Chapter 3: Rebirth

Richard Carter blinked blearily, his vision adjusting to the sterile white of the ceiling. It was smooth, and featureless, a stark contrast to the rough concrete of his office ceiling back in the Citadel.

A soft rustle drew his attention to his bedside. A woman in crisp white scrubs adjusted the drip feeding into his arm. Her face, etched with concern, softened into a gentle smile as their eyes met.

"Good morning, Mr. Chandler. Glad to see you're awake," she said, her voice soothing

she paused in her tasks and offered him a reassuring smile before quietly excusing herself from the room.

"Chandler?" Carter croaked, his voice rusty from disuse. It sounded… younger, less strained by the weight of command. He tried to sit up, a wave of nausea washing over him as a searing pain lanced through his entire body.

Gasping in agony, he glanced down at himself, his heart skipping a beat at the sight of the unfamiliar form he now inhabited—a young, vibrant body that bore no resemblance to his own aging frame.

"What the—" he rasped, the words catching in his throat.

Memories flooded his mind like a torrential downpour. He recalled the harrowing events that had led him to this moment– the Sentinel assassin, the desperate gamble of the Bio-cognitive Relocation Device, the searing pain of the transfer

Just then, the door swung open, revealing a man in a pristine white coat.

Taking a seat beside Carter's bed, the doctor wasted no time in checking his vitals, his brow furrowing in concern as he reviewed the readings on the nearby monitor.

"You're a lucky man, Grayson Chandler," the doctor remarked solemnly. "Things could have been much worse if you hadn't arrived when you did."

"Grayson? Who's Grayson?" Carter interjected, his voice sounding alien to him, his confusion mounting with each passing moment.

The doctor frowned, his brow furrowing in concern. He reached into his pocket, pulling out a small penlight and examining Carter's eyes.

"Oh dear," he murmured. "Seems you have a case of amnesia."

Taking a deep breath, the doctor continued. "Grayson, you were caught in an explosion two weeks ago. You were brought in with severe injuries. We've done everything we can, but it seems…" his voice trailed off

"But what?" Carter pressed

"Your mana heart… it's unstable. The explosion did significant damage to the channels. We've been treating you with heavy doses of suppressants to keep it under control, but…" he hesitated. "These drugs lose their effectiveness over time. With unstable mana like yours, it starts affecting the body. Organs… heart, kidneys, liver…"

Carter listened intently, his mind racing. Did his consciousness transfer into this Grayson Chandler? This young man with a broken mana heart? He glanced out the window, the cityscape unfamiliar. This wasn't the Citadel skyline.

"Where… where are we?" he interjected, interrupting the doctor's explanation.

"Martacare Hospital," the doctor replied.

"No, I mean… what city?"

"Arcadia, of course."

"Arcadia?!" Carter exclaimed laced with disbelief

Arcadia had been one of the first cities to fall in the first wave of the cataclysmic events, how could this be Arca—

Wait...

"What year is this?" he demanded

The doctor looked at him, a flicker of confusion crossing his face. "It's 2345."

Twenty years

The room seemed to tilt around him. Twenty years, not twenty days. His desperate gamble with the BCRD had sent him not twenty days but twenty years back in time. Back into the body of another man.

But then a flicker of possibility ignited in his chest. He could warn them, and change the course of history! Suddenly, a sharp pain lanced through his body, sending him into a fit of violent coughing that left him gasping for air.

The doctor rushed to his side, his face etched with concern.

"Easy there, Grayson," he cautioned

"With your mana heart damaged as it is, even the slightest exertion could prove fatal."

Mana.

The word hung heavy in the air, the mystical energy that flowed through the veins of this world. But for Carter, it was a concept shrouded in mystery—a power he had never possessed

"You should Rest now. I'll check back on you later." The doctor advised

As the doctor left, Carter sank back onto the bed. So much to process, so little time. The unstable mana heart, a ticking time bomb within him. The doctor mentioned suppressants, but for how long? Could he buy enough time

******************************

A week crawled by, each day a monotonous blur of sterile white walls and the ever-present hum of medical equipment. The hospital staff, kind and efficient, discharged him with a hefty bill that had mysteriously vanished. Apparently, a "Regent lady" had taken care of it. They even sent him off with a two-week supply of the mana suppressants.

Outside the hospital doors, Tom, Grayson's supposed best friend, awaited him. A wiry young man with bright, nervous eyes, Tom had filled the gaps in Carter's fragmented memories. He learned about Grayson's life – a struggling orphan burdened by debt, forced to work for the notorious Crimson Shadows. A life far removed from Carter's own privileged upbringing.

Tom taking Carter home led him through the bustling streets of Arcadia, Carter drank it all in, the sights, the sounds, everything different from the city of Citadel.

They reached Grayson's apartment and Tom waves him off. The apartment was worse than Carter expected, The meager furnishings spoke volumes about Grayson's financial struggles. A lone picture frame on the wall caught Carter's eye. It was a younger Grayson, his face beaming, flanked by two smiling adults – his parents, no doubt.

A pang of guilt twisted in Carter's gut. He had stolen this young man's life, his body, his memories. A vow formed in his mind – he wouldn't waste this second chance.

His stomach rumbled, shattering the solemnity of the moment. The meager food supplies in the apartment confirmed Tom's earlier description of Grayson's financial woes. Hunger gnawed at him, a more immediate concern than the impending apocalypse.

***************

Wandering the streets, clutching a single sausage and a stale roll, Carter formulated his next move. Saving the world was a lofty goal, but first, he needed to survive. His finances were in shambles, his broken mana heart wouldn't allow for manual labor, and his knowledge of advanced technology wouldn't help when he can't acquire the tools and materials necessary.

He needed to first do something about this body and fast. In his time on the working with people on the front lines he'd seen people with this condition, they didn't last long. He had never tried but he could in theory create a device to artificially create a mana conduit or circuit as the mages call it but he'd need materials or money. Frustration bubbled within him.

Then, a flash of crimson caught his eye. A towering billboard dominated the intersection, emblazoned with the logo of Carter Industries. His own company, a titan in the Citadel, had a branch here in Arcadia established around this time. A smirk tugged at his lips.

It was a crazy idea, a gamble on a long shot. But he, Richard Carter, had always thrived on calculated risks. He, an imposter in his own body, would steal from his own company.