The Outcast's Rebirth

CHAPTER 39: Ashes Of Betrayal

As Winston felt his body crushed beneath the rubble of his school, the world around him faded into an overwhelming abyss. His leg, snapped at an unnatural angle, was throbbing with intense pain, and the heat from the flames licking at his flesh was unbearable. But that agony paled in comparison to the searing realization that Keith had stood there—watched—as Winston lay helpless, calling for him. Pleading for his help. The betrayal stung more than the burns, more than the ache in his bones. He remembered Keith’s expression, detached, unreadable, like he was nothing more than a ghost passing by, leaving him to die.

The world collapsed on him, and all Winston could think in his final moments was: Why? Why wouldn’t Keith save me? Why wasn’t I worth saving?

Then, everything went dark.

---

But death was not the end. It was the beginning. In the seconds, minutes, hours that followed, Winston—or rather, Alfie Jr., as he had once been—drifted. Suspended in a state of nothingness. Limbo.

It was warm. Silent. Comforting, even. No pain, no fire, no betrayal. Just… peace. He couldn’t move, couldn’t open his eyes. He wasn’t even breathing, yet he wasn’t afraid. For the first time in his life, he felt safe, as if nothing in the world could touch him anymore. The burn of his leg, the sharp sting of abandonment—they were distant memories, like echoes in the back of his mind. The warmth cradled him like a protective cocoon, shielding him from the cruelties of the world he had left behind.

In that limbo, time didn’t exist. He could’ve been there for seconds or centuries, and it wouldn’t have mattered. It was the closest thing to heaven he had ever known. But the peace didn’t last.

Something pulled at him—gently at first, then more forcefully. It yanked him from that comfort, dragging him back into the cold, harsh reality of existence.

Winston—Alfie—didn’t want to go. He clung to the warmth, to the safety of oblivion, but it was futile. The pull was stronger, unrelenting, and before he knew it, he was tumbling back into life.

When he opened his eyes again, he was no longer the boy crushed beneath the rubble. He wasn’t Alfie Jr., the troubled kid who had played with fire and burned for it. He was something… new. Something more. Yet all of his memories remained intact, every painful, twisted detail of his past life seared into his mind.

And this time, he wasn’t born into chaos, into a family of neglect and indifference. He was born into a pauper’s home, yes, but it was a home filled with love—a warmth that reminded him, in some distant way, of that limbo he had been pulled from.

He promised himself that this time would be different. This life would not be wasted. He would make a difference. He would matter. He wouldn’t be the failure he had been before, the reckless boy who had crumbled under the weight of his own self-destruction.

Winston—no, Alfie—set out with that determination. Armed with the knowledge from his previous life, he clawed his way up from the dirt, undeterred by the harshness of the world around him. He was smart, resourceful, and ruthless when he needed to be. He knew what it took to survive, and he did more than survive—he thrived. He built himself up from nothing, becoming a man of influence, of power. He became the Sir Winston, a name that carried weight, respect, and fear.

But no matter how high he climbed, the past clung to him like a shadow, never far from his thoughts. The memory of Keith, standing there, watching him die, was a scar that hadn’t healed. No matter what he did, no matter how successful he became, that betrayal stayed with him.

---

Years passed, and Winston thought he had left the past behind. He had a new life, a wife, a child. A family that should have filled the void left inside him. But it didn’t. Nothing ever could.

Then came the expedition. It was supposed to be just another job. A way to expand his empire, to exert his influence in a foreign land. But fate—or perhaps karma—had other plans.

Winston had encountered many people in his travels, but none like Kyzzu. The boy was sharp, fierce, with a blade pressed to his throat and a glare that could pierce stone. But it wasn’t the knife that unnerved Winston—it was the boy’s eyes. Blue, strikingly blue, which were in contrast with Keith's but strangely familiar.

The resemblance was unsettling, but Winston brushed it aside. This was a different world, a different time. There was no way this boy could be connected to his past. And yet…

From the moment Kyzzu held that knife to his throat, Winston felt the shift. It was subtle at first, like a whisper in the back of his mind, telling him that nothing would ever be the same. The pull was there, the same pull that had dragged him from the warmth of limbo all those years ago. Only now, it was pulling him toward this boy.

He dismissed it at first. Ignored the gnawing feeling in his gut. But as time passed, the pull became undeniable. He couldn’t escape it, couldn’t escape Kyzzu. And when they danced under the stars, the realization hit him like a freight train—Kyzzu wasn’t just some random boy. He wasn’t a stranger. He was Keith.

Keith, reborn, just as Winston had been.

It was like the universe had thrown him back into the past, like it was giving him a second chance to right his wrongs. But Winston, in his desperation, in his selfishness, did what he always did. He abandoned everything. His wife, his child, his responsibilities. All of it meant nothing in the face of his love—his obsession—with Keith.

And in the end, just as before, Winston destroyed the one thing he had sworn to protect.

---

The guilt gnawed at Winston, an unbearable weight that crushed him from the inside out. He had destroyed Kyzzu’s village, gathered intelligence, manipulated events to suit his needs, all while pretending it was for the greater good. But it wasn’t. It had never been. It was for him. For the twisted, selfish part of him that couldn’t let Keith go.

And then, Kyzzu was carrying his child. His child.

When Winston heard the news, something inside him broke. He had spent so long trying to keep his emotions in check, trying to maintain control. But at that moment, he wanted to scream, to rage, to tear everything apart.

But he didn’t. He couldn’t. He had to keep up the act, had to keep the mask on. The cruel, cold facade that had gotten him this far. The one that had protected him from the pain, from the guilt. The one that had allowed him to survive in a world that demanded cruelty as a currency.

But behind the mask, Winston was crumbling.

---

Kyzzu was in a foreign land, and had borne Winston’s child, who was later taken away from him.

  A child that was never meant to exist. A child that symbolized everything Winston had destroyed, everything he had failed to protect.

He had failed Kyzzu. He had failed Keith. He had failed himself.

The memories of the fire, of Keith standing there, watching him burn, came rushing back with a vengeance. Only this time, it wasn’t Keith who had abandoned him—it was Winston who had abandoned Keith.

And as Winston sat there, staring into the darkness, the weight of his failures pressed down on him like the collapsing building all those years ago. There was no escaping it. No running from it.

He had failed. Again.