The sky stretched endlessly above, its hues shifting like a living canvas. Amid pale clouds, a vivid orange streak cut through, standing out against the muted backdrop. This vibrant slash seemed to capture a day about to break into something new. The air held a silent promise, heavy with anticipation, as if holding its breath for what might come.
A cool wind moved across the land, making cloaks flutter and rustling tall grass and distant trees. Each gust carried the scent of loamy earth and fresh green leaves, making the world feel vibrant. The ground showed its age with uneven stones worn smooth and soil darkened by old rain. Footsteps sounded soft and faded quickly in the open.
Light broke through the clouds in patches, casting long, strange shadows. Where sunlight reached, the land looked softly golden; in the shade, everything turned gray and blue. The mix made the place feel unreal, halfway between dream and wakefulness.
Far away, faint shapes of buildings or maybe mountains stood against the horizon, their outlines blurred by mist. Amidst them, a lone crumbling spire jutted up, its structure precarious but sharply outlined against the hazy backdrop. They seemed silent and ancient, as if they had seen many stories happen below without ever getting involved. Somewhere in the distance, a low, unclear sound echoed. It could have been wind on stone or an animal's call, hard to tell, but hard to ignore.
From a distance, the outline of a lone house was visible. Suddenly, a gasp echoed from inside the house. The sound was sharp, alive, cutting through the stillness. Inside, a boy jolted up from the floor, breath heavy, sweat streaming down his face, as if waking from a terrible dream. His hands gripped his chest, trying to calm a racing heart.
"Where am I?" He said in a panicked tone, still trying to catch his breath.
"I was... and then I," he said, struggling to remember what had happened. Suddenly, he clutched his head as a series of intense thuds seemed to pound inside his skull, as if multiple people were hitting him at once. Whether it was a surge of magic or some fierce release of trauma, the cause was as mysterious as it was painful, leaving him disoriented and overwhelmed.
He recalled memories of a life he never lived: names he never heard, places he never saw, and emotions he never felt—the cruelty of a life that wasn't his.
He clutched his head and rolled uncontrollably, his face twisting in agony as if jolts of electricity shot through his brain. He gnashed his teeth, a strangled cry escaping his lips, hands digging into his hair as he rocked back and forth in raw pain, eyes squeezing shut with each surge.
After a while, the boy pulled himself up and stood.
"Valen Morcant, huh? Not a bad name." He said, as he took his hand from his head, the pain had now reduced significantly.
"It seems I was reincarnated into this body," he said. Upon noticing a bucket of water at the side of the room, he walked over and peered into it. "His looks aren't bad," he commented, studying his reflection. He touched his chin and tilted his head from side to side, assessing his new appearance: an unfamiliar but undeniably handsome face with clean features and an expression both calm and distant. His sharp, clear eyes held a quiet awareness he did not recognize. Still, he frowned at his thin frame. "But I look like I haven't eaten in days, and my body is frail and scrawny," he added, dissatisfaction clear on his face.
As he checked his reflection, the door suddenly flew open with a bang.
"Yeah, I reckon that brat should've been dead by now," a gruff voice joked as he entered. "You'll have to explain this to the Aegis Primarch," another voice said, more formal and clipped as both entered.
Just as the conversation ended, the two intruders noticed Valen standing at the side of the room, watching them with a blank expression. The newcomers were knights, clad in silver-colored armor and carrying swords at their hips.
"Huh?... aren't you supposed to be dead? How are you still moving?" the first knight said with a surprised yet subtle expression.
"Hah, maybe you didn't beat him hard enough." The other said laughingly
Valen stayed silent, standing still and expressionless, as if looking through them.
"Hey, I asked you a question," the first knight said, this time with an irritated look on his face.
"Give the kid a break, maybe he is just about to shit his pants because of your intimidating look," the second knight said.
"If you won't answer, I'll just have to make sure the job is done right this time," the first knight said as he began to reach for his sword, hand gripping the hilt and starting to draw it from his hip.
Valen still didn't move, continuing to stare blankly at them.
As soon as the knight pulled out his sword, his movement froze mid-action, as though time itself had stopped for him. Valen remained standing, expressionless, seemingly unmoved by the unnatural event unfolding before him.
"Huh?" the second knight said, confused as to why his accomplice was standing there instead of moving to finish what he started.
The second knight stretched out his hand to tap him on the shoulder, "Hey.. what are you just standing-" just as his hands touched him, blood immediately began gushing out of the first knight's body as he dropped to the floor. The hot, coppery scent filled the room, a sharp contrast to the place's stillness. Valen watched, detached, as if the scene belonged to someone else's story, his mind noting the vivid red pooling around the fallen knight.
Confused, scared, and shocked, the second knight dropped to his knees, eyes wide and mouth trembling. His hands shook uncontrollably as he struggled to comprehend what had happened, words catching in his throat before he finally managed, "H-hey. w-what did you do?" His voice quavered, desperate for an answer, chest rising and falling rapidly as panic overtook him.
After some time, Valen spoke just a single word, "Disgusting," and just as he finished saying that, blood began gushing out of the neck of the second knight.
"-N-no.. plea- he" the second knight tried speaking, but his death had already been written in stone.
Valen stood there without saying a word, his fist clenched in the silence of the empty house. His face now twisted in anger and disgust at the knights he had just killed.
The anger that he felt at that moment wasn't one that was meant for the soul within Valen's body, but one meant for the original owner of the body his soul was in.
'This anger I feel right now was meant for Valen, not me...to think these pieces of shit could pass for human beings, let alone knights, is absolutely disgusting." Valen said, his fist tightening.
He had seen a painful and abhorrent scene within the memories of the original Valen, his mother being assaulted by a group of knights all wearing smiles on their faces, all mocking while at it, before brutally killing and dismembering her, then taking her head and placing it on a stake and setting it on fire.
He could remember the faces of these two knights as part of that group of knights.
"I wish I hadn't granted them a swift death," he whispered to himself as he unclenched his once-tightened fist.
After some time, he walked out of the house.
He stood and looked at the scenery of endless green in front of him, the grass stretching in every direction like a living sea, gently rippling under the soft caress of the wind. From his vantage point atop the small hill, the horizon seemed to stretch on forever, kissed by the golden light of the sun, and the air carried a faint, earthy freshness that filled his lungs with each breath.
He looked backward, but he could only see his small house on this small, lone hill. As he continued to stare, frustration built inside him, jaw tightening and hands flexing unconsciously. He couldn't understand why he felt such strong anger; each glance at the house made the sensation worse, a heavy knot in his chest that he couldn't explain. There was no doubt that the anger within him was targeted at the house.
"I need to calm down," he said while holding the wrist of his second hand, trying to calm himself down.
"Valen still has some unfinished business with the house?" he asked in confusion as he looked at the house curiously.
"Well, sorry, Valen, I did all I could, but I have my own business to deal with, so just lend me your body for a bit, okay?" He said, placing his hand on his chest as if trying to talk to the original Valen.
Suddenly, Valen saw a bright light behind him. It appeared in front of the house's door. He covered his eyes from the intense ray it was emitting.
The light finally dispersed, and Valen took his hands off his eyes only to see a group of men standing where the burst of light had been. In front of the group stood a behemoth of a man clad in polished silver armor, a crest boldly engraved upon the breastplate—an imposing sigil shaped like a tower shield split by a vertical blade. The metal reflected the fading radiance like a mirror, each edge pristine, each plate layered with deliberate craftsmanship.
He stood broader than the other knights, his presence alone commanding the space around him. A heavy cloak draped from his shoulders, its fabric dark and weather-worn, fluttering slightly in the lingering air. Beneath the open visor of his helm, a stern, battle-hardened face was visible. His eyes were sharp and unwavering.
Behind him, the other knights stood in disciplined formation, their own silver armor dulled by comparison, weapons held at rest yet clearly ready.
Seeing this, Valen could not move an inch under the man's immense pressure. His knees almost buckled as a chill ran through his body, skin prickling and breath catching. His heart raced in his chest as sweat beaded on his brow, every muscle frozen by the overwhelming aura before him.
'Who the hell is this guy?' Valen thought to himself as he began to try to move his body.
Suddenly, Valen felt a sense of déjà vu; his vision blurred, and his legs faltered. A wave of dizziness swept over him as he fought to keep standing, fingers clutching helplessly at the air for stability. Panic flickered in his eyes as his body refused to obey, leaving him powerless.
He began to lose consciousness, but before he could, he caught a glimpse of the man's unwavering look, his eye locked onto him, and he began to approach Valen.
"N-no... not a-gain," he said as his feet finally gave out and he passed out cold.
"Go pick him up, we are taking him with us," a voice said.