Alaric had always believed that the weight of the world was too heavy to bear alone. His life had been defined by failure—betrayal by his family, the empty promises of his peers, and the hearts he had poured himself into, only to see them turn cold. Yet when he closed his eyes for the final time, a strange peace settled over him. No one would mourn his passing, and that suited him just fine.
Then, the unexpected happened. The warm light of morning kissed his skin, and he opened his eyes to find himself lying beneath a thick canopy of trees. The air was crisp, the forest unfamiliar, and the weight of the world—a weight he had known all too well—was nowhere to be found.
"Is this...?" Alaric sat up, confused. His hand brushed the ground, feeling the solid earth beneath him. He wasn't dead. He wasn't in the afterlife. He was somewhere else, somewhere far from the horrors of his past.
The memories of his former life were still fresh—his family, the kingdom, the cruel betrayals, and the ultimate death he had suffered in a battle that wasn't his to fight. It had been a life full of empty expectations, constant pressure, and no place for his own desires.
But now… it was different.
Alaric stood up, gazing around. Tall trees stretched into the sky, their branches whispering in the wind. The only sound was the soft rustle of leaves and the distant call of birds. It was a world untouched by the chaos of kings and courts, free from the manipulative smiles of politicians and the cold disregard of those who should have cared for him.
"This is it," he whispered to himself. "This is my chance to start over."
He was alone, without obligations, without anyone to deceive or betray him. This was his second life, and he would live it for himself. He had no intentions of seeking fame or power, no ambitions to make others love him or depend on him. His only goal now was peace.
---
Alaric spent the first few days exploring his new surroundings. The forest, though dense, was rich with life. Streams ran clear and cool, perfect for drinking or bathing. He found wild berries, mushrooms, and a variety of herbs—enough to sustain himself if he learned how to gather and prepare them properly.
He didn't know how he had come to be here, or why, but that didn't matter. For the first time in years, Alaric felt a sense of freedom. There was no court to manipulate him, no family to ignore him, no lovers to disappoint.
This life, this quiet existence, was all his.
---
Over time, Alaric built a small cabin deep within the forest, hidden away from prying eyes. He was skilled in survival from his years spent at war, and he applied those skills to create a simple but comfortable life. Every day, he rose with the sun and worked until dusk—tending to his small garden, foraging for food, and chopping wood for the fire. It was a hard life, but it was his choice, and that made all the difference.
"Just me," he murmured one evening, watching the stars emerge in the night sky. "No more fighting, no more lies. Only this."
The forest was a sanctuary—quiet, peaceful, and devoid of the complications he had once endured.
But as the days passed, a question lingered in his mind: Could a life like this truly fulfill him?
He had no answers, but for now, it didn't matter. He was content.
---
The Unexpected Visitor
It wasn't long before the peacefulness of his isolated life was interrupted. One morning, while gathering herbs by a stream, Alaric heard a rustle in the bushes. He instinctively reached for the knife at his belt, his heart racing.
When the figure emerged, Alaric froze. It was a young boy, no older than ten, with wide eyes and dirty, ragged clothes. He looked lost—hungry, desperate, and far from home.
Alaric's first instinct was to turn away. He had come here to escape the world, to live alone. Yet something about the boy's eyes—the raw, helpless fear in them—stirred something deep inside him.
The boy took a tentative step forward, his voice barely a whisper. "Please… can you help me?"
Alaric stared at him, torn between his desire for solitude and his ingrained need to help. He had lived a lifetime of people using him, and the last thing he wanted was to let someone else rely on him. But then the boy collapsed to his knees, clutching his stomach.
Against his better judgment, Alaric sighed and knelt down beside the boy.
"Are you hungry?" he asked, his voice softer than he intended.
The boy nodded weakly.
---
Alaric brought him back to the cabin, where he fed the boy the small rations he had left. It wasn't much, but it was all he had. As the boy ate, Alaric watched him carefully.
"My name is Alaric," he said after a long pause.
The boy looked up, a faint smile on his face. "I'm Nico."
And with that simple introduction, Alaric's peaceful life—the life he had built to escape his past—was no longer his own.
---
End of Chapter 1
Alaric's encounter with Nico marked the beginning of a change in his solitary existence. Though he tried to maintain his distance, the boy's presence stirred something in him that he hadn't felt in years—a sense of responsibility, of care.
But Alaric knew better than to let his heart be led astray. No matter how much he cared for Nico, he couldn't allow himself to be drawn back into a life of obligation. He had already lost so much in his first life. This time, he would protect his peace at all costs.
Yet Nico, with his wide eyes and innocent smile, was truly hard to ignore. Could Alaric truly live a life without others? Or would he, despite his best and desperate efforts, become the hero once again?