Sleep did not come easily. Every time he closed his eyes, visions flickered in his mind—flashes of faces he didn't recognize, places he had never been. His dreams were haunted by echoes of a life he couldn't remember. A voice, distant but familiar, whispered his name over and over.
He woke with a start, gasping for breath. The Blade of Shadows rested beside him, pulsing faintly as though it were alive. He wiped the sweat from his brow, the dreams lingering like a shadow over his consciousness.
The Demon Officers were already awake, standing silently by the fire. They seemed to never sleep, always watchful, always waiting. One of them, the one with glowing white eyes, turned to him as he sat up.
"You're remembering," the officer said quietly.
"Remembering what?" he asked, his voice still thick with sleep.
"Who you were before. The gods chose you for a reason."
He frowned. "But I don't remember anything. Just… fragments. Faces. Voices. None of it makes sense."
"It will, in time," the officer replied, his voice cold and distant. "The Blade is awakening your past. You were once a warrior of the gods, long before this life."
The words hit him like a punch to the gut. A warrior of the gods? That couldn't be true. He was just… him. An ordinary person, fighting to survive in an extraordinary situation.
But the Blade in his hand, the dreams that plagued him, the dragon's words—they all pointed to something much larger than himself.
He stood, shaking off the remnants of sleep, and strapped the Blade to his back. "I don't have time to wait for my memories to come back," he said, his voice firmer than he felt. "If Gruter is coming, I need to be ready now."
The officer with white eyes nodded. "We will train you. But remember—your past will return whether you're ready or not."
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