Disoriented, Adam blinked awake. Crystal chandeliers and gleaming wood furniture replaced his familiar 2BHK apartment. Panic clawed at him. Where was he?

Memories flooded his mind–a torrent of images and information not his own. He was Luke Reyland, son of a baron in the vast Aurora Kingdom, a place where mages wielded mana and knights fought with aura. This wasn't Earth; it was a world brimming with magic and conflict.

A gasp escaped him as he caught his reflection. Gone was his average frame. Luke sported tousled blonde hair and striking blue eyes, a stark contrast to his previous self. He was undeniably handsome but worryingly thin. A pang of longing struck him for his parents and the simple life back home.

Suddenly, a searing pain lanced through his head. He remembered the fever, the endless sleep, and the feeling of being ripped from one life and deposited in another. Transmigration? Was that even a real thing?

A knock startled him. A kind-faced woman, probably a maid, rushed in. "Master Luke! You shouldn't be out of bed yet."

"Episode?" Luke echoed, his voice rough from disuse.

Before the woman could answer, a booming voice filled the room. "Luke! There you are, boy." A burly man with a salt-and-pepper beard entered, his face etched with worry. This had to be his father, Baron Reyland. Luke stammered, unsure of the proper etiquette.

The baron's face softened. "Come, let's get you some food. We can talk later."

Over breakfast, Luke pieced together his recent past. He'd been struck by a strange illness, falling unconscious for days. Unlike other young nobles who craved courtly life, Luke dreamt of becoming a knight, a protector. The revelation worried the baron. Although the Reylands were not top-notch nobles, his father was a well-known knight with silver late-stage strength, and his grandfather was a prestigious gold-stage knight, and his family's nobility was awarded to his grandfather by the King.

"But Father," Luke pleaded, a newfound determination sparking in his eyes, "with the iron mines and the smithy, wouldn't training be possible?" The baron sighed. "It's the unrest on the borders, Luke. The neighboring kingdom is restless. We may need all our resources, including iron, to defend ourselves."

A knot of worry tightened in Luke's stomach. This fantastical world wasn't just magic and wonder; it was a place of war and hardship. He wouldn't just train to be a knight; he'd become a leader worthy of this new life and its challenges.

"I understand, Father," he said, meeting his gaze. "But I want to help. In whatever way I can."

A faint smile played on the baron's lips. "That's my boy. Now, how about we get you strong enough to hold a sword?"

Later that day, a gruff but kind ex-soldier arrived, tasked with Luke's training. The initial stiffness in his body screamed in protest as he fumbled with the sword. But fueled by a desire to not only fulfill his dreams but also protect his newfound family and home, Luke gritted his teeth and pushed himself harder than ever before.

Days have turned into weeks. The once clumsy movements found a rhythm, morphing into a newfound grace. Memories of his past life faded, replaced by the burning ambition to become a hero worthy of this fantastical world. The office worker, Adam, was a distant echo. This was Luke Reyland, and his journey as a knight had just begun.