You know how they say your life flashes before your eyes right before you die?
Yeah, that happened to me. Except it wasn't really a dramatic "entire movie of my life" moment-it was more like skipping through random channels on a TV. My old friends, my parents, my old room... and then the noise of a train horn.
And then... nothing.
When I woke up again, I wasn't in a hospital bed or staring at white clouds. I was... tiny. Everything felt massive. And my voice? Well, I tried to talk, but it came out like some kind of squeaky hiccup.
That's when I realized: I'd been reborn.
Classic Isekai move. Lucky me.
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First Year - Baby Life is Weird
For the first few weeks-months?-it was all about eating, sleeping, and... well, you can guess the third thing. My new parents were young but already looked like they worked hard for a living. My father was built like a soldier-later I'd find out he actually was one, a guard for the local lord's castle, which was apparently a day's ride away. My mother was softer in build, with kind eyes, but her hands were rough from farm work.
They named me Eryan. No middle name. Just Eryan. Honestly, I liked it-it sounded like the kind of name you could carve into the history books if you really wanted to.
I had two siblings:
My older sister, Selene (three years older), who already had this confident, bossy streak in her voice, even as a kid.
My older brother, Daevan (two years older), calmer than Selene but with that "I'm going to do something big" kind of vibe.
My father was tall and broad-shouldered, with dark hair that curled just a bit at the ends and a permanent five o'clock shadow that made him look older than he was. His deep brown eyes were steady and serious-like he carried the weight of the village on his shoulders. Mother was shorter, softer in build, with kind features and long chestnut hair usually tied back in a loose braid. A few early silver strands peeked through, evidence of years spent working hard under the sun. Selene had inherited her mother's hair but carried the same sharp, watchful gaze as Father-always alert, always ready to take charge. Daevan looked like a younger version of Father: quiet, with clear blue eyes that missed nothing.
At first, I couldn't understand a single word they said. But over time, the sounds started making sense. Different language, different world-but hey, at least it wasn't alien squiggles.
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Second Year - The Village
By the time I could waddle around without falling on my face every five steps, I'd seen enough of the place to get a feel for it. Our home was in a modest farming village called Wynstead. No more than fifty houses scattered along dirt paths, surrounded by a patchwork of fields. Chickens and goats wandered freely. People worked with their hands-no huge factories, no buzzing of machinery, just the occasional creak of a cart wheel or the clang of a blacksmith hammering metal.
They did have some tech here-sort of. I spotted carriages in the village and even heard about "city cars" that ran on something called sylore stones-yellowish, coal-like rocks that burned clean and long. No gunpowder, no firearms. Most guards carried swords, spears, or crossbows. Magic existed too, but it wasn't like every random farmer could toss fireballs-it seemed more like a skill you had to train for years.
And trains.
Oh yeah, they had trains. Big, rumbling, magical ones that ran between major cities. I'd seen one from a distance once, when Father took me along to deliver a message. I still remembered the way my stomach turned just from hearing the grinding of metal and the low hum of its enchanted engine. Didn't help that my last moments in my old life involved one.
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Growing Up - And Already Slacking Off
When I turned five, my parents started trying to teach me basic reading and counting. I'd sit at the table with a wooden board scratched with letters, my mother patiently pointing them out one by one.
It wasn't that I couldn't learn-it's just... I'd get bored. Fast. After a while, I'd start looking out the window at the people walking by or thinking about the nearest stream where Daevan sometimes fished.
Selene, of course, noticed.
"Eryan," she'd say, snatching the board from my hands, "you'll never amount to anything if you can't even read your own name."
She had this way of talking that made it sound like she was already my drill sergeant. Sometimes I'd sass back just to watch her get riled up, but mostly, I'd let her drag me back to the table.
Daevan was different. He wasn't as pushy-more like, "You'll get it when you get it." But I could see in his eyes he wanted me to keep up. He was already learning numbers and trade basics from a merchant who passed through the village.
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The World Beyond
Every so often, travelers would pass through Wynstead. Some were peddlers, others were "Explorers" from an organization called the Glass Veil Society-a group that mixed information brokering with trade and occasional expeditions into dangerous, uncharted lands.
Then there were the Vanguard Orders-knightly forces serving lords, cities, or even the royal crown. Selene was obsessed with them. She'd run to watch whenever one of their patrols came through.
Me? I thought they were cool, but... I wasn't exactly dreaming of wearing shiny armor and charging into battle. I liked the idea of exploring, sure-but on my own terms. Not because someone barked orders at me.
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The First Friend
Around six, I made my first real friend in this world-Corin. He was the son of the village carpenter, a kid who had more energy than sense. We spent most days running around the fields, pretending to fight monsters with sticks. Sometimes we'd sneak into the edge of the nearby forest and try to spot real creatures.
Monsters weren't common around Wynstead, but everyone knew they existed-dangerous beasts tended to live in designated "wild zones" far from the main villages, though sometimes, one would wander too close.
We never got lucky enough to see one up close. Probably for the best.
-
Life Rolls On
The years passed slowly but comfortably. I helped my mother in the fields sometimes, or watched Father clean and sharpen his sword before his trips to the castle. Selene kept training with a wooden blade, already talking about becoming a Vanguard knight. Daevan started making trips with merchants, learning the ropes of trade.
Me? I was... average. I could swing a sword decently thanks to Father's light training, and I'd started practicing a little magic-just enough to light a small flame or make a breeze. But I wasn't the best at anything. And honestly? I was fine with that.
At least for now.
Because deep down, I knew the day would come when I'd leave Wynstead. Whether I liked it or not.
The Festival of Bloom
The first real event I remember in this new life was the Festival of Bloom. Apparently, every spring the village celebrated the end of the frost season with music, food, and games.
I was about six at the time. Old enough to walk without tripping over my own feet, but still small enough that Selene could grab me by the collar and drag me through crowds like I was a stray dog.
The streets were decorated with garlands of white and yellow flowers. Stalls lined the main road, selling everything from grilled meat skewers to honey-sweetened bread. Somewhere in the middle of it all, a man was playing a strange stringed instrument, his fingers moving so fast it looked like magic.
"Don't wander off," Selene warned me for the third time that day.
"I'm not a baby," I muttered, even though my head was swiveling around like a bobblehead at all the sights.
Daevan was more relaxed. "If he gets lost, he'll just end up at the honey bread stall. We'll find him there."
We passed by a stall selling small wooden carvings-animals, monsters, even a few carved swords. I spotted one shaped like a wolf, the details so sharp it looked almost alive. I reached for it, but Selene tugged me along.
"Don't waste your coins. You'll just drop it in the dirt."
For the record, I probably would have.
-
The Old Storyteller
Toward the end of the festival, we gathered in the square where an old man named Master Orlen sat on a stool, telling tales to the younger kids. His voice was deep, steady-the kind that could make you forget time was passing.
That day, he told a story about a hero from centuries ago, a swordsman who fought a "Beast King" that threatened to swallow an entire kingdom. He described the hero's final battle, the clash of steel and magic, the roar of the Beast King-
And for some reason... I pictured myself in that role. Not in a serious "that's my destiny" way, but just imagining it. The rush of fighting something massive, the weight of a sword in my hand, the sound of a crowd cheering.
"Like you could ever do that," Selene whispered, catching my far-off look.
I scowled. "Maybe I could."
"Not unless you learn to read."
She always knew where to stab.
-
Corin's Bad Idea
Not long after the festival, Corin decided we should go "monster hunting." And by monster hunting, he meant sneaking out toward the forest and poking at whatever moved.
"Come on," he whispered one morning, "my dad's working on a big order. He won't notice if I'm gone."
I hesitated. The forest wasn't forbidden, but we weren't exactly encouraged to wander in alone. Still, the idea of doing something "dangerous" made my blood pump faster.
We found a small trail and followed it until the sounds of the village faded. The air smelled damp, like moss and wet earth. Every twig snap made me jump, but Corin marched ahead like he was about to slay a dragon.
After maybe twenty minutes, we found... a squirrel.
It stared at us, chewing something, before running up a tree.
Corin groaned. "This is boring. I thought we'd see at least a goblin."
"Do goblins even come out here?" I asked.
"Sometimes. My cousin said he saw one once."
"Your cousin also said he fought a giant snake bare-handed."
"...Yeah, but he could have."
We turned back before noon, empty-handed but still feeling like we'd done something big. Later, I found out my mother knew exactly where we'd gone. She didn't punish me-just made me carry buckets of water from the well for the rest of the day.
-
First Lessons in Magic
Father wasn't much of a magician, but he knew enough to teach the basics. One evening, after the sun dipped low, he brought me out to the yard.
"Close your eyes," he said. "Picture heat in your chest. Draw it to your hands."
I tried. I really did. But all I got was a faint tingling, like when your foot falls asleep.
"Good. That's mana," he said, nodding like I'd just cast a meteor. "Now shape it. Imagine it as fire."
A spark danced at my fingertips for a split second before fading. My heart raced anyway.
"That's enough for today," Father said. "Control is more important than power. We'll work on it again tomorrow."
It became our quiet routine-a little magic practice after dinner, just the two of us. I never told Selene or Daevan. Something about keeping it to myself made it feel special.
-
The First Trouble
By the time I turned seven, I'd already started getting into small bits of trouble. Not the serious kind-just enough to get an earful from my parents.
One day, Corin and I decided to race across the village rooftops. We made it halfway before a tile slipped under my foot and clattered to the ground, nearly hitting the baker's apprentice.
The baker told my father. My father made me apologize. The apprentice told everyone at the well the next day.
It became one of those stories that people laughed about, but for a week, I couldn't go anywhere without hearing, "Watch out, the roof-runner's coming through."
-
The Feeling of More
Life in Wynstead was simple, safe, and predictable. And yet... there were moments when I'd catch myself looking out past the fields, toward the distant hills, and feel this strange pull.
Like I was meant to be somewhere else.
Like the quiet life was fine... but not it.
I didn't tell anyone about it. Not Selene, not Daevan, not even Corin.
But deep down, I knew: one day, things would change.
And when they did, I wasn't going to be ready.