Aden was thrown into the containment chamber, a heavily fortified cell deep beneath the Imperial Palace, where only those with nowhere left to run were sent. The walls were cold stone, the silence maddening.
His wrists still bore the faint impressions of the enchanted cuffs, and his body ached from the pressure of the Emperor's aura earlier.
There, in the quiet gloom, he replayed the Emperor's words over and over again. The choice seemed simple—clear Dahaka or rot in prison. But the weight of it was crushing.
Dahaka wasn't just some forsaken stretch of land; it was a graveyard for fools and warriors alike. Monsters, unpredictable terrain, and who knew what else.
He sat with his back against the stone, staring blankly into the torch-lit wall, wrestling with the gravity of his options.
"Fight beasts and possibly die… or rot and definitely die," he muttered to himself.
As Aden sat in the dimly lit cell, his mind began to wander, delving into the depths of his memories. The novel, "Sword of Walpurgis", which he had read in his past life, suddenly flooded his thoughts. The chapters, though vague, began to resurface, like a distant dream slowly taking shape.
He recalled the story of Kairus Varkaine, a man from the ruined county of Varkaine. The Verris Household, with their insidious influence, had pulled the strings from behind the scenes, orchestrating the downfall of the Varkaine household.
The reason, Aden remembered, was the Varkaine's impressive mines, which produced a magical ore known as Valatium. This precious resource, capable of crafting high-tier military equipment and artifacts, had been the catalyst for the empire's betrayal.
The empire, manipulated by the Verris Household, had forged documents and accused the Varkaine household of treason. The Vasco Household, with their formidable might, had been the instrument of the empire's destruction, eliminating the Varkaine household with ruthless efficiency.
Aden's thoughts lingered on the image of Ed Vasco, the Shield of the Empire, who had ultimately killed Kairus in a fierce battle.
But Kairus' story didn't end there. A mysterious constellation had intervened, granting him another chance at life. This celestial entity had imbued Kairus with immense power, allowing him to travel back in time to a point when his household still stood. With this newfound ability, Kairus was determined to wipe out his enemies and become even stronger.
As Aden's mind replayed these events, a realization struck him like a thunderbolt. The timeline of the novel, he remembered, placed Kairus' awakening and return to the past a few months after Aden Vasco's execution. This meant that Aden who possessed knowledge of the future, potentially allowing him to act before Kairus.
Hours passed , maybe a full day. He couldn't tell. Time blended in the silence.
Then, unexpectedly, the metallic creak of the chamber door echoed. Footsteps. Not a guard's—too slow, too deliberate. An old man appeared, dressed in the unassuming clothes of a palace janitor. He carried a broom, but his eyes held something far sharper than any weapon.
"You're thinking too loud," the man said.
Aden narrowed his eyes. "Who are you supposed to be?"
"Just a cleaner," the man smiled. "Came to deliver something left behind by your father."
He reached into his robes and pulled out an aged, leather-bound book. Dust clung to its surface, but the crest of House Vasco was unmistakable, engraved in gold.
"What is this?" Aden asked, taking it cautiously.
"A memoir. History of your bloodline. Might come in handy where you're going," the old man said cryptically. "Dahaka holds more than just monsters."
Before Aden could ask more, the old man had turned and vanished down the corridor, leaving no sound behind.
That night, sleep came in fragments. His dreams—or were they memories?—were jagged and hazy. A duel under moonlight. Screams. The smell of iron and blood. And then a shadow… looming… with glowing red eyes staring straight at him.
He awoke drenched in sweat, heart pounding.
To ease the tension lingering in his heart he opened the book, fingers trembling as they flipped through pages stained by time and grief. There were records of bloodshed, betrayal, and battles. The legacy of the Vasco name wasn't one built on glory—it was a monument of scars.
He found himself staring at a crude drawing of a man who looked almost like him, half his face burned away, wielding a blade twice his size. A note scrawled beneath it read:
"Those who wear our name must be willing to drown in blood to stay afloat."
After carefully examining the book given to him by the mysterious old man, Aden's eyes widened as he grasped the true nature of the memoir. Beneath the innocent-looking poems and diagrams, he discovered a treasure trove of encrypted knowledge: sword techniques, mana circulation methods, and fighting strategies.
"What the...?" Aden muttered to himself, intrigued by the complex diagrams
Aden decided to follow the passage and diagram for a mana circulation technique. He assumed the position outlined in the book, focusing his mind and waiting for the familiar sensation of mana to flow through him. However, as the minutes ticked by – one, five, ten, sixty – Aden felt nothing. No tingling sensation, no warmth, no indication of mana whatsoever.
A sense of unease crept over him. "This is strange," he thought.
"In a world where sword and magic reign, I can't even sense even a hint of mana?" The more he pondered, the more a disturbing realization dawned on him.
It was a passage from the original novel that echoed in his mind: "Mana is something that is felt from the core of the soul, not the body." The implications were stark. "This isn't my body," Aden reminded himself.
"The chances of me wielding mana are slim to none, if not impossible, according to the logic of this world."
Refusing to give up, Aden frantically flipped through the book's pages, searching for an alternative. That's when he stumbled upon "The Inquisition Path", a circulation technique that seemed to offer a glimmer of hope. With no other choice, Aden decided to follow the diagram and steps outlined in the book.
He concentrated, his mind focusing on the intricate flow of energy. Minutes passed – 1, 5, 10, 15, 20... On the 21st minute, Aden felt a faint, cold sensation lingering around his chest. It wasn't the warm, inner glow he had expected, but rather an external, eerie feeling that vanished as quickly as it appeared.
Undeterred, Aden tried again, this time pouring more energy into his concentration. He twisted the flow, attempting to reverse it, and hours slipped away. The silence was oppressive, the only sound the soft rustling of the book's pages.
And then, it happened. A glint of mana, vague but unmistakable, flickered before Aden's eyes. He couldn't believe it.
"Is this a miracle? or something" he wondered, awestruck.
Though he didn't fully comprehend the reason behind this breakthrough, Aden intuited that it was connected to the body's original owner, Aden Vasco must have been well-versed in swordsmanship and mana circulation.
What kind of man had the original Aden Vasco been? A monster? A victim? Or just a man shaped by the cruelty of this world?
He wasn't sure. But the name... his name now wasn't something he could ignore. Not anymore.
As he stood in the center of the room, he noticed a pale sliver of moonlight spilling through a slit in the stone high above. A single beam filtering through a narrow window—barely wide enough to slip a body through.
He stared up at it.
Dahaka was waiting.
And he had made his choice.