Chapter 1
[A/N: Honestly, I don't like to do these rob bullshit, but I didn't know how to start the story, so I went with this route]
Darkness.
That was the first thing Mike registered as consciousness slowly trickled back into his battered body and mind. There was no pain, no sound, just a vast endless void of obsidian nothingness surrounding him on all sides. He felt strangely at peace, unshackled from the burdens and miseries of his former life.
Had he finally succumbed to death's cold embrace after that fateful heart attack on the street? Mike couldn't even muster a shred of fear or regret at the prospect. In those final moments, a lifetime's worth of crushing loneliness and abject purposelessness had crushed down on him all at once. He existed as a soulless husk merely going through the motions until the end.
Perhaps this inky abyss was the next great adventure awaiting him. Or maybe total oblivion to forever sever the threads binding his weary spirit to the mortal plane. Either option seemed infinitely preferable to the waking nightmare his life had devolved into.
As if rebuffing his morose resignation, a pinprick of warm, golden light pierced the void ahead of him. Mike flinched as it blossomed into radiance, forcing his eyes to shut against the brilliant glare. By the time he dared crack his lids, he found himself hovering in a vast limitless space awash with starry galaxies and celestial wonders.
"Do not be afraid, Michael Andrews."
The dispassionate, vaguely feminine voice seemed to reverberate from all directions at once, both deafening yet soothing in the same breath. Mike whipped around, searching for the source, only to find himself utterly alone amid the cosmic wonders.
"Wh-What is this place?" He rasped out, scarcely believing his own words. "Am I...am I dead?"
"Not precisely," the enigmatic presence responded clinically. "You exist in the space between realities - the primordial ether from which all worlds are comprised and sculpted."
Mike's brow furrowed in bewilderment, sheets of cold realization prickling over his clammy skin. "You mean...like some kind of afterlife? Or holding area for souls?"
The words had scarcely left his lips before an inexplicable sense of vertigo slammed into him with crushing force. Reality itself seemed to dilate and contort in agonizing slow motion, the fabric of the universe stretching like a rubber band pulled tortuously taut. Just when Mike thought his very being would splinter into oblivion, everything snapped back with a thunderous concussive force.
When the dust settled and the ringing clear from his ears, Mike found himself no longer adrift in the heavens - but rather situated in a richly appointed study lined with tomes of antiquity. Plush divans and ornate furnishings surrounded a crackling hearth, grounding this new ethereal realm in an aura of wealth and luxury.
"Not exactly," came the imperturbable reply as Mike's disoriented gaze snapped towards the high-backed chair before the fire's glow.
The shape occupying the ornate seat seemed to shift and distort in his peripheral vision, simultaneously appearing as a wizened old crone and regally striking woman depending on how he regarded it. Only its androgynous voice remained constant and authoritative, commanding respect and fear in equal measure.
"I am that which you lesser beings would perceive as a primordial force - one of infinite realms and infinite possibilities," the being stated with clinical precision. "For simplicity's sake, you may address me as...the Maker."
The word catalyzed an instinctive chill down Mike's spine, some primal part of his hindbrain recognizing the unfathomable presence before him for what it truly represented - a deity crafting and governing existence itself with a mere conscious exertion of will.
"Wh-why am I here? What do you want from me?" Mike fought to keep his voice from wavering, struggling to maintain eye contact with the entity's subtly metamorphosing form.
"From you?" The Maker echoed in a tone bordering on amusement. "I want nothing, for I already possess all that is, was, and will be. You, on the other hand Michael Andrews, hunger for that which you have long lacked - purpose. Meaning. A second chance to grasp something greater."
Mike felt something stir within his borrowed spirit, a flicker of that old desperate yearning he had long since permitted to fester and consume him gnawing away once more. Before he could respond, the Maker pressed on in that resonate, all-encompassing tone.
"You lived and died an empty, meandering life devoid of ambition or achievement. Your weary soul prepared to pass into the ether and dissipate into the primordial nothingness from whence you emerged."
Almost unconsciously, Mike felt his jaw clench in petulant defiance at those cutting words. Even as cosmic truths, they represented the harsh acknowledgement of all his failures and wasted potential lancing straight to his core.
"Yet you still cling to one last vestigial desire," the Maker mused knowingly. "To shed your miserable human existence and be reborn anew as something extraordinary."
Despite himself, Mike perked up at those tantalizing implications. A second chance at life, free from the pains of his past self's monotonous purgatory? It sounded too good to be true.
"Should you accept this mantle, your existing consciousness would be sent to germinate within one of infinite elsewheres - a plane of existence where abilities like yours are the keys to unleashing true greatness. You would live, persevere and ultimately ascend as a force beyond mortal reckoning."
The Maker leaned forward, its incorporeal shadowy form seeming to engulf the very air around Mike in pregnant silence. The intensity of that unknowable gaze drilled straight through to his fledgling soul.
"So tell me, Michael Andrews of the Wandering Path. Do you have the fortitude to seize the second chance before you? Or would you prefer to let this opportunity, like all others before it, wither away and be lost amidst the churning of creation?"
A lump formed in Mike's dry throat, the severity of the choice arrayed before him swiftly dawning on him. To trade away his pitiful existence for something grander, moulded by a supreme being for a higher calling. It was tempting - soul-rending tempting in ways he dare not ponder too closely.
But at what cost? The entity calling itself the Maker was utterly incomprehensible, its designs and machinations inscrutable. To accept its offer could fling his spirit across the cosmos to realms beyond imagining, with no assurances he would ever truly control his destiny again.
Mike's thoughts spooled back to those final earthly moments, choking on the dregs of a life bereft of purpose or lasting impact. He would be leaving behind nothing, no one. Just a lonely, unremembered husk receding into the uncaring dustbins of history.
What did he truly have left to lose?
"I accept your offer," he ground out, a new resonant timbre entering his gravelly tone. "Send me where you will, Maker. I'm ready to seize my second chance."
.
"Then wise is your choice, Michael Andrews. May your rebirth as Noel Silva's twin brother upon the world of Clover be an odyssey of adversity overcome and glory attained!"
Mike felt his brow furrow slightly at that proclamation. The name 'Noel Silva' didn't ring any bells from his past life's limited knowledge of the Black Clover universe. Some nobly-born kid no doubt, if they shared the 'Silva' surname.
"You will carry with you a spark of my primordial essence," the Maker continued reverently. "A vessel for magic incarnate with infinite potential to shape your destiny upon that virgin realm. Though what form this gift ultimately takes shall remain a mystery, even to you."
So he would receive some incredibly powerful magical ability then, one pivotal enough for this cosmic being to meddle in his reincarnation. Mike couldn't deny feeling a sudden rush of anticipation cut through his lingering trepidation. If he was truly being reborn to this new world, he may as well make the most of whatever second chance he received.
The Maker's eyes flashed with emerald incandescence as it spread its palms towards Mike in arcane invitation.
"Now embrace your new birthright...Noble Son of House Silva!"
White-hot tendrils of coruscating power lashed out like raptor talons, lancing through Mike's astral body and searing his very soul with emerald flame. He didn't even have a chance to scream before the agonizing torrent swept him away into the depths of oblivion once more.
This time, however, when the spark of light finally blossomed amid the blackness, it carried with him the threads of infinite new possibilities...
The foreign anguished wails of a woman in labor drowned out Mike's senses next. He felt himself convulsing, shivers racking his newly formed body as the stinging chill of the air struck his sensitive skin. Exhausted sobs and hushed words were all he could discern through his blurred senses.
Then, with a piercing screech of life entering the world, Mike's eyes snapped open - soulful azure pools reflecting the shocked countenances of the midwives and surrounding medics. A hush fell over the room as all watched the newborn child blink groggily, seeming to take in his new surroundings with eerie awareness.
One of the attendants leaned over, gently scooping the infant into a swath of blankets with trembling hands. Reverent wonder etched across her features as she turned back to the utterly spent woman splayed across the bed.
"Look, Lady Acier," she breathed, barely believing her own eyes. "You've been blessed with twins!"
Lady Acier let out a watery chuckle, shaking her head in disbelief and joy as her fingers tenderly caressed her second newborn son's cheek. This child bore the most startlingly riveting azure gaze she had ever witnessed. It was if...if his soulful eyes held the wisdom of countless ages simmering behind that innocent facade.
"Well hello there, little one," she cooed, beaming proudly down at her treasured new baby. "I can already tell you're going to be a very special boy. What do you think of the name...Nico? It's unique and strong, befitting a Silva."
Her firstborn squirmed in her other arm, cracking open a pair of identically piercing blue eyes for the first time. A fresh wave of tears pricked at Lady Acier's eyes, her heart swelling with boundless maternal love for her cherished new family.
"Yes, Nico and...Noelle. My blessed son and daughter, born under the blessing of the midnight moon. Welcome to the world, my little angels."
As his mother cooed down at them, Nico/Mike felt something imperceptibly shift deep within. A blazing, almost sentient inferno roaring to life within his tiny being. Wisps of black smoke seemed to leak from the corner of his vision as his magic circuits activated - raw, untapped power singing through his newborn spirit.
Whatever world he had been reborn into, whatever challenges awaited little Nico Silva, one thing was for certain - he would never be alone again. With his twin sister Noelle by his side, he could face any obstacle this new life threw at them.
The newly christened Nico let out a soft coo, snuggling deeper into the comforting warmth of his mother's embrace as the first rays of dawn began to peek over the horizon outside. His reincarnation had only just begun, but already he could taste the thrilling potential of new adventures awaiting him in this world of magic and mystery.
One thing was certain - House Silva had just welcomed a very special new son and daughter into its noble ranks. And Nico was determined to make his mark on this realm, with his twin sister blazing a trail right beside him.