Year 521 of the Velderian Calendar – The Night Velderia Fell
The sky was burning.
Once, the capital of Velderia had been a symbol of strength—a fortress city built atop towering cliffs, its banners of gold and crimson visible from miles away. Its walls had withstood countless sieges, its knights the pride of the continent.
Tonight, those same walls lay shattered.
The eastern gate had fallen before dusk, and the streets were now a battlefield drenched in the blood of soldiers and civilians alike. The imperial army had stormed through like a tide, their banners of black and silver blotting out the night. Screams echoed through the alleys. Fire spread unchecked, consuming homes and temples as the last remnants of Velderia's proud defenders were cut down one by one.
And at the heart of the chaos, amidst the corpses and the embers, stood a lone knight.
Reinhardt von Ardent.
His once-pristine black armor was drenched in crimson, battered and broken from hours of relentless battle. His greatsword, the Lionfang, gleamed under the firelight, its blade chipped but still unyielding. He stood upon the steps of the royal palace, his breathing heavy, his muscles screaming in protest.
He was the last.
Behind him, the doors to the palace were sealed shut. Within those walls, the royal family had already perished. The king, the queen, the young prince—all dead. Reinhardt had failed to protect them.
And yet, he still stood. Not as a knight upholding his vows, but as a warrior awaiting his end.
The enemy approached, their footsteps echoing against the stone. The imperial soldiers hesitated, their eyes filled with both awe and fear. Even now, even alone, the Black Lion of Velderia was a sight to behold.
Then, a single voice cut through the silence.
"You fight like a man with nothing left to lose."
A towering figure stepped forward from the ranks—General Karel, the Blade of Lormund. Clad in silver armor, the imperial warlord was a legend in his own right, known for razing entire kingdoms in the empire's name. He studied Reinhardt with an almost solemn gaze.
"Lay down your sword," Karel said. "Velderia is finished. There is no honor in dying for ghosts."
Reinhardt exhaled slowly. He could feel the weight of exhaustion pressing upon him. His arms ached, his wounds burned, his vision blurred at the edges.
But surrender?
That was never an option.
With one last effort, he raised his greatsword. The motion was slow, deliberate. The flames flickered against the steel.
"If Velderia dies tonight…" Reinhardt murmured, his voice like steel, "then I shall be its final roar."
Karel sighed. "So be it."
The battle lasted mere minutes.
Reinhardt was a master of the sword, but even he was mortal. His movements, once precise and overwhelming, grew sluggish. His strikes lost their strength. His breath came in ragged gasps.
And then, at last—a blade pierced his chest.
Reinhardt staggered, the world spinning as searing pain tore through him. He fell to one knee, the taste of iron flooding his mouth.
Around him, the imperial soldiers watched in silence. Even Karel, his blade still embedded in Reinhardt's torso, did not move.
The Black Lion had fallen.
Slowly, Reinhardt lifted his gaze toward the ruined city. The fires burned endlessly, devouring everything he had sworn to protect. In the distance, the palace crumbled, its towers collapsing in a cascade of stone and dust.
This is how it ends…
As darkness consumed his vision, his last thought was not of regret—only a single question that would never be answered.
If I had been stronger… could I have saved them?
Then, there was only silence.
---
Year 874 of the Second Imperial Era – A Forgotten Legend Awakens
Darkness.
That was all Reinhardt had known for what felt like an eternity. No warmth, no pain, no sound—only an endless void where even time had lost its meaning.
Had he died? No. He knew he had died.
His last memory was of the kingdom burning. Of his sword breaking. Of the enemy's blade piercing his chest. His oath as the kingdom's protector had ended in failure.
And yet—
A voice shattered the silence.
"O great hero, we call upon thee! Answer our summons and return to this world!"
A force—cold and unfamiliar—grasped at Reinhardt's soul, wrenching him from the abyss. His body felt weightless, yet unbearably heavy.
And then—
Light.
Blinding. Overwhelming. A burning sensation coursed through his limbs, forcing him back into existence. He gasped, lungs filling with air for the first time in centuries.
He was breathing again.
His body collapsed onto cold stone. His fingers twitched, grasping at nothing. His heart pounded against his chest, confused, frantic, alive.
Where… am I?
"You! You're awake!" a voice exclaimed.
Reinhardt lifted his head. The world swam before him—flickering torchlight, shadows against ancient walls. A group of men in robes stood before him, their expressions wavering between awe and terror.
One among them, an elder with a long silver beard, stepped forward.
"The summoning was a success…" the old man whispered. "Are you the hero of legend? The Lion of Velderia?"
Velderia.
That name struck Reinhardt like a hammer to the chest. Slowly, he pushed himself up. His body ached, but it moved as if it had never forgotten. Instinctively, his hand reached for a sword at his hip—only to grasp at nothing.
His blade was gone.
"What year is this?" Reinhardt asked, his voice hoarse.
The scholars exchanged uneasy glances. "It is the Year 874 of the Second Imperial Era."
Second Imperial Era…?
The last time he had stood on the battlefield, it had been Year 521 of the Velderian Calendar.
Over three centuries had passed.
Velderia was gone.
His kingdom, his king, his comrades—everything he had sworn to protect—erased from history.
A hollow emptiness settled in his chest. He had been called back from the abyss, but for what purpose?
"I ask again," Reinhardt said, his voice cold. "Why have you summoned me?"
The elder swallowed hard. "The empire grows ever more tyrannical, and the resistance is failing. We sought to bring back a hero—a savior from the past—to lead us."
A hero? Reinhardt almost laughed.
He was no hero. He was a knight of a fallen kingdom, a relic of a forgotten era.
And yet… he was here.
Alive.
The weight of existence pressed against him, demanding an answer. Would he simply fade into obscurity once more?
Or would he carve a new path in this unfamiliar era?
For now, only one thought burned in his mind—
He needed a sword.
---
To Be Continued...