Darkness had enveloped the town of Kisor, save for a faint glimmer of light seeping through the scattered windows of its sparse houses. Inside a lavish bedroom, its bed nestled between shelves adorned with heavy brocade, Zidan—or rather, Ali—awoke with a muffled scream that shattered the night's silence. It was a cry laced with shock and terror, a scream from the depths of a soul that had just discovered it was trapped in a foreign body, in a world it knew nothing about.
Ali's eyes flew open to the sight of an intricately carved wooden ceiling, utterly unfamiliar compared to the plasterboard he was accustomed to in his modest Khartoum apartment. He tried to lift his hand, but it wasn't his. It was longer, slimmer, with pale skin untouched by Sudan's scorching sun. His body jolted, his heart pounding wildly as his mind struggled to comprehend what had happened. "Impossible... impossible!" he muttered, his voice hoarse and strange.
At that moment, the bedroom door suddenly swung open. A faint light spilled in from the hallway, casting long shadows across the floor. A young woman stood at the threshold, her dark hair cascading over her shoulders, her wide eyes filled with deep concern. She wore a simple yet elegant dress, her features marked by servitude.
"My lord! Are you alright?" she asked softly, taking a few steps forward.
Ali stiffened. "Who... who are you?" The words barely escaped his throat, his unfamiliar voice ringing in his ears.
The maid frowned slightly, clearly puzzled. "My lord, it's me, Leila. Have you forgotten me?" She stepped closer, her worry intensifying. "I heard a terrible scream. Has something happened to you?"
Ali trembled. Leila? The name, the face... Zidan's memories began seeping into his consciousness, pressing against his own recollections, merging and clashing. He saw Leila, his loyal maid since childhood, the first to rise in the household. He remembered her gentle laughter, her eyes that carried his worries before he even voiced them.
"Ah... Leila!" Ali said, forcing a semblance of calm into his shaky voice. "Yes, of course. I'm... I'm fine. Just a nightmare. A horrible nightmare." He attempted a smile, but it came out weak and strained.
Leila eyed him skeptically, though concern still dominated her expression. "A nightmare? My lord, you're terribly pale, and you're shaking. Should I fetch you something? A glass of water?"
"No, no, I'm fine. Just... a very disturbing nightmare. I saw... I saw enormous monsters chasing me through utter darkness." Ali quickly fabricated a story, trying to sound convincing. "It was so horrifying I screamed without realizing it."
Leila sighed in relief, some of the tension leaving her eyes. "Thank goodness you're alright, my lord. Your scream frightened me. I thought something dreadful had happened."
"Nothing, nothing but a bad dream," Ali repeated, steadying his breath. His mind raced, analyzing the situation. Zidan's body, Zidan's memories, an entirely different world. And most importantly, the Neuralink. He remembered how he had felt it when his head hit the ground back on Earth, how he had woken up here with it now an inseparable part of his consciousness—a vast library of human knowledge.
"Are you certain, my lord?" Leila asked, stepping closer to adjust the blanket that had slipped from his body.
"Yes, absolutely," Ali said, trying to regain his composure. "Thank you for your concern, Leila. You may return to your room."
But Leila didn't move. She seemed uneasy, as if something else weighed on her. "My lord, there's something else... I know it's not the right time, but there's urgent news from the north."
Urgent news? Ali perked up. Zidan's memories whispered that news from the north was rarely good. "What happened?" he asked, a hint of Zidan's authority returning to his voice.
Leila hesitated before replying in a hushed tone, "The war has begun, my lord. Duke Frederick Junis... his massive army has marched toward the Royal Duchy in the north. Rumors say his forces exceed thirteen thousand."
Ali stiffened. Thirteen thousand? That was an enormous number. Zidan's memories resurfaced, painting Duke Frederick as an ambitious and ruthless noble who had long sought expansion and control. "So... he's truly rebelled," Ali muttered, immediately grasping the gravity of the news. Thirteen thousand soldiers led by a rebellious duke, just 245 kilometers from Kisor.
"Yes, my lord. And every village and town between us and Frederick's duchy is on high alert. Messengers from the north have passed through, demanding reinforcements, but no one dares move without clear royal orders—especially since the king is struggling with other internal rebellions."
Ali sat up in bed, ignoring the pain in his body. "What about the Royal Duke in the north? Is he facing Frederick alone?"
"Not entirely, my lord. I've heard the Royal Duke has mustered his forces, but he only has half of Duke Frederick's strength. It's an uneven battle, and reports say they're struggling to hold back the attack."
Ali fell into heavy silence. Thirteen thousand soldiers... and the town of Kisor had barely eight hundred at most. Zidan's memories told him that he had been promoted to recruit more troops, but barely a year had passed since his father's death in the last rebellion. Raising eight hundred soldiers was neither easy nor quick.
"Is there any news from King Alexander?" Ali asked, probing the kingdom's remaining strength.
Leila shook her head sadly. "Nothing new, my lord. The king is weak, and the nobles' influence grows by the day. Rebellions are erupting everywhere, and the kingdom's state is deteriorating."
Ali fell silent again, absorbing the magnitude of the crisis. A crumbling kingdom, a weak king, a rebellious duke with a massive army approaching, and a small town with only meager defenses. And in the midst of it all—him, Ali Amer, a Sudanese engineer who had died in a car crash, now suddenly a baron in a strange world, responsible for an entire town.
"Leila..." Ali said quietly, regaining some composure, "have we received any recent letters from the king? Any orders?"
"No, my lord. No specific orders regarding Duke Frederick's movements. It seems the king is too preoccupied with internal rebellions to focus on this approaching threat."
Ali exhaled deeply. This confirmed his suspicions. The kingdom was in dire straits. He would have to rely on himself. "Thank you, Leila. You may go now. I need some time to think."
Leila bowed respectfully and slipped out of the room. The moment the door closed, Ali shut his eyes. This wasn't a dream. It wasn't a nightmare. This was reality—a harsh, alien reality unlike anything he had ever imagined. Yet, at the same time, there was a glimmer of hope. The Neuralink. Human technology. From the wheel to nuclear missiles. This was his trump card, his secret weapon in this primitive world.
He opened his eyes and stared into the darkness. Baron Zidan had died. Now, Ali Amer, the engineer from Earth, carried his soul in this body. And now, he had to face this world and defend Kisor. This was a challenge he had never imagined, but he wouldn't surrender. "Ali, you've gotten yourself into one hell of a mess," he whispered to himself. But this time, there was determination in his voice. This was a new beginning—the start of an unplanned life in a world whose rules he would have to learn... and perhaps change.
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