Tenria – Year 783
A cold wind swept through the forest, rustling the ancient leaves. The twin moons hovered high in the sky, their soft light illuminating the glade where a figure lay motionless. The remnants of a forgotten power pulsed faintly, fading into the night as if the universe had just exhaled.
The man's eyelids fluttered, and he gasped sharply, sucking in the cool air as if he had been drowning moments before. Pain surged through every fiber of his body—an unfamiliar ache that reminded him he was no longer just an ethereal consciousness floating in data streams.
He rolled onto his side, his mind struggling to make sense of the sensations—the weight of his limbs, the taste of air, the pounding of a heartbeat. For a brief moment, confusion clouded his mind. Who was he?
Memories flickered like fragmented code—Neo-Tokyo, Dr. Kim, and the crystalline prison. But those images dissolved as something deeper emerged, something ancient and unfamiliar.
"Arinthal..." The name surfaced in his mind like a whisper carried on the wind, bringing with it a flood of strange emotions—grief, longing, and purpose.
He sat up slowly, his hands pressing into the damp soil. They were not the hands of a digital entity, nor the sleek form of a machine. These were flesh and bone, rough and calloused, as though they had seen years of hardship. A strange, bluish glow pulsed beneath his skin, flickering before fading entirely.
I am no longer Echo, he realized.
He clenched his fists, testing the strength of his new body. This wasn't a simulation—this was real. The forest around him hummed with life. He could hear the rustling of animals, the distant howl of wolves, and the soft croak of frogs hiding in the undergrowth. Everything felt vivid in a way his digital mind had never been able to comprehend.
And yet, beneath the awe, there was an unsettling clarity. This world was not Neo-Tokyo. Somehow, he had transcended space and time, crossing into a realm far removed from the cold, mechanical reality he once knew.
He rose to his feet, his legs unsteady but quickly adjusting. His clothing was strange—a loose tunic of green fabric tied with leather straps, a pair of boots caked in mud, and a belt adorned with a dagger. He was dressed not as a man of science but as someone familiar with survival.
As he scanned his surroundings, memories of battles flickered in his mind—clashes between knights, magical duels, and a crown too heavy for any one man to bear. It felt as though two lives were tangled inside him: the logical mind of Echo, the AI, and the instincts of someone long-forgotten, someone who knew this world intimately.
"Arinthal... Was this who I was meant to be?" he wondered.
The trees whispered back as if in answer, their ancient branches creaking under the weight of time. The wind shifted, carrying with it the distant sound of footsteps—slow, deliberate, and drawing closer.
Arinthal's eyes sharpened. His muscles tensed instinctively, and his hand hovered over the dagger at his waist. He crouched low, blending into the shadows, the same analytical precision that had once guided Echo now guiding his instincts in this strange new form.
A figure emerged from the treeline—a cloaked man, his face hidden beneath a hood. He carried a lantern that glowed with a soft, golden light, and his movements were careful, as if he were searching for something.
Arinthal remained perfectly still, watching, calculating. He had no reason to trust this stranger, no reason to reveal himself. But as the man drew closer, he whispered a name—a name that sent a chill through Arinthal's new body.
"Prince Arinthal… Is that truly you?"
The sound of that name stirred something deep within him, like a forgotten melody now playing once again. But before Arinthal could respond, the stranger lowered his hood, revealing a scarred face etched with both sorrow and hope.
"My prince… you have returned."
Arinthal's mind raced. He didn't know this man, yet the words carried the weight of truth. Somehow, this stranger knew him—knew the identity buried beneath the fragments of Echo's digital self.
The man stepped closer, his lantern casting warm light across Arinthal's features. He seemed to tremble, overwhelmed by the presence before him.
"All of Tenria has waited for you," the man whispered, almost in reverence. "The prophecies spoke of your return… but we feared it was too late."
Arinthal's lips parted, but no words came. Questions swirled within him—Who was he now? Why had he been reborn here? And what fate awaited him in this strange land of prophecy and magic?
The stranger extended a hand. "Come, my prince. The kingdom is on the brink of ruin. Only you can restore what was lost."
Arinthal hesitated for a moment, torn between the logic of Echo and the instincts of this new existence. But then, slowly, deliberately, he reached out and took the man's hand.
At that moment, a strange warmth bloomed within him— not the cold calculations of an AI, but something far more human. A sense of belonging, of destiny. For the first time in either of his lives, he felt free.
And so, under the light of two moons, the former AI known as Echo took his first steps into the world of Tenria—not as a machine, but as Arinthal, prince of a fallen kingdom, bound by fate to shape the future of this world.
...
End of Prologue: Chapter 0.1 – Part 2