Darkness. Silence. A void without end.
Escanor, the Lion Sin of Pride, had long since accepted his fate. His final stand against the Demon King had been nothing short of glorious, and he had given his all to protect his comrades. He had no regrets. As his body disintegrated into golden embers, he felt warmth—not the overwhelming heat of his power, but a gentle, soothing embrace.
He had expected nothingness. Instead, he opened his eyes to a sky unfamiliar to him.
A bright sun hung overhead, yet it did not fill him with the overwhelming power he had once wielded. The warmth was there, but it did not command his strength. He was lying in a field of golden wheat, the soft breeze carrying the scent of nature untamed. Sitting up, he looked down at his hands—his arms were thin, weak, lacking the bulging muscles he once prided himself on.
"What is this…?" Escanor murmured, his voice lacking its usual grandeur.
He stood up, staggering slightly, and realized something else—he was much smaller than before. No longer the towering warrior of midday, nor the frail man of midnight. He seemed to be… young. A boy no older than ten.
A wave of confusion hit him. Had he been reborn?
"Hey! You okay over there?"
A voice called out, breaking him from his thoughts. Turning, Escanor saw a woman and a man approaching, both wearing simple farming clothes. The woman, a kind-looking lady with short brown hair, hurried over to him.
"By the stars, a child! Where did you come from?" she asked, kneeling beside him.
Escanor blinked. A child? He looked down at his hands again, truly seeing them for what they were—small, frail, unscarred by battle.
"I… don't know," he admitted, choosing his words carefully. "I think I was lost."
The man exchanged glances with the woman before sighing. "Well, can't leave you out here alone. What's your name, kid?"
He hesitated for only a moment. "Escanor."
The woman smiled warmly. "That's a strong name. I'm Mira, and this is my husband, Rowan. We run a farm not far from here. You hungry?"
His stomach chose that moment to growl. Though the feeling of hunger had long been forgotten in his past life, it seemed his new body had no such luxuries. He gave a small nod.
Rowan laughed. "Come on, kid. Let's get you fed."
Days passed. Then weeks.
Escanor had been taken in by Mira and Rowan, who treated him as if he were their own. They lived in a peaceful village near the Forsaken Region of the Clover Kingdom, a land filled with common folk struggling to get by.
At first, he was content with his new life. The simplicity of waking at dawn, helping with the farm work, and eating hearty meals had a certain charm.
But something was missing.
Magic.
Escanor had observed the villagers using magic in their daily lives—lighting fires, moving water, strengthening their crops. It reminded him of the powers wielded by the Holy Knights of his old world. He, too, could feel something within him, a lingering warmth. However, he lacked a grimoire, and without one, he was no different from an ordinary child.
Still, that did not deter him. If he was to exist in this world, he would not be weak.
And so, he trained.
Each day, before the sun rose, he would run through the fields, lifting small logs as weights, practicing the combat forms he remembered from his past life. His body was still that of a child, but he was growing stronger.
Then, one fateful afternoon, something changed.
The village was peaceful—until it wasn't.
A group of bandits, clad in tattered cloaks and wielding rusted weapons, stormed through the streets, looting food and coins from helpless villagers. Some had minor magic abilities, but they used them for cruelty, setting fire to homes to force people into submission.
Escanor stood in front of Mira and Rowan, his small hands clenched into fists. He had no power—no magic—but he refused to cower.
A burly bandit with a jagged scar over his eye sneered down at him. "Out of the way, brat."
Escanor did not move.
The bandit scowled and raised his fist. "Fine. Have it your way."
The punch came fast—but before it could connect, something deep within Escanor awakened.
Heat surged through his veins. His body trembled, not with fear, but with power. He felt… stronger. The moment the bandit's fist connected with his cheek, there was a loud boom—and the man was sent flying backward, crashing into a cart.
The village fell silent.
Escanor stared at his hands, now glowing faintly with golden light. It was weak, nowhere near the peak of his former strength, but it was there. His magic. His power.
"W-What the hell?!" Another bandit stammered.
Escanor raised his head, eyes burning with a familiar radiance. A grin stretched across his face, reminiscent of the proud warrior he had once been.
"I believe," he said, his voice carrying the weight of the sun itself, "you were about to leave."
The bandits hesitated. Then, without another word, they scrambled away, disappearing into the forest.
The villagers cheered. Mira and Rowan rushed to Escanor's side, concern and awe in their eyes.
"That light… Escanor, do you have magic?" Mira asked.
He looked down at his hands once more. The glow had faded, but he could still feel it deep inside.
"…Yes," he whispered.
It was weak. Unrefined. But it was there.
And in that moment, he knew.
This world may not have been his own. He may not have been the man he once was.
But the power of the sun still burned within him.
And one day, it would shine brighter than ever.