"So… I am now you?" Kain's voice was barely a whisper, each word a monumental struggle. He lay on the cold stone floor of a cavern, his mana reserves utterly depleted, his body on the verge of collapse due to exhaustion.

  The air hung heavy with the scent of damp earth and the faint coppery smell of blood.

  Before him, shimmering like a heat mirage, flickered a translucent figure, the echo of the young man whose body he now occupied. Conveniently also named Kain. Who nodded to his question.

  "Yeah… thought so," Kain said, his voice laced with confusion and a hint of awe. "I died over there, and you died over here. Are we exchanging places?"

  “No. I am done.” The spirit replied. “I couldn’t take your place even if I wanted to, my mana channels would prevent me from crossing over to a manaless world. No matter how weird that world is.”

  “I supposed from a magical medieval fantasy world perspective my world would sure look strange. But the same can be said about this world of yours from my point of view, alright?” Kain said.

  "Medieval fantasy?" The spirit managed a weak smile, a flicker of memory crossing his fading features. "It doesn’t really matter. But your world is a strange place. I saw… flashes. Your memories, or parts of them. Flying metal contraptions, talking boxes and lights that moved on their own. Quite the strange sight for a manaless world."

  "Yeah, I suppose." Kain chuckled. "So, I died and you somehow pulled my soul here, or my mind, or both, or whatever… and then this." He tried to gesture to the body that seemed to be failing him, but he didn’t manage to lift a single finger. He sighed, resigned. "What is this place, anyway?"

  "The Trial Grounds," the spirit rasped, his breath coming in shallow gasps. "Everyone looking for power to accomplish their ambitions finds themselves here. To prove their worth and earn the abilities they chose… or die trying."

  "And you… you failed?" Kain’s brow furrowed.

  "Unfortunately," the spirit said, a flicker of defiance, a spark of the warrior spirit that had defined his life, briefly illuminating his eyes. "I chose my path. A different path. A path less traveled. But I'm now too weak… to see it through. I was too eager."

  "What path?" Kain’s voice was soft, curious.

  "The Conqueror's Trial," he whispered, the name itself carrying a weight of significance. "The hardest and the most rewarding. They say those who survive might emerge touched by the very essence of the world. But it requires… strength. Strength I no longer have."

  "And… you want me to…?" Kain trailed off, the unspoken question hanging in the air.

  "Carry on," the spirit said, his gaze fixed on the other, a strange intensity in his eyes. "My legacy… my ambitions… my fate… you… you inherit it all. That was the whole point of using the one ability I should have never needed. But, that’s also fate, isn't it?"

  A surge of something… more than just understanding flowed through Kain. It wasn't just memories; it felt like a lifetime of experiences, years of training, a burning ambition to restore his family's honor, a deep, ingrained knowledge of the world… and a profound sense of disappointment.

  But it was like watching a very, very long movie. He certainly couldn’t fight like the one who had this body could. He wasn’t a warrior all of a sudden. Because no matter how many movies about gladiators or ninjas he watched, that wouldn’t change.

  He saw flashes of a crumbling manor perched precariously on a cliff overlooking a hostile border, a family struggling to maintain their dwindling influence, a legacy of warriors slowly fading into obscurity. He felt the weight of expectation, the pressure to live up to his name, the sting of being the one who almost made it.

  "So, I don't know if I can pull this off," Kain stammered, overwhelmed by the sudden influx of information and emotion. "I'm sort of an ordinary guy. And I sold insurance, you know?"

  The vanishing Kain let out a dry, rattling cough. "Strategy… is… all that matters. Here… or… there. You… you understand… strategy, yes?"

  "I… I think so…" Kain replied, his mind racing, trying to reconcile the mundane reality of his previous life with the epic fantasy unfolding before him. And failing to do so.

  "Good," he said, his grip on life weakening. "Then you will… understand." He closed his eyes, his breathing becoming ragged. "We… The Ledgheims… we were protectors. Of the border… of the realm. But times have… changed."

  "What do you mean?" Kain asked.

  "The main family in the capital… they seek influence. Power. They care nothing… for the protection of the border… for our… traditions." He coughed again, a wet, rattling sound. "They see us… as a burden. Just a reminder of a time… they wish to forget. Barbarians, that’s how they call us."

  "And you think I can… change that?" Kain asked.

  "You… must," he whispered. "You have the potential. I saw it in the… flashes. You understand it, the way to control it all. That’s why I chose you."

  "But I don't even know how to use magic," Kain protested, feeling a wave of panic rising within him. He remembered the brief, terrifying glimpse of the mana channels within his new body, now dormant, useless. He somehow ends up in a fantastical magic world and he still can’t use magic.

  "Magic…", the spirit said, his voice fading. "Is not everything. It's a tool. Like any other. You should look into something… more. Something… different. Another… tool."

  "Like what?" Kain couldn’t help but ask.

  "Rifts…" he whispered, his eyes fluttering open one last time. "Use them wisely… They can be your eyes… your ears… perhaps even your… weapons… you can do it… I saw it… You, looking at the world from above… You… in control of it all…"

  His eyes closed, his breathing ceased, and the flickering light in his eyes extinguished, then he turned into motes of light and vanished for good, leaving Kain alone in the echoing chamber with the weight of a dying man's legacy resting on his shoulders. And a rather weakened, although somewhat in shape, body.

  “Was he talking about strategy games?” Kain murmured while panicking a little.

  Kain took a deep breath, trying to process everything he had just learned. His name is now Kain Ledgheim, inheritor of a decaying legacy, tasked with… what, exactly? He knew nothing about this world, nothing about magic, nothing about the trials… except what he had just gleaned from the dying man's fragmented memories.

  The Conqueror's Trial… the rift… He focused his mind, trying to access the memories, to understand the abilities that had been passed on to him. He felt a faint… connection… somewhere deep within him. It was like a whisper, a promise of power waiting to be unleashed.

  But it felt empty… or maybe… mismatched. Either way, it felt wrong.

  And then, he remembered one thing. Everyone got an awakening. It was a requirement to be here, on the trial grounds. To choose the powers that will accompany them. To prove themselves worthy of said powers. And this means… "Do I also get to choose my power? Do I get an… Awakening?"

  And as soon as he thought of that, his eyes seemed to close on their own, but light greeted him instead of darkness. His own voice echoed within his mind, but he wasn’t the one saying,

  “That’s a good start. Just, remember… keep grafter… 2… 5… rift… rift… rift… graft…”

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  And Kain realized that it might have been the former Kain, the rightful owner of the body he now inhabits, already gone. And it sounded like he was smiling.

  The feeling of wrongness faded, but emptiness remained.

  But Kain was quite sure that this would be fixed real soon.

  Because there was a big ass message window occupying most of his view. “Hello, system?”

  Kain realized in full what 'dying wish' meant now. And why it was called ‘dying magic’, the magic was the one who died for the wish to be fulfilled. No more mana core, whatever that meant, besides the most obvious fact that he ended up in a magical fantastical world and there will be no magic for him.

  “2”, Kain whispered. Unsure if he actually needed to say it out loud, but he felt like it.

  That was sort of an easy choice. Option one means you become an ordinary human and fail to live up to the expectations of the guy who granted you a second chance in life. And three is suicide.

  Kain focused on his choice, without speaking this time. “5”

  Kain didn’t even bother reading everything, he would give his ‘partner in crime’ a chance and follow his dying instructions. He could always pick something else that fitted him better if needed be.

  There were a dozen pages of abilities. And after a quick browse Kain came up with four options that fitted the ‘tip’ he got from his now deceased benefactor. “Rift… Rift… Rift…”

  Ok, the third one was immediately discarded. “Can a gecko even give you his ‘blessing’ to let you keep it? Does the lizard talk?”

  The first two seem interesting, but Kain would be dead before even having the chance to talk with the guys who could grant him the blessing. He knew from his newfound memories that both ogres and trolls were found in dangerous zones of the trial grounds. Places he wasn’t supposed to go.

  “Alright, that leaves me with only one option. A weird one… weird innate ability indeed.” Kain said while staring at the four options before focusing on the fourth to get as much information he could about this particular ability.

  Kain read it. Over and over. It does sound good. But fifteen centimeters would be just enough for him to stick his hand through the rift. Bogeys can jump through them and be gone, ending up ten meters away whenever they see fit. Which means his rift wouldn’t be even close to being that awesome.

  Then, Kain murmured. “Rift…”, and keep going “Rift… Rift… Rift… Graft?”, and his eyes widened with a sudden realization. One that could be awesome, but somewhat risky.

  To see if he was really onto something he inspected ‘grafter’.

  Kain frowned. That didn’t just sound good…. It sounded awesome. But also dangerous. And that brought him back to one very important aspect. “Status?”

  “Yeah, it makes sense.” The former Kain clearly sacrificed their mana core to bring Kain’s soul over and then sacrificed their magic to graft Kain’s soul into his former body. No need for magic when you don’t have a mana core, Kain assumed. Also, Kain is kind of screwed. Too low health and stamina. All tired and wounded. No wonder he felt like shit.

  “Does that guy really consider this as a fitting option for me?” Kain was amused. It sort of made sense. That ‘bogey rift’ could really shake things up. But, why didn't he pick that option for himself? It should have been awesome for him.

  A brief message of the system answered his question.

  “I see. He couldn’t. He picked his ability in the awakening chamber, not the trial grounds, no ‘bogey rift’ over there.” Kain murmured. He remembered the third ‘rift’ ability, the astral gecko thing. It does say that you return to the trial grounds, but what happens if you finish your trials? Kain shivered a little. It does sound rather risky. Deathly risky.

  Thankfully, his rift, ‘bogey rift’, had no such problem. As far as he can tell, that is. Only one way to be sure. And to test if the spellblade wannabe Kain was right.

  Kain focused and mentally called for it. “Bogey rift”.

  Kain smiled and couldn’t help but think “Dude, I am triple sure.”

  “Yes.”