The wind swept across the barren, rocky ground with a sharp whisper, like echoes from the past. The morning sun had just broken over the horizon when Arka's body suddenly appeared in the middle of an unfamiliar open field, as if formed out of thin air. The scent of wet leaves, mineral-rich soil, and pure air filled his lungs—a fragrance that no longer existed in the modern world.
Arka stood still for a moment. His chest rose and fell rapidly as he looked around. There were no highways. No concrete buildings. No engines or roaring vehicles. Only low trees, wild grass, natural marble-like stones, and rolling hills stretching into the distance.
"This… isn't a dream," he murmured.
The air felt too real. The warmth of the sun was too convincing. And most undeniable of all was the sky—perfectly bright blue, untouched by pollution, like an ancient canvas he had never seen in his lifetime.
Arka closed his eyes, trying to understand what had happened. He remembered clearly: a minor accident at the workshop where he worked part-time, a burst of electricity, a strange flash of light… then darkness.
And now he was somewhere utterly irrational.
He stared toward the eastern horizon, then to the west. The contours of the hilly land seemed familiar from the historical maps he had studied. If he was not mistaken, this would one day be known as part of eastern ancient Greece—a wild land before the rise of the polis, before the birth of the great conqueror.
Before Alexander the Great.
"Eighteen years before he was born…" Arka whispered, his lips trembling.
He had not been reborn as a baby. This was his body—an eighteen-year-old's body, strong, healthy, and trained. He moved his arms, feeling the strength in his muscles. All his knowledge—modern agriculture, basic metallurgy, politics, military strategy, architecture, even an understanding of mass psychology—remained intact in his mind.
And one sentence formed clearly within him:
If the world has given me a second chance…
Then I will take everything.
Arka drew a long breath. "I will build the greatest empire in history. Not Alexander's. Not Rome's. Mine."
At that very moment, his resolve hardened like forged steel.
He pushed through the low shrubs and followed a small, clear river whose surface reflected the sunlight. Crouching down, he scooped up some water and drank. Fresh. Pure.
After walking for several hours, he noticed something—thin smoke rising beyond the trees.
"A settlement."
Arka immediately became alert. He grabbed a sturdy branch and sharpened it with a pointed stone, fashioning a crude spear. Not ideal, but sufficient for protection.
He moved closer, parting the bushes. Before him lay a small settlement—no more than twenty huts made of mud and wood. The villagers looked thin, their clothes worn and simple, their activities primitive.
The women were grinding wild grain. The men were chopping wood or catching small fish with coarse nets. There was no proper agricultural system. No storage for harvests. No clear leader.
They lived… merely to survive.
Arka saw immense potential. "If I lead them, I can lay the foundation of a kingdom."
But as he stepped forward, something happened.
A woman's scream shattered the air near the river.
"Help—! A large beast!"
Arka turned sharply. A massive wild boar was tearing through a fragile wooden fence, threatening a group of women scrambling in panic.
Three village men tried to fight it off with their dull spears, but they were too slow. The boar roared and charged.
Without hesitation, Arka moved.
His feet pounded against the ground as he sprinted forward, gripping the wooden spear he had made.
Just as the boar was about to gore one of the villagers, Arka leapt to the side and drove his spear into the back of its neck.
The first strike did not penetrate deeply. The boar shrieked and spun around, charging at him. Arka rolled across the dirt to avoid it. The beast's heavy body slammed into the hard ground, kicking up dust.
He did not stop. Seizing the momentum, he lunged again as the boar rose, thrusting the spear upward into the underside of its jaw—the weakest point.
The spear snapped in half.
But it was enough.
The boar staggered, blood spraying, before finally collapsing.
Silence.
The villagers stared at Arka with wide eyes—some fearful, others filled with awe.
Arka stood slowly, animal blood staining his hands. His breathing was heavy, yet he forced a calm smile. "It's all right. The beast is dead."
A young girl who had screamed earlier approached him and bowed deeply. Her green eyes trembled with gratitude and admiration. Her long golden-brown hair was disheveled from panic, yet her beauty still shone.
"Thank you… you saved us," she said softly but sincerely. "My name is Lyria."
Arka nodded. "I'm Arka. A traveler… from far away."
An older village man stepped forward. "We have never seen you before. But your courage cannot be denied." He looked at the others. "We must bring this young man into the village. He is our savior."
And so Arka was brought into the settlement.
Inside the central hut, they lit a fire and prepared the massive boar for food. The villagers rarely obtained meat of that size. They kept glancing at Arka, as if ensuring he was real.
The older man, whose name was Thalos, spoke. "We have had no leader since our village head was killed by bandits months ago. We are weak. Many are starving. Our land is hard, and we do not know how to cultivate it."
He looked at Arka with hope.
Arka felt his chest tighten at the opportunity before him.
"If you know how to make us stronger… if you know how to help us live better…" Thalos swallowed. "Then… lead us."
Whispers spread among the villagers. They desperately needed hope. They desperately needed someone to change their fate.
Arka stood and looked around the hut.
"If I lead you," he said firmly, "you must follow my orders without hesitation. I come from a distant land, and I carry knowledge that can turn your village into a city… and a city into a civilization."
He pointed outside. "The land out there can be made fertile with an irrigation system. The river can be controlled, creating fields that yield tons of harvest. I know how to build better farming tools, how to establish military training grounds, how to forge weapons stronger than anything you have ever seen."
The villagers stared in disbelief.
"I also know how to defeat the bandits who threaten you. We will turn this village into a center of power. And one day… we will conquer lands from east to west."
Silence filled the hut.
Then Lyria stood. "If he says so… I believe him." Her gaze toward Arka held no doubt.
Her support ignited the others.
"I believe him too!"
"If you can protect us—we will follow you!"
"We are ready to work!"
Arka gave a faint smile. "Then from this day forward, I am your leader."
Cheers filled the hut.
But Arka knew this was only the beginning. To build an empire, he would need:
• Modern agriculture
• Advanced weaponry
• Military training beyond their era
• A disciplined social structure
• Stable internal politics
• The people's trust
• And wives and concubines, as was customary for rulers of that age
He glanced at Lyria. She lowered her head, her cheeks flushed.
His smile softened. "Tomorrow morning, we begin with the first farmland."
The next day, Arka gathered twenty village men.
"We will create a modern irrigation system."
They did not understand, but they obeyed.
Using a stick, he drew in the soil:
• A main irrigation canal
• Smaller branch channels leading to fields
• Earthen embankments separating plots
• A water reserve area
• Clay lining techniques to prevent leakage
The men stared in amazement at the precision of his plan.
"You must dig exactly along these lines. Do not deviate."
Arka modified a simple shovel, widening its metal edge using heated flat stones, making it far more efficient.
"We will dig much faster with this," he explained.
Work that would normally take weeks was completed in two days.
Water from the river flowed smoothly through the main canal and into the fields.
The villagers cheered at what seemed like a miracle.
"This is… magic!"
Arka laughed. "Not magic. Knowledge."
He then designed a primitive plow inspired by modern concepts—a wooden frame fitted with a simple metal blade. With it, hardened soil could be broken open with minimal effort.
The villagers were astonished, nearly worshiping him.
Military training soon followed.
"I will turn you into the strongest force in this region," he told the young men.
They learned:
• Proper fighting posture
• Formation discipline
• Spear techniques
• Shield formations
• Coordinated attacks
He taught them about weak points in the human body, efficient breathing, and the use of momentum.
It took time—but they improved.
Meanwhile, the women, including Lyria, brought water, prepared food, and cared for the children.
Lyria often approached Arka with a gentle smile. "Perhaps you truly were sent by the gods."
He looked at her. "No. I am only a man. But I will make the world remember my name."
Days passed. The village transformed—more orderly, more disciplined, more prosperous.
Then, in the third week, troubling news arrived.
A bandit force of fifty men was approaching. Their weapons were crude, but sufficient to destroy a small village.
Panic spread.
Arka merely smiled.
"Good," he said. "It is time for our first army to taste blood."
He gathered his twenty newly trained soldiers, equipping them with improved spears, sturdy wooden shields, and a simple phalanx formation—an early version of what would later be perfected in Greece.
When the bandits arrived, they did not find helpless villagers—
—but a disciplined formation waiting in perfect order.
The battle was fierce.
Screams. Clashing wood. Spears thrusting. Arka led from the front, cutting down the bandit leader with speed and modern technique.
When the last bandit fell, victory was absolute.
The villagers praised Arka, no longer seeing him merely as a leader—but as a destined ruler who would carry them far beyond their humble beginnings.
That night, as the village celebrated, Lyria approached him.
"I… want to stay by your side," she whispered. "As… whatever you wish."
Arka looked at her for a long moment. This was only the beginning. One day he would have many wives and concubines, as imperial tradition demanded. But Lyria would always be one of the first.
"Then stay by my side," he said. "Because from here… our journey has just begun."
Lyria smiled and embraced him.
Outside, the stars illuminated the ancient sky, as if welcoming the birth of a new ruler—
A man who would rewrite the history of the world.
With his own name.