Chapter 1: The Second Dawn
The world was blurred and hazy, like mist swirling behind a thin veil. A sharp cry escaped his lips — involuntary, high-pitched, helpless. His senses were overwhelmed. Cold air brushed his bare skin, the scent of lavender and polished wood hung in the air, and faint murmurs echoed around him.
Then it hit him — a realization as sudden as lightning.
Why am I crying like a baby?
With effort, he blinked through the fog in his vision. Golden light streamed in through tall windows draped in velvet curtains. The ceiling above him was carved with intricate designs, inlaid with shimmering crystal. A mobile of tiny enchanted stars floated above, softly glowing in rhythm with his breath. He lay in a grand crib — no, a cot, far more lavish than anything he had ever seen.
His fingers were tiny, soft. He couldn't even lift his head fully. Yet his mind… it was not that of a newborn.
I'm alive… again? he thought. But this isn't the battlefield… nor the palace… This… this is not my body.
Servants whispered in a tongue he understood — the ancient language of the Arvonian Empire. A middle-aged woman with kind eyes leaned over him, gasping softly.
"His Grace has opened his eyes! The young master has awakened!"
Young master? His thoughts swirled faster than he could control. So… I've been reborn? Into a noble family?
Somewhere deep within him, old instincts stirred — the clang of steel, the stench of blood, the weight of coin in calloused hands. He remembered worn armor, cold nights by dying campfires, and meals bought with the edge of his blade. A mercenary's life. A lonely, brutal existence.
I was just a sword-for-hire… fighting to survive. No name. No legacy. Just blood and coin.
But now?
Now he lay wrapped in silk, in a room fit for royalty. Magic hummed faintly in the walls, and warmth surrounded him not from fire, but from comfort.
He clenched his tiny fists, the gesture almost laughable in his infant form.
Is this… a second life? A chance to live, not just survive?