SECOND CHANCE

As Bruce's head throbbed with agony, he popped open his eyes and hoisted himself up from the king-size bed, clutching his skull. The pain subsided after a beat, and the haze in his mind cleared. 

He slowly took a quick scan of the room, a familiar haven where he always found solace. A wave of affection and calm washed over him. This room was his refuge, his safe space whenever life got too rough both physically and mentally. Despite it feeling kinda weird and all to have affection for a room, he couldn't help but feel a deep connection to it, having spent two decades as a mercenary, he always missed this place.

"Ugh... Am I in heaven or what? They say heaven's supposed to be wherever you feel most at home, right? So, am I dead?" he muttered to himself.

"Eh, whatever. Making it to heaven's a miracle in itself, considering all the stuff I've done. But this feels too damn real," he murmured, reaching out to touch the bed. 

That's when he noticed the size of his hands. His hands became the size of overripe blueberries.

"Holy crap... I've become a freaking dwarf..." he blurted out, looking up and hollering, 

"Alright, alright, which one of you celestial pranksters shrunk me? Gimme my body back! This ain't funny!" Then, a thought struck him, and he continued, 

"Oh, right, I'm in heaven. So you all should be on the same level as me."

Swiveling to his side, he shouted, 

"Hey, anyone listening? Give me my body back, you think you can mess with me, you goddamn deities? I'll pluck your eyeballs and feed 'em to the pigeons I swear!" 

That sight would make anyone question the guy's sanity. Even if he was arguing with the almighty himself, who acts like that? But what could gods do to him, kill him? 

"Oh shit. Gotta talk respectfully since they are gods and all, right?" after grumbling to himself

"Eh…Esteemed deities, could you please reconsider the whole 'mini-me' situation? I, uh, promise to lay off the expired burritos in the future. Besides, have you seen chicken prices these days? Snacks ain't exactly budget-friendly you know."

Suddenly, the door swung open, and a six-foot-tall guy with sharp eyes and raven hair in his early thirties barged in. 

He wore a tailored black suit with a white dress shirt and a slender black tie. A pristine white waistcoat adorned his chest, paired with polished black dress shoes. 

"Master Bruce, sir. What on earth has happened? I heard your loud exclamations and what sounded like a quarrel. Are you quite well? Have you experienced a troubling dream, sir? Please assure me that your physical condition is unharmed. There are no signs of a fever, I trust? Shall I fetch some medicine for you, sir? Please, do respond, Master Bruce," the gentleman inquired without pause

But Bruce couldn't find the words. He stared at the man before him, recognizing him as his loyal but eccentric butler, Leonard, who had cared for him during his younger days as the Sterling family scion. Memories flooded back of Leonard's unwavering loyalty, especially the day he single-handedly faced down nearly twenty assassins to ensure Bruce's escape and gladly lost his life in the process. Bruce couldn't shake the regret he felt for not heeding Leonard's counsel, always opting to do the opposite and adding unnecessary stress to their relationship. 

"As much as I bitched about people betraying me, I also failed to cherish the loyal ones" Bruce mused in his mind.

"Master Bruce," the gentleman's voice quivered.

Bruce caught the deepening worry in the man's eyes and responded, "Is that you, Leonard?"

"Yes, Master Bruce."

"Well, would you look at that? You made it to heaven too, uh" Bruce quipped. "I always figured you'd end up in hell, old buddy."

Leonard's face twisted in shock, a tear tracing down his cheek he replied 

"Master Bruce, I know I messed up by not giving you ice cream when you were sick. But did that really warrant death as much for you to curse me to hell? I'd lay down my life for you willingly, but isn't this too much.."

"Whoa, hold your horses, man," Bruce interrupted, eyebrows raised. 

"What on earth are you babbling about? Aren't you supposed to be dead? Isn't this heaven?" He scanned the room, perplexed.

Leonard looked at Bruce as if he'd lost his marbles and become a nutcase. 

"Master Bruce, are you having some kind of fever dream? You're not dead, and neither am I. I haven't even tied the knot or dipped my toe in the dating pool, let alone tasted life's pleasures... ehmm...Anyway, back to reality. We're both alive and well."

"What?" Bruce exclaimed, baffled. Only then did he realize that his voice too sounded different.

"I reckon this must be some side effect of your Greenville Academy admission process. I warned you their screening equipment was subpar compared to Northern Ice Peak Academy. But nooo, you had to be stubborn. Look where it's gotten you," Leonard chided.

Bruce remained silent, his gaze fixed on Leonard, though his mind seemed to be miles away.

Well, standing still won't fix a thing. Master Bruce. Please wait in your room, sir. I'll have someone bring in some medications," he said before leaving the room.

It was only after Leonard closed the door behind him that Bruce snapped back to reality at the sound of the door shutting.

"What... what in the world is happening here? Did I travel back in time?" he muttered to himself, trying to make sense of it all. Memories of his final moments flooded back—the strange altar, the hologram—it all felt surreal. Even after twenty years as a mercenary, nothing had prepared him for this level of weirdness.

"Somehow, I've been sent back in time. I don't know how or why, but here I am," Bruce reasoned aloud. "According to Leonard, I attended the Greenville admission process yesterday, so I'm still just a 10-year-old."

"I don't know why I've returned to this exact date, but it's not entirely unwelcome," he mused, trying to find a silver lining.

Despite his desire to change the course of events, Bruce knew he was no genius with a perfect memory of the past thirty years. He was and still is just an average kid, not particularly bright or strong in anything. While he could recall the main events that led to his family's downfall, he understood that he couldn't tackle them alone. The schemes against his family had been meticulously planned by various adversaries over many years. He couldn't be certain who was loyal to him except for a few or which actions would truly impact his family's fate.

"First things first, I need to make a list of everything I remember about the next thirty years. Even if I can't do it alone, I can always seek help from Grandma or Leo. While I may not be clever enough to stop everything but with their assistance, we might just stand a chance," Bruce resolved, determined to forge a plan despite his limitations.

He rose from his bed and surveyed his room. After a brief search, he fetched a notebook and pen, diligently jotting down every forthcoming event he could recall. Completing twenty pages in just a few minutes, he reviewed his work, hoping to uncover any overlooked details. 

"Damn it. Thirty years crammed into just twenty pages. My memory's running on fumes," he muttered, berating himself.

As he contemplated his next move and lost in thought, he was interrupted by the entrance of a maid, clad in a crisp white apron and a classic black maid gown running to the floor. Her gentle demeanor and spectacles framed a kindly face, though she appeared far younger than her late forties.

"Master, Mr. Leonard instructed me to bring you a tonic to clear your mind. I've brought Blue Lotus honey with milk, Master. It's the best remedy for alleviating distress. Please, take it," she offered with a gentle smile.

Bruce studied her face for a moment before recalling her identity. This was Martha, who had served directly under his grandmother Kyra for nearly three decades. Bruce's memories of her were sparse since she retired when he was only ten years old. 

Not wanting to keep her waiting, he replied, 

"Ah, thank you, Martha. Please place it on the table."

"Yes, Master," she responded, approaching to set the glass of milk and honey jar on the table where he worked.

He took a few spoons of honey and mixed it with the glass of milk. Just as he raised and took a sip of the hot honey milk a sudden string of voices echoed in his mind continuously.

DING

THE VENGEANCE SYSTEM INSTALLED SUCCESSFULLY.

DING

DETECTED AN INDIVIDUAL WITH DEEP VENGEANCE.

QUEST INITIATED.

THE HOST CAN ACCESS THE STATUS MENU AFTER ACCEPTING THE SYSTEM

DO YOU ACCEPT THE SYSTEM?

Bruce spat out the milk he had just gulped down, creating a mini milk fountain.