Kael opened his eyes.
At first, he thought he was still in the battlefield. But there was no fire, no blood, no broken moon. Instead, he saw a white ceiling above him. The air smelled strange clean and sharp, not filled with smoke.
He tried to sit up, but his body felt weak. He looked down at his hands. They were smaller. Softer. Not the hands of a warrior, but the hands of a boy.
"What… happened?" he whispered.
The last thing he remembered was the fight. The spear. The pain. The broken moon above him. And then the voice: Not the end. Not yet.
A sound pulled him back. The door opened, and a woman walked in. She looked young, maybe in her thirties, holding a tray of food.
"Oh, you're awake!" she said with relief. "You fainted outside the school yesterday. The doctor said you just need rest."
Kael blinked. School? He didn't understand.
The woman placed the food on the table. "Eat, Kael. You need strength."
Kael froze. She knows my name?
Memories he didn't recognize rushed into his head. A different life. A family. A world with strange lights, moving cars, and tall buildings made of glass. A place with no swords, no magic, no Moonheart.
It was confusing. His soul was still the warrior Kael, but his body carried the life of a boy who lived here.
That night, he stood in front of the mirror. His reflection stared back: black hair, sharp eyes, still young. He was no longer the blood-soaked king of the battlefield. He was just a teenage boy.
But deep inside, he could feel it. The strength. The rage. The instinct of the fighter. His body may be weak, but his spirit was the same.
Kael clenched his fists.
"This world…" he whispered to himself, "…I will rule it, too."