Complete darkness swallowed him, yet far ahead, a faint glimmer of light pierced the void—like a candle at the end of a tunnel. His body moved relentlessly toward it, every step fueled by a desperate hope to escape the abyss.
______________________________
It was endless…
Aiden Ferith drifted in the void, his mind trapped between fading memories and a single regret—"I wish I had a second chance."
And then, the light…
It was distant at first, like a candle flickering in the night. But it grew—brighter, warmer. Shining so intensely. It called to him, not with words, but with purpose. He reached for it—not with hands, for he no longer had a body—but with his soul.
And the moment he touched it, everything changed.
The pain vanished.
The void collapsed.
And in its place—
A cry. A loud, piercing cry. Wahhhh… wahhhhh…
His own.
He felt it—the cold air on his skin, the trembling in his tiny limbs, the warmth of soft hands lifting him up.
What in the…? he thought, dazed. Was I reborn? he thought to himself.
Aiden Ferith, once a legendary general feared by empires, was now a newborn child—his soul reborn into an infant's body.
"He's strong," said a male voice, deep and refined, but still lacking warmth. "It's crying, but eyeing like a lion. That's a good sign."
"He's so cute," a woman said, her tone trembling with joy and motherly love. "Look at him, Rudeous. Our son…" She was tired, exhausted. But the joy in her heart didn't let her remain steady.
Through teary, opened eyes, the infant Aiden looked up at two figures—the man had long black hair down to his shoulders and sharp green eyes full of cold calculation. The woman beside him, though exhausted, radiated beauty and elegance. Her hair was pale silver, and she had light blue eyes.
So they are new parents? Aiden thought, disoriented. Was the word 'new' actually fitting here?
The woman kissed his forehead gently. "My sweet boy… Logan. Welcome to the world."
Logan? he blinked slowly. So that's my new name.
And then it hit him. He'd been reborn. Wasn't it too unbelievable? Things like these are only supposed to happen in imagination. Or maybe in someone's wishful thinking. But here he was.
He, Aiden Ferith—the War Hero, the Martial Emperor, the betrayed—had been given a second chance.
A new name.
A new world.
A new fate.
Days passed slowly.
Then weeks.
Logan couldn't move much, but his mind—sharp from a lifetime of war and discipline—absorbed every detail.
His father, Rudeous Smith, was a noble of high status, a man of power and prestige in the Kingdom of Aerundal. Known for his swordsmanship and lineage, he was respected and feared alike.
Logan soon learned the man had two wives. His first wife, Lady Mirena, was the proud daughter of a duke and bore Rudeous his first child, a boy named Darius. Unlike Logan's mother, she held herself with an air of cold superiority.
Logan's mother, Alice, the second wife, was polite, intelligent, and kind, though not much politically influential. It was clear to him that though she was loved, she wasn't favored. Logan had been born into a fight for the throne and struggle.
But these didn't attract him. He didn't crave power or status. He had that all in his previous life. And where did it bring him? To death's door. In this life, he wanted to cherish his life, protect the people he loved. And there was one thing that attracted him even more.
Magic!
It happened on one rainy day, when Logan was only four months old. While he was crawling and roaming around, he got hurt accidentally. He got a bruise on his elbow. The nanny who was responsible for taking care of him came running after noticing. She placed him in the bed with affection and then rubbed her hand gently on the bruised place. A warmth started to flow through his body when she did that. A faint green glow shimmered. And his bruise was totally healed. Though it was just a small scratch—to vanish into thin air? No level of cultivation could pull that off.
She healed him. That was magic!
His tiny body quivered with excitement. He watched her closely. With another gesture, she summoned water from thin air to wash his face.
He nearly screamed—not in shock or from pain, but in joy. His mind filled with excitement. He wanted to learn more about this strange phenomenon.
This world uses magic. Actual magic! But… it feels so different. I don't sense any Qi. No cultivation essence…
In his past life, power came from refining Qi through one's meridians. But this new world—it was ambient, fluid, and wild. It wasn't about internal refinement, but external manipulation through will and language.
They're not cultivators, he realized. They're mages. And they use mana instead of Qi.
And that changed everything. It changed his worldview.
Logan spent his days in silent observation, watching the servants use spells for cleaning, healing, even cooking. His sharp mind quickly mapped the magical principles at play—circles, glyphs, words of power. The energy felt less dense than Qi, but more versatile.
Yet, it lacked the sheer might cultivation provided. It was elegant… but flawed.
No wonder they lacked in physical ability. They have no concept of body refinement, of Qi tempering, of breaking through shackles.
But Logan had both knowledge and experience. In time, he would merge the two paths—cultivation and magic. He would create something new. Something greater.
And this time, he would walk the path not for kingdoms, not for war, not for glory—but for himself.
One evening, nestled in his mother's arms, Logan heard a conversation that sparked his interest.
"He's growing fast," Alice said, patting his head gently. "Look at his eyes. He understands everything."
"He does," Rudeous admitted, his voice oddly distant but confident. "Too fast. Reminds me of my grandfather… that sharp gaze. I wonder if the blood of ancient mages is awakening in him."
Logan suppressed a chuckle. If only you knew, Father. I'm not awakening. I'm remembering, he thought to himself.
By the time he was a year old, Logan could crawl and walk with some effort. Words began forming in his mouth, though he pretended to struggle more than he truly did. He didn't want to attract too much attention yet. With his fully developed and experienced mind, it would take no time to speak—as the language was oddly similar to his past life.
His half-brother Darius, who was now six, often ignored him or watched him with quiet contempt. Mirena never bothered visiting Alice's quarters unless Rudeous brought her with him.
Typical noble household politics, Logan thought. It was nothing new.
But one thing was new.
A small magical orb his mother showed him one afternoon. "This is a beginner's affinity crystal orb," she explained. "It glows based on your magical nature. Someday, when you're older and your mana core is developed, we'll test yours."
He reached for it, barely able to touch it.
[The affinity crystal orb: It would glow with one color for one particular affinity—like red for fire affinity, purple for gravity, greyish for earth, sky blue for water, blue for lightning, green for healing, and white for air. Normally, one person has one or two affinities. The more affinities one has, the more they are valued. But only having multiple affinities doesn't matter if the strength of the mana core isn't increased.
There are 6 tiers in classifying a mana core's strength, from tier 1 at the bottom to tier 6 at the top. Tier 6 is legendary. There are barely one or two in a generation who reach that height. His own father was a tier 3 fire mage with air and gravity as latent affinities.
Though one can have more than one affinity, they can only advance in one affinity, which is their deviant affinity. The others are latent affinities.]**
Aiden—the present Logan—didn't know which affinity or how many affinities he would have, but he was confident about his ability.
This time, he would work even harder than in his past life.
And maybe, just maybe…
He'd make sure that this time—no one he loved would die again.