick steered the conversation toward campus resources, gathering intel while revealing nothing about himself.
"You're different from most freshmen," Jordan observed. "Most people are either terrified or trying way too hard to be cool."
"Just focusing on what matters," Nick replied, his eyes drifting to the café's electronic ordering system. With the right mana-tech formula, he could breach its network...
Jordan's eyes narrowed. "I talked to some Westridge guys last night at the dorm mixer. They were surprised you aced that calculus quiz."
A chill ran through Nick, but he kept his expression neutral. He hadn't expected people to start talking about him so soon.
"One of them—Ryan?—said you barely scraped by in math last year," Jordan continued. "Said you were more of a basketball guy than academic." He took a bite of his sandwich, watching Nick carefully.
Nick's mind raced as Arlize's battlefield training kicked in. Deny everything? No—partial truth would be more convincing.
"I had a wake-up call last summer," Nick said evenly. "Family situation. Made me realize I was wasting my potential. Spent three months studying and getting my act together."
Jordan nodded, mustard dotting the corner of his mouth. "Makes sense. Sometimes it takes something big to change direction." He wiped his mouth clean. "Sorry about whatever happened."
"Thanks," Nick replied, hiding his relief. Crisis averted, but he filed away the warning: word was already spreading about his academic performance. Another variable to track.
Jordan studied him. "I'm curious about your story. Most freshmen don't show up knowing exactly what they want."
Nick met his gaze steadily. "Bad experiences teach the best lessons." You have no idea, he thought.
By afternoon, Nick was ready for Intro to Business—a different kind of battlefield. He arrived ten minutes early, choosing a seat with clear sightlines to both entrances and the professor's podium.
Sarah Chen was already there, her dark hair cascading over her shoulders as she chatted with another student, eyes bright with laughter. The sight of her sent a sharp twist through Nick's chest—memory and emotion colliding with the bitter knowledge of what was coming. Her text from last night still sat unanswered on his phone; he could still picture her false warmth after Calculus.
You're good, Sarah, he thought, watching her animated conversation. The perfect illusion of sincerity. I almost believed it myself the first time.
Sarah had been the quiet, brilliant girl in his high school AP classes—always ahead of the curve yet somehow still approachable. When she'd shown interest during senior year, Nick had felt flattered but wary, puzzled why someone like her would notice him. They'd kept a friendly distance through graduation, both knowing they were bound for the same university.
He'd chosen a seat several rows back to observe without drawing attention. Matt Harrington sauntered in, commanding the room with that easy confidence—the same self-assurance he'd displayed yesterday when inviting Nick to a party. Matt spotted Sarah immediately, sliding into the seat beside her, his hand brushing her shoulder with the subtle possessiveness Nick now recognized all too well.
As Matt leaned close to Sarah, whispering something that made her smile, Nick's attention drifted to Matt's electronic tablet. Concentrating the way he did in statistics class, Nick perceived the device's energy flows—faint blue lines tracing the circuits like a roadmap. With a focused thought, he sent a gentle pulse of mana toward the tablet, triggering a minor glitch. Nothing dramatic enough to seem intentional.
Matt frowned at his flickering screen, tapping it with growing frustration.
Interesting, Nick mused. The more I practice, the easier this becomes.
Matt—star quarterback, class president, legacy admission to every top university—had been high school's golden boy. His family's wealth smoothed every path, while Nick scrapped for each opportunity. Though they'd attended the same school, they'd lived in completely different worlds—Matt at the glittering center, Nick hovering at the margins. Only after choosing Westlake University had Matt suddenly shown interest in "reconnecting," which Nick recognized as calculated networking.
Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
Nick watched with cool detachment, cataloging Matt's restless eyes as they swept the room, his gestures toward Sarah heavy with ownership, his practiced charisma—the same polished performance from yesterday's Alpha Phi party invitation.
Professor Williams breezed through the door, all energy and polish. "Alright, future tycoons and entrepreneurs!" he announced with theatrical flair. "I'm Professor Williams, and this is Intro to Business. We're here to understand how business shapes our world—and more importantly, how you might shape business in return."
Nick found himself drawn in as Williams emphasized practical application over mindless memorization—an approach that resonated with Nick's core belief that knowledge demanded strategic use. Like mana without technique, he reflected. Raw power means nothing without precision.
"Today we're diving into competitive advantage—the absolute lifeblood of business strategy," Williams declared, transitioning smoothly into the lesson. "What gives a company—or an individual—that crucial edge over their competitors?"
He outlined strategic positioning, resource allocation, and market dynamics. Nick took detailed notes, connecting each concept to his own situation. Every business strategy mirrored warfare and survival—just like in the Arcadian System, he realized. Competitive advantage through superior technology and information was exactly what gave Arlize's faction the edge in the Aurilian Wars.
Midway through the lecture, Professor Williams paused. "Let's make this practical. I need a volunteer to give an example of leveraging a hidden competitive advantage."
Nick kept his eyes down, hoping to avoid being called on. Fate had other plans.
"How about... you, in the navy shirt? Your name, please?"
Nick looked up to meet the professor's gaze. "Nick Valiente."
"Well, Mr. Valiente, could you give us an example of leveraging a hidden competitive advantage?"
Nick felt the room's attention shift to him—including Sarah's curious gaze and Matt's sharp focus. He locked eyes with Matt before responding.
"Certainly," he said. "A hidden advantage could be information asymmetry—knowing something your competitor doesn't. Like a weakness they've overlooked, or a market shift only you can see coming."
As he spoke, Nick felt that familiar warmth in his fingertips—the same sensation Arlize experienced when channeling mana. A faint blue sheen briefly illuminated his pen, unnoticed by the others.
Matt's jaw tightened. Sarah tilted her head, clearly intrigued by his answer—a stark contrast to her earlier dismissive attitude.
"Excellent example," Professor Williams said. "Information asymmetry is incredibly powerful. Care to elaborate on how to ethically exploit such an advantage?"
Nick chose his words carefully. "You position yourself ahead of inevitable changes. If you know something others will eventually discover, you can prepare while they're still scrambling to react. The advantage isn't just having information first—it's using that lead time effectively."
Like knowing who's going to betray you, he thought, meeting Sarah's gaze. And having two years to prepare for it.
"Precisely," Professor Williams nodded. "Always look for the unseen edge, but remember—true advantage comes from what you build with your head start. Thank you, Mr. Valiente."
After class, as Nick gathered his materials, Professor Williams approached.
"Mr. Valiente," he said quietly. "Very insightful answer today. Have you considered applying for the Coleman Business Fellowship? It's typically for sophomores, but we occasionally make exceptions for promising freshmen."
Nick felt a surge of satisfaction—a small but significant victory. In his previous life, he hadn't even heard of the Coleman Fellowship until junior year, when Matt had already secured it.
"I'd be very interested, Professor," Nick replied, keeping his composure while internally celebrating this unexpected breakthrough. "What does the application process involve?"
"Stop by my office hours this week, and I'll walk you through the details," Professor Williams said. "The deadline's early October, so you'll have plenty of time to put together a strong application."
"I'll be there," Nick promised. "Thank you for the opportunity."
As Professor Williams walked away, Nick allowed himself a moment of quiet triumph. His first real advantage—and judging by Matt's scowl, his competitors had definitely noticed.
As students gathered their things, Nick took his time, watching Matt lean toward Sarah with theatrical surprise.
"Did our Nick just say something intelligent?" Matt's voice carried its usual patronizing drawl. "Color me impressed. Didn't know you had it in you, champ."
Sarah laughed—a sound that never quite reached her eyes. "I guess miracles do happen." Her voice was honey-sweet with an edge sharp enough to cut glass.
And there it is, Nick thought. They were never my friends—I was just their entertainment, their private joke.
Nick kept his movements deliberate, giving them time to approach. He didn't have to wait long.
"That was quite an answer," Sarah said as they stopped beside his desk, her tone dripping condescension. "Where'd that come from? The Nick Valiente I remember barely managed a whisper in econ last year."
Nick remembered their history perfectly—Sarah's sudden interest during senior year, always with Matt hovering nearby, their calculated inclusion of him after years of complete indifference. Those interactions had left their mark.
"You could say I've learned some hard lessons," Nick said, meeting Sarah's gaze directly. For just a moment, his careful mask slipped, revealing something cold and calculating beneath. Sarah actually blinked, caught off guard.
"People change," Nick added, shifting his attention to Matt while keeping his tone light and his eyes hard.
"Sure they do," Matt laughed, but the sound felt forced. "Hey, about that Alpha Phi mixer Friday—the offer's still open. Lots of Westridge people will be there."
The invitation felt exactly like high school—a throwaway gesture, not genuine interest. Just another reminder of Nick's place in their carefully constructed social hierarchy. The same party he'd declined yesterday, now repackaged as charity.
Sarah chimed in, "It'll be fun. Good for networking." Her eyes flicked to her phone, and Nick couldn't help wondering if she was thinking about that unanswered text.
Nick understood the subtext perfectly. In high school, "network" had always meant "try to fit in, but you never will." Today felt like yesterday—the same performance with different costumes.
"I'll think about it," Nick said, keeping his tone neutral. He sent a subtle pulse of mana to Sarah's phone, making it buzz in her pocket.
"Battery warning," she muttered, frowning at the screen. "It was at 80% a minute ago."
Nick bit back a smile. His control was definitely improving.
"Well Nick, we'll see you around." Both turned and left.
After they disappeared around the corner, Nick gathered his things and replayed the encounter. The challenge was officially set, the pieces already in motion. This time, though, he wouldn't be anyone's pawn.
He'd be the player they never saw coming.
The campus activities fair beckoned later that afternoon, but Nick had more pressing priorities. He made his way to the library, claiming a secluded corner to map out his academic and social strategy.
Nick pulled out a blank sheet of paper, combining Arlize's military notation with his own personal shorthand. He placed "NV" at the center, then drew circles around it: academic excellence, financial independence, strategic alliances, intelligence gathering. Connecting lines formed a web between targets and actions—a pattern only he could decipher.
He traced each line with a thread of mana, watching them glow faint blue in his enhanced vision. In Arlize's world, these had been "arcane schematic matrices"—living blueprints that evolved with new information. Nick wasn't certain the technique would work here, but it was worth testing.
After committing every detail to memory, he methodically tore the diagram into pieces, disposing of them in separate trash cans across the library. The small act of secrecy felt oddly satisfying. The plan lived safely in his mind now, ready for execution.
Next, he compiled his watch list: Matt and Sarah, obviously, plus the questionable Jordan. His dorm neighbor's overly convenient friendliness had triggered every instinct Nick possessed. In his previous life, he'd never encountered anyone named Jordan at Westlake. Coincidence, or something more deliberate?
He also noted other Westridge High graduates who'd ended up at Westlake—potential allies or threats he'd completely overlooked before. This time, he'd leverage every connection strategically.
By mid-afternoon, Nick had crafted a comprehensive strategy. Now came the activities fair—another battlefield to navigate.
The campus quad burst with color and sound. Banners snapped above tables while the air carried scents of grilled hot dogs, fresh grass, sunscreen, and crisp promotional materials. A cappella groups performed by the fountain, their harmonies sometimes drowned by bursts of laughter or the dance club's thumping bass. Students wove through the controlled chaos between booths.
Nick navigated the crowds with clear purpose, targeting organizations that would fuel his success. Unlike his previous life, when he'd drifted aimlessly before eventually stumbling into random sports clubs, he now moved with strategic intent.
"Free donuts for Business majors!" called a senior. "Join the Business Leaders Association!"
Nick remembered joining this club too late last time around. "What's the time commitment?" he asked, signing up.
The senior—Tyler Davidson, his face triggering familiar déjà vu—explained, "Weekly meetings, networking events, plus a mentorship program that pairs freshmen with seniors and alumni."
Nick nodded, filing away every detail. "When do applications open?"
"Next week," Tyler said, looking surprised. "Most freshmen don't know about that yet."
"I like to stay ahead," Nick replied, flashing a smile as he pocketed the brochure.
He continued through the fair, methodically signing up for the Chess Club, Investment Club, and Pre-Law Society.
At the Engineering Club booth, circuit boards and small robotics projects caught his attention. He paused, drawn by the mana-tech principles he'd been exploring. Approaching the table, he examined a sensor-equipped drone more closely.
"Interested in robotics?" asked a senior with thick glasses, offering a friendly smile.
"Possibly," Nick replied, studying the drone intently. Blue energy lines traced through its circuitry—a web of potential mana pathways. Acting on impulse, he signed up. "What kind of projects do you typically work on?"
"Everything from basic electronics to advanced AI applications," the senior explained. "We've got full lab access and solid funding too."
Perfect, Nick thought. He could experiment with his abilities with complete privacy.
As he moved between booths, his instincts suddenly sharpened. Scanning the crowd, he spotted a familiar figure across the quad. Jordan stood with a group of upperclassmen, but something felt off—he seemed more alert than usual, his typical slouch completely gone. Jordan gave a quick nod, then visibly relaxed as their conversation wrapped up.
Interesting, Nick thought. If his instincts were right, there was more to Jordan than met the eye. Nick focused, trying to sense any unusual energy around him. He caught what looked like a faint shimmer—different from the blue mana lines, more like heat waves rising from hot pavement. Then it vanished.
By afternoon's end, Nick had covered the entire fair, building his academic and social network. As shadows stretched across the quad, he'd laid the groundwork for his freshman year: strategic club memberships, research connections, and a solid academic path.
The crowd thinned as students headed indoors. Nick wiped sweat from his forehead and decided on an early dinner before returning to his dorm. As he turned to leave, a familiar voice cut through the noise.
"Nick! Hey, Nick Valiente!"
His shoulders tensed. He knew that voice too well. Matt Harrington jogged toward him, flashing perfect teeth and designer clothes. Two other freshmen trailed behind, including Ryan Cooper, another Westridge grad.
"Thought that was you!" Matt clapped Nick's shoulder, making his skin crawl. "Sarah forgot to ask you in class, but she wondered if you got her text—radio silence isn't your style. In high school, you'd practically break your phone responding to her."
Nick forced a smile. "Been busy." Busy planning how to tear down your world, he thought.
"Right," Matt laughed without warmth. "We're getting a group together for drinks tonight. Off-campus spot that doesn't card. You in?"
Before, this invitation would have pulled him into Matt's orbit, flattered by attention from the high school golden boy—setting him on a path to ruin. Not this time.
"Can't tonight," Nick said evenly. "Got things to handle before tomorrow's classes."
Matt's smile flickered. "Things to handle? Since when do you plan ahead?" The casual dismissal carried that familiar contempt.
"People change," Nick replied simply.
Matt studied him, something calculating lurking behind his friendly mask. "The offer stands if you finish early. We'll be at The Cellar downtown." He paused. "About that Alpha Phi party Friday—exclusive invite. Think about it."
"I'll think about it," Nick said, knowing he wouldn't.
Matt nodded and rejoined his companions. As they walked away, Nick watched Matt whisper to Ryan, both glancing back with obvious amusement. Anger flared—hot and demanding. In his previous life, he'd been their entertainment, the outsider they tolerated for laughs.
Nick took a deep breath, clenching and unclenching his fists. Anger was useful when controlled. Cold revenge would prove far more satisfying than any outburst.
As he focused on control, Nick noticed blue energy crackling between his fingertips, responding to his anger. Startled, he closed his hand, hoping no one had seen the enery.
My emotions amplify the Arcadian System connection, he realized. Strong feelings make the mana flow more readily. Fascinating—and dangerous.
He needed to master this connection quickly. An accidental display would raise questions he couldn't answer.
The dining hall hummed with activity. Freshmen huddled in nervous clusters while upperclassmen moved with practiced ease. Nick filled his tray with grilled chicken, brown rice, and vegetables—the athlete's meal his old coach would have approved of.
He selected a corner table with clear sightlines to both entrances, a habit from Arlize's battlefield experiences. Old soldier's instincts trapped in a college freshman's body.
What a strange fusion we've become, Nick thought wryly. Part vengeful college student, part interdimensional warrior-mage.
As he ate, Nick reviewed his mental notes. He'd sidestepped Matt's social trap, positioned himself for academic success, and maintained emotional distance from Sarah while sparking her interest.
His phone buzzed with Sarah's text: "Saw you at the activities fair but you disappeared. Still thinking about Friday?"
Persistent, aren't you? Nick thought with grim amusement. What game are you playing, Sarah?
Nick set the phone aside without replying. Let her wonder. Her curiosity might prove useful later.
As he finished his meal, he focused on his water glass, visualizing the molecular structure and attempting to influence it with mana like Arlize had done on the battlefield. The surface rippled, forming a perfect concentric circle before settling.
The Arcadian System applies to more than electronics, Nick realized. I can affect physical matter too, not just circuitry.
Possibilities multiplied by the hour.
Back in his room, Nick added another layer to his encrypted document titled 'Phase One: Foundation Building' and mapped out his targets:
Academic Position: Secure top grades in midterms to establish credibility. Identify key professors for research opportunities.
Financial Security: Launch investment strategy using future knowledge. Target: small pharmaceutical company about to announce a breakthrough.
Matt Surveillance: Document his patterns, contacts, and vulnerabilities. Map his connections to Sarah's family and any conspiracy ties.
Sarah Assessment: Keep my distance while gathering intel on her family dynamics. Figure out her exact role in the events that led to my death.
Jordan Investigation: Run a background check through university resources. Determine whether his presence here is coincidence or active surveillance.
Arcadian System Development: Test and refine my mana-tech abilities. Start with basic electronic manipulation, then advance to more complex applications.
Nick studied the list with cold focus. Phase One would build his foundation. By semester's end, he'd be ready for Phase Two: Targeted Disruption. Every move required precise calculation—one misstep could reveal to his enemies that he was no longer the naive target they remembered.
Before bed, Nick attempted one final experiment. He grabbed his phone, channeling mana through it while visualizing protective sigils. Blue light traced across the screen before absorbing into the device.
The phone functioned normally, but the messaging app now displayed a faint blue shimmer with a "Secure View" option in Sarah's thread.
I just created a mana-tech enhancement for my phone, Nick realized. The Arcadian System is merging with modern technology, responding directly to my intentions.
He tapped the new option, revealing message content, timestamps, signal strength, and emotional analysis. Crude but functional—he had successfully modified technology using principles from another world.
A productive second day. His foundation was set. Tomorrow would bring another step toward reclaiming his future—ensuring he wouldn't die bleeding out in some alley again.
As sleep approached, Nick considered the Arcadian System—magic and technology now bending to his will. This changes everything, he thought.
For the first time since his rebirth, Nick Valiente smiled genuinely as he drifted off to sleep.