Finding decent accessories was far more challenging than acquiring weapons, making Paranormal a rare treasure. As Aries slipped the ring onto his left hand, a group approached him.

“Excuse me,” a voice called out.

Two women and five men. The man at the front stepped forward.

“Hey, you seem pretty calm. Are you experienced?”

“What if I am?” Aries replied, raising an eyebrow.

“Of course! Ah, my name is Darius Thorn. And you are…?”

“Are you referring to me?” Aries asked, feigning confusion.

“Yes, there’s no one else in front of me besides you,” Darius shot back with a chuckle.

Darius’s laughter was light-hearted, but Aries wasn’t interested in socializing. “Smith,” he said tersely.

Darius’s expression stiffened, his smile faltering. “Smith? Are you messing with me?”

Aries shrugged, refusing to elaborate. In that moment, his mind drifted back to the past. He had taken countless lives, including soldiers and those who could have been heroes—like the Dragon Lord, who had tamed a magical dragon, and Kim Hannah, the Queen of Frost Wind. If they had survived, perhaps humanity wouldn’t have fallen so easily.

They should still be alive, he thought bitterly. Those were the toughest opponents he had ever faced, especially the Dragon Lord. It had taken him three long years to bring him down. The magical dragon at his side was a formidable foe with keen instincts. Even the Dragon Lord himself was among the top ten warriors in the New World. Three years felt like a mere blink against someone of his caliber.

Yet, despite the weight of his past, Aries felt a flicker of hope. This was a second chance—a chance to change his course.

“Smith… So, what is it? John Smith? Bob Smith?” Darius prodded, clearly teasing.

Is he joking with me? Aries thought, feeling his patience wear thin. He turned away slightly.

“My name is just Smith,” he stated flatly.

Anyone watching would know he was deliberately ignoring Darius, who chuckled again. “Haha! You’re funny.”

Despite himself, Aries admired Darius’s resilience. This guy might just last a while.

He couldn’t help but let out a small laugh. Reflecting on the past, he realized the Temple of Amon had likely harbored characters like Darius. Yet, Aries found little joy in nostalgia.

From the beginning, he had never been good at socializing, nor did he have the luxury of time. How one spent their time in the temple could drastically affect their chances of survival in the New World. Only those who used their time wisely could hope to escape the inevitable.

This time, I refuse to be a helpless victim, he vowed silently.

As Aries turned to walk away, coldness radiating from him, the tension in the air thickened. The group surrounding Darius Thorn exchanged glances, their anger bubbling to the surface.

“Hey!” one of them shouted, stepping forward, fists clenched. “You think you can just brush us off like that?”

“Seriously, Smith?” another chimed in, crossing their arms defensively. “Wow, Mr. Thorn, just leave someone like him alone. It’s not worth it.”

“Yeah,” a third voice added, rolling their eyes. “He doesn’t even have basic manners. What a loser.”

Darius, undeterred by the growing dissent from his companions, took a step toward Aries. “Hey, wait up! You can’t just walk away like that. We’re all in this mess together!” He tried to keep his tone light, but a hint of challenge crept in.

One of the women in the group grabbed Darius's arm, her grip firm. “Don’t go after him, Darius! You don’t know what he’s been through. He’s not our enemy.”

“But he could be useful!” Darius shot back, his frustration evident. “We need everyone we can get right now.”

The murmurs of agreement began to swirl, the group torn between following their leader and questioning the wisdom of picking a fight with someone who clearly wanted nothing to do with them. It was clear they had formed a bond, with Darius at the center, sharing an unspoken understanding forged through their shared survival.

“Listen, we’re scared,” one of the men said, his voice rising above the others. “We just lost a lot of people. We can’t afford to have anyone acting like a lone wolf. We need to unite if we’re going to survive.”

Aries, overhearing their commotion, simply shook his head. He could feel their collective frustration simmering behind him, but he wasn’t interested in getting dragged into their drama. He had fought hard for his own survival and wasn’t about to babysit a group of scared survivors.

“Whatever, just don’t let him get to you,” the woman added, her voice softer now, addressing Darius. “We have to focus on finding a way out of here.”

“Fine,” Darius replied, his shoulders sagging slightly, a mix of disappointment and acceptance washing over him. “But I’m telling you, we’re going to need him. I can sense it.”

Aries, still moving away, felt their eyes on him, their silent judgment weighing heavy. Part of him wanted to shout back, to tell them he wasn’t interested in their little group. But he chose silence instead, focusing on his own path and the changes he hoped to make this time around.

As he stepped further away, he caught a glimpse of Darius glancing back, a mix of determination and frustration etched on his face. In that fleeting moment, Aries realized that beneath the bravado, the young man was just as scared as he was—trying to hold onto hope in a world filled with chaos.

Aries found a spot away from the chaos, where the remnants of the battle lay scattered. A few wounded survivors huddled around, tending to the injured and staring at the fallen Inferno Harpies with a mix of awe and horror.

“Did you see how they fought?” one man murmured, wiping blood from his brow. His hands shook slightly. “They were like living fireballs!”

“Yeah,” a woman added, her voice trembling. “I can’t believe we made it out alive. What the hell are these things?”

Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.

“They’re not just monsters,” Darius chimed in, standing a bit apart from the group but still close enough to be heard. “I read about creatures like this in mythology. Inferno Harpies—they're supposed to be fierce, half-bird, half-woman creatures that feast on the souls of the damned. It’s like we’ve stepped into some twisted legend.”

“Legends?” a wounded man leaning against a nearby pillar scoffed, shaking his head. “I used to fix cars back on Earth. Now I’m fighting mythological creatures? What the hell happened to us?”

“Reincarnation,” someone else said, pressing a makeshift bandage against their side. “That’s what they’re saying. We’ve been brought back to fight for survival in this messed-up reality.”

“Reincarnation?” the mechanic scoffed again, disbelief etched on his face. “I don’t buy it. Who gets a second chance in a world like this? Sounds like a load of crap to me.”

“Why not?” the woman countered, her eyes shining with determination. “We’ve all got these strange watches, right? Mine says I have skills I never had before. Maybe there’s a system to this. Maybe we’re meant to level up and become stronger!”

“Level up?” the mechanic raised an eyebrow, skepticism written all over his face. “What are we in, a video game? This isn’t some RPG! We’re dealing with real death here, not some fantasy nonsense!”

“I saw mine too!” Darius exclaimed, pulling up his wrist to showcase his watch like a prized possession. “It showed my abilities! We have potential here. If we stick together, we can survive and grow stronger!”

“What if it’s all just a trick?” the wounded man interjected, his face pale. “What if this watch is just another way to control us?”

“Control us?” Darius shook his head, frustration creeping into his voice. “Look around! The dead monsters are evidence we can fight back. We need to focus on what we can do, not what we can’t.”

“Alright, then what’s your theory?” the mechanic challenged, crossing his arms defiantly. “How do we escape this hellhole?”

“Survival,” Darius replied firmly, his gaze steady. “We find a safe place, regroup, and learn from each battle. The system might help us figure things out, but we can’t rely solely on it.”

“Yeah, but what about the others?” the woman said, glancing anxiously at the bodies scattered on the ground. “What if more of those harpies come back? What then?”

“We train,” Darius answered, determination flooding his voice. “We use the resources we have, gather information, and develop strategies. If we don’t learn from today’s battle, those who died will have died in vain.”

Aries, still observing from a distance, felt a strange pull toward their conversation. They were all so different, yet they shared a common fear and hope. He had always fought alone, but maybe—just maybe—this time could be different.

“Maybe,” the mechanic finally conceded, his voice softer now. “But what if this is just the beginning? What if we’re stuck in a cycle? Every time we die, we come back to this same spot, fighting the same battles?”

“Then we break the cycle!” Darius exclaimed, his eyes lighting up with resolve. “We take control of our destinies, whatever that means in this twisted reality. It’s the only way we’ll find a way out!”

As the group continued to exchange ideas and fears, Aries stood in the background, pondering his own past choices. He had once shunned companionship, preferring the solitude of his own thoughts. But now, amidst the chaos, the idea of unity began to resonate with him.

“Hey, Smith!” Darius called out, breaking through Aries’s thoughts. “Why don’t you join us? We could use someone with your experience.”

Aries hesitated, the weight of their collective hope hanging in the air. But the scars of his past loomed large, whispers of betrayal echoing in his mind. Unity was good, but not for his goal—definitely not in this life.

“No,” he finally said, stepping forward, his voice steady and resolute. “Listen. And understand this—if you’re going to survive, you need to make choices that matter. No more running. No more hiding. You fight.”

The air grew heavy with his words, and he could see the flicker of uncertainty in their eyes. But he also sensed a glimmer of understanding. They were all seeking answers in this new reality, and perhaps that’s where their strength would come from.

“Just remember,” he continued, his gaze unwavering, “this world doesn’t play fair. Trust is a luxury you can’t afford. Choose wisely, and maybe we’ll see each other at the end of it all—if fate allows.”

Grouping up? Not always the best option. Trust was fragile, especially among strangers. In a world where betrayal lurked behind every corner, forming a group could lead to disaster. Just look at the Nine Great Guilds and the Five Great Clans—they fell apart because of internal conflicts.

They couldn’t trust each other. Eventually, they couldn’t even trust themselves.

So how could a bunch of strangers—just met—ever trust one another? Time only amplified the challenges ahead, revealing their true selves. Aries shook his head. I’d rather work alone than watch them collapse.

First, I need to strengthen my body. This body? Weak and shabby. He couldn’t accomplish anything like this.

The Aries of the past had seen enough to know how to snag rare items only found in the Temple of Amon. Secret classes. Normal folks? They could grab just one class. But Aries? Four different ones, each with its own flavor.

He wasn’t just an average Joe; as the leader of the Forest of Death, he had the Universal Type Characteristics. Adaptability, that’s my game.

In his previous life, with friends, comrades, and mentors guiding him, he’d mastered warrior, mage, ranger, and priest classes.

Each role took serious dedication. Not just physical strength, but the arts of arcane rituals, spiritual insights, and deadly precision.

Now, with a second chance to rewrite his future, he set his sights on something far more dangerous: acquiring the secret classes.

These aren’t just power boosts. No way. They’re abilities so potent and perilous that even Solomon—King of Israel, wielder of magic bound by divine authority—had hidden them away.

But Aries knew the power hidden within these classes. In his past life, he’d encountered traces of them in long-forgotten ruins and the watch logs of those he had killed.

One of these secret classes was rumored to exist within the Temple of Amon, that God-forsaken place that once served as the seat of a forgotten kingdom. According to ancient lore, Amon was a demon prince mentioned in the Goetia, one of the fallen angels bound by Solomon’s authority. The temple itself was said to be a nexus of necromantic power, its corridors whispering secrets of the dead and the damned.

If I remember correctly, Aries thought, recalling his past, the Necromancer class was hidden here.

This was where the infamous Necromancer Silas Greaves had acquired his dread power. A lunatic, Silas wielded dark magic with reckless abandon, raising an army of the dead and laying waste to entire cities. His undead legions obeyed him without question or fear, each kill swelling his ranks, each conquest amplifying his power.

Once a simple scholar, he transformed into something monstrous after obtaining the necromancer class and deciphering forbidden passages from the Devil’s Bible, also known as the Codex Gigas. The Devil’s Bible contained spells to control the dead, bind demons to servitude, and create curses that lingered for centuries. With this dark knowledge, Silas became nearly unstoppable, claiming more souls than most armies could ever hope to conquer. He killed thousands, resurrecting each corpse as part of his growing army.

In battle, the Necromancer class gave him an overwhelming advantage, even against powerful mages, warriors, and the so-called kings who fell before his dark horde. But in the end, Silas was undone not by strength but by arrogance. Drunk on power, he became careless.

During the war, Aries had moved unseen, using stealth to navigate through Silas’s defenses. He didn’t need to confront the Necromancer directly; he sought a powerful spell from the Clavicula Salomonis—the "Exorcism of the Spirit"—a spell meant to destroy dark protections and expose Silas to mortal harm.

With each careful step, Aries closed the distance, whispering the ancient incantation:

"Per potestatem caelestium, dissolvo maledicta tua et diruo munimenta tua."

As he invoked the final words, an otherworldly light flared, illuminating the shadows around him. Silas, sensing the disruption, turned in surprise, his eyes wide as the spell tore through his defenses. The protective dark magic around him unraveled, leaving him vulnerable.

But Silas wasn’t dead—not yet.

Aries didn’t hesitate. He surged forward, his blade flashing in the eerie light. Before Silas could utter a word, Aries swung his sword in a single, decisive arc, slicing cleanly through the Necromancer’s throat.

Silas’s head rolled to the floor, his body collapsing in a heap. The once-feared dark lord, conqueror of cities, lay still.

Aries stood over him, watching the remnants of Silas’s magic flicker out like dying embers. This time, he thought, death is truly mine to control.

Afterward, he remembered taking his watch to look at his history.

First, I need to get the Necromancer class, Aries reminded himself, his eyes narrowing.

This time, he wouldn’t allow a fool like Silas to wield such power. I’ll claim it for myself. If he could acquire the Necromancer class, he would wield not just life, but death itself as a weapon.