The scent of grass filled his nostrils.
Soft wind brushed against his face, carrying the sharp clang of metal clashing in the distance. Veer stirred from his sleep, still hazy with dreams and half-lost thoughts.
His eyes fluttered open.
Clean green fields. Clear blue skies. Hundreds of young men training with sword and shield.
> "Huh?"
He blinked. Then again.
Beneath the shade of a tree, he sat alone—far from the synchronized movements of at least a hundred teenage boys who moved in perfect unison, their weapons slicing through the air with rhythmic precision. Their bodies flowed like they were born for battle. Sand kicked beneath their feet. Metal sparked. Grunts and war cries echoed.
> "What... is this?"
He touched his cheeks.
No pain.
> "Weird dream..."
"Whatever. Let's sleep again."
He closed his eyes and waited, expecting to fade into black again.
Nothing.
The ground beneath him was too real. The sun too warm. The wind too fresh.
Minutes passed. Still awake.
> "No way this is a dream..."
In a sudden test, he turned toward a shield lying beside him and punched it.
A sharp sting exploded in his knuckles. He hissed in pain and looked at his hand. The skin had split. Blood was trickling out.
The shield? Bent.
> "Ow, that's... real. What the hell?"
His heart pounded now. This wasn't just a lucid dream or some strange hallucination.
It was real.
He stood up, staggering slightly. His legs felt strong—too strong. Like the body wasn't just his own anymore. Muscles moved like silk, compact and firm, as if conditioned over years of training. There was grace in his posture, strength in the way he stepped.
A youth passing by glanced at him and scoffed.
> "Tch. How did someone like you get the Sun Clan name?"
Veer didn't respond. He was still dazed, blood dripping from his hand, mind running a hundred miles per hour.
Before he could gather his thoughts, a towering man—at least 6'5", built like a mountain, with a long black beard and eyes sharp as obsidian—strode toward him.
He looked like a warrior carved from iron. His bare chest shimmered with sweat and old battle scars. His forearms were like tree trunks. Around his neck hung a heavy sun-shaped pendant made of what looked like molten gold.
"Veer!" the man barked.
He stopped just a few feet away and glared down at him.
"You might be from the Sun Clan, but that doesn't mean you get to slack off. Now pick up your sword and shield. Train."
No choice. No questions.
Veer's body moved before his mind caught up. Fear? Instinct? Muscle memory?
He grabbed the sword and shield beside him and jogged toward the formation of warriors. As he slipped into the last row, he mimicked their stances. Sword up. Shield angled. Legs bent slightly.
"One! Two! Hah!"
The instructor roared commands, and the whole group moved in unison—slashes, thrusts, blocks, pivots. Everything was sharp, practiced. Veer stumbled at first but quickly adapted, moving almost as if his body had done this a thousand times before.
And the strangest thing?
He wasn't tired. Not even after two hours.
In fact, the more he trained, the more alive he felt.
His body responded like a machine, precise and smooth.
His knuckles still bled, but the pain had dulled. Something beneath his skin pulsed faintly—warmth, energy.
> "This body's built for battle…"
"Was I really isekai'd into a warrior?"
And yet, the air here felt different too—cleaner, charged with something ancient. Something sacred.
---
Later, as the sun began its descent, Veer sat quietly near a pond behind the training field.
The reflection in the water was unfamiliar... yet mesmerizing.
His face looked... better than he remembered. Handsome. Refined. There was a radiant charm to it, like sunlight kissed his skin. Even his eyes looked brighter, almost golden under the light.
> "At least I look good," he muttered. "I wasn't bad back home, but this? Damn."
He chuckled to himself—just as a wave of searing pain struck his forehead.
> "AGHH!"
He clutched his head as memories burst through like lightning cracking through darkness.
---
⚔️ Flash
A massive white palace bathed in golden banners.
An elder in ceremonial armor blessing him.
Warriors of honor, discipline, and class.
A vast arena. Echoes of drums and roaring crowds.
And then—Rudra.
Top trainee of the Garuda Clan. Fierce. Proud. Fast.
They were mid-trial, a combat test among the youth.
Veer fought hard, dodging and matching Rudra's every strike. But Rudra lost his temper. As Veer ducked his final slash, Rudra activated internal fire energy—forbidden in such a trial—and unleashed a flaming blow to Veer's forehead.
Everything went black.
Rudra was disqualified for breaking the sacred rules.
But Veer?
Collapsed.
The last thing he remembered was the sound of panicked gasps and an instructor yelling.
---
The pain faded. The vision ended.
But the truth remained.
He wasn't just an outsider thrown into a fantasy world. He was Veer, second son of the Sun Clan King's blood brother, born into a lineage of elite warriors renowned for pain resistance, rapid healing, and radiant power tied to ancient solar mantras.
> "So I got isekai'd... into a world like Murim, but... not really. This feels more... Vedic. Ancient India?"
He touched his hand. Still bleeding. Still real.
> "And no system either?"
He whispered it.
"System. Awaken. Status. Inventory. Menu..."
Nothing.
No glow. No beep. No hologram.
Just the chirping of birds and the quiet breath of the world around him.
> "Figures. Of course I don't get cheats."
He looked back at his reflection one more time. Same eyes, new body. New name. Same soul.
> "If this is who I am now... then I better start living like it."
He stood, sword in hand.
The blood of the Sun Clan stirred within him.
And the journey had just begun.
---
[End of Chapter 1 – Under the Sun]
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