“-self… oh! I’m back already.”

A skinny, almost malnourished, twenty-year-old stood on a sidewalk. His hand reaching out to the air in front of him.

The skinny figure’s hair was black and long, somewhat unkempt, his clothes were simplistic, and the only other defining feature might be the large camo military backpack he wore, a gift from his Grandfather for his acceptance into the top 3 Military Academies in the country 4 years ago.

“Fresh start to my- why do I suddenly not want to swear?” The young scrawny adult had an intrigued face as he rubbed his light stubble on his chin. His thoughts wandered far as his eyes wandered the dystopian city that appeared all around him.

So the talent I received from choosing the Rogue class did affect my soul choices. I knew it, those damnable things were created by one of THEE creator’s after all.

The young man walked down the massive concrete sidewalk, many vendors and people could be seen nearby. His thoughts continued to organize themselves as he took in the environment calmly. Traveling back in time to one-thousandth of his lifespan put him directly at the age of twenty, three months after his birthday in January, and three months before the “descent”.

This body is shit, muscle memory needs to be replaced, forgot that my birth planet Treya was in shit. The rich control the other 99.9% and the world’s environment is fucked to all hell.

“Ah right, what was my first name again? James right?” The young adult mumbled, a couple nearby glanced at him oddly as he wasn’t exactly quiet.

After changing identities a hundred times, names sort of lose meaning, I wish I could just give myself a new name right now but… oh I got an idea!

The young man fished his hand into his pocket, it surfed around for the correct item before pulling out an old-fashioned leather wallet. Inside were four cards, an I.D., and twenty credits.

Twenty fucking credits…nice. Time to get drunk.

The young adult stopped by a liquor store before he left carrying a case of liquor with him. There was a lady behind the sleek metal counter in the small dystopian shop, her face was red as she stared at a piece of paper with 10-digits on it. A name was beneath it, Big J.

Not even old enough, damn I really came back in time. Still got the moves though, too bad that number is fake, If I can remember right I believe that was the pizza joint on East Cloud street. Classic Prank.

…

The young man arrived at a dilapidated residential skyscraper making up a collection of rundown condos. It’s height seemed to pierce the clouds, floating cars of many different types, mostly rusted and worn, flew from various sides of the building.

Neon signs could be seen in the thousands from a glance in any direction, the condo building itself had a few dozen climbing up its walls as well.

Home sweet home.

The young man walked through the broken glass entrance door, behind him steps led into the dystopian shit-filled city, in front of him, a stairway led to his cozy home of twenty years.

I still find it hilarious that my parents told me it was one of the most promising buildings back then. Also, it still sucks that they died of Cryotosis, the after-effects of Cryosleep, which was both incurable with a 25% chance of infection for old cryo-chamber models and a well-known great possibility of a minor reduction in lifespan.

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Cryosleep was a big push after the third world war, the young man’s parents jumped on the bandwagon just like everyone else, then when they came out they both had Cryotosis as well as 50 years reduction of the natural lifespan. In the end, they had twelve years left to spend with their newly born child, James Terrano.

I remember now, it was James… James Terrano.

The Terrano family was once a merchandise conglomerate, with plays in politics, the military, and global trade. That luxurious lifestyle died with practically everyone else's when the planet turned half desert from WWIII.

Treya was full of large islands and small continents with three major continents, the country's name’s who are now all banned from even being spoken about, started a global war using new laser technology, burning half the world in an “accident”. One of the major continents was obliterated, the other two were “only” half desert.

That wasn’t even the full results of the war, there was still the almost total destruction of the other landmasses, small and large islands were turned into molten slag from satellite laser devices capable of burning a literal hole through the planet.

Now the federation uses the laser-capable satellites as meteorite mining vessels, gathering resources for the slow accumulation of non-renewable resources sparse from Treya, the planet that he just came back to.

Here we go again.

The young man opened his condo door after passing by dozens of people unconscious with pill bottles, needles, and various drugs scattered about in the hallways. The rundown place hasn’t seen police in half a decade, and it was quite obvious.

Opening up the condo, the young man who had just remembered his first name to be James relied on instinct of his early-days body to get comfortable quick. He put the drinks on a dilapidated coffee table and sat on his torn-up couch which seemed to match the rest of the run-down apartment… or entire building.

This night for fun, the next three months for hell.

The young man turned on a holographic tv with a screen tear running down the left edge, generating a small annoyance, his legs were instantly resting on the coffee table. Audio boomed in the apartment as the young man started to drink his case of liquor calmly.

A repeated sigh of relief could be heard from the apartment throughout the night.

…

Three Months Later.

James still lived in the apartment, however, now it looked extremely refreshed. The bed was made, the counters clean, the fridge full of fresh newly bought food. The Holographic tv was actually replaced. However, the furniture of the house seemed to have disappeared.

Instead of a coffee table, couches, and various tables were exercise equipment, guaranteed to be far more expensive than pretty much everyone in the skyscraper-condo could afford.

James was punching a red-leather bag, his moves were sleek and slender with a grace that seemed to mesmerize any viewer’s eyes. The attacks seemed to hit various points on the bag instantaneously, which then responded with a quick soft tone each time audibly.

*DIng* *Ding* *Ding*

After a few minutes of intense combat practice, James looked back at the holographic screen that was close to the front door. On it contained data that told James about his routine’s effectiveness based on its military training focused software, a program used by many bodyguards and operative groups.

Lethality… 92%(Avg: 12%)

Accuracy… 100%(Avg: 31%)

STR: 22(Avg: 12 / Elite: 22)

AGI: 24(Avg: 12 / Elite: 22)

END: 25(Avg: 10 / Elite: 20)

“Nice. I should be just about back to my mortal peak’s performance.” James said quietly as he went to the fridge and grabbed a cold drink of water. Taking a drink, James swished the water in his mouth before spitting it into the nearby silver metallic sink.

Then James, the no longer scrawny youth proceeded to down the bottle of water instantly. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw the rising sun cover the dystopian landscape, he could see his new self in the reflection of the window.

The scrawny youth was no more. In his stead was a perfect form of a warrior, a soldier who has seen the hell of training, a master who has pushed himself to the extreme, someone who has reached the apex similar to a special forces soldier.

Thank god for steroids and good poker skills.

Only James knew that 100% of his recent monetary gain all started from a small gambling house nearby. The only thing the dystopian city in front of him knew was that the gambling dens have recently increased their security and table inspectors.

The Holographic tv was playing sound, from the audio, James heard a news story.

“Recent investigators of local crime dens have noticed that the local gangs of Silver City are on the hunt for skilled poker professionals to work their tables, the investigators have concluded that a master of cards has robbed the most notorious crime dens of millions of credits, causing a sudden increase in security in the city.” A woman’s voice could be heard from the radio on the holographic tv.

“The amount that the recent master player has earned has reached into the tens of millions of credits, two gang-infested gambling den groups were forced to break-up from the sudden loss of so much money. Professionals say that this hidden master only needed two months to control the entire situation of the gambling dens, his skills are unprecedented, they say that such a situation hasn’t occurred since 27 years ago when…”

The female voice faded into the distance as James Terrano left his apartment.