Chapter One: The Fall of the King and His Rebirth
Betrayal
The blood covered the white marble floor, forming a tragic painting of the final moments of King Reinald Arkanios, the absolute ruler of the Kingdom of Arkanios. His exhausted body could barely remain standing as the sword embedded in his back drained the last of his breath. Around him, the conspirators stood, their faces a mix of mockery and disdain.
"Your reign is over, King."
The voice belonged to Duke Valentine, his closest advisor, and the man he had once considered a friend.
Reinald tried to move, but the pain was overwhelming. He could see his personal guards slaughtered, and the traitors plundering his throne before his eyes.
This was unexpected. He was a man who could not be defeated, the continent's strongest duelist, and a ruler of a kingdom that had never lost a war under his command. Yet, this was not a direct attack—it was a carefully orchestrated betrayal.
"I dedicated my life to protecting this kingdom… but in the end, I was just a fool."
His body finally collapsed to the ground, and his eyes silently followed how the flag of Arkanios was torn and turned to ash.
Then, darkness.
When he opened his eyes, he was not in the throne room, nor in the afterlife. He was surrounded by a strange darkness, as if floating in an endless void. There was no pain, but there was no body either. Just consciousness drifting in the void.
Is this the end?
He felt something different—like an invisible force pulling him toward the unknown. He was supposed to be dead, but something didn't feel right. This was not the death he had expected.
Suddenly, the darkness began to fade, replaced by an unfamiliar warmth.
Then, there was light.
---
The cry of a newborn filled the room.
"It's a boy!"
Garien— or rather, the child he had become—slowly opened his eyes. The light was bright, and his vision was blurry. He tried to move his body, but he could do nothing but cry.
Had… he returned to life?
This was not the world he knew. The room was small but warm, and the scent of aromatic herbs filled the air. He could see a woman with silver hair tinged with white and pale blue eyes, her skin white but not pale—full of warmth—as she held his small body in her arms, tears flowing down her face.
"Honey… he's beautiful!"
There was a man standing beside her, with light brown hair, amber-colored eyes, and wheat-colored skin. His eyes carried a mix of pride and joy. He wore light leather clothing, and at his waist hung a sword covered in scratches, making him seem like a warrior of some kind.
"My wife, you've endured so much." The man said, before looking at their child and smiling. "We will raise him to be as strong as we are."
The days passed quickly, and his consciousness began to adjust to his new body. This time, he was not a king, but a child from an ordinary family—his father a former adventurer, and his mother a housewife.
But there was one thing that didn't change: his dueling skills. Even in this small body, he could feel his hands were accustomed to the sword, and his memory still held his past combat experiences.
In this life, he would not repeat the mistakes of the past. In this life, he would become stronger than ever before.