["Grantt" Maximilian's POV]
My name is Grantt Maximilian.
A nobility born out of a faded past, and a man mended into the name of a lord.
Without any skill to lead, I was forced to take over the land of my father that was already on the brink of collapse, and with the Kingdom's negligible concern for it, we fell into the cursed land's disaster.
I died a dog's death, surrounded by those who believed in serving me, keeping me alive until my last breath caused by starvation and malnutrition.
A death, deserving of a man who lacked in many ways.
I was only a swordsman, and I did not die gloriously on the battlefield but in a disgraceful bedridden state.
Yes, I died.
Only to pick up the pieces of my lingering regret that scattered throughout the void of nothingness, and wake up to my body once again, in one piece and healthy.
I was sure that I had died, but once I had to wake up once again, my body was moving on its own.