WOOF—WOOF.
My pet Fenrir barked, darting around the courtyard like a little lunatic, wagging his tiny tail in circles. Right now, he looked pure white — like frost-covered crystal — but knowing his bloodline, that shade wouldn't stay for long.
I tossed him a small bone from what we'd just finished eating. He caught it midair, then plopped down and started nibbling, tail still wagging.
"He's the only one who's probably carefree, "Alice said, sitting next to me and ruffling his head.
Fenrir curled into her lap, and I blinked. She was actually talking to me.
Tch—took her a whole damn week to say a word.
"Looks like you got over it," I said, grinning.
A slight flush crept onto her cheeks. "I don't know if you were messing with me… or actually serious, dumbass."
"What's so serious about it anyway? I thought it was a cool gesture."
"...You didn't forget what it meant, did you?" she asked, narrowing her eyes.
"Can't lie to you. I might've thought it meant something else."
Sigh.
"So you really lost your memories..." she whispered. I heard it — but didn't reply. Just sat there, quiet.
Yeah… I figured there was more to this body's past. The fact that people knew I wasn't acting the same meant something serious went down. But step by step. I'll dig it up later.
For now… back to the present.
"By the way, Alice—where do you keep running off to in the mornings and evenings? Haven't seen you around."
"I… I'm just training with the inn's maids," she stuttered.
"Even the maids can fight?" I blinked.
She looked at me, panicked, then just nodded. "Well, can I tag along sometime?" I asked.
"NO."
The answer came out way too fast.
"I mean… it's a girls-only thing."
Her face was covered in nervous sweat.
'Tch… she's hiding something.'
But I let it go. If she didn't wanna talk, fine.
I stood up and headed for my usual training—
But then I caught it. A sharp influx of blood hit my nose.
I darted forward, every ounce of strength pushed into my legs. When I reached the source, a group of men was unloading a heap of bloody sacks and crates full of money.
"Ey there! We brought in a ton of stuff—gold, goods, even some supplies, "Vance waved, grinning.
He was the loudmouthed captain of Uncle Jon's mercenary squad. No one really talked about them in detail. But what I did know was: these guys weren't just strong — they were monsters.
They looked the part too. Not slum rats. Soldiers. Real ones.
Behind the squad, I spotted them—My father, Anna, and Nara.
The second Nara saw me, she leapt off her horse and crushed me into a hug.
She's… big.
Anna followed behind, pulling me into a gentler embrace, our foreheads pressing together.
Tears were in Nara's eyes. A smile was on Anna's face.
That warmth… that feeling…
"I'm sorry," I whispered. "For worrying you."
Then I turned—my father stood just ahead. His eyes locked onto me. His mouth twitched like he wanted to speak.
But I beat him to it.
"I'm glad you're here, Dad. You didn't do anything wrong. We were the ones who picked a fight with someone way out of our league, "I said, stepping in and hugging him.
I didn't know what expression he made.
Didn't need to.
I already knew exactly what he was about to say. After all—
I was a grown-ass man.
Just... in a younger body.
As the crew settled down, the next wave of shocking revelations hit me.
Several people were dragged in — all chained. Some were villagers, others soldiers. Oddly enough, the villagers looked… fine. Suspiciously fine. The soldiers, though, they looked a bit roughed up.
But what threw me off?
Lara.
She was leading the whole damn thing. Calm, collected — commanding the prisoners like she'd done this all her life.
'Aunty Lara can fight??'My eyes widened.
She caught my reaction and chuckled, gently tapping my forehead. "There's a lot you still need to learn, my Roy."
"Looks like it," I muttered, still stunned.
Once the clean-up started, Anna and Munroe took over. They sorted the loot and shifted everything back to the inn for further sorting. The prisoners? Hauled down to the underground cell behind the library. Blindfolded. Bound. No noise.
I cleaned up, slipped on a fresh shirt, and headed out.
The guards at the entrance gave me a nod. I walked down the stone steps, each fourth one lit by a weak flickering lantern. The air down here was damp, the silence pressing on my ears.
At the bottom — a full crowd.
They were waiting for me.
I slid in beside Alice and Nero.
"Sorry for being late," I said.
"How's Jack?"
"Better," Uncle Jon replied. "Should be back by tomorrow."
"Where is he now?"
"The temple."
I wanted to ask more. But the tone shut me down.
We turned to the issue at hand.
The prisoners.
"The civilians," I said, "Why drag them into this? Isn't it… unethical?"
That caught them off guard. They didn't expect that from me.
Uncle Jon let out a breath. "They'll be treated well, Roy. But war's war. Sometimes survival means doing what isn't clean."
I didn't reply. I'm not experienced like them — yet.
Munroe stepped forward. "Surprisingly, the villagers cooperated. Didn't resist at all. And they gave us everything."
"…What kind of everything?"
"Rosland Schmidt's getting married again," he said. "Bride's supposedly sixteen."
My stomach dropped.
'Sixteen?'
"Marriage's in six months. They've kept it quiet, but knowing that fat bastard… she's probably even younger."
My head spun.
'Sixteen. Or maybe younger. And they're marrying her off to some sixty-five-year-old scumbag?'
I felt something crawl under my skin.
That familiar, seething disgust.
A gut-twisting hatred.
The kind that builds and builds until it turns your breath cold.
This world…
This filthy, twisted, rotting world.
It's trash.
And somehow — I ended up smack in the middle of it.
The stone chamber was dim, the flickering torchlight casting long shadows on the walls. Everyone stood silent, waiting for me to speak.
I stepped forward, arms crossed, staring at the restrained soldiers and oddly calm villagers.
"They're planning a marriage in six months. That gives us a deadline — and a window."
Uncle Jon grunted. "Tch. They'll tighten up now. Especially after the sulphur trick got exposed."
"They'll want no mistakes," I continued. "Especially not during an event like this. So right now, they're probably on edge, trying to figure out what we already know."
Munroe clicked his tongue. "They chose the slums 'cause they thought nobody would care. Quiet place. Easy to manipulate."
"Not anymore," I muttered. "We've already taken the outer skirts. That gives us ground. And with their attention on their so-called wedding plans, sneaking in deeper shouldn't be impossible."
Reynolds nodded slowly. "Disrupt them before they regroup. Hit before they find new pawns."
I turned to the prisoners. "We need information. Fast. Villagers are easier. But these soldiers— they were planted."
Uncle Jon gave a short laugh. "Planted bastards are always the most loyal... right up until they realise their bosses left 'em behind."
"Then we'll make sure they realise it. Quietly. No blood — just pressure. Isolation, fear, maybe a false rescue op to shake them up."
Munroe raised a brow. "Make it seem like Neandth dumped them. Might get one or two to flip."
Anna spoke. Just one word.
"Desperation."
I glanced her way, then looked back at the rest. "That's how we open them up. Desperation first. Then doubt. Then we dig."
Reynolds pulled out a rough layout of the area. "Small squads. One to prepare the distraction. The rest move in. Clean, no noise."
I stared down at the sketch, eyes narrowing.
"They tried to play gods with our people. Now it's our turn."
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Wassup guys, thanks for reading up to this point. Till here marks setting of the whole thing, don't worry I have a plan and trust me it's gonna work.
Next chapter will be a time skip. Leading straight to six months later, From the coming forth chapters the pace will pick up incredibly. I like to set things up first, and till now all you've seen is just the trailer. Be ready for the next coming chapters.
If you like my novel add it into your collections and be sure to shower me with those power stones.
See ya ;)...