Chapter 1: Like a Different World
Liang felt as if he were lying on a cold ground.
The moment his senses returned, a sharp headache immediately began to stimulate his nerves.
In a daze, the brief life of the boy named "Leon" flashed through his mind.
Lingering in his heart was the joy of his father patiently teaching him how to pull a hunting bow.
Above him, the warmth of his mother's hand gently stroking his hair lingered, fading slowly.
The evening twilight of his childhood walks down the country roads seemed like it was just yesterday.
Red. It was blood. The gleam of raised blades was that of mercenaries' swords. The sword blades reflected the boy's pathetic, weak, and fearful face. His mother's pleading and her dying scream ignited a fire in the boy's heart.
Anger and hatred finally overcame fear, but the weak anger was futile. The boy was knocked to the ground. Before he lost consciousness, all he could hear was the cruel mocking laughter of the mercenaries.
Suddenly, Liang opened his eyes. The savage bloodshot veins in his red eyes had yet to fade.
Memories gradually became clearer. Liang frowned, trying to dispel the lingering resentment that didn't belong to him.
Breathing deeply, he relaxed his tense body and tried to lift himself, only to find that his hands were shackled by crude, heavy manacles.
Struggling to adjust his posture, he leaned against the rough wooden bars beside him, slowly lifting his torso. Only then could he look around.
He was in a prison, a cage that held many people. Surrounding his cage were several others just like it.
The people inside the cage were in similar situations—there were men, women, but none of them seemed older.
The prisoners were mostly young people and children, even as young as seven or eight. They wore tattered clothes stained with dirt and blood, or in some cases, had no clothes to cover themselves at all. Many had fresh marks of abuse.
Scattered sobs could be heard as mercenaries yelled insults in a foreign language, laughing mockingly. The expressions of the prisoners varied—some were numb, others terrified, while some eyes burned with hatred. The air was thick with a stifling, oppressive atmosphere.
In a part of the camp, Liang realized that he had been captured and brought here—a prisoner, a slave.
He took a deep breath to accept this hard-to-swallow reality, slowly exhaling, attempting to calm his newly awakened mind and sort through the chaotic thoughts in his head.
Who am I? Leon?
No.
I am Liang.
The flood of memories from this body's previous owner couldn't override Liang's self-awareness. His consciousness easily pierced through the fragments of the sixteen-year-old boy's soul and found the true information that belonged to him.
Liang, twenty-six years old, single, parents alive, no bad habits, healthy body—just an ordinary office worker from Earth.
As this thought crossed his mind, a sharp headache returned, and those once-familiar memories felt distant and fuzzy. Liang frowned, pressing his forehead.
Setting aside his memories for the moment, he glanced up at the mercenaries outside his cage.
Spears, long swords, chainmail, iron armor, crossbows. In the era where Liang had lived on Earth, no matter how backward the country, it was impossible for soldiers to dress in such a medieval cosplay style.
And the bloody, brutal scenes from the memories of the deceased boy also made it clear that this was definitely not a movie set.
So... was this a transmigration? Or was it a soul possession? Had he traveled to ancient Europe, or perhaps an unfamiliar world entirely?
A string of questions disconnected from reality popped into his mind.
Liang couldn't make sense of it all. He didn't remember having any close encounters with a mud truck, and he couldn't even recall what had happened before his consciousness entered this body.
Looking down at the iron manacles firmly restraining his wrists, Liang felt a bit confused.
As someone from the modern world, he couldn't accept being a slave, controlled in terms of freedom and life.
For now, he pushed aside thoughts of how or why he had transmigrated. The real, immediate concern was how to escape.
He calmed his mind and began to search through the memories of the boy named Leon, hoping to find any useful information about his current situation.
Seryan Kingdom. Saint Sol Church. Sacred City. Rolandar Kantadal Kingdom's army laying siege, invading, pillaging, slaughtering.
Slowly, Liang pieced together the memories of the body's original owner. The boy named Leon was just an ordinary child from a hunter's family in a settlement on the outskirts of the Sacred City. Before the war, he had lived a relatively peaceful life in the forest village outside the city, until the Kantadal army from the west launched a massive invasion.
[Translator: sauron]
"You're still alive? I thought you were dead yesterday."
A calm voice seemed to speak directly to him.
Liang snapped out of his thoughts and looked over. It was a young boy, about fifteen or sixteen years old, with brown hair. Though his condition was as disheveled as the others, his skin was cleaner than most of the people in the cage.
Liang speculated that this boy might have come from a wealthier background, as lower-class people didn't have the opportunity to maintain such fair skin under the sun.
"Cough... Who are you?" Liang asked, suppressing a dry cough.
"Who I am doesn't matter. You should thank that lady. If it weren't for her insistence on giving you water these past few days, you probably wouldn't have made it," the fair-skinned boy said blankly, raising his chin to gesture toward someone.
Liang turned to look in the direction the boy had indicated. It was a woman, probably in her twenties. Although she, too, was in tattered clothing and looked haggard, there was still an undeniable gentleness in her appearance.
"Thank you," Liang croaked, sincerely thanking the lady who had taken care of him while he was unconscious.
In such a tragic environment, anyone willing to care for someone half-dead deserved respect.
The woman forced a small, difficult smile and nodded slightly in acknowledgment.
Liang noticed that a sturdy young man was leaning beside her. His eyes were sharp and cautious, like a wounded wild animal, watching Liang intently.
His appearance resembled that of the kind lady to a large extent—about six or seven parts, perhaps they were relatives. Judging by their ages, they seemed to be siblings. The boy had a strong physique, showing signs of physical training, and his skin had a deep tone, likely from long exposure to the sun. However, the injuries he had suffered from being beaten by the mercenaries were now quite apparent.
Liang shifted his gaze away, avoiding provoking the boy. He understood that the boy's unkind gaze wasn't malicious; in this chaotic and cruel situation, the boy was simply trying to protect the only remaining family member.
Looking around at the other prisoners in the cage, they were all in similar conditions—faces pale as death, like walking corpses, with few uninjured. Even the lady who had tended to him when he was unconscious had bruises and marks from abuse. Liang didn't want to think about what tragic things she had endured.
His gaze moved away from the other prisoners, and he inspected the sturdy prison bars behind him. Breaking out from the inside was clearly impossible, and even if he could escape, a weak, unarmed prisoner would never stand a chance against the heavily armored mercenaries outside.
After thinking for a while, he sighed helplessly. It seemed that, for now, waiting was the only option.
Time passed slowly, dragging painfully as if every hour felt like a century. Liang had never experienced such torment. Compared to his previously dull and mundane life as a corporate worker, this was a form of agony. At least, back then, he still had his freedom.
After some time, the sky began to darken.
A shout from outside interrupted Liang's thoughts: "You Serian pigs! Get up and eat!"
Several Kantadar mercenaries, holding burlap sacks, came to each cage, yelling curses in a foreign language. They took out dry, suspicious-looking food and tossed it into the cages, treating the prisoners like animals.
A few chunks of dry rations were thrown into Liang's cage, followed by two large leather water sacks.
Liang stared at the grayish-black food that had fallen to the ground and was now covered in dirt. He counted the number of pieces and realized that the amount didn't even match the number of prisoners in the cage—there wasn't enough for everyone to have one.
As he observed the others' reactions, the dark-skinned boy was the first to rush toward the food. He quickly grabbed two pieces of dry food and a water bag, then ran back to his sister's side.
Soon, the others followed, picking up the dry food closest to them.
There was no fighting over the food. Partly because they weren't at the point of starving yet, and partly because the prisoners were too weak to waste energy on unnecessary disputes.
Liang didn't manage to pick up any food; it was all gone by the time he moved. He resigned himself and sat back in the corner. Although hungry, he could still bear it.
At least there was enough water. The two large water bags were passed around, and once everyone had had their fill, there was still some left.
When the water bag reached him, Liang endured the discomfort of drinking from the same nozzle used by everyone. He lifted it slightly and poured the water into his mouth, finally quenching the dryness in his throat.
In such times, he couldn't afford to care about his cleanliness.
After drinking, Liang passed the water bag to the next person and, without thinking, glanced over at the siblings. He just so happened to catch the lady who had cared for him when he was unconscious staring back at him.
She gave him a faint, apologetic smile, holding the dry food her brother had brought to her but not eating it. She seemed to have noticed that Liang had not yet received any food.
Her expression showed a moment of hesitation, and then she stood up, intending to share her food with him. But immediately, her brother reached out and grabbed her.
"Sis, you didn't eat enough yesterday!" The strong boy didn't lower his voice. His tone was both firm and caring, clearly displeased with his sister's concern for someone else. This was why he had been the first to grab two portions of food.
Liang clearly heard the boy's raised voice, and it was obviously meant for him, so he quickly waved his hand.
"Thank you for your kindness, but I'm not hungry."
Liang politely declined. Even without her brother's interference, he felt uncomfortable constantly accepting the lady's pity.
"I'll give you half. I'm not that hungry either," a voice suddenly interjected.
Liang looked over, surprised to see the pale-skinned boy from earlier. The boy's unexpected kindness caught him off guard.
The boy walked over and sat beside him, tearing a piece of dry food in half and handing it to him.
"Uh, thank you." Liang accepted the food without refusing, a little taken aback by the boy's sudden generosity.
"The question earlier, my name is Azeryn Flarell, from the Flarell family. What's yours?" The pale-skinned, brown-haired boy took a bite of his dry food and casually asked.
Liang hesitated briefly, but considering his real name sounded similar to the name of the original owner of this body, he decided not to dwell on it.
"My name is Leon, no surname." Liang chose to go with the original name of this body, as was customary in such a situation.
Azeryn, the boy, was momentarily stunned.
He had seen the way Liang had resisted using the shared water bag earlier and had thought that he might be a nobleman's child, still struggling to adjust to the situation.
But now it didn't really matter. Whether a noble or a commoner, they were all slaves at the mercy of the Kantadar people.
After exchanging names, there was nothing more to say, and the atmosphere sank back into a resigned silence.
(End of chapter)