Chapter 1: Two Lives, One Dream
The world had begun twice for Ren. The first time, it was amidst the hushed beeps of an advanced medical facility, a stark, sterile environment. The second time, it was with a squall of indignant rage, delivered into a world smelling of straw, woodsmoke, and the faint, comforting aroma of baked bread. His birth in the humble Alden farmhouse in Oakhaven wasn't accompanied by scientific precision, but by the calloused, gentle hands of a village midwife and the anxious murmurs of his parents.
From the moment his tiny lungs first drew breath in this new, medieval world, something felt… *off*. It wasn't until around the age of five, when the jumbled fragments of his previous existence solidified into coherent memories, that the true strangeness became apparent. He wasn't just Ren Alden, son of a modest farmer. He was also, inexplicably, a man from a future Earth, a graduate of an **Advanced Agricultural Technology University**, who had dreamed of revolutionizing food production with sustainable, high-yield methods.
His new family was a constant source of quiet fascination. His **father, Elara Alden**, was a man of the earth, strong-backed and weathered, his hands scarred from years of coaxing life from the soil. He was quiet, patient, and spoke more to his crops than to his children. Ren admired his father's dedication, yet he couldn't help but see the inefficiencies, the back-breaking labor that could be circumvented with just a touch of future knowledge. He longed to share insights about crop rotation, genetically resilient seeds, or even rudimentary irrigation systems, but the words, the concepts, simply didn't exist here.
His **mother, Lyra**, was the warm hearth of their home, bustling and kind, her laughter like the rustle of dry leaves in autumn. She fretted over him, fussed over his meals, and worried when he spent hours gazing contemplatively at the fields instead of playing with sticks. She was the anchor, the one who made this strange, reincarnated existence feel like home.
Then there was **Aeron, his older brother**, by a full eight years. Aeron was everything a firstborn son in a farming family was expected to be: strong, responsible, already helping their father with the heaviest chores. He was protective of Ren, a quiet, watchful presence. Ren often caught Aeron watching him, a puzzled expression on his face, as if trying to understand the curious detachment in his younger brother's eyes. Ren, in turn, watched Aeron, noting his physical strength, his growing mastery of the scythe, and felt a pang of a strange, almost envious, admiration for his brother's simple, unquestioning acceptance of their agrarian life. Ren wanted that life, too, but on his own terms, with the knowledge he carried.
Every day, as he watched his father and brother toil, Ren's dream of **farming** solidified. Not farming as it was done in Oakhaven, with oxen and simple hoes, but farming as he knew it could be: efficient, bountiful, almost a dance with nature using advanced principles. He envisioned vast, verdant fields, robust harvests that could feed entire regions, and the quiet satisfaction of seeing life flourish under his informed care. This was his true calling, his deepest desire, a perfect blend of his past life's ambition and his new life's grounded reality.
The air in the Church of the Azure Light hung thick with the scent of beeswax and old parchment. Sunlight, fractured into a kaleidoscope of colours by the stained-glass windows depicting legendary saints and valiant knights, painted the stone floor. Today was the Day of Divine Gifts, a sacred ceremony where, upon reaching their tenth year, the children of Oakhaven were blessed by the Goddess Lumina with a Gift – a divine talent that would shape their future. Ren stood amongst his peers, his heart quietly yearning for the sturdy hands of a **Farmer's Gift**.
"Next," intoned Father Elmsworth, his voice echoing through the hushed church. "Ren Alden."
Ren shuffled forward, his worn tunic feeling suddenly heavy. He knelt on the cold stone before the altar, the light from the central stained-glass window – a depiction of the radiant Goddess Lumina – bathing him in a warm glow. He closed his eyes, and focused on his purest desire: fertile fields, the hum of machinery, the satisfaction of a bountiful harvest. *Please, Goddess Lumina,* he silently pleaded, *grant me the Gift of the Farmer. Let me work the land, not wield a sword.*
A gentle warmth bloomed in his chest, spreading through his limbs. It felt… powerful. More intense than he'd imagined a simple farming Gift would be. A voice, clear and melodious, yet resonating with an undeniable authority, echoed in his mind.
*"Brave soul,"* the voice whispered, a sound like the chiming of celestial bells. *"Your heart possesses a strength unseen. Your spirit yearns for purpose beyond the ordinary. I bestow upon you the Gift of the Hero."*
Ren's eyes snapped open. He stared blankly at the altar, then up at the radiant depiction of the Goddess. A Hero? Him? He'd spent the last five years dreaming of growing plump tomatoes and tending to docile livestock, not battling fearsome monsters and saving damsels in distress.
Around him, a collective gasp rippled through the other children. Father Elmsworth's eyes widened in surprise, then filled with a reverent awe. "A Hero's Gift!" he exclaimed, his voice trembling slightly. "The Goddess has chosen one among us to walk the path of legends!"
Ren felt a wave of disbelief wash over him. A Hero. It sounded… exhausting. And dangerous. And frankly, it was the exact opposite of what he wanted. He glanced at a small, freckled girl named Elara, who had just received the Gift of the Green Thumb, her face beaming as a tiny sprout of vibrant green pushed through the stone floor beside her. Envy, sharp and unexpected, pierced through Ren's confusion.
"Congratulations, young Ren!" Father Elmsworth beamed, placing a hand on his shoulder. "This is a momentous occasion! The church will provide you with guidance and training befitting your glorious destiny."
Glorious destiny? Ren thought glumly. He'd rather have a glorious patch of potatoes.
As the ceremony continued and the remaining children received their various Gifts, Ren stood there, the weight of his unwanted blessing settling upon him. The other children cast admiring glances his way, whispering about the legendary heroes of old. Ren tried to muster a smile, but all he could think about was how he was going to explain to everyone that the Goddess had clearly made a mistake. He wasn't brave. He wasn't particularly skilled at anything that seemed "heroic" in his memories. He was just… Ren. A guy who really, really wanted to be a farmer.
The path ahead stretched before him, paved not with fertile soil, but with the daunting expectations of heroism. And Ren couldn't help but wonder: how in the world was he going to get out of this?