"No! It's too soon, I refuse to die like this!" I belted. We were so close — victory was within arm's reach. All of our efforts can't be for naught! My comrades, who gave their lives for me to be here, for me to have this one final chance… and yet I fail at the last step?
All I had left to do was win the war and kill the Emperor with the opening they gave their lives to create.
But here I am, bleeding out, with nothing but the anticipation of death to greet me.
"It was a good effort. Hell, it was a great effort," the Emperor sneered. "But you will die here. And Nortis will be mine. You'll be remembered not as a hero, but as the weakling who failed a nation."
"Damn you!" I snarled. "You won't get away with this! The boy of prophecy will come for you one day! He will be unlike anything you've ever encountered!"
"Yes, maybe," he said with a smirk. "But you were supposed to be the boy of prophecy, weren't you? And look at you now — squirming in anguish at my feet like the rodent you are."
My wounds were getting worse. My vision blurred. My breathing slowed. I was dying. Failing.
I always hated that saying — the one about your life flashing before your eyes when death neared. But as I lay there, soaked in my own blood, I saw them. Memories. Childhood games with wooden swords. My first real duel. The day I earned the title of Sword God. Every moment rushing back to me.
It was almost… comforting.
Until I saw memories that weren't mine.
Scenes I had never lived. A woman's laughter. A man's voice calling out a name I didn't recognize. A cottage on a green hill.
What is this?
The lights twisted and contorted. Faster. Brighter. Then a single white light consumed everything—
And then I died.
"Congratulations to you two! It's a boy!"
Huh? I thought. Where am I? Who said that? My vision was starting to clear. I was in some strange wooden room with three other people.
"Oh honey, he's so cute! Come here, little Ajax!" exclaimed a young woman.
"He has your green eyes, Jasmine," said a man sitting beside her.
Why am I being talked to like a baby? Why am I being called Ajax? I wondered as I reached for my sword. At least my vision had cleared up now. In the corner of my eye, I noticed something.
My arms were short. My legs were short. And my sword was gone.
I was a baby.
There was only one possible explanation: I had died and been reincarnated.
I surveyed the room and the people in it. The outfits they wore were simple, rural — unlike anything I'd seen in Nortis or Eterna, the great cities of my past life. No insignias, no family crests. Just honest clothes in a wooden house that smelled of herbs and smoke.
Wherever I was… it wasn't the world I knew.
The month that followed my rebirth was miserable, to say the least.
I had no control over my limbs. My strength was laughable. But worst of all?
I couldn't control my bodily functions.
The former sword god of Nortis, reduced to a squirming infant who cried after soiling himself. It was shame in its purest form. And every time it happened, Jasmine — my new mother — would giggle and coo at me.
"Did wittle Ajax have an accident?" she'd sing. Yes, woman. I did. Now please spare me the humiliation.
But the humiliation didn't last forever. At two months old, I faced my first real challenge — playing with the family dog. Or, more accurately, being mauled by the energetic beast while lying defenseless on a wooden bench.
I slipped off the edge and landed hard, scratching my knee.
It hurt. Not terribly, but enough for a wail to escape my tiny lungs.
Jasmine rushed over immediately. "Oh gods, are you okay?" she said, placing her hand gently on my knee.
And then… she glowed.
Her palms emitted a soft green light. Warm. Gentle. Healing.
In seconds, the pain vanished. The scratch disappeared without a trace.
"Showing Ajax healing magic, huh?" said Cassian — my father — as he entered the room, arms crossed, a faint smile on his face.
Healing magic? Magic existed here?
Where the hell was I?