Beep, beep, beep.
Click.
"Ughh…" Daniel groaned, groggily reaching for the alarm clock as its harsh sound filled the room.
06:00.
It was Monday morning.
"Another day of work," Daniel thought, feeling the weight of the mundane ahead.
He rose from bed, moving with the precision of years spent in military training. His hands deftly straightened the sheets, ensuring not a single crease marred the surface. Those habits from his service never faded, even after his discharge.
Slipping into his slippers, Daniel made his way to the bathroom, executing his morning routine with methodical ease. Once dressed in his tracksuit, he grabbed the protein banana smoothie he had prepared the night before and left for the office, each step a quiet ritual that set his day on autopilot.
Upon reaching the office, he headed to the wardrobe. It was another part of his routine—he'd showered there before slipping into his suit, the same one he'd packed the night before. It was a habit born from transitioning to civilian life after military service.
"I'm a civil engineer," Daniel mused. "I served eight years in the military and now work for a charity organization, earning a modest $40,000 a year."
Despite his qualifications and the high-ranking positions he'd held, the salary felt hardly commensurate with his experience.
Daniel had always been an avid fan of web novels, manhwas, and manhuas—especially in the fantasy medieval genres. Unfortunately, the world didn't always cater to his tastes, leading him to explore endless cultivation stories to fill the void. It wasn't what he wanted, but it was the closest escape.
At 31, Daniel found himself without a girlfriend, a relationship, or much of a social life. The truth was, he had never really tried. There were always excuses, narratives he spun to justify why he stayed out of the dating scene. Life was simpler that way, he thought.
As the workday stretched on, one meeting after another, Daniel's mind wandered. He wasn't particularly engaged in his tasks. His goal was always the same—do the bare minimum to survive the day and return home to his novels, the one place where he could escape into a world that felt far more alive than the one he inhabited.
By evening, Daniel's work was complete, and he left the office with no particular purpose.
On his way home, his feet led him to a small, family-owned Chinese restaurant—its dilapidated exterior concealing the undeniable charm of home-cooked meals. Inside, he ordered his favorite: orange chicken, a delicacy that seemed too perfect for such an unassuming place.
Takeout in hand, Daniel climbed a nearby hill and found his usual spot—an old bench with a breathtaking view of the city below. The chill of the night air wrapped around him as he opened his meal and began to eat, lost in thought.
Daniel's life had been devoid of familial warmth. His parents had died in a car crash when he was young, and no relatives had taken him in. Growing up in an orphanage, books became his only solace. It was there that his love for learning took root. While others struggled with the world's harshness, Daniel found comfort in stories.
Financial constraints had prevented him from attending college. Though he secured a scholarship, corrupt institutions rejected him, citing financial reasons. This forced him to carve an alternative path.
In his free time, Daniel became a voracious reader, often devouring history books that detailed the rise of civilizations, their triumphs, and the intricacies that shaped their progress. He was fascinated by the past—not just the grand narratives of empires, but also the underlying systems that allowed them to flourish. One of his greatest passions was studying walls—structures that stood as silent witnesses to history. From the towering walls of Constantinople to the majestic Great Wall of China, Daniel found solace in their design and resilience. He marveled at their variety, each telling its own story of defense, strength, and purpose, particularly the bastion forts that epitomized a blend of military necessity and architectural innovation.
Daniel enlisted in the military, where he studied civil engineering at West Point Military Academy. His time there wasn't easy, but he ranked at the top of his class. Upon graduating, he was deployed to Camp Humphreys in South Korea, overseeing the design and construction of various military infrastructure projects.
Yet Daniel's interests extended beyond engineering. He delved into the realm of warfare—exploring siege tactics, innovations in military strategy, and the fine art of defense. His curiosity expanded to practical and philosophical aspects of life, studying agriculture and farming techniques, understanding how these elements tied into the survival and growth of societies. He wanted to grasp how the world functioned, both on a micro and macro scale. That's why he had learned basic medical knowledge and even developed a hobby of wine distilling—a small but meaningful skill in a world where knowledge equated to power.
Logistics became another area of fascination. He recognized that any army or successful civilization depended not just on brute force but on the seamless flow of resources. Logistics was the invisible backbone that allowed an empire to thrive or crumble. Understanding this, Daniel honed his ability to manage resources efficiently, mastering the art of ensuring that materials moved seamlessly between points—a crucial skill separating order from chaos.
For eight years, Daniel poured himself into his work. His intelligence, leadership, and practical problem-solving skills helped him rise within the military. But eventually, his mandatory service ended, and he sought employment in the civilian world, taking a position with a charity organization focused on designing infrastructure for developing countries.
Despite his education, experience, and developed skills, Daniel felt trapped. The job was fulfilling technically, but emotionally, it left him hollow. His $40,000 salary barely covered expenses, and his life felt like a never-ending cycle of work, home, and escape into books and web novels. He lived alone, without family, without a partner, and without a clear vision for the future.
As he finished his meal, Daniel leaned back, staring at the city below, lost in thought. The life he had built wasn't what he'd imagined as a child. He had wanted more—to explore, to build, to change the world. Yet it felt like the world was too vast for him to touch. He couldn't shake the sense of dissatisfaction gnawing at him.
A lesson from his days in the orphanage came to mind. The caretaker had once told him: "Your soul is a blank canvas. You don't know how to start, and that's alright. Most people don't either. They wear masks to hide their true selves, pretending to be happy. But a blank canvas is a gift. You make mistakes, live through moments that shape you, and one day you look up to find your masterpiece taking shape."
It was comforting, yet Daniel felt the weight of his unfulfilled potential. I want more, he thought. I want to live life on my terms—building something meaningful, shaping the world around me, rising above this mediocrity.
As he walked home, lost in contemplation, something caught his eye in the distance—a bright light. It grew closer. Initially dismissing it as a car's headlights, he soon realized the light was too intense, too fast.
He froze as the source of the light came into focus—it was a truck, barreling straight toward him, out of control.
Holy shit, that almost hit me!
Heart racing, Daniel quickly dialed 911, reporting the incident. Within minutes, emergency vehicles arrived, and he gave his statement, still shaken from the near-death experience.
Once the scene was cleared, Daniel resumed his walk home, thoughts racing. He was rattled but alive. His life could've ended in an instant.
Yet fate seemed to have more in store for him.
Just as Daniel regained his composure, another light appeared in the distance. This time, it was different. It was no accident—it was deliberate. Another truck was coming straight for him.
"Are you kidding me?"
Before he could react, the truck collided with him, and everything went dark. His body, his soul—everything was pulled into a tunnel of light.