Let's take a look at the 'true timeline'...

When Alex had reincarnated, he lost most his memories. However, how would that affect him?

Especially when he finally saw himself finish what he started. His goal to create his own Personal Art.

There was no future for the frail youth of becoming a scholarly young man. His daily life went on...

Nothing had changed from the time he'd made a promise to surpass his brother. Nothing...

His weak and scrawny physique still held him back a lot. Alex started to even gain a complex about it.

There was nothing the kid could do but work harder than everyone. Build himself from scratch.

Let's start at the day of his supposed 'death'.

That evening, he woke up the infirmary. The mean girls bullying the poor youth finally left him alone.

Of course, the frail youngster was embarrassed...

That day impacted him deeply.

The weak did not ask to be weak. They did not ask to be born without the physical might of others.

So was this the fault of his parents?

No, that was a cowardly answer!

Have faith in yourself... Believe!

He decided to believe that something could be changed. That he wouldn't stay in this position.

He went through a 'second metamorphosis'.

A fire similar to Arthur's ignited in his heart. The only difference was that this was driven by hate.

Alex despised himself whenever he lost courage.

He lost his biological parents early in life in an accident, and was thankfully adopted by a couple who cared for him. At least, that's what he believed until he realised the reason for his adoption.

"I need you to become my Successor." John Stuman, his father, gave him a mission in life.

That was the entire reason he was brought in.

"Why me...?" Even before awakening his infallible willpower and drive, he knew his weaknesses.

His body wasn't talented enough for combat.

"Physical strength doesn't matter. You have a talent more valuable than pure physical strength. I believe you can do it." His father's words were rather cryptic. Alex couldn't understand them.

"What about... big brother?" He still couldn't understand. What about the couple's only son?

"...He's unsuited to succeeding me." There was an indescribable sadness in his eyes as he spoke so.

The frail child starting to understand with time...

His older brother was way too suited for 'killing' rather than 'fighting'. He was far too savage.

And the style he was going to be taught would likely only serve to ruin his nature even further.

That's why... he had no choice but to accept it.

To properly inherit the title of 'Black Dragon' from his father, he first practiced Breath Circulation.

This was the foundation for all Internal Arts...

It allowed one to breath with the wonders of the world. Connecting oneself with the vast world.

The frail youth even found THIS to be difficult.

All he had to do was breath, but doing so using this method was hard thanks to his clogged meridians.

Of course, his father didn't leave him in this state.

"I'll help you open them." He put his hand on his son's forehead and started with the veins on his face. Energy started circulating easier with the support of a Grandmaster martial artist behind him.

At first, this kind of training was way too rigorous...

"Hold out a bit longer. Don't give up of this. You HAVE to succeed... so don't disappoint me." John made this declaration to the young boy. The only good thing it did was help him make up his mind.

At first, he would always take breaks and avoid the pain of practising his father's special Martial Arts...

Especially the 'Secret Art' of their family...

However, he stopped avoiding pain the day he had lost to the female delinquents that day at school.

He practically tortured himself...

To create a new body fit for long battles, he let internal strength pulse out from his skeleton.

This refined his blood and tendons...

It was at that point he also started sparring with his father. Everyday became a world of pain and hurt...

This was... the 'Blood Refining Bone Pulse'!

At first, he started with the basics. However, he started to become more impatient as time went on.

"I want to drop school to learn Martial Arts." He told his intentions to his father, which surprised him.

"...Are you sure about this?"

"Please... I want to become stronger. I don't like being weak. It always ruins everything...!" The deep sorrow in Alex's words made his father unable to refuse. That day, he dropped out of high school.

John proceeded to throw him into special training.

It was an old method used by his ancestors to stimulate the learning ability from his disciples.

However, it was also a barbaric training style...

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

"You're weak." In the midst of their 'sparring', his father insulted him and threw him to the ground.

He acted like a bully...

"You're stupid." "Is that how you fight?" "I've seen kittens punch stronger than you." "Is that it?" "Is that all you got?" "I wish I'd never taken you in." "I feel embarrassed for having any faith in you."

He abused him in such a serious manner that Alex almost believed what he'd said a few times.

The training method was made to wear him down.

Everyday, he'd be subjected to mockeries and being beaten in a way that put emphasis on their power disparity. John slapped his face, stepped on his spine, and tried to destroy his willpower.

If the youth had stayed frail, he might have even died from this sort of training... or lost his sanity.

However, Alex could feel himself growing noticeably stronger the harder he trained himself.

These 'results' made him want to try harder...

By overcoming his weakness, he'd be able to inherit his father's title and become truly strong.

Overcoming hurdles can lead to admirable results...

...but was hard work worth the sacrifice?

Some made lengthy journeys of weak people growing strong sound worthwhile, but was it really?

The nature of 'hard work' wasn't kind...

A sacrifice had to be made to fill in for a gap in talent. That was just how the world worked...

"Alex...!" A familiar voice he hasn't heard in a long while called out to him a month into this regime.

Her gentle voice made him turn his head to his room's door. Someone from school visited him.

"..." He didn't know what to say to her.

"...I heard that you weren't coming to school anymore. Are you feeling okay?" Despite her deep worries, the diligent youth had no idea what to say in response. He continued his daily exercises.

The thick dumbbell in his kept on being raised...

"..." He averted his eyes, because he was scared of having his determination weakened by her words.

He wanted to see this through to the end.

To prove himself to his good father, he wanted his own Personal Art... just like his brother's technique.

"I-I might have gotten too ahead of myself. We are still friends, right...?" Samantha asked him sadly.

"..." He still refused to reply.

That day, Samantha Turner left with tears in her eyes. He stopped himself from chasing after her.

"You'll regret not stopping her." From the corner of the room, his bud of the pugilistic world spoke out.

The youth was considered a vagrant with no family or influence. He was someone John brought in.

He couldn't allow Alex to mature without someone by his side. That's why he chose 'Simian Steelwell'.

That youth was said to have a friendly personality.

"Mind your own business." The diligent youth continued to train like he did every other day.

The refinement of his tendons went smoothly.

Of course, the once frail kid wanted to go after her and mend their broken bond... but he made a choice. He wouldn't allow himself to be away from training for even a moment. Not even a second.

Simian accompanied him over the years...

He watched as the diligent youth's father practically abused him over the long years...

...and how Alex had given up after nearly a year.

Latent talent couldn't be displayed without reaching a certain level, and he discovered it then.

Over the long years, he had finally 'earned' his talent that extended from his compatibility with most Martial Arts. The diligent youth found he was the best at learning techniques even if by sight.

To be more precise, he was good at mastering fighting styles at a pace father than his own Dad.

He inherited the 'Black Dragon' title at a young age. However, there was still one last thing to do.

The diligent youth wanted his own Personal Art...

His obsession with this even caused him to stray away from the Martial Arts taught by his father.

He continued his path by fighting everywhere he went. It was because that's the only thing left.

He sacrificed everything for 'true strength'...

One day, he finally overcame himself.

A whole ten years after that incident, he met with Simian again to check his new 'Art' for himself.

In deserted valley far off from civilisation, his old friend locked and loaded two Desert Eagles.

"Are you sure about this?"

"Yeah... Just fight me seriously. Except for my Combat Gift, I'll only be using my hands and feet."

Alex got into a stance. He eyed how his friend was using his own 'abilities' of an Internal Martial Artist to create two firearms. For him, a rapier appeared in one hand while a katana appeared in the other.

It was asymmetry versus symmetry.

If someone saw their battle, they would be unable to call it anything other than a 'legendary clash'.

Despite it being guns versus swords, the matching was pretty even... Gunshots resounded in the air.

Simian reloaded his clips instantly with one of his abilities, then shot multiple wind enhanced bullets.

His fighting style was essentially 'Gun Fu'...!

However, Alex wasn't to be underestimated. He defended with a mix-up of two sword styles.

Their battle waged on until they were both tired...

It was at that moment, after losing his katana to grazing bullet, did he use his last trump card.

[White Art- Dragon Controller!]

He grabbed the hand that almost thrusted a gun barrel into his neck, then flipped Simian over.

The battle was over in a second...

"I lose." Despite having yet to be injured, the diligent fighter's old friend gave up immediately.

There was no way to escape his grasp...

"What did you think?"

"No wonder you call yourself 'White Dragon' now. I don't see a grappling-related Art that often."

It was sincere praise, but somehow... Alex was unable to feel happy after being acknowledged.

He was unable to describe his melancholy...

The now adult successor of the Black Dragon looked at the calluses on his hand in silence.

Indeed, the struggler had worked hard...

He had attained unimaginable power...

And yet... There was nothing he gained other than that strength. 'Strength' was the only thing he had.

No lovers, and especially no social connections. All he had was one friend who took care of him a lot.

On the way back after having half-destroyed the valley in their bout, Simian couldn't help asking:

"You regret letting her go, don't you?" It was a sudden question, but Alex couldn't deny it.

He had always thought about 'her' over the years.

When the hatred to change himself eased, the only thing that was left was the decision he had made.

The struggler wanted to give meaning to it...

Since he had strength, he used every opportunity he could find to utilise it. He fought nearly everyone in the pugilistic world like a madman. It earned countless battle scars from experience.

Everyone in the secret world knew of him...

Black Dragon, White Dragon, Silver Dragon, and last of the titles earned over the years: 'Ouroboros'.

He was known as two 'Dragons' as one.

Not a Dragon who had both characteristics, but someone who was both demonic and angelic...

Basically, he was a human being...

And as the flawed human he was, he regretted having spent so much time on cultivating power.

...Even when there was someone he'd liked.

After attaining this power, he tried to rejoin the bond that he had severed with his own hands.

No, he wanted to start a fire of romance.

After taking the time to look for her, he brought flowers from a shop and fixed up his appearance.

Alex was at his prime at the time. His looks weren't half-bad and his skills was at their highest peak.

He thought things would work out...

After giving her these flowers, he would try to properly talk to her on even grounds this time.

This time, he wasn't just a poor loser.

It was these insecurities and beliefs that caused the most damaging tragedy he felt in his life.

The flowers dropped into a muddy puddle on the streets. His eyes were locked on a blonde woman.

A woman who was saying goodbye to her kids as they went to school. He only realised it then...

...that he'd missed his chance.

Even with a nearly unbreakable physique and mental fortitude, his heart had been broken...

The flowers were ruined...

And the only person at fault was himself. He was the one who chose this path to walk in life.

So why wasn't he happy...?

'Smile, smile...' He told himself again and again. It wasn't right for him to look sad after so long.

Didn't he overcome his limits?

Didn't he achieve his purpose in life...?

So why wasn't he happy? Why couldn't he be happy after finally living up to his potential?

Wasn't he supposed to be a 'genius'...?

As these questions filled his chaotic mind, he saw something he wasn't expecting to witness again.

In the alleyway he hid in to internalise the grief he felt, there was a teenage girl getting beaten up.

It brought back unsightly memories. The one he had buried deep in shame as a Martial Artist.

After the delinquent girls saw him, then ran.

None of them seemed to want to get caught. It was really fortunate... They actually saved themselves.

He had been about to give those brats a beating...

"Are you feeling alright?" He asked the muddied girl with dark eyes. She seemed lost and hateful.

"...Why does this only happen to me?" The young girl murmured. He felt familiar with her feelings.

"Do you want to beat them?" He asked her curiously, but she shook her head in denial.

"I just... just... want to be... stronger." She spoke with her head down. Her voice was weak...

"I could help you out." He feigned a good mood and offered, but she shook her head innocently:

"I don't have money."

"You don't NEED money. You don't have to give up anything. I'll even show you the easiest hacks for techniques that don't need much strength. What do you think?" He asked with a meaningful look.

An image of himself overlaid on top of her...

The naive girl finally looked up at him and grabbed his outstretched hand. He got the girl off her feet.

He hoped, that maybe she could do the same for him. That's why he offered to pass everything on.

It was to flip his fate upside-down...