The soft glow of morning light slipped through the thin curtain, bathing the room in gold. A rooster crowed in the distance, accompanied by the faint sound of a radio playing somewhere in the house. The mattress beneath him felt firm, old... familiar. Yet strangely unfamiliar at the same time.
Gabriel slowly opened his eyes, his chest rising and falling with a calm he hadn't felt in years. The wooden ceiling, the roughly painted walls, the distant sound of birds chirping in the countryside...
'Where... am I?'
The smell of fresh coffee and warm bread filled the room. He sat up, his small hands pressing against the wrinkled sheets. That's when he noticed it.
His hands... were far too small.
He looked down at his arms, his legs, his soft childlike skin. He ran to the cracked round mirror hanging on the wall and saw a face he hadn't seen in decades.
His own… at five years old.
'This has to be a dream.'
[Ego System initializing...][Brain synchronization: 100%. Reincarnation confirmed.]
Gabriel's eyes widened. The cold, metallic voice echoed directly inside his head.
["Tsk. A frustrated old man in a child's body... what a perfect joke. But maybe... just maybe there's hope."]
The next voice was different. Deeper. Sarcastic. Almost mocking.A chill ran down his spine. It was as if someone else was in the room—yet it was empty.
'Who... who's there?!'
[Welcome to the Ego System. Project: Creation of the Perfect Striker. Scanning for latent weapons...]
["Relax, little Gabriel. It's too early for you to understand everything. But since you're restarting the game... you need to know what you're dealing with."]
[Latent Weapons Detected: "Instinctive Dribbling" | "Meta-Vision"][Status: Incomplete. Requires training and practical application.]
["You've got potential. Maybe even more than before. But remember: either you evolve... or you'll die like another washed-up loser."]
Gabriel stumbled backward, falling onto the bed. His heart raced.This wasn't a dream.This wasn't a hallucination.
He was really… back.
And now, with a chance no one else would ever have.
— "Gabi! Are you up? The bread's already on the table!" — called a warm female voice from the other room, laced with a thick countryside accent.
It was Eliena, the family's temporary housekeeper while they lived in the small town.
He took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing mind. Every corner of that modest house carried memories. It stood just a few kilometers from his family's farm, right in the heart of a town with less than seven thousand people. A place where everyone knew everyone, where soccer was still played on dusty dirt fields, and his mother's butcher shop was the weekend meeting spot.
'We only lived here for a while... before going back to the farm.'
The initial confusion began to fade, replaced by a growing pressure in his chest. A mix of fear, gratitude, and something burning deep inside—something raw, almost primal.
'This time... I won't waste it.'
He stepped off the bed, his small feet hitting the cold floor. His short legs, the strange sense of balance—it was like learning to walk all over again.
["I hope you're ready, Gabriel Ângelo. Because the game... has already begun."]