Darkness.
For an instant, that was all Átila knew: a weightless, soundless void—until a blinding flash tore through the darkness, unleashing a surge of memories.
A crowded city skyline.A blinding car crash.A final, sharp impact.
Then—nothing.
Until now.
When consciousness returned, he gasped for air. His body convulsed, lungs burning as if awakening from drowning. He was lying on a rough, straw-stuffed mattress, the coarse fabric scratching against his skin. A heavy wool blanket, smelling faintly of herbs and smoke, was draped over him. The wooden bedframe creaked softly under his weight, its posts carved with worn, fading symbols of House Suevo. A small draft slipped in through the shuttered window, brushing cold air across his face.
Voices murmured nearby.
"…he's breathing!""By the saints, the young lord lives!"
Young lord?
Átila's eyes shot open.
Above him stood two men in medieval clothes—guards or attendants—staring at him with a mixture of awe and fear. And the room… wooden beams, tapestries, iron sconces.
This wasn't a hospital.This wasn't the future.
Before he could speak, a bolt of pain surged through his skull—followed by a flood of foreign memories.
A child learning to ride.Small hands gripping the reins, struggling to steady a pony far too spirited for his frail frame.
A boy training with a wooden sword.Swinging with determination, yet always slower, always out of breath, his chest aching after every session while the other boys laughed and ran circles around him.
A father, aging and weary, calling him Átila Suevo.A voice filled with pride but shadowed by worry—because his son, despite all effort, had always possessed a fragile body, one that doctors and priests alike could never fully strengthen.
And then—the last memory of this body.A sharp pain during morning drills, a sudden collapse, hands reaching for help as darkness swallowed everything.
"W–what…" Átila muttered, gripping his head.
A chime echoed inside his mind.
[System Rebooting…][Mount & Blade System]
A translucent blue screen materialized in front of his vision.
[Host Detected: Fragmented Soul][Status: Reincarnated into the Body of Átila Suevo, Heir of House Suevo][Cause of Previous Death: Cardiac Failure]
His heart raced—ironically, this one seemed to be working fine.
Another line appeared:
[New Objective: Assume the role of the Baron's Heir.][Warning: Baron Ulrich Suevo is elderly and growing weaker, no longer able to manage the frontier on his own.]
Átila inhaled sharply.
The truth settled over him like cold water: the original Átila had died without warning… and he had taken his place.As for the father of this body—Baron Ulrich Suevo—he wasn't on his deathbed. He was simply old, worn down by years spent defending a harsh frontier, no longer strong enough to shoulder its burdens alone.
One of the attendants dropped to his knees beside him, eyes wide with relief.
"Young master, praise the heavens! We feared you would not wake. Your father… he asks for you."
Átila steadied his breathing and pushed himself up, arms trembling from both weakness and shock.
He didn't know this world.He didn't know these people.But the translucent screen hovering before him sparked a strange familiarity—its lines, its layout, the crisp sound of its notifications.
It was the interface of a game he had played for years.
Mount & Blade.
A land of feuds, steel, alliances, ambition—and survival.
Another chime rang softly:
[First Quest Generated: Meet Baron Ulrich Suevo.][Reward: System Synchronization — 10%]
Átila's pulse steadied.
"Alright," he whispered. "If this is real… then I'll live this life the right way."
He rose slowly, but with a growing resolve settling in his chest.
Átila Suevo was gone.
But Átila—the transmigrated soul armed with a strategist's system—had just been born.
And his rise began now.