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The Kingdom of Eternia Aurum
The king sat in the dimly lit chamber, the cold stone of his throne pressing uncomfortably against him. His fingers drummed lightly on the armrest, the rhythmic taps betraying the growing unease within him. Every second felt like an eternity, each moment stretched thin with the weight of uncertainty. The Oracle stood before him, her eyes distant, her expression unreadable, as always.
"You summoned me, Your Majesty?" The Oracle's voice was soft but carried a power that only someone as ancient as her could possess, each word thick with the burden of centuries of knowledge.
"Yes," the king replied, his voice strained with a rare edge of concern. "There are whispers... rumors of unrest. Of something stirring in the deepest corners of the world. I need to know if they're true."
The Oracle's eyes flicked briefly to the flickering candlelight, her pale fingers twitching ever so slightly, as though she could feel the pulse of the world itself. She took a deep breath before speaking, her voice reverberating with something ancient and unspoken.
"The shadows grow long, King Aldrin . A darkness unlike any we have faced before is nearing. It is not a force we can confront easily. Nor is it something we can simply will away."
The king leaned forward, his brow furrowed in concern. "What do you mean? What is this darkness?"
Her eyes turned toward the window, where the moon hung in the sky—a pale ghost against the vast, starry expanse. The shadows seemed to grow longer with her silence. "It is not an external force, Your Majesty. It is... a birth. A child born of both light and shadow, destined to shape the world in ways we cannot yet comprehend."
The king's eyes widened. "A child? But how—"
"It's not just any child," she interrupted, her voice dropping to a near whisper. "This child will bring forth the breaking of eras. Their blood will bind the ancient and the forgotten to the present. And the darkness will follow with their first breath."
A long silence passed between them, thick with the weight of her prophecy. The king's chest tightened as the gravity of her words settled deep within him. His thoughts raced, struggling to keep pace with the enormity of the vision she had just shared. He shifted in his seat, unsure whether to dismiss her warning as madness or to face the terrible truth she presented.
"Where is this child now?" he asked, his voice tight, his grip on the armrest firm.
The Oracle's gaze flickered to the farthest corner of the room, where the shadows seemed to dance unnaturally, twisting with a life of their own. "That... is something I cannot say," she whispered, the uncertainty in her voice betraying her own fear.
The king's jaw clenched. His mind reeled with questions, but one stood out above the rest. "What should we do? What can we do?"
With a faint, sad smile, the Oracle spoke, her voice soft as though acknowledging the futility of her answer. "There is little you can do, Your Majesty. The winds of fate are already set in motion."
The king rose, his body taut with the weight of dread and uncertainty. "Thank you for your prophecy." He turned to leave, but a faint rustle from the Oracle stopped him.
"Something I have not yet foreseen has occurred," she murmured, a strange gleam in her eyes. "This... might prove interesting."
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Mamoru botan
"On your side!"
The goblin swamp rushed toward us, the creatures crawling out from the murky waters like shadows given form. "Anna, go to the right! Akimasa, focus on defense! The rest, let's move straight through!" My voice cut through the chaos, firm and commanding.
The battle was swift, our team well-coordinated, each member moving with practiced precision. It was over almost as soon as it had begun. The goblins didn't stand a chance against us. My squad's morale was high, but I could feel the weight of the day's task lifting from my shoulders.
"Captain, you really saved us with that leadership!" Akimasa laughed, clapping me on the back.
I chuckled, brushing it off. "Hahaha, you guys don't have to give me all the credit. We all did our part." But deep inside, I was glad. Glad that the mission was over. Glad that I could head home.
Today wasn't just any day. It was the happiest day of my life. After a week of being away on missions, I had received a letter from my wife. She was about to give birth. I could hardly contain my joy. I was going to be a father.
"I hope it's a boy," I thought. Not that I'd mind a girl, but a boy... I could teach him the sword skills, train him, show him how to be strong. Maybe even show off a little...
"You seem in a rather good mood," Anna said, her eyes narrowing slightly. "Is it because of the letter you received?"
I grinned wide, almost too excited to speak. "Hahaha, you bet! My wife's going to give birth soon. I can't wait to meet the little one ."
"Congrats, Captain!" The squad chimed in, but their smiles held an undertone of something else—something almost melancholic. I could feel their sympathy, but I just couldn't stop smiling.
"Hey, don't worry, you guys!" I laughed it off. "I'll be back in no time. I'll take a little break, but don't worry—Anna's here. She's strong and just as capable as me. The party's in good hands."
With that, we parted ways. But as I walked away, something gnawed at me. Would I be a good father? I could hear my wife's voice, telling me, "We'll cross that bridge when we get there." But the worry crept in, unbidden. What's a man without a little worry?
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The Village of Kaze
The darkness enveloped him like a thick, unyielding fog, pulling him further away from the conscious world. His senses were dulled, the usual clarity of his thoughts swallowed by the haze. Amura could barely move, his vision blurred, the weight of his own body foreign. He felt as if he were floating between worlds, suspended in a moment that didn't quite belong to him.
"Congratulations... It's a boy."
The voice was soft and soothing, but it barely registered in his mind, like the sound of rain falling in the distance. Slowly, his vision sharpened, but the world was still unclear, vague. His eyes flickered, struggling to focus, until a face came into view—familiar, yet distant. It was a woman, her features soft and warm, a smile that he recognized even in his disoriented state. Mother?
For a fleeting moment, something in him trembled. How can this be?
His thoughts felt like a chaotic whirlwind, but amidst the confusion, a cold, undeniable truth pierced through. He wasn't supposed to be here. This wasn't his time. This was a life he had already lived... a life that had been taken from him.
His tiny hand instinctively reached out, but he could barely see it. I'm... a baby. I am a baby.
The realization slammed into him like a wave. I've been sent back. His heart pounded, but his infant body couldn't react the way he wanted. He couldn't speak, couldn't move. He could only feel, and the weight of this new, impossible reality settled on him, suffocating and exhilarating all at once.
The woman holding him spoke again, oblivious to his internal turmoil. "Aren't newborns supposed to cry after birth?" Her voice was gentle, filled with a love he knew all too well. But this love wasn't the kind he had felt in his final moments. This was before everything had crumbled, before the war, the gods, and the betrayal.
His gaze shifted as another familiar voice entered the room. Dad? The thought barely formed in his mind before the man leaned over him, his face a mixture of joy and relief. "You're here," his father whispered, as if the weight of that truth could collapse the very walls around them.
Amura felt the man's warmth envelop him as his father pulled him into an embrace, holding him as if he could never let go. No. This can't be real. Yet, as his father's voice cracked, filled with emotion he hadn't heard in years, Amura couldn't deny it. The love, the embrace, the reassurance—it was all too real.
"My son," his father said, voice thick with emotion. "My family..." The words were choked, filled with something that made Amura want to cry, though his infant form could barely understand the depth of it.
But he wasn't just a baby anymore. He wasn't just a helpless child in the arms of his parents. His mind raced, memories from his past life flooding back in fragmented bursts—battles, faces, the journey he had walked, the choices that had led him to this moment. Is this a second chance? His thoughts were jagged, difficult to piece together.
Have I truly been sent back?
His vision began to blur again, not from confusion, but from the pressure of knowing the impossible truth. The battle is far from over. I've been given another chance to change the course of history... but how?
The room around him felt like it was fading in and out of focus, as if time itself were trying to pull him back to a reality he wasn't ready to face. What happens now?
A faint whisper broke through the haze, as clear as a distant memory. Your journey is far from over, Amura.
The words lingered in his mind like a promise—or a warning. His father's arms tightened around him, and for a moment, he let himself feel the comfort of his family's love, but beneath it, the truth gnawed at him. What was lost, and what can still be saved?
Amura closed his eyes, knowing that no matter what, his path forward would be unlike anything he had ever known before.
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