A NEW BEGINNING IN ANOTHER WORLD WITH MY SHADOW ARSENAL SYSTEM

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A NEW BEGINNING IN ANOTHER WORLD WITH MY SHADOW ARSENAL SYSTEM

章 1: CHAPTER 1: LAST SHIFT

Drake Lorenzo had exactly three things going for him: a dead-end job at Moonbean Coffee, seventeen dollars in his checking account, and an unhealthy obsession with manga that helped him forget how spectacularly his life had crashed and burned.

At nineteen, most people were figuring out college or chasing dreams. Drake was figuring out how to avoid his landlord's daily death threats.

The coffee shop's bell chimed as another customer entered. Drake didn't look up from his worn copy of *Naruto*—volume twelve, the one where everything goes sideways. Story of his life.

"Excuse me."

The voice was soft, almost musical. Drake reluctantly dragged his eyes away from the page, expecting another impatient businessman or exhausted college student.

Instead, he found himself looking at someone who seemed like she'd stepped out of one of his manga. Flowing black hair, striking blue eyes, and the kind of natural elegance that made the cramped coffee shop feel suddenly too small. She wore a simple black outfit—nothing flashy, but somehow it made her presence fill the entire space.

"Sorry," Drake stammered, fumbling to close his comic. "What can I get you?"

"Just black coffee, please." She smiled, and for a moment, Drake forgot how to breathe. Not because of how she looked, but because she was actually *looking* at him. Really seeing him. When was the last time anyone had done that?

"One black coffee coming up." He turned to the machine, grateful for something to focus on besides the fact that his face was probably turning red.

As the coffee brewed, she glanced at his manga. "Naruto? I haven't read that in years. Are you at the Chūnin Exams arc?"

Drake nearly dropped the coffee cup. "You... you read manga?"

"Used to devour it in high school. Though I was more of a *Death Note* girl myself." Her eyes crinkled with genuine amusement. "What's your favorite series?"

For the next few minutes, as Drake prepared her order, they talked. Actually talked—about anime, about stories where ordinary people discovered they had extraordinary potential, about escaping into worlds where being different meant being powerful instead of being invisible.

"Here's your coffee," Drake said finally, reluctant to break the spell.

She handed him her card, and when their fingers brushed during the exchange, Drake felt something he hadn't experienced in months: connection. Like maybe, just maybe, he wasn't completely invisible after all.

"Thank you..." She glanced at his name tag. "Drake. That's a strong name."

"It's just a name," he muttered, but inside, something warm flickered to life.

"Names have power," she said seriously. "In every story worth telling, the hero's name means something. Even if they don't know it yet."

She turned to leave, then paused at the door. "By the way, you should smile more. You have a kind face—the kind that belongs to someone who'd risk everything to save a stranger."

The bell chimed as she left, leaving Drake staring after her, coffee-scented air swirling in her wake.

*Someone who'd risk everything to save a stranger.*

The words echoed in his mind as he returned to his manga, but the pages felt different now. Less like an escape and more like... possibility.

---

**8 PM - End of Shift**

TICK! TICK! TICK!

The wall clock's rhythm marked the end of another day. Drake folded his apron with practiced motions and tucked it into his locker.

CLICK!

He flipped the shop sign to closed, the metal making a satisfying sound against the glass door.

"I'm heading out!" he called to the back.

"Good work today, son. Be safe out there!" came the owner's warm voice from the office.

Drake shouldered his backpack and stepped into the cool night air.

DING DONG!

The shop bell gave him a tiny farewell chime as the door swung shut behind him.

Tomorrow. Drake wasn't even sure he'd have a place to sleep tonight. His phone buzzed with the expected venom.

BZZZZT!

*[Bloody Bastard - Landlord]: Bring rent money tonight or you're out, deadbeat.*

Drake's jaw clenched. He pulled out his earbuds and scrolled through his playlist—his personal sanctuary of sound that made the harsh world bearable.

Music List:

• Sunflower – Post Malone & Swae Lee

• Blue Bird – Ikimono Gakari

• Inferno – Mrs. GREEN APPLE

He tapped "Sunflower" and let the opening beats wash over him. The city streets came alive with LED lights from storefront windows, and towering skyscrapers reached toward stars he couldn't see through the urban haze.

"Ay, ay, ay, (ooh)

Ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh (ooh)

Ay ay, Ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh..."

THUMP-THUMP! THUMP-THUMP!

The bass line kicked in as Drake walked down the glowing sidewalk, each step synchronized with the rhythm. The music created a bubble around him, transforming the harsh city into something almost magical.

VROOOOM!

Cars zoomed past, their headlights painting long shadows that danced across the pavement. A massive billboard flashed overhead, its speakers booming: "ARM YOUR NATION TODAY! BRAND-NEW X7-PULSE GUNS AND MAGICAL SUPPORT DRONES!"

*Magical support drones,* Drake thought bitterly as the song's melody washed over him. *In a world with real magic, maybe I'd matter. Maybe I could find someone who'd understand me like she did.*

The music continued its hypnotic flow, and for a moment, Drake let himself imagine a different life—one where he wasn't invisible, where someone might look at him the way the coffee shop woman had looked at him today.

BEEP! BEEP!

The crosswalk signal caught his attention. He reached the intersection and stopped with the small crowd. The pedestrian light glowed red. A businesswoman scrolled through her phone while her young daughter played with a ragdoll, tossing it high into the air with fearless joy.

The song kept playing in his headphones, its rhythm somehow making even this mundane moment feel cinematic.

*"Needless to say, I keep her on check, she was a bad-bad nevertheless..."*

"Anny, be careful with that," the woman said absently, not looking up from her screen.

The little girl giggled and threw the doll higher. Too high.

The wind caught it, sending it tumbling into the street.

"My dolly!" Anny cried, darting after it without thinking.

Time slowed. Drake saw the truck barreling down the street, its driver probably texting, definitely not paying attention. He saw the mother look up too late, her face transforming from distraction to horror.

SCREEEECH!

The truck's brakes began their futile protest against physics.

*Someone who'd risk everything to save a stranger.*

The coffee shop woman's words exploded in his mind.

Drake's earbuds fell away as he sprinted into the street, the music continuing to play faintly on the pavement where they'd landed—a soundtrack to heroism he'd never expected to have.

THUD! THUD! THUD!

His footsteps pounded against the asphalt as he reached Anny just as the truck's horn blared in warning.

HOOOOOONK!

With every ounce of strength he had, Drake shoved the little girl toward the sidewalk.

CRASH! SCREECH! SMASH!

The violent symphony of metal meeting flesh drowned out everything else. The last thing he heard was Anny's mother's grateful sob and the distant melody still playing from his fallen earbuds.

Then darkness.

---

In the void between life and death, Drake Lorenzo floated in peaceful silence. No more rent. No more loneliness. No more wondering if he'd ever matter to anyone.

*At least Anny's safe,* he thought. *At least I finally did something that mattered.*

His life played back in fragments: losing his parents at ten in a car accident that changed everything. His aunt Maria had tried to fill the void—the only one who'd ever truly cared about him. But her husband resented having "another mouth to feed," and their kids followed suit, calling him names, beating him up, making him feel like an unwelcome ghost in their home.

When his aunt died of illness at his eighteenth birthday, her husband wasted no time kicking him out. "You're not my responsibility," he'd sneered.

A year of working at the coffee shop. A year of surviving on instant ramen and dreams. A year of watching couples walk by, wondering what it would feel like to have someone who understood him—someone like the woman today, who'd seen past his awkwardness to something worth talking to.

*I never even got to experience love,* he thought sadly. *Never had someone look at me the way she did and mean it. Never got to hold someone's hand and feel like I belonged somewhere.*

Romance had seemed as impossible as the magic in his manga. Who would want someone like him? A broke orphan who lived in manga fantasies because reality was too harsh to face alone.

*I wish I could have been more,* he thought. *I wish I could have belonged somewhere. Been someone worth remembering.*

A sound cut through the darkness—a soft chime, like the coffee shop bell.

PING!

Light blazed before him, forming words that hung in the void:

[SHADOW ARSENAL INTERFACE]

*You have been granted another chance at life. To Be Reincarnate in a fantasy world as a Shadow Gunslinger?*

[YES]. [NO]

Drake stared at the impossible screen. Another chance. In a world where magic was real, where being different might finally mean being powerful.

Where maybe, just maybe, he could become the hero the coffee shop woman seemed to think he already was.

"I won't waste this chance," he whispered to the darkness. "This time, I'll become someone worth remembering. Someone who can find real love—someone who'll understand me the way she seemed to."

Hell yeah, He pressed [YES].

WHOOOOSH!

The void exploded with light, and Drake Lorenzo's soul hurtled toward a realm where shadows had teeth and ordinary people could reshape destiny.

His real story was finally about to begin.