At first, Kevin believed it was the end. When darkness consumed everything, he accepted that death had come for him. There was no more sound, no light, not even Julia's touch in his arms. Only emptiness—a silent, black aby

How long did he stay like that? Hours, days, or perhaps just seconds? He wouldn't know because, in the void, there was no time, only absolute silence echoing in his mind without response.

Then, he saw it: a light.

At first, it was just a tiny white dot, so distant it seemed insignificant, lost in the sea of darkness surrounding him. But the dot did not fade. Instead, it grew, slowly advancing toward him until the darkness began to give way, dissolving around Kevin. The light became larger, an overwhelming presence, until suddenly, everything faded again—but this time, it was an absence of darkness.

Kevin blinked, feeling a strangeness in his own movements, his eyes, in the simple act of existing somewhere once more. And when he opened his eyes, he found himself inside a white dome. Everything around him was bright, as if he were immersed in a soft and eternal light with no apparent source. The floor was a translucent white, and the walls were made of an indistinguishable substance without edges or limits.

He looked around, confused, his heart still racing, trying to understand. Why was he there? Where was he? He tried to move, and to his amazement, his movements were fluid, natural. He stretched out a hand and stared at it, slowly turning it as if he were seeing it for the first time. Every line on his palm, every detail of his skin—it all seemed real… and at the same time, surreal.

"Where am I?" he murmured, hearing the echo of his own voice reverberate around him.

No answer came. Kevin was alone, in the midst of the white vastness, like a solitary figure on a blank page, waiting for an explanation that might never come.

As Kevin observed the blank space around him, something began to form in front of him. A screen, like a floating monitor, appeared before him, cutting through the white expanse with a dark, defined border. The image projected started to come to life, revealing a scene that seemed pulled straight from an epic video game.

On the screen, a towering knight was mounted on a majestic black horse, its flowing mane dancing in the wind. The knight’s armor gleamed brilliantly, polished to a mirror finish with shades of silver and blue. The visor of his helmet was down, but his fearless posture and the way he gripped his sword made it clear he was a true warrior.

The scene depicted a turbulent battlefield, with clouds of smoke rising from the ground, where dust and the echoes of combat merged into an atmosphere of chaos. Soldiers on both sides fought fiercely, while the knight’s blade swept through the air with deadly grace. He moved with supernatural precision, cutting down opponents with each precise strike, as if dancing amidst the chaos.

Kevin could hear the clash of swords and the cries of battle, resonating from the screen like part of a symphony orchestrated with violence and bravery. The knight delivered a spinning blow, felling two enemies at once, while his horse leapt skillfully over a fallen log, evading a surprise attack. Every movement was fluid, as though he was in perfect harmony with the battle around him.

With a glint in his eyes, the knight pressed forward, striking fast and decisively. He faced a group of opponents, each armed with spears and swords. One advanced, attempting a sideways strike, but the knight dodged with an agile movement, spinning atop his horse and countering with a swift thrust. The adversary fell, and the knight's expression showed no mercy, only absolute focus.

He was a leader, a symbol of power and courage in a sea of war. Kevin watched every move, his mind absorbing every detail, feeling an inexplicable connection with that knight. His skills were undeniably impressive, but there was something deeper, a sense of familiarity that intrigued him.

The battle unfolded with the intensity of an epic, and Kevin couldn't tear his eyes away from the scene that mixed reality and fantasy so viscerally it seemed tangible.

Then the film ended, and the sense of connection slipped away from Kevin as the floating monitor moved towards the horizon, pausing a short distance to his left. But before Kevin could follow it, another monitor began to form in front of him.

This time, the screen illuminated with a new scene. A true ninja appeared, his form shrouded in mystery. He was calmly walking across the rooftops of a moonlit village, where the darkness of night became his greatest ally. Shadows danced around him, creating a cloak of invisibility that rendered him almost ethereal.

The ninja wore a dark outfit, crafted from a lightweight, resilient fabric that molded perfectly to his body, enabling swift and silent movement. The upper part of his attire had a hood covering his hair and part of his face, revealing only his sharp eyes—refined and alert, like those of a fox, watching every movement below. The seemingly simple fabric was adorned with subtle patterns that blended seamlessly into the darkness, almost like camouflage.

His shoes were light, with soles that made almost no noise as they touched the wooden rooftops. His steps were so soft that, at first glance, he seemed to float across the surface like a shadow in motion. Every movement was calculated and precise, and he moved from rooftop to rooftop with a supernatural grace, like a cat.

He paused, peering below, where a group of guards gathered, chatting casually. Hidden in the darkness, the ninja assessed his target with cunning eyes. What Kevin noticed immediately was the almost otherworldly calm of the man, a confidence emanating from every fiber of his being. He held a shuriken in one hand, its blade glinting under the moonlight, while his other hand remained poised to strike, concealed within his attire.

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Kevin watched, fascinated, as the ninja prepared, his body tense like a violin string, every muscle focused and ready for action. His presence was powerful and subtle, and the young man felt that, just like with the knight, there was something familiar about this figure. But what could it be? The scene continued to unfold, and Kevin could hardly wait to see what would happen next, absorbing every detail of that mesmerizing performance.

But then, before the ninja could strike his target, like the previous monitor, this one moved away from Kevin, aligning itself beside the knight’s monitor, while a third monitor began to appear before him.

In this new monitor, the scene opened to a vast field covered in wildflowers under a blue sky. Two samurai faced each other, their gazes locked, a palpable tension in the air. Both wore traditional kimonos, their armor reflecting the sunlight with a metallic sheen. One held a gleaming katana, while the other wielded a sword with engraved details that told stories of past battles.

Suddenly, both warriors advanced simultaneously, their steps heavy yet fluid. The clash of swords echoed through the field as their blades collided, creating a symphony of steel. The first samurai attacked with a sideways strike, but the second deflected with an agile movement, retaliating with an upward slash, skillfully blocked.

They moved like shadows, quick and relentless, every motion revealing years of training and dedication. The first samurai leapt backward, gaining distance to plan his next move. The second seized the opportunity, advancing with a series of swift, precise cuts. One of them struck the opponent's arm, causing him to momentarily lose balance. But with a determined grunt, the first regained his footing, delivering a powerful strike that sent the second samurai stumbling back.

The field seemed to fade as the battle intensified, the surrounding environment blurring as all focus centered on their movements. The samurai who had been attacked began channeling his energy, and in an instant, he made an impressive move, spinning in an arc and delivering a downward slash that cut the air with a golden gleam. The other, without hesitation, used a defensive move, blocking the strike in an explosion of energy that reverberated across the field.

As Kevin watched, the two samurai seemed more than just fighters—they were icons of an ancient tradition, and their battle felt like a dance between life and death. Then, as if the cycle was repeating, the monitors aligned, and another monitor began to appear.

On the fourth monitor, the scene displayed a figure floating in the sky. Lightning bolts of energy pulsed through his body as if he were a living storm, and the scene revealed an epic battle against thousands of enemies on the ground. The person raised their arms, and the lightning concentrated in their palms, unleashing electrifying blasts against their foes. Each explosion lit up the battlefield, destroying hordes of enemies with supernatural force. Kevin marveled at the scene, each lightning strike like a spectacle of fireworks, power, and devastation in one movement.

The fifth monitor formed, revealing an ancient library, surrounded by shelves filled with dusty tomes. An old man sat at a table with an open book in front of him, turning the pages with a gentle touch. With a concentrated expression, the sage murmured a few words and, with a graceful motion, made a gesture with his hand. Instantly, a nearby chair began to levitate, floating softly through the air. A smile of satisfaction and joy crossed his face, as if he had achieved something sublime.

Finally, a sixth monitor appeared, showing a man kneeling beside an injured person on the ground.He placed his clean hand over the wound, and a wave of white light emanated from his palm. The light grew in intensity, enveloping the fallen man's body as the wound began to close at a visible pace. Kevin suggested that the magical healing open up, the man's expression of pain transforming into one of relief, as though life itself had been restored.

When all five monitors aligned in front of Kevin, they displayed titles at the top of each: “A Knight,” “An Assassin,” “A Warrior,” “A Sorcerer,” “A Mage,” and “A Healer.” Above all this, a message began to form—a communication he had never expected to receive in this white world: “Choose your path.”

Kevin froze, his mind whirling. He was facing a monumental choice, as if he were inside a video game, and a twinge of irony struck him. “Too bad I never had the time to learn how to play one.”

He calmly studied his options, and each time he focused on a scene, he felt that familiar connection return, as if he were tasting what it would be like to follow that path. After two full rounds of contemplating each option, he decided to stop hesitating and choose.

His choice was the path of a Warrior, and his reason couldn't have been simpler: the feeling he had when observing the fight was the same as when he trained with Hiroshi—it felt right. If he had to choose a path, it would be something he was already accustomed to.

As soon as Kevin made his decision and chose the path of a Warrior, a surge of energy coursed through his body, as if the universe itself were responding to his choice. An oriental sword appeared in his hands, the cold, polished metal reflecting the soft light emanating from somewhere around him. As he held the weapon, a flood of information rushed into his mind: techniques for wielding, combat stances, attack and defense maneuvers. The memories and skills of past warriors intertwined with his own consciousness, teaching him to move with grace and power.

However, before he could fully process this new reality, everything around him darkened once more, as though the world's lights were being snuffed out one by one. An icy coldness enveloped his body, and the sensation of space disappeared until he could no longer distinguish where he was.

When the darkness finally began to lift, the lights returned, revealing an entirely different setting. Kevin found himself inside what appeared to be a simple tent made of animal hides, like those used in ancient times. The tent's walls were covered in thick pelts, giving a rustic and cozy feel, while the ground was lined with mats made of natural fibers, providing a comfortable contrast to the external environment.

Kevin looked around and realized that the tent was small, barely allowing him to stand upright. There was nothing inside except for his newly acquired sword and himself. The sword gleamed in the firelight, and he held it tightly, feeling its presence as a symbol of his new identity.

Determined to explore, Kevin stepped out of the tent, and as he crossed the entrance, a new reality unfolded before him. He found himself in an ancient military camp, where tents were arranged in rows and activity buzzed around him. Soldiers moved with purpose, some wielding spears, others sharpening their swords. The sounds of armor being adjusted and orders being shouted echoed in the air, mingling with the smoke of campfires and the aroma of cooking food, creating a living, breathing environment of preparation for battle.

The scene was vibrant and chaotic, yet there was an undeniable order in the way everything played out. Kevin observed the colorful flags fluttering in the wind, each bearing an identical symbol—an owl embroidered at its center.

Subtly, he ran his hand over the tent’s hide, as if to assure himself that the situation was not a dream, but in the end, the only answer he received was the feel of the fur tangling in his fingers. This was real, at least as real as anything Kevin had ever experienced in his life.