There was one thing I knew for certain.
I hated my system.
I could only hope it would at least serve one purpose — to keep me alive in this cruel world.
I shook my head, trying to rid myself of the rising fury building in my chest. Thinking about it any longer would only fan the flames of my anger. I had more pressing things to focus on.
According to Michael's memories — memories that now pulsed within my mind like faint echoes of a life not truly mine — the ritual of awakening, the one where I would receive the Blessing of Apophis, wouldn't take place until tomorrow.
That gave me some time.
Time to train. Time to test the limits of this new body. Time to figure out exactly what I could do.
I silently prayed that along with Michael's memories, I had also inherited something more useful — his muscle memory. His instincts. His reflexes. Something.
I let out a heavy sigh. This situation… sucked.
This world was not meant for the weak.
And right now?
I was weak.
Pathetically weak.
But, to be fair — and so I don't just keep dunking on Michael Von Ashford — I should say at least one good thing about him.
By the end of The Chosen One novel, at the peak of his strength, Michael had become one of the ten most powerful beings to ever live.
But even then, he still got clobbered by Leon.
And lost everything.
Knock knock.
My thoughts were interrupted by a soft knock at the door.
It was Marie — the same maid from yesterday. She entered the room gracefully, balancing a silver tray in her hands.
"Good morning, young master," she said politely. "I've brought your breakfast. Also, your training session begins shortly."
I took a breath.
Act like Michael, I reminded myself.
To my surprise, it was easier than expected. His mannerisms, his tone, even the way he stood — they came naturally, like muscle memory written into the bones.
I responded with a flat, emotionless voice that mirrored how Michael used to speak.
Marie stepped forward, placing the tray on the dark wooden table in the center of the room. Without another word, she gave a respectful bow and quickly left the chamber.
The smell of breakfast drifted into my nose. A neatly arranged plate lay before me — roasted ham slices glazed with honey and herbs, warm buttered bread, scrambled eggs topped with chives, and a cup of dark, rich tea.
I stared at it for a moment, then gave a shrug.
"Well… food always comes first," I muttered and dug in.
---
After finishing the meal, I made my way through the grand hallways of the Ashford estate. The marble floors reflected the morning sunlight pouring through the tall stained-glass windows. Every corridor echoed with silence, broken only by my footsteps.
Eventually, I stepped outside into the training grounds.
It was vast — a rectangular field surrounded by thick stone walls and iron torch brackets. The grass was well-kept, but stained in places from past battles. Wooden dummies, target posts, and weapon racks lined the edges of the field.
At the far end stood a group of knights.
About twenty of them, all clad in polished armor, standing in formation like statues of iron. This was the personal guard assigned to protect me — or rather, to protect Michael Von Ashford — from any threat.
But among them, one man stood apart.
Taller than the rest. His build was monstrous — broad shoulders, thick arms like tree trunks, and a presence that commanded silence.
His face was scarred, half-burned on the right side. It looked like a fireball had tried to erase half his identity but failed to crush his spirit.
This was Longinus Drayven.
An S-Rank monster of a man.
And the only one here, besides me, who had ever been mentioned in The Chosen One — even if only briefly.
His hair was a dark chestnut brown, short and wild like a lion's mane. His eyes, golden and piercing, glowed faintly under the morning sun, as if touched by divinity.
Unlike the nameless extras surrounding him, Longinus had history. He was blessed by Ares — the god of war — and lived up to every ounce of that power.
In the original story, this man had once been so loyal to Michael Von Ashford that he'd betrayed everything — even his own safety — to help him escape Leon's grasp.
He died for that choice.
Leon had killed him without mercy.
But even so… Longinus had been a character that mattered. A man who fought like a beast, yet followed his convictions to the bitter end.
I narrowed my eyes.
This world was cruel. But with monsters like Longinus walking beside me — even briefly — I just might survive long enough to become one myself.
And when I do?
I won't let any gods, prophecies, or fate itself decide when I die.
That choice will be mine.