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Chapter 1 - the Strongest Swordmaster in the World

The Kingdom of Valtheron—the jewel of the north, the crown of the five continents—stood proudly at the edge of civilization. Towering stone walls, fifty feet high, surrounded the capital, carved from the black granite of the Kalthor Mountains. The royal palace rose atop the highest hill: golden domes catching the morning sun, slender spires piercing the clouds, fountains and gardens stretching across its courtyards, guarded by marble statues of ancient heroes that seemed to watch over everything forever.

Red and gold banners waved from every tower, each bearing the crowned lion—the unshakable symbol of supremacy. At night, thousands of torches lit the cobblestone streets, turning the palace into a crown of fire against the darkness. Other kingdoms looked on with a mix of awe and envy—for this was where true power lived.

And the reason Valtheron stood so high, the reason the world bowed with respect and fear… was because of one person.

The one the world called the Strongest Swordmaster in the World—Ash von Krieger, bearer of the legendary title, The Great.

A knight feared for his terrifying ice magic, whose feats were etched into history: the man who could freeze an entire city in a single night. Even the king himself, sitting on a golden throne with a diamond crown, had once knelt before him—not out of tradition or politeness, but out of pure respect.

That frozen city still stands—a towering, lifeless monument, a reminder that Ash's power could not be challenged.

That was Ash von Krieger.

But now, far from the golden domes of Valtheron, far from the glory and the cheers echoing through marble halls… in a lonely wooden cabin deep in the wilderness, something impossible had happened.

Something no one would ever believe. Not the nobles who worshiped him behind palace walls. Not the enemies who trembled when his name was whispered across battlefields. Not even the king who had once knelt so low his forehead bled.

The most feared figure across the five continents—the number one Swordmaster, a living legend who could topple kingdoms with a single swing and freeze cities with his power—had experienced something beyond human understanding.

***

Inside that simple wooden cabin, a woman lay on a small bed in the corner of the room.

Warm morning sunlight filtered through the cracks in the wooden walls, falling directly across the bed, illuminating the figure resting there.

The light touched her milk-white skin, her naturally pink lips, and her long, snow-white hair that spread across the pillow like strands of silk. She slept with the peaceful expression of a child, even letting out a faint snore, a single stray lock resting against her slightly parted lips.

The sunlight crept higher, its warmth reaching her closed eyelids. Her long eyelashes trembled slightly before her eyes slowly opened.

What appeared was a pair of eyes as blue as eternal ice—clear, captivating, and impossible to ignore.

With the morning light fully illuminating her face, she looked breathtaking—beautiful, elegant, she radiated a strange, unforgettable aura even straight from sleep. The golden sunlight made her seem like a celestial maiden descended from the heavens

The familiar wooden ceiling greeted her like every morning. Outside, birds chirped softly as a gentle breeze rustled the leaves.

The woman sat up slowly, settling at the edge of the bed.

The woman sat up slowly, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed. She wore a coarse brown sleep shirt, its rough texture visible, paired with loose cotton pants. Yet the rough fabric did nothing to hide the perfection of her figure. The shirt stretched over her full, rounded chest, outlining every curve. Her slender waist was still visible, widening softly into graceful hips. As she sat, the hem of her shirt lifted slightly, revealing a smooth line of her thigh in the morning light.

She yawned softly. A long breath rose from her chest, and she stretched—raising both arms high, her back arching gracefully like a dancer beginning the first movement of a morning ritual.

Ash—because that was her name—stood and walked toward a wooden bucket in the corner. She leaned down, scooped water into her palms, and splashed it onto her face.

The surface of the water rippled, then slowly stilled… revealing the reflection of a beautiful woman who was nothing like the person she once knew.

"I'm still not used to seeing this face…" she muttered quietly.

Seven days ago, she had broad shoulders, a hardened chest, sculpted abs, and the handsome face of a warrior.

Now, the one staring back at her from the water was a delicate woman with blue eyes that shone like gemstones.

"...Hah."

Everything was gone.

Ash von Krieger—the Great, the Strongest Swordmaster in the World—had become a woman. A true, complete woman.

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