"And he does it again! The greatest fighter to ever live—Alexander Hart!" "What a breath taking performance against the former champion!"
The cheers echoed from the television playing an old tape, a celebration of greatness and a legacy.
In a dimly lit room, an old man sat slouched in a rusted wheelchair. His clothes were worn thin and the man looked frail. The tap dripped endlessly in the silence, the sound bouncing off stained walls where paint had long begun to peel and fade. Dust hung in the air like a shroud.
Eisen.
A lifelong fan of the fighting game yet never a fighter himself. Dreams remained dreams, his life was full of self doubt and anxiety prevented him from achieving his greatest desire, to be a fighter. He was a man whose hands were never raised and the feeling of regret engulfed his heart as his life slowly started to dissipate from him.
At the end of it all, he was utterly alone, no family, no friends, no legacy. As his breathing slowed and his vision dimmed, the last thing he heard was the roar of the crowd... cheering and being in awe. He died with regret in his heart, he could have been more.. something better, something greater.
Silence..
Everything turned black, not the comforting type of sleep, nor the stillness of death but a void without end. A silence that screamed.
Eisen felt nothing until....
BOOM
From the void, something pulled him back together
His face snapping into place, then his face slowly forming, his neck and spine cracked into a ligament, his body was getting reconstructed. A heart was placed in his chest and it started to pump blood working to keep Eisen alive. Muscles wrapped around his bones and his thick arms started to form. His core tightened, abs and hips snapping into place. his legs pressing into nothingness.
Then-
He gasped.
"And he does it again! The greatest fighter to ever live—Alexander Hart!""What a breath taking performance against the former champion!"
The cheers echoed from the television playing an old tape, a celebration of greatness and a legacy.
In a dimly lit room, an old man sat slouched in a rusted wheelchair. His clothes were worn thin and the man looked frail. The tap dripped endlessly in the silence, the sound bouncing off stained walls where paint had long begun to peel and fade. Dust hung in the air like a shroud.
Eisen.
A lifelong fan of the fighting game yet never a fighter himself. Dreams remained dreams, his life was full of self doubt and anxiety prevented him from achieving his greatest desire, to be a fighter. He was a man whose hands were never raised and the feeling of regret engulfed his heart as his life slowly started to dissipate from him.
At the end of it all, he was utterly alone, no family, no friends, no legacy. As his breathing slowed and his vision dimmed, the last thing he heard was the roar of the crowd... cheering and being in awe. He died with regret in his heart, he could have been more.. something better, something greater.
Silence..
Everything turned black, not the comforting type of sleep, nor the stillness of death but a void without end. A silence that screamed.
Eisen felt nothing until....
BOOM
From the void, something pulled him back together
His face snapping into place, then his face slowly forming, his neck and spine cracked into a ligament, his body was getting reconstructed. A heart was placed in his chest and it started to pump blood working to keep Eisen alive. Muscles wrapped around his bones and his thick arms started to form. His core tightened, abs and hips snapping into place. his legs pressing into nothingness.
Then-
He gasped.
Eyes shot open, wide with disbelief, tears already swelling at the corners, before he could process what was happening, he heard a calming and comforting voice
"My beloved son, be happy...."
Eisen blinked, his eyes adjusting to the dim light of the room. The soft rustle of sheets beneath him was the first thing he noticed. The bed beneath him was unfamiliar—firm but comfortable, not the creaky old mattress he remembered.
Eisen started to clutching his fingers into a fist feeling the surge of strength flowing through him, a feeling long forgotten.
"What.. is this?"
His heart started to race as he looked around the room. The walls were clean, freshly painted. A faint scent of wood polish lingered in the air. The room was simple—neat, almost… pristine.
He swung his legs over the side of the bed, planting his feet on the cool wooden floor. His legs were firm, strong, the muscles flexing beneath his skin. The aches, the stiffness, the fragile joints were gone.
He stumbled to the mirror across the room. His reflection hit him like a punch to the gut.
"I can't believe this.. I am young again..."
He touched his face once more, feeling the soft contours of his skin, the smoothness he thought he had lost forever. Eisen smiled looking at the mirror, a strange, tentative smile, but it was his. He could feel it.
He sits down in his bed and starts pondering
"If this was a chance from God, I promise to live a good life, a life where I don't have any regrets, I will prove to anyone that I can do it"
A surge of motivation and desperation was planted inside of Eisen's heart, he made a vow to himself that in this life, he will go all out and fulfil his greatest desire. To be the best in the world.