The morning sun spilled through the cracks of the wooden shutters, casting narrow beams across the worn floorboards. Silence filled the small house, broken only by the distant chirping of birds.
Ardyn sat cross-legged, eyes closed, feeling the power thrumming in his veins. It was overwhelming—more than mortal, more than human, more than anything he had ever known. His body was that of a boy, frail and untrained, yet his soul carried the might of Kael Draven.
He stretched out his hand, willing the raw energy to obey. Threads of mana coiled around his fingers like living fire. With concentration, he compressed them into a glowing sphere that hovered above his palm.
The walls trembled. Dust fell from the ceiling. The sphere pulsed, a tangible heartbeat of power restrained only by his will.
"Even at half restraint, this would level the village," he muttered. "This power… is ridiculous."
A small smile crossed his lips. In his past life, he had fought for every inch of power. Now, it coursed through him as if the world itself had handed him a gift.
He released the sphere with a flick of his wrist. It vanished, leaving only a faint shimmer in the air. Ardyn exhaled, steadying himself. This body could barely contain him if he pushed too far. Yet that was the least of his concerns. Knowledge, strategy, and patience would be the keys to reclaiming his place in the world—and to confronting Darius Kaelthorn once more.
A sudden noise outside drew his attention. Laughter—then a sharp cry. Ardyn moved toward the door and peeked through the crack. A group of village boys had cornered Mira Elowen, the quiet healer girl from the village, and were bullying her.
Ardyn frowned. In Kael Draven's life, weakness was punished. In this one, it would be protected—but selectively.
He stepped outside.
The boys froze at the sight of him. Silver eyes glinting with something they could not name, he stood with a calm authority that belied his age.
"What's this? The sickly boy thinks he can play hero?" one sneered.
Ardyn said nothing. He raised a hand slightly, almost lazily. The air stiffened. The boys' muscles locked as if invisible chains gripped them. Panic replaced their bravado.
"Go," he said softly, every word a command.
They scrambled backward, fleeing in fear. Mira blinked up at him, awe written across her pale face.
"You… scared them away?" she whispered.
Ardyn offered his hand. "Next time, stand. Even if you're weak, never remain on the ground."
Her small hand took his, trembling, and for a moment he saw potential—raw, untapped energy waiting to be guided. Healing magic. Valuable, if honed properly.
Ardyn withdrew his hand, eyes scanning the horizon. Beyond the hills, thin columns of smoke curled into the sky. Bandits.
A small smile tugged at his lips. This world would test him sooner than he expected. And Ardyn Veyra, once Kael Draven, would be ready.