Light walked with a grin on his face, his body buzzing with unfamiliar power. The seven artifacts weighed almost nothing, yet he felt heavier—charged, alive, electric.
But as he moved down the road, a thought echoed in his head—one that refused to fade.
> "He has more than seven karma points..."
It had been said in fear. Awe. Maybe even worship.
> More than seven? What the hell does that even mean?
What is a Karma Point, really? What can I do with more than one… or more than seven?
The questions spiraled. But something else was wrong.
Light blinked.
He looked up.
> Same crooked tree.
Same crack in the asphalt.
Same old streetlamp flickering above.
He stopped. Turned.
Walked again.
Same place.
Again.
And again.
A chill ran down his spine.
> I'm stuck... in a loop?
The air began to press in around him. The wind died. No insects. No rustling trees. Not even the faint sound of distant electricity.
Then—a sound.
At first, it was just a low hum.
Then it grew louder.
And louder.
A deep, vibrating tone—a sound that didn't seem to come from outside, but from inside his skull. Like a scream folded into thunder, ripping through every nerve.
"Argh—!" Light staggered, grabbing his head. His knees buckled.
The world blurred.
His ears rang.
His vision turned white.
Then—
> Silence.
He opened his eyes.
And gasped.
He was lying on a bed. His own bed. In his own room.
He bolted upright, chest heaving, forehead damp with sweat.
"Was… that a dream?"
The morning light spilled through his window. Birds chirped outside. The ceiling fan spun lazily above him.
He turned to look at the clock on the wall.
5:50 AM.
> So early...?
Light blinked hard.
He checked his body—no ring, no watch, no flask. No wallet in his pocket. Nothing.
He ran a hand through his hair.
> Was it all... just a dream?
And then—the voice returned.
But this time, it didn't scream.
It whispered, echoed faintly, calmly. A hum across the walls of the room, as if the air remembered something his brain didn't.
Light looked around, confused.
The sound wasn't painful now. Just… there. Everywhere. Reverberating through the floorboards, the walls, the ceiling. Like it was being broadcast from inside reality.
He followed it.
To the wardrobe.
He hesitated. Opened it.
And his breath caught.
Laid out on the bottom shelf, glowing faintly, were the seven artifacts.
All of them.
Wallet. Watch. Ring. Flask. Gun. Spectacles. Locket.
Right where they shouldn't be.
"Holy shit," Light whispered.
He stepped forward, almost reverently. But before he could touch one—
> "FUCCCKUUU BASTARD!"
The Wallet of Greed yelled in rage.
Light yelped and yanked his hand back.
The voice faded.
He tried again—touching a different one.
> "You sick bastard!" yelled the Gun of Wrath.
Another cursed.
Another groaned.
One sighed, "I hate this guy already."
Light stumbled back, hands raised. "Okay, okay! Calm down."
He stared at the shelf for a long moment.
Then shrugged. "Screw it. I need a bath."
—
After a hot shower, Light splashed water onto his face and looked at the mirror.
He froze.
His reflection looked... younger.
Not wildly so. But enough.
His jawline sharper. His skin tighter. His eyes clearer.
He looked like a version of himself from high school—before the late nights, before the anxiety, before the failure had seeped into his bones.
"Is this... because of the items?"
He flexed his fingers.
There was strength in his hands he hadn't felt in years.
Not just physical.
> Potential.
He stepped out of the bathroom, glancing around from the upstairs balcony. From this height, he could see the neighboring rooftops.
Something was off.
> Wasn't there a new Green house here last year? Where'd it go?
Why is that wall blue again? It was painted green two years ago.
He rushed back into his room.
Opened a drawer.
There it was—his old smartphone, the one he'd lost years ago.
He powered it on.
It worked.
The screen loaded. The date flashed.
July 1st.
Five years ago.
He didn't panic.
Instead, he smiled.
> I've read novels. Seen this in anime, manga, fanfics.
Time travel. Alternate timelines. Rebirth.
Somehow, I'm in the past. And I remember... everything.
Just then—
> "LIGHT! It's almost time for school! Get up, freshen up, eat something!"
His mother's voice rang from downstairs.
Light turned his head slowly.
That voice.
So familiar.
So normal.
So alive.
He stepped out, walked to the stair railing, and saw her—his mother—moving about in the kitchen, healthy and smiling. Younger. Stronger.
He whispered, "Mummy…"
His voice caught.
He didn't cry.
But deep inside, something cracked.
All those memories flooded back—when he had failed, it wasn't just his life that crumbled. It had hurt his family too. The stress on his parents. The silent dinners. The forced smiles.
His mother had always stood beside him.
Even when she said nothing, her quiet presence had been his only anchor.
And now, here she was—before the pain, before the heartbreak.
Light clenched his fists.
> This time... I won't break her hopes.
I won't let her carry broken dreams just to survive.
This time, I'll build her a world where she's not just someone's mother.
I'll make her a queen.
Because now, he had the power.