Twice

Steven sat there in stunned silence.

Blacksmith.

It wasn't a bad class.

Far from it.

Every forum agreed that good blacksmiths became incredibly wealthy. Guilds practically threw money at master craftsmen capable of producing high-quality equipment.

Normally...

Steven would've been ecstatic.

Instead...

He sighed.

"...Damn."

His mind wandered back to one of his favorite manhwa.

Overgeared.

Grid had started as a complete loser before inheriting a legendary blacksmith class, eventually crafting ridiculous equipment and becoming one of the strongest people in the world.

Steven had always thought that was cool as hell.

Being able to create your own weapons.

Your own armor.

Artifacts no one else possessed.

"...But..."

"This isn't Overgeared."

"I don't want to be a blacksmith."

Not as his main class.

Not after experiencing life as a Monk.

He'd fought monsters with his own fists.

Explored forgotten ruins.

Discovered secret chambers.

That...

That was the life he wanted.

He had to find some way to undo this.

Then a thought entered his mind.

A dangerous one.

"...Maybe..."

"If dying reset me once..."

"...maybe it resets me again."

He swallowed.

There was one person nearby capable of killing him almost instantly.

His brother.

Steven pulled out his phone.

Hey, can you come downstairs for a second? Need to ask you something.

A minute later...

Footsteps descended the stairs.

Joseph rounded the corner.

"...What's up?"

Steven looked him directly in the eyes.

"I know you joined the War of the Worlds."

Joseph froze.

Steven continued.

"I'm not stupid."

"I remember."

Silence.

"I know you've been a Player since the beginning."

Joseph's expression slowly changed.

Every trace of warmth vanished.

His eyes filled with pure hatred.

"I was going to tell Mom in the morning."

For a split second...

Steven wondered if he'd made a terrible mistake.

Joseph moved.

So fast Steven barely saw it.

A single hand shot forward.

Wrapped around his throat.

CRACK.

His neck twisted violently.

Everything went black.

Steven bolted upright.

GASP!

He sucked in air like a drowning man reaching the surface.

The familiar blue prompt floated before him.

Would you like to join the War of the Worlds?

Steven stared at it.

Then immediately burst into relieved laughter.

"..."

"...Glad that fucking worked."

He clutched his chest.

"Jesus Christ..."

"My brother..."

"...is a god damn psycho."

This time he didn't say anything aloud.

Instead...

He reached forward with one trembling finger.

Pressed YES.

The button accepted the input.

"Let's try this again."

Congratulations, Chosen One.

Randomizing Class...

The wheel spun.

Steven silently prayed.

"Anything combat."

"Anything."

"No crafting."

"No support."

The wheel slowed.

Slower.

Slower.

Click.

Arc Gunner

Steven blinked.

"...Arc Gunner?"

A second window appeared.

Arc Gunners wield specially manifested Arc Cannons capable of converting mana directly into destructive energy.

"..."

His eyes widened.

"...A magic gunslinger?"

"...Hell yes."

A grin spread across his face.

"That's sick."

Randomizing Starting Skill...

The second wheel spun.

It eventually stopped.

Mana Circulation

The description appeared.

Mana Circulation

Continuously converts Mana into physical restoration while active.

Healing Rate scales with Wisdom.

Steven immediately checked his Status.

Strength: 14

Dexterity: 6

Constitution: 10

Intelligence: 12

Wisdom: 14

Charisma: 6

Luck: 4

HP:

50 / 100

MP:

140 / 140

His eyes lit up.

"...Wait."

"Wisdom times ten."

"So one hundred forty mana."

He activated the skill.

Almost immediately...

His MP began slowly decreasing.

139...

138...

His HP ticked upward.

51 / 100

Steven watched the numbers.

"...One health..."

"...per ten mana."

He did the math.

"So..."

"Fourteen HP every full mana bar."

"I'll have to sleep..."

"...recover mana..."

"...then repeat."

He smiled.

"This'll take awhile."

"But..."

"Totally worth it."

Unlike Eternal Breath...

He didn't have to meditate.

The healing simply continued while the skill remained active.

He settled back into his pillow.

His thoughts drifted.

This timeline...

Would be different.

Very different.

"No more free System skills."

He'd learned that lesson.

Every System-offered ability secretly stole an extra Skill Point.

Never again.

If he wanted a skill...

He'd buy a Skill Book.

Or earn one from monsters.

Nothing else.

"And..."

"I'm staying the hell away from that red labyrinth."

His expression darkened.

The memory of the Kobold Executioner remained painfully vivid.

The dead party.

The axe.

The message.

Alternate Selected.

He'd been lucky.

Twice.

He doubted there would be a third time.

"Gates..."

"...are way more dangerous than I gave them credit for."

He'd known people died inside them.

He'd seen the news reports.

But experiencing death himself...

Changed everything.

He closed his eyes.

Mana slowly drained.

Health slowly climbed.

Outside...

Summer crickets sang into the night.

"This time..."

"I'm not rushing."

"I'm going to build myself up properly."

"And when I'm finally strong enough..."

He pictured the endless red maze.

"...I'll come back for you."

Sleep gradually claimed him as his mana bar emptied, already beginning to recover naturally with each passing hour, while his slowly mending body prepared for yet another chance at a completely different future.