Chapter 6
My name is Anon, and I'm a commoner. There's something strange about me—every year on my birthday, I regain fragments of memories from a life I don't fully understand.
Now, at 16 years old, I know I was once a warrior, though the details remain blurry. I can't see my face or recall the people from that life. But I find myself on a battlefield in those memories, my body covered in blood, exhausted and collapsing from fatigue. A group of monsters rushes toward me. I force myself to stand and grip my sword, fighting them off.
These memories come to me like vivid dreams, yet I haven't recovered all of them. I don't know who I was fighting or how long it lasted.
"Brother, hurry up!" calls my little sister, Lila.
"I'm coming," I reply, shaking off the unease.
I don't know if I had a family in my previous life, but I am happy with my current family. We're commoners living in a village near the eastern subcontinent. My father, Rohan, works as a unit captain in the local militia.
"Anon, aren't you running late? You have special training today," my mother says.
"Don't worry, I'll get there on time,"
"Where's Father?"
"He's out on patrol with his forces."
"Isn't he injured?"
"I told him to rest, but he's stubborn and won't listen. I asked him to take the day off, but he still went," she sighs.
"Anon, what about school?" my mother continues, concern lacing her voice.
"Don't worry, Mother. It'll be fine," I say, offering her a reassuring smile.
I haven't told my family about my unusual physical abilities or the strange artifact I possess. When the dreams of my past life began, I noticed my strength increasing to match that of a grown man. At 15, I came into possession of a mysterious artifact—a black, slime-like object that hides under my clothes. It can change its shape and form, and it has helped me in various ways.
but I still don't understand how it came into my possession in this life. Unlike my father, I don't have magic. Perhaps these things are connected somehow.
"Where are you staring off to while eating, you brat?" my father says, placing his hand on my head as he appears out of nowhere.
"Where are you coming from?" I ask.
"Just came back from patrol," he replies with a grin.
"So, where were you patrolling?"
"Ah, I can't go far. The vice-captain saw me and kicked me out of the city, telling me to go home," he says.
"Well, that's good. Rest up if you don't want to get scolded by Mother," I tease.
My father had been on a dangerous mission in the Dark Forest recently, where he was injured. He's not weak—far from it. My father is a skilled swordsman and a capable magic user.
"Why are you home so early?" my mother asks, a hint of anger in her tone.
"She's mad because I didn't listen to her about resting," my father mutters sheepishly.
Despite their occasional arguments, I love my family. The noise and warmth of these moments are comforting, unlike the grim silence of my past-life dreams.
At the Training Ground
Today, training begins for the upcoming tournament. I don't have high hopes for our chances, but I'll give it my best shot.
"Is he really our instructor?" Ravena whispers to me.
"Well, seems like it," I reply, uncertain.
"We're doomed, Anon," Ravena mutters.
The instructor, Armir, is a fire-type mage and a combat specialist. He has trained many students, but most of them run away from his intense methods.
"Well, we can handle it—or at least survive it. The problem is Aris," I whisper back.
Armir approaches Aris and observes him for a moment before turning to us.
"You two, warm up by running 100 laps around the ground," he orders.
Ravena and I exchange glances. She shrugs and says, "I'll go first, noob," before starting to run. I follow her, not wanting to get on the instructor's bad side.
"By the way, did you see Norman?" Ravena asks as we run.
"He mentioned a family meeting today," I reply.
Ravena speeds up, trying to get a glimpse of what Aris is doing.
"Worried about someone?" I tease.
"Maybe," she admits. "Actually, I am a little worried."
"You don't need to worry. If Aris can't handle it, the instructor will lose hope first," I joke.
"You really don't know, do you?" Ravena asks, her tone dropping.
"Know what?" I ask, slightly alarmed.
"Instructor Armir is Aris's uncle," she says. "He's from a noble family, but he is illegitimates son of his grandfather."
,
,
continue,,,,,,,,