I existed in absolute darkness.

There was no ground beneath me and no sky above, leaving me without any sense of direction or physical form. I could not feel my body because I no longer possessed one; there was no breath in my lungs and no heartbeat in my chest to anchor me to reality.

Only thought remained, drifting aimlessly through an endless black void.

For a long time, I did not understand what had happened to me, but slowly, fragments of my identity began to return.

My name is Sievert. Once, I stood at the front lines of war as a commander who was feared by enemies and trusted by the soldiers who followed me into death without hesitation. I was the blade that carved through the Ashborns and the one who led humanity through its darkest hour, but that man is gone now.

In his place remains something hollow, a memory that stubbornly refuses to fade into the nothingness.

A voice echoed through the void, sounding faint at first before growing clearer. The voice pleaded for me not to worry and to continue leading the war for the sake of humanity.

Those words struck deeper than any blade ever could as I remembered her face and the way her voice trembled even as death closed in around her. I had given that order, and I had sent her to that fate; in truth, I had sent all of them there.

The darkness around me seemed to tighten, pressing in as the weight of those memories returned in full. Faces surfaced one by one, representing the soldiers who had once stood beside me with laughter and trust. All of them were gone.

The remaining soldiers had called it a victory, and the world had called it salvation, but to me, it had always felt like nothing but loss.

I tried to move or to reach for something to grasp, but there was nothing in the void. I had no body, no voice, and no escape from the thoughts clawing at my mind.

I could not tell how much time passed, for it may have been seconds or it may have been years, decades, centuries, even.

Then, something finally changed as a faint light flickered in the distance. It was small, no larger than a distant star, yet in this endless void it was impossible to ignore.

My attention fixed on it instinctively, drawn by something deeper than conscious thought.

The light vanished and then appeared again, but this time it did not disappear.

The darkness rippled and shifted until, quite suddenly, I found myself standing at the front of my classroom. Sunlight streamed through the expansive windows, casting a golden glow over the rows of desks filled with students who watched me with a mixture of genuine curiosity and quiet expectation. 

In this moment, the world felt whole again—vibrant, peaceful, and alive—as if the devastating war had never touched its surface.

I cleared my throat to draw their wandering attention and began the lecture. “After the battle against the Ashborns came to an end, the world finally began to heal. It was a brutal conflict, fought day after day, and soaked in the bloodshed of millions.”

A student in the front row raised their hand, eyes wide with interest. “Professor, who exactly were the Ashborns? And mana… is it true they created it?”

I offered a slow, deliberate nod as I considered the weight of the history I carried. “The Ashborns were not entirely unlike us, though their appearance differed significantly. As for where they truly came from, or how mana actually came to exist, that remains a mystery lost to time.”

More questions seemed to linger in their expressions, but the sharp ring of the bell cut the discussion short before they could voice them. 

The room immediately filled with the chaotic movement of chairs scraping against the floor as students gathered their belongings. I watched them depart, their voices light and their concerns so trivial compared to the horrors the world had once endured.

“Get home safely,” I called out after them, and a few offered a polite nod before disappearing into the crowded hallway.

When the room finally fell silent, I gathered my books and made my way toward the faculty office. 

The corridors were alive with the sound of chatter and laughter echoing through the halls as students spoke of their evening plans and ordinary things. I couldn't help but think that the world had truly changed. Inside the office, the noise dulled to a distant, muffled hum. 

I set my books aside, poured a glass of water, and allowed myself a single moment of stillness before finishing the work I had neglected throughout the day.

By the time I stepped outside again, the school had grown quiet, but beyond the gates, the city thrived with an energy I still found startling. 

People filled the streets, their voices overlapping and footsteps crossing paths as life continued in ways that had once seemed impossible. I walked along the familiar roads, observing the sheer liveliness around me and remembering that only twenty-five years ago, these same streets had been drenched in blood.

The memory surfaced unbidden, vivid and unrelenting in its intensity. 

I saw the city as it had been: bodies scattered across the pavement, the ground stained a deep red, and the air thick with the acrid remnants of battle. 

Back then, every single day had been a desperate struggle, and every family had lost someone they loved. The world had moved on, but I realized that I had not.

Without consciously realizing it, my steps carried me toward the graveyard. Rows of graves stretched out before me, each stone marking a life lost in the war I had once led as a commander. 

I stood among the silent dead, the weight of memory pressing heavily against my chest as I remembered exactly how they had fallen and the way they had called out in their final moments. 

A familiar tightness formed in my throat, just as it always did when I came to this place. People called our survival a victory, but to me, it had always felt like a crushing defeat.

I remained there until the sun began to set, painting the horizon in a bruised amber light. When I finally turned away to leave, the weight did not lessen; it never did. 

The cold evening air brushed against my face as I walked, and then I felt it again, a sharp, stabbing pain in my chest. It had been happening for some time now, with each instance proving worse than the last, and I found myself thinking that perhaps my end was near.

The thought came to me without a trace of fear. 

A soft glow ahead caught my attention where a bar stood, its light looking warm and inviting against the encroaching dusk. I realized I had not had a drink in a very long time, and without much thought, I stepped inside. The warmth of the interior was immediate, replacing the biting cold of the street. 

The place was modest, decorated with dark wood and scattered seating, lit by dim blue lights that cast a subdued, peaceful glow over everything.

I took a seat at the counter and ordered a whiskey, which the bartender poured for me without a word. I watched the amber liquid settle in the glass for a long moment before finally drinking. 

One glass eventually became several, and as time blurred, my thoughts grew heavier and slipped out of my reach. The world around me softened at the edges until the pain suddenly returned, stronger and more violent than before.

My breathing grew uneven, and my chest tightened as though something vital within me was failing. A deep chill spread through my limbs, and when I looked down, I saw that my hand had grown unnervingly pale. 

Still, I continued to drink. 

The glass eventually slipped from my numb fingers, shattering somewhere on the floor below as I lost my balance and fell backward. 

A hollow, distant laughter escaped me, sounding strange even to my own ears. Voices began to surround me, but they felt miles away as my vision finally darkened. 

The last thing I saw before everything disappeared was the bartender, smiling down at me.

I was back in the darkness.

A faint light flickered in the distance once more.

It pulsed, steady and inevitable, drawing me toward it as though I had no choice in the matter.

At first, the sensation was subtle, like a distant current tugging at something weightless, but then it grew stronger and undeniable.

It dragged me toward the source with a force I could not resist.

I wondered what this was as the light intensified and expanded until it swallowed everything in its glow. The darkness fractured around me as I was pulled forward with increasing speed until the void itself seemed to collapse.

Then I was falling.

The darkness remained, but it was no longer still as it rushed past me like I had been cast into an endless abyss. For the first time since this began, something close to fear stirred within me.

Then I saw them.

Figures emerged from the dark and formed out of nothing, revealing faces I knew and could never forget. My soldiers surrounded me with calm expressions and a presence so warm it made my chest, if it even existed, tighten. I could feel them now, with their hands resting against my soul steadily and reassuringly.

It seemed impossible because they were gone and I had watched them die.

Their voices rose together in a clear and unwavering chorus. "Commander Sievert, please… in your new life, live freely. Go where you are cherished. Go where you are celebrated. Go where your spirit is renewed. Go where you flourish." Their words shattered whatever composure I had left, causing confusion, disbelief, and a sensation dangerously close to hope to surge through me all at once. 

I told myself this could not be real and that it had to be a dream.

"Goodbye, Commander."

They spoke those final words as their forms began to break apart, dissolving into fine dust that scattered into the darkness. 

I tried to reach for them, but there was nothing left to reach with, and they were gone once again. 

Before I could process what had happened, another sensation cut through the void. 

It was sound, faint at first, and distorted like voices carried through deep water.

I focused on the noise, clinging to it as the only thing grounding me, and the darkness finally began to fade. Light overwhelmingly bled into my vision, and shapes formed slowly until colors followed and sharpened into something real.

A voice spoke clearly, announcing that it was a boy.

The thought of being a boy barely had time to settle before the world came into focus.

A woman hovered above me with her face close, her expression filled with relief and a joy so warm it was unmistakable. Her ash-brown hair framed her face softly, and her blue eyes held a depth that made them impossible to ignore as she held me.

Confusion hit me all at once as I wondered where I was

"Rendal, come quickly. Our Kairon opened his eyes."

Our? Kairon? 

She called out for him, her voice brimming with an emotion I couldn't quite grasp. 
Footsteps approached rapidly against the wooden flooring, and a man entered the room with a firm presence and a gaze that immediately locked onto me. 

He stepped closer, studying me for a brief moment before his expression softened into something incredibly gentle.

"Hello, son."

The word echoed in my mind, colliding with everything I had just experienced in the void. 

Then the memory of my soldiers' voices surfaced once more, telling me to live freely in my new life. I tried to look down at myself, but what I saw did not make sense. 

My body was small, far too small, as well as weak and fragile.

It seemed impossible, but understanding settled in, slow and cold. I had not survived, and I had not been saved; I had been reborn.

I became aware of my body then, small and fragile in a way that felt utterly foreign. My movements were limited, my strength nonexistent, and yet there was no mistaking the truth.

I had died. 

And now, somehow, I had been given another life.