The dim light of a desk lamp illuminated the study of General Alexander War, casting long shadows across the room filled with towering shelves of books.
The legendary war hero of Arkedia, once hailed as the greatest military strategist of his time, now sat hunched in an armchair, his frail hands trembling as they held a hardcover book.
The title read "Reincarnation: The Path Beyond Life."
Alexander chuckled softly, his voice rasping like dry leaves. "Reincarnation," he murmured to himself. "A concept so ridiculous, yet here I am, unable to put it down."
The door creaked open, and a young officer stepped in cautiously.
His uniform was crisp, his demeanor respectful but concerned.
"General," the officer began, "it's late. You should be resting."
Alexander waved a dismissive hand without looking up. "Rest is for the living, Markus. Let me indulge in fantasies while I still can."
Markus hesitated but stepped closer, his brows furrowed with worry. "Sir, the doctors—"
"Doctors," Alexander interrupted, closing the book with a soft thud. "Doctors cannot fight time, Markus. They wield scalpels and syringes, but time… time marches on, undefeated."
The officer nodded, unsure how to respond.
He had idolized Alexander since his academy days.
Standing before the man now, frail and aged, felt surreal.
"You look like you want to say something," Alexander said, breaking the silence.
His eyes, though dulled by age, still carried the sharpness of a man who had commanded armies.
"I…" Markus hesitated. "I just wanted to say… you're the reason I joined the military. Your victories… your strategies… you're a legend, sir."
Alexander's lips curled into a wry smile. "A legend, you say? Let me tell you something about legends, boy."
He leaned forward, his voice lowering. "Legends are just stories. And stories… they fade."
Markus frowned, clearly uncomfortable. "But Arkedia will remember you. We all will."
Alexander sighed, leaning back into his chair. "Perhaps. But memory is fragile. Kingdoms fall. Histories are rewritten. The truth, Markus, is that we fight not for glory or remembrance but because fighting is all we know. And when the fighting ends… we're left with nothing."
Later that night, Alexander sat alone, staring out the window at the stars.
The room was silent except for the faint ticking of a grandfather clock.
His mind wandered to the stories he had read over the past months stories of people reborn into new worlds, with second chances and boundless opportunities.
He chuckled to himself, the sound dry and humorless. "Imagine me, a soldier, thinking about such nonsense. Perhaps I've truly grown old."
His gaze shifted to his hands.
They were once strong, capable of wielding swords and directing troops with unyielding precision.
Now, they trembled with every movement, a constant reminder of his mortality.
"Death," he muttered. "The only war I could never win."
The following morning, Alexander's health took a turn for the worse.
The finest doctors in Arkedia were summoned, their faces sad as they examined him.
The leaders of the nation gathered by his bedside, their expressions a mixture of sorrow and reverence.
One of them, a young politician named Arlen, knelt beside him. "General, is there anything we can do for you? Anything at all?"
Alexander looked at him, his lips twitching into a faint smile. "You can stop trying to delay the inevitable. It's unbecoming."
"But, sir—"
"Arlen," Alexander interrupted, his voice firmer than it had been in weeks. "Listen to me. I have lived a life few can imagine. I've fought wars, won battles, and built a nation. But even I cannot outrun time. Accept it. Let me go with dignity."
Arlen bowed his head, unable to meet Alexander's gaze. "We'll honor your wishes."
As the room cleared, only Markus remained.
He sat by Alexander's side, the silence heavy between them.
Finally, Markus spoke.
"Sir… are you afraid?"
Alexander turned his head slowly, his eyes locking onto Markus's. "Afraid? No. Curious, perhaps. I've spent my life trying to understand the world, its rules, its order. But death… death is the one thing no man can truly understand. And yet, here I am, on its doorstep."
Markus swallowed hard, his hands gripping the edge of his chair. "Do you… do you believe there's something after this?"
Alexander's lips twitched again. "I've read stories, Markus. Stories of reincarnation, second chances. They're entertaining, certainly. But do I believe? No. I've seen too much of this world to believe in fairy tales."
"But… if it were true?" Markus pressed. "If you could live again?"
Alexander's gaze softened. "If I could live again…" He paused, his voice growing faint. "Perhaps I'd live for myself, for once. Not for a nation. Not for glory. Just… for me."
That night, the stars shone brighter than ever.
Alexander lay in his bed, his breathing shallow.
The leaders of Arkedia stood in silence, their heads bowed.
Markus sat by his side, clutching the old man's hand.
As the clock struck midnight, Alexander exhaled one last time.
The room was still.
The man who had led armies, built empires, and shaped history was gone.
------
Darkness. Silence.
Then, a faint light. Alexander's eyes fluttered open, his vision blurry.
He blinked several times, trying to make sense of his surroundings.
He was lying on a simple bed in a small, dimly lit room.
The walls were bare, the furniture sparse.
He sat up slowly, his movements unsteady.
His hands… they were steady. Smooth. Young.
"What…" he muttered, his voice hoarse. He stumbled out of bed, his legs weak but functional.
There was a cracked mirror on the wall.
He approached it cautiously, his heart pounding.
The face staring back at him was not his own or at least, not the one he remembered.
It was young, unlined, full of life.
His dark hair was thick, his eyes sharp.
"This isn't… this can't be…" He touched his face, his hands trembling. "Am I dreaming?"
The memories of his final moments came rushing back.
The bed, the leaders, Markus… his death.
"No," he whispered. "This… this is real."
He turned away from the mirror, his mind racing.
The room was silent, save for the faint noise of machinery outside.
He approached the window and pulled back the curtain.
His breath caught in his throat.
The sky was vast, filled with stars, but they weren't the stars he remembered.
They were brighter, more vibrant, scattered across a canvas that seemed almost… alien.
He sank to the floor, his mind struggling to comprehend the impossible.
"Reincarnation," he murmured, the word feeling strange on his tongue.
"It wasn't just a story."
For the first time in decades, Alexander War felt something he hadn't experienced since his youth: excitement.
A second chance.
A new world.
A new life.
His lips curved into a small, determined smile. "Very well," he said, his voice steady. "Let's see what this world has to offer."