BlaiseCorvin
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Past Life Hero, Ch 1
🕑 Added 2023-07-07 00:40:53 +0000 UTCMax sat glumly, staring at the bill on the table. He sighed, the sound like a leaky balloon, leaned back, and ran his fingers through his short, unkempt hair. I'm not going to be able to do this, he thought. This just isn't working. He contemplated what to do, knowing he had to find a solution.
Out loud he said, "It's tough, dude. This is messed up. Am I doing something wrong?”
The concept of student loan debt had seemed simple at first, but Max had obviously underestimated the future problem he’d be facing. Now he had a rather simple problem with a simple solution, but that was easier said than fixed. He needed more money.
Even though he had graduated from college almost two years ago with a decent degree in business administration, Max still couldn't find a better job than his starter gig. He was super overqualified for his current job…just like most of his fellow employees.
Every position out there required years of experience, and even then, job security was often uncertain. Several bills were laid out on the table, but the one causing the most stress was the student loan bill. If only I could just erase this debt and start over, he wished. Life would be so much easier.
Max had to be careful with his thoughts, though. He knew that if he dwelled on them too much, he might not be able to handle it. Besides, he’d already started over once before. This was not his first life.
It was fortunate that his parents had thought he was just being imaginative when they overheard him talking about his past life as a child. Max stood up and went to his room, which was basically half of his small, old, slightly smelly apartment. He had a few possessions: a guitar, a a collection of books, and his car outside in the parking lot. Back when he was 18 years old, he had learned how to be quiet and unassuming. In his apartment building, he was hesitant to make noise. The neighbors upstairs and downstairs, who were the loudest, were also the meanest and least willing to tolerate anyone else's noise. It was funny how that worked.
Even though Max had combat memories and skills from past lives, in this modern world ruled by Google and Walmart, standing up for himself, especially physically, would likely cause more trouble than it was worth.
He plucked a few experimental notes on the guitar and thought about his old world. His past life hadn't always been good, but it had shaped him. In fact, there were times when his experiences made him uncomfortable…since many “fantasy” books, stories, and movies in this new world had plots similar to his real life.
The first time he’d realized this, he’d been eight years old and already reading for fun. Then his memories had all come back at once. He could remember being murdered. Max had died and been reborn. From about age 9 to 12, he had seriously wondered if he was crazy. The constant stress had occupied his thoughts of what felt like every waking moment and likely eroded his stomach lining. To finally prove to himself whether he was insane or really the soul of the Hero of Albion, he’d pursued hobbies or activities that he should already know how to be do or have advantages at.
As it turned out, after trying martial arts and boxing, his old skills had come back in a way that meant he never doubted his identity ever again. The old memories made his emotions roil.
Max grimaced, but the expression softened as soft notes filled his room. His guitar produced simple but pleasing music as his fingers wandered over the strings. The instrument wasn't exactly what he had learned to play back in Albion, but it was close enough, and it was comforting.
He glanced up at the bookshelf on the wall where he kept some of his favorite books he'd read while trying to make sense of his memories. The books had definitely helped. Even though they were considered fiction, they had helped him adjust to this world of bills, contracts, and credit. "I need a break," he said out loud.
Just then, a meme started playing–his ring tone. He had a call from his mom. She knew that he had Monday off, actually the only day of the week that he actually had off. He figured it wasn't worth answering, but he picked up the phone anyway.
Max had decided a long time ago not to ignore his parents or take them for granted.
The one good thing about Max's new life in this world had been his parents. They were simple, hard-working people who hadn't been given a lot at birth, just like him. And they had done an admirable job with his brother and sister, too. Of course, Max, having remembered his past life at about seven or eight years old, hadn't really required a whole lot of parenting. In fact, around that time he'd gotten really quiet.
Max had excelled in school, in part because he got such an advantage over other students, in knowledge and maturity. But he’d also been fascinated by this world. In fact, Max had found new skill and satisfaction in several things he’d tried. The problem was that his only real consistent motivation in life was a nebulous desire to have…more. With more money, more resources, he could help his parents out and not have to constantly worry about bills anymore. So far, that effort had not been going very well.
It seemed that everything he was truly exemplary at either didn’t make money right off the bat, or would be too weird or suspicious if he got famous with it. There was also always a low lying fear that others from Albion had also reincarnated to earth. He’d had many friends in his past life, but also plenty of enemies. And if he ever discovered that his murderers on Albion lived right down the street now…
Maybe I should have gone to Medical School instead, he thought. But then he thought about an even larger mountain of student loan debt and shuddered.
Not for the first time, he felt a certain amount of self-loathing. The fact was, he’d tried to keep his debt lower by going with a safe, widely applicable bachelor degree, thinking that he’d get a decent job immediately. Unfortunately, things in general just kept getting harder. There were no mana monsters in this world, but any fight took courage. Struggling from the bottom was always a fight.
He just wished he’d understood how hard this world could be little earlier.
Max thought about the pieces of paper on his kitchen table in the next room. He shook his head as he considered the rent, the gas he needed to get to work, the meager food he ate, a cushion for discretionary spending, his internet and phone bills–which were all but required in this world–and the tiny bit he tried to squirrel away. He also saved a tiny bit every month in a different account to help his parents in case they needed something.
When his mom had gotten sick his first year of college, he’d helped her a lot.
Now he was completely tapped out. That meant that at the rate he was going, paying off his student loan would take about forever. He frowned. Maybe actually forever if I only pay the minimum owed and the damn interest keeps beating me up. For someone who had lived 200 years in a past life and achieved the highest heights of power, prestige, and wealth, the last 20 years on Earth had been a very humbling experience.
Maybe I should go back to school, he thought. Even more debt. Yay.
He kept thinking about all these things like talking to his mom. When he’d first picked up the phone, she hadn’t had anything specific to talk about. She just wanted to see how he was doing, as usual. Now that he was living a couple of hours away, he didn't get to see his parents as often as he used to. But when they called, the same recurring questions got the same answers.
Yes, he was doing okay. No, he didn't have a girlfriend. Yes, he could pay all the bills. No, he hadn't heard from his brothers either; they had their own lives. Yes, he still talked to his dad, who had divorced from his mom during high school or college and now lived in a different state.
His parents were not perfect people, but he loved them. His supernaturally advanced maturity allowed him to understand why they’d done what they’d done, and recognized their love and overall decency.
Despite his memories of riches on Albion, one thing he’d never had was a family who loved him. He felt grateful that now he know what that felt.
And he knew that even though he didn't get much out of these regular check-up phone calls from his mom, they helped her. So he put up with it in a way that he knew his brother and sister couldn’t quite do. It was kind of ironic, but probably fitting that after his parents had split up, he ended up being both of their best friends. His secret desire that one day they could work out their problems and get back together was less a perspective of a son and more of a mildly irritated, logical friend.
The conversation with his mom didn't last long because, despite his emotional control, his current situation was frustrating enough that some of it could end up seeping through his tone. Max didn't want to worry his mom. She had enough on her plate.
Max knew had to make a plan in order to feel better about his problems. So after hanging up, he forced himself to get up and go back to his kitchen and stare at his bills. He had a job selling phones, which he'd gotten through a temp agency. Ironically, he made more since he’d gotten the gig through the temp agency than he would have if he’d been hired directly. He was obligated to keep that fact a secret from his coworkers via contract.
Scummy.
But even though he had the risk of losing his job at any time and had no real advancement opportunities with this gig, it still paid better than many of the other “starter” jobs in his area. Of course, he wasn't getting any help from his family, either, but lots of people didn’t. And he was still 21. None of this would be quite as big of a deal if not..
…If not for the damned student loans.
At least he didn’t have to worry about his health. That was one advantage he had over his coworkers.
Even though this world didn't have real mana, and Max wasn't able to reclaim any of his power or abilities from his last life, there was still enough low-lying energy in the atmosphere to keep himself healthy and continuously nourish his body, to heal himself. It wasn’t enough to build a real first star mana body until he was like fifty, but he felt grateful even for that. Most people in this world didn't have anything like it - skills and knowledge. And it was a huge advantage that Max didn't really need to worry about his hospital bills.
Not for the first time, he wished there was a way for him to teach this world's people how to keep themselves healthy, but it was impossible. Without real mana being in the atmosphere or the earth, there was no way to teach people how to feel mana, much less how to use it. The fact that he could do anything he was able to do was because he had been a master in mana arts.
Max busied himself around the kitchen, trying to figure out a solution to his problem. His face soured as he realized that he wasn’t actually doing much thinking anymore. Now he was just cursing fate and student loans.
Ultimately, he had basically already made up his mind that for the time being, he needed another job or some other gig. The problem was that even though he'd grown up in this world, he still wasn't particularly great at technology. Max had to admit he didn’t have a knack for it. Some of his friends could make money by selling things on social media, or they created their own shop where they would make, trade, or sell things. But that just wasn't something Max was any good at or felt he could do long-term.
No use crying. Time to brainstorm.
Max got a notebook from his kitchen's junk drawer, which it seems everybody in this world had. He opened it up to a fresh page, tapped the pencil against his forehead, and tried to think about what he was good at. Ironically, commerce, in general, was something that he had quite a bit of knowledge of, so it was one of the reasons why he decided to try working his way into a corporate workplace. If he had the capital, he was sure he could build an empire.
Getting that capital was the problem since his family had no assets, he had no assets, and nobody in his entire family had good credit. Right now, he was just a fresh college graduate with an entry-level job and a mountain of debt. He needed to acquire some sort of backing to get going. And despite his wealth of knowledge, explaining how he had come by any of it was hard enough, but finding anybody who would trust him with any sort of resources was the real challenge.
Ultimately, his list of skills that might even somewhat be applicable in this world came down to one thing and one thing only: fighting. He looked at the word he had written down, “fighting,” and underlined it several times. He didn't have a much of a plan but a glimmer of an idea came to mind. Maybe, just maybe, he could make it work. He wrote down his schedule in the notebook and identified a few times a week when he would have extra time to squeeze out. It wasn't a lot, but he thought maybe it would do.
Then he looked through his out-of-date phone book and did an internet search for local martial arts dojos. He had a nebulous idea now of striking up some sort of business relationship with one of the local martial studio owners, and maybe being an assistant instructor or something. But now he needed a more refined plan on how to actually make this happen.
He tapped the pencil against his lip and wondered how he could get them to think he was worth their time. Slowly and with a heavy heart, he wrote "LIE" in his notebook and circled it.
After doing a few more internet searches he figured out what the fabricated story would be. He would tell whoever he dealt with about his martial arts skills, but he’d need a name and an origin. But…nobody would be able to recognize his techniques, so he could call it whatever he wanted. His skills were real; the name wouldn’t be. Then he stopped himself. If nobody would recognize his martial art or the name, why not call it what it actually was? That made him smile.
He stopped doing internet searches for an elaborate lie and resigned himself to just tell the truth, at least the name of his style. But Albion-do was going to be from Myanmar or something.
Max grabbed his backpack and left his apartment. He had a new mission now, and he was hopeful this might turn into a side hustle that would help his parents within the next ten years. If his past life had taught him one thing, it was that time and life are both precious. Max locked the apartment door behind him and actually hummed a tune. It felt nice to have a mission, but he was under no delusions here. This was a long shot.
Comments
HenryMorgan
In this chapter he worries about enemies from his past life, and wants to lay low, then he decides to name the fighting style what it was called in the previous world, think his thoughts are a bit skitzy
Blaise Corvin
From Max's perspective, he'd get in trouble with it. It's a little bit of copium for him, too. He was so busy with school that he didn't have time until this point. Max actually does think about this subject a few chapters from now. And in reality, his way of thinking would likely have changed over time after this story starts...if events worked out differently. :)
WyrdWizard
Why isn't he a prize fighter?
