The wind screamed across the barren plain, carrying dust that stung like shards of glass.
Kael Veynar sat in a rattling carriage, its wheels grinding against the cracked earth with a mournful creak. In his hand lay the Baron's Writ of the Ashen Frontier, stamped with the royal seal — a sentence disguised as duty. His lips curled into a bitter smile.
Three months ago, Adrian Cole had been a U.S. Army lieutenant, overseeing supply chains and agricultural projects in war-torn regions. Then came the accident — a blinding flash of steel and asphalt — and he awoke in this frail body, the forgotten son of Duke Veynar.
Before he could taste the privileges of nobility, the decree arrived: exile to the Ashen Frontier, a wasteland where crops failed, bandits thrived, and whispers of monsters haunted the night.
It was no honor. It was a death sentence.
The carriage jolted, throwing Kael against the side. He pulled his cloak tighter, though it did little against the biting wind. His breath fogged in the air, and despair gnawed at him.
He caught his reflection in the polished brass of the carriage lamp — a face both familiar and foreign. Brown hair, slightly tousled from the wind. A strong jawline, lightly tanned skin, and eyes that held a quiet, calculating focus. He looked… ordinary. Fit enough, but not imposing. No scars, no grandeur. Just a man who could vanish into a crowd.
And yet, it was almost eerie how closely this body resembled his own from his first life. As if whatever force had pulled him across worlds had chosen a vessel that wouldn't feel alien.
Then, a pulse struck his mind — sharp, mechanical, undeniable.
[DANGER ALERT: The carriage driver intends to abandon you before reaching the frontier.]
Kael froze. His gaze shifted to the front of the carriage, where the driver hunched low, shoulders tense. The man's eyes flicked back too often, his grip on the reins too tight.
Adrian's instincts stirred. He wasn't just Kael. He was a soldier who had kept convoys alive in hostile deserts, who had seen betrayal in the eyes of men before. Logistics, discipline, survival — these were his weapons.
So this was his gift. Not strength, not wealth, but survival. A system that whispered of dangers before they struck.
The nobles thought they had buried him in ruin. The driver thought he could leave him to die in the wastes. But Adrian Cole had no intention of being discarded.
Outside, the wind howled like a warning. Kael's fingers tightened around the Baron's Writ. His heart beat with a strange calm, the same clarity he had felt before every mission briefing.
Exile? No. This was a challenge.
And challenges were meant to be conquered.