That evening, Clark sat by the glowing spring, his small hands resting on his knees, his golden eyes fixed not on the stars—but on his reflection.
This time, he didn't smile.
His young face looked back at him through the shimmering water, but behind those eyes… lay the soul of someone far older. A warrior forged by pain, betrayal, and sacrifice.
He was not a normal child.Not in body. Not in mind.Not even in this world.
"…So this is Novaria," he whispered. His voice was soft, but steady. "And this body… is my second chance."
Six years had passed, but memories of the previous world still lingered—fragments of his old self. His mastery of Sonido, his instinctive Extrasensory Perception, and above all, the dormant fire of his Red Demon Eyes.
He clenched his fists, frustration surfacing.
"I had everything. My techniques… my core… even my enemies feared me. Now? I'm just a child again."
But not for long.
Clark rose to his feet, brushing dust from his clothes. His gaze sharpened with silent determination.
"This body… this age... it's perfect for rebuilding. I just need time. I need training. And I'll reclaim everything I've lost. No—I'll surpass it."
Just then, a gust of wind swept through the cavern. Clark turned his head, sensing movement.
It was his father, Jordan, returning from the city.
Clark's expression softened as Jordan stepped into view, carrying a satchel of supplies and a rare smile on his face.
"Father," Clark said quickly, walking over, "can I go out for a while tomorrow? Just outside the valley."
Jordan raised a brow. "Why?"
Clark shrugged, keeping his tone light. "I want to play. Maybe there are other kids nearby… I want to see."
Jordan frowned slightly, always cautious. "The world outside isn't safe, Clark."
"I know," the boy replied quickly, "I'll stay close. I won't talk to strangers. I just want to stretch my legs… please?"
Jordan studied him for a moment—then slowly nodded. "Alright. But stay near. One mile from the cave. No further."
Clark beamed. "Thanks, Father!"
But inside, his heart was steel.
"Forgive me, Father. But I won't waste this life. I won't tell you the truth yet… that I don't belong to this world. That I was a warrior once… and will be again."
The next morning, Clark walked through the thick underbrush, humming to himself, pretending to be aimless—but in truth, following a path he marked the night before.
Soon, he reached a small glade nestled beneath a canopy of stone and vine. Birds chirped above, and the wind here felt calmer, untouched.
Clark took a deep breath.
Then dropped to one knee and closed his eyes.
"Let's begin."
He focused—not on this world's energy, but on the techniques buried in his soul.The ghost of Sonido's rhythm, the pulse of his Extrasensory Perception, the fire waiting behind his eyes.
A quiet place. A new body. A new world. But the will of Clark SanJose remained.
Chapter Ends.