Heat returned first.
Not warmth. Heat. Dry and heavy, pressing against his face and chest. Dias inhaled sharply and
sat upright on instinct, one hand flying toward his side.
No wound.
No blood.
He blinked hard and looked around.
Sunlight filtered through gaps in a cracked wooden roof. The room smelled of old dust, clay,
smoke, and age. A faded woven mat lay under him. The walls were rough and partially
collapsed. He was in a ruined house, not a parking structure. Not Sweden. Not even remotely
close.
His body felt different.
Lighter and stronger at the same time, as if every muscle had been rebuilt around hidden
currents of power. Something alive moved under his skin. Not sickness. Not fever. Energy.
Dense. Coiled. Waiting.
Dias rose slowly. Across the room, a fractured bronze mirror leaned against a wall. He stepped
toward it and froze.
White hair.
Golden eyes.
A scar over the left eye, sharp and pale against dark skin.
The face was not the one he was born with.
And yet somehow, impossibly, it was still his.
A translucent interface unfolded in front of him in neat lines of blue-white light.
[ASTRA - Strategic Evolution Assistant
Initialization complete.
Chronological placement: Year 1800.
Regional location: Horn of Africa.
Body synchronization: stable.]
Dias stared at it for several long seconds.
"I got murdered and reincarnated with software," he said flatly.
A calm feminine voice answered inside his mind.
[Correction. I am not software. I am a strategic evolution intelligence linked to your current
existence]
Dias leaned one hand against the wall and laughed once. "That sentence explained nothing."
[Would you like the brief version or the accurate version?]
He blinked. "You do sarcasm?"
[I do efficiency]
Despite himself, Dias smiled. "Fine. Brief version."
The interface shifted.
[Name: Dias S. Munroe
Lineage: Vandal Savage / Munroe Royal Bloodline
Traits: longevity, regenerative adaptation, energy manipulation potential
Status: awakened]
His smile vanished. "Say that again."
[You currently inhabit a body descended from Vandal Savage and a branch of the Munroe line.
Your physical template includes an enhanced survival profile and an advanced energy affinity]
"And the year?"
[1800]
Dias turned away from the mirror and walked outside through the broken doorway.
The world beyond stole the rest of his breath.
Wide grasslands rolled toward distant hills. Acacia trees bent slightly in the wind. The air was
hotter, drier, and cleaner than anything he had known in Sweden. Somewhere far away, he could
hear the ocean. Birds crossed the sky in loose arcs above the ruined settlement around him.
Africa.
Somalia, if the system was right.
He stood there for a long time, letting the impossible settle.
Then his old instincts returned.
Assess the environment. Inventory the assets. Define the threat. Build the response.
"Tell me everything you can," he said.
Astra answered at once.[Current world state includes converged historical and superhuman
anomalies. Local region remains politically fragmented but culturally resilient. Future colonial
pressure probability is high. Long-term survival without intervention is not recommended]
Dias narrowed his eyes at the horizon. "So even in another life, history is still trying to ruin my
continent."
[That is a reasonable summary]
He knelt and touched the ground.
The energy inside him responded instantly.
Golden lines spread beneath his palm, etching spiral patterns into the dust and stone. They were
geometric and instinctive all at once, as if part of him already knew how to shape them. The
ground hummed beneath his hand.
Astra was silent for a moment. Then:
[Interesting. Your sealing response is emerging faster than
projected]
Dias looked at the glowing pattern and felt something fierce settle into place inside him.
"Good," he said. "I don't need a second chance just to survive."
He rose slowly, watching the first seal fade into the earth like a promise.
"I need enough power to redesign history."
The first week was spent exploring. The second, testing. He discovered that the energy he
controlled could be condensed, dispersed, shaped into barriers, or threaded into symbols that
altered how the environment behaved around them. He learned quickly because he had always
learned quickly. He adapted because he had never survived any other way.
On the twelfth day, Astra guided him toward ancient ruins half-buried in stone near a dry ridge
outside the village remains.
"Why here?" Dias asked.
[Gene-memory resonance] Astra replied.
[Your presence is interacting with buried structures]
He found the altar in a chamber beneath the ruins.
Black stone. Spiral markings. Weathered symbols that looked older than the village above it by
centuries, perhaps more. When he placed his hand on its surface, the world vanished.
He stood in a dark hall lit by braziers the size of small furnaces. A throne of stone rose at the far
end. On it sat a man whose presence felt like a continent's worth of violence condensed into
human form.
Vandal Savage.
Even without context, Dias knew him.
"My son," the ancient man said, voice like rock grinding against rock. "You carry more than
blood. You carry continuity."
Beside the throne stood a woman draped in blue and gold. Her skin bore spiral markings that
glowed faintly like lightning contained beneath the surface. Her eyes were the same impossible
gold he had seen in the mirror.
"He carries storm and memory," she said softly. "If the world breaks what is ours, he will build
again."
The vision shattered.
Dias staggered back in the chamber, breathing hard.
"So that's real," he said.
[Your bloodline memory confirms compatibility] Astra replied.
He laughed weakly. "I need your definition of compatibility reviewed."
Still, the vision changed everything. He was no longer improvising around a mystery. He had
lineage. Purpose. A frame large enough to contain what he wanted to become.
He left the ruins with a clearer plan than ever before.
Not heroism.
Heroes reacted.
Architects prepared.
Weeks later, after following Astra's guidance through rough terrain and forgotten paths, he
reached a stone circle in the Rift Valley unlike anything he had yet seen. Twelve black monoliths
formed a ring around a central slab. Heatless light shimmered in the air above them.
Astra's tone sharpened. [High-level dormant entity detected. Recommend caution]
Dias stepped forward anyway.
The figure on the stone slab opened blue-glowing eyes.
It was not quite a giant, but it came close. The being rose to full height, wrapped in ancient armor
etched with symbols Dias did not recognize. The air thickened around him.
"Who disturbs the circle?" the figure asked.
Dias did not lower his gaze. "Someone making plans."
The being studied him. "You carry old blood."
"I've been told."
A pause. Then, unexpectedly, the figure laughed. "Good. I dislike long explanations. I am Zahin.
Guardian of forgotten wars."
"Dias."
"What war do you bring, Dias?"
He looked out across the valley. "Not a war. A future. But I'll need enough power to protect it."
Zahin's expression shifted from amusement to interest. "Then perhaps you woke me at the right
time."
That was how his second ally joined him.
Iruka came later, found in the northern highlands exactly where Astra's projections said he might
be - a blind swordsman meditating beside a ruined shrine, as if waiting for a man not yet born
when he first sat there.
Dias approached without trying to hide his footsteps.
"You're late," the swordsman said without opening his eyes.
Dias stopped. "I was not aware I had an appointment."
The man smiled faintly. "Storms usually announce themselves sooner."
"And blind hermits usually answer questions sooner."
That got a low chuckle. "Good. You have not mistaken caution for fear. Sit."
Dias sat across from him on the stone.
"Who are you?" he asked.
"Iruka. That name will do. And you are the child of old violence trying very hard to become old
order."
Dias stared. "You can see all that?"
Iruka tapped two fingers lightly against his own temple. "Sight is not the only way to witness a
thing."
For an hour they spoke - not of power, but of discipline. Not of conquest, but of structure. By the
end, Dias understood exactly what he was looking at: not merely a fighter, but a teacher.
"Come with me," Dias said at last. "I'm building a place that doesn't exist yet. I'll need people who
can train others not just to fight, but to endure."
Iruka tilted his head. "And what do I get in return?"
Dias answered honestly. "Purpose."
The old swordsman smiled. "Dangerous word. Usually means yes."
By the time the sun went down over the highlands, Dias had his third pillar.
That night, beneath a sky crowded with stars, he stood on a ridge with Astra's pale interface
floating before him, Zahin silent at his side, and Iruka seated nearby with his hands folded in his
sleeves as though he had always been there.
[Define mission priority] Astra said.
Dias looked south, toward the land that would one day know empire, betrayal, resistance, and
blood.
Then he answered.
"Unify the surface. Build the core beneath it. Create a sanctuary no one can destroy."
Astra processed for less than a second.
[Mission accepted]
For the first time since waking in the past, Dias felt not confusion, not rage, but direction.
He had died in a parking garage.
Now he would build a civilization.