Darkness.
Cold, metallic, bitter. The taste of blood filled his mouth, and with every blink, the world blurred further. Aras stumbled back, his knees hitting the blood-soaked ground. He clutched at the blade lodged in his side, fingers trembling, strength fading fast. It was over.
The battlefield, once echoing with clashing swords and desperate cries, now lay silent. Corpses, smoke, and fire surrounded him. His lungs screamed for air, but the iron in his throat choked him.
From the edge of his fading vision, someone approached.
"You could've lived," a familiar voice said — calm, almost pitying. It was Kael.
His comrade. His friend. His betrayer.
"Come with us, Aras. They don't deserve you," Kael had told him days ago. "We can build a new order. Together."
But Aras refused. Loyalty still meant something to him back then. He believed in something… in people.
"What a fool," he thought now, blood dripping down his chin.
Kael stood above him, expression unreadable. No rage, no sorrow. Just that empty look of a man who thought he'd already won.
Aras laughed — a weak, broken sound.
"You always were a coward," he spat, coughing violently.
Kael didn't reply. He turned away as Aras collapsed fully to the ground, staring up at the ash-grey sky.
One last breath. One last thought.
"At least… I died standing."
And then — darkness.
But this darkness felt different.
Not the kind that comes from closed eyes or sleep. This one was... endless. No pain, no weight, no breath. Just… stillness.
Aras tried to think, to move, to scream. Nothing.
Is this it? Is this death?
It should've been. But then—
Thump. A pulse. Thump-thump. Another. Louder.
Not his heartbeat. Not quite. It was... distant. As if coming from somewhere else. Inside something. Inside someone.
He felt… contained. A strange warmth surrounded him — thick, muffled, like floating in dense liquid. Sounds were distant, like whispers through walls.
Time had no meaning here. Was it hours? Days? Weeks?
He couldn't move. But he was aware. More than aware. His senses sharpened in this strange cocoon. Slowly, he realized — he was growing.
Bones forming. Limbs extending. Heart beating — faster. And with that realization, fear gripped him.
No… this can't be. I'm not alive again… I'm being… reborn?
The thought was absurd. Impossible. And yet… His mind, full of past battles and pain, was now stuck in a forming body. A helpless passenger.
He couldn't escape this fate. Not now.
Then came the contractions.
He didn't know what it was at first. The pressure. The squeezing. His world was shaking — collapsing. He was being forced out. Pushed through a tunnel of heat and noise.
Then—
Light. Blinding. Harsh. White.
For the first time, he saw again. And everything hurt.
His lungs burned as they filled with air. The shock made him scream — an instinct, not a choice. He realized… he was crying.
Hands gripped him. Wrapped him in cloth. Voices, loud and chaotic, swirled around him.
"It's a boy!" "He's breathing!" "Look at his eyes…!"
He couldn't understand the words completely, but the tone was clear — joy, awe, relief.
A woman's voice choked with emotion. She whispered something as she held him close. Warmth. Her arms. Her scent.
"My son..." she whispered, "My little Aras…"
That name. His name. Given again — like fate had a twisted sense of humor.
Through the haze of sensations, Aras, the warrior, the betrayed, the dead man — smiled. Not with lips. Not with muscle. But inside.
"So this is it. A second chance. A new world." "But I'm no hero this time. No savior. Just… me."
He didn't know what kind of world this was.
Not yet.
But as he looked — truly looked — past the blur of tears and brightness, he caught glimpses.
Strange clothing. Walls made of metal and stone, smooth and clean. Beeping machines. Floating displays. This was not his old world.
And yet, it didn't feel entirely alien either.
A fusion of war and modernity. A world where blood could still be spilled — but perhaps in more sophisticated ways.
He would learn. In time. But not now.
Now, he was just a newborn, staring into a strange future… with a storm of memories behind his innocent eyes.
And in that moment, wrapped in his mother's arms, he thought:
"Let them raise me. Let them think I'm just a child." "When I grow… this world will know who I am."