Kion woke up lying in a sea of grass.
He sat up, trying to shake off the groggy feeling that pooled in his head. He clutched his temple, and brought back blood-stained hands where his fingers touched.
Based on the nature of his concussion, the wound should have been gushing blood, but he already seemed to be healing. He could feel his flesh mending together at the spot where the mercenary's cuffed fists had collided with his skull.
He wasn't sure what was happening, or where he currently was, but the air smelled different.
The skies above were clearer than anything he'd ever witnessed. He seemed to be on a hill, fields of green stretching for as far as the eyes could see. There was something almost too mesmerising about the place, almost like he was in a dream.
That was the only plausible explanation, but that realisation settled yet another cold feeling in his gut.
Ever since he'd reincarnated, he hadn't ever dreamed without one person being involved.
"You keep getting yourself knocked out."
Kion heard a cold, deep voice from behind him, and quickly turned around to come face-to-face with his ancestor: Tyril Everglade.
The legend who saved Stormholt and single-handedly rebuilt the bloodline.
A towering elf with pale blue skin and a face that perfectly matched Kion's, something that the latter found quite unnerving.
"May I?" The elf stretched a hand. Kion flinched a little at the initial prospect of a trick, but eventually gave in as Tyril's fingers grazed his temple, causing the wound to heal much faster.
In mere seconds, it was as if he hadn't even been attacked in the first place.
"Why do you keep appearing to me? What do you want?" Kion asked after a moment's hesitation.
"Oh. I imagine your trusted wizard didn't tell you about me?" Tyril retorted, his tone monotonous.
"Not enough apparently. It's not his fault though. I didn't tell him much about you."
"I see you haven't abandoned that secret-keeping habit of yours. What happened to turning a new leaf in a new life?"
"How did you—"
"—know that you're a reincarnated soul figment that has possessed this alternate version of you in this alternate reality? Well, what kind of spirit guide would I be to not recognise an impostor in my progeny's body?"
"I'm not an impostor. And did you say spirit guide?"
Tyril did a little bow.
"In the flesh, your highness."
***
"I don't remember having a spirit guide." Kion said as he paced back and forth.
Tyril raised an eyebrow.
"You can't have a spirit guide when you haven't awakened yet. A fate that you were doomed to in your last life until you entered leagues with that goddess. Am I correct?"
"I didn't enter leagues with anyone. She wanted to give me another chance. In return, I only promised her and myself that I'd get stronger."
"Getting stronger and reaching the divine realm are two entirely different things, young blood. Thea had never been straight with her words."
"What the fuck does that mean?"
"It means that that goddess is a snivelling wretch who would take advantage of anyone the moment she gets her chance. I believe my message was clear in our last meeting."
"You mean the meeting where you almost got me killed?"
"The meeting where I saved you from the impending doom that was brought upon you by the machinations of your own nightmares."
Kion stopped pacing about, frowning for a brief second.
"I thought you were the one causing those nightmares."
"I wasn't, young blood. It was your power that even brought me there in the first place."
"Wait, I don't understand."
Tyril heaved a deep breath.
"Alright, since your wizard couldn't care less to brief you on spirituality, I suppose it's up to me to bring you up to speed."
Tyril spent the next few minutes explaining Kion's spirituality to him, a conversation which was a huge eye-opener for the young prince.
Apparently, Tyril had bonded with him spiritually during his awakening as his spirit guide. Something Kion was already aware of.
As for his reincarnation, Kion learned that this wasn't a previous version of his world like he'd originally thought, but a completely alternate version of it. One where he was a second, half-blood, bastard prince born to a disgraceful mother.
This explained the subtle differences in the landscape and progression of this world. It was virtually the same as his former one yes, but this one came with a unique yet oddly similar series of challenges he had to conquer.
Meaning that Thea had just taken his soul figment and planted it in an alternate version of himself. She had lied to him, but the real question was not about why she lied, but about why she was doing whatever she did in the first place.
Then there was the 5000 year-old Great War.
Tyril claimed that the remembered memory of the war that Kion had read about was factually incorrect in so many ways, but the real memory was something that could only provide the answers he needed.
"The good news, young blood," Tyril said as he circled Kion. "Is that I was alive during the war."
"So you can tell me more about it and the role she'd played in that war."
"You didn't wait to hear the bad news." Tyril interjected.
"And what's that?" Kion asked.
"A Spirit guide's memories will only grow the stronger their spirit mentee gets. I do not currently have access to those parts of my memories because you're still a weakling. If you want to know more of the truth, you'll have to get stronger."
"I'm on that already."
"You're taking too long, young blood."
"It's Kion!" Kion got up abruptly, staring Tyril eye-to-eye in a smouldering gaze.
Tyril returned the intensity, inching his face closer tans bringing his voice down to a mere breath as he whispered in Kion's right ear.
"Well, Kion. You HAVE to get stronger. I haven't been familiar with you for too long, but I know you feel the bloodlust I feel. Use it, and you'll find your way amidst the storm."
Tyril turned and began to walk away, his silver armour clinking in his wake.
"I would have ascended by now if my pills and scrolls weren't stolen!" Kion screamed after him, but Tyril kept walking towards the horizon, his form shimmering as he slowly began to disappear.
"Feed the bloodlust." He said one last time before his body melted, along with the world they were in. Soon, Kion found himself wrapped in unending darkness.
Not this again…
Kion thought to himself as he wondered what he would do from there.
All of a sudden, Tyril appeared out of nowhere with a wooden bucket filled to the brim.
WAKE UP!
The elf screamed at his face, dousing him head to toe in icy cold water.
***
Kion's eyes shot open to see his brother shaking a wooden bucket above his head, the last droplets of water sprinkling over his eyes.
"Hello, half-brother."