10 hours ago.
POV Leylin.
"Leylin… Leylin! Wake up…" Fang Ming heard in his daze, and couldn't help but open his eyes.
"Could this be… reincarnation?"
He still clearly remembered the blinding flames of the energy reactor's explosion, one impossible to survive without protection. Moreover, this kind of carriage made of wooden planks was considered an ancient relic in his previous world, and would definitely not still be in use.
After organizing the new memories in his mind, Fang Ming gained some understanding of his body and this world.
This world resembled medieval Europe. But there was something more here, the presence of a mysterious force. The presence… of magic.
The original owner of his current body was named Leylin Farlier, the son of a minor noble. He had been tested for talent in becoming a Magus and, as such, his father – Viscount John Farlier – had pulled some strings to allow him to become a Magus-in-training, that is, an acolyte. The carriage he was currently in was traveling to a magic academy.
The one who had woken him was a large youth.
His big eyes were framed by thick eyebrows that complemented his long straight nose and shining golden hair. Though his face was somewhat delicate, still showing his youth, he had a robust, muscular build. He looked a bit manly.
Seeing Fang Ming awake, the boy laughed cheerfully:
"Haha… Leylin, you're finally awake! If you were a few minutes later, you probably wouldn't have gotten dinner. You don't want to starve, do you?"
Fang Ming lowered his gaze. After thinking for a bit and sifting through his new body's memories, he discovered the identity of this person:
"Thank you, George!"
All the youths in this carriage had been tested and found to have magical talent. George was the legitimate son of an Earl and one of the favored ones. When his talent was revealed, the Earl had spent many resources and pulled countless strings so that he could enter an academy.
"An Earl?" Fang Ming thought inwardly.
His memories shifted to Leylin's father, Viscount John Farlier. His lands were as large as a simple city from Fang Ming's past life, and he had thousands of soldiers under his command.
In this world, the ranks of nobles were inextricably tied to personal strength. George's father, being an Earl, meant that his holdings were likely at least several cities in size, with an annual income of a few thousand gold coins. And even with such finances and power at his disposal, it had taken great effort for George to travel in this carriage. Fang Ming couldn't imagine how Leylin's father had managed the same for him.
While he was still pondering this question, another sharp pain jolted his head, and another scene appeared in his mind.
He was in a dark room, with old, moldy shelves lined up on the sides, filled with a sense of antiquity. Dust covered the surroundings.
Under the faint light, John Farlier solemnly handed him a ring, saying:
"Leylin, my dear son, this is the inheritance of our Farlier family, a gift from a Magus. Your grandfather once helped an injured Magus, and in return, he was given this ring."
"This ring is a promise. If any of your grandfather's descendants possessed talent for magic, they could use this ring to enter a magic academy for free! I give you this ring now, in the hope that you can be the pride of the Farlier Family and defend our legacy…"
"The ring!" Fang Ming's eyes narrowed, and his right hand subconsciously moved to his chest—but contrary to his expectations, he didn't feel the ring.
Leylin's face immediately turned pale.
Seeing this, George furrowed his brow, then asked, "Man, are you still sleepy? You'd better rest later; after all, you already slept a lot."
Leylin ignored George as his chest tightened. "Shit! My ring was stolen! While the body's previous owner was lying unconscious in the carriage, someone must have taken it. But… who?" He took a deep breath and calmed himself.
His Chinese coldness did not allow him to fall into despair. In his heart, he swore vengeance on the thief once he discovered who had stolen it.
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Present time.
POV MC.
My eyes wandered across the camp. The great bonfire that last night had been the center of laughter, chatter, and the smell of freshly baked bread was now nothing more than a heap of cold ashes. Only a faint thread of smoke rose in lazy spirals toward the morning sky. The youths were already packing their things, stowing backpacks, sharpening weapons, preparing for the next stage of the journey.
That was when my gaze fixed on three specific people. They weren't mere extras on this stage, but key pieces carrying weight in my future steps.
The first of them… Ourin Dorlan.
Red-haired, muscles hard as stone, his skin marked by constant training. He wore brown leather, heavy boots, and chain trousers that only reinforced his brutish presence. Unlike the other youths, who kept swords strapped at their waists, he carried no blade at all. He relied solely on his fists, his broad arms, the raw strength that radiated from him like a wild aura.
I already knew the fate of that man. He had been the original killer of Leylin, the true executioner of that weak and pathetic version of the one who now walked a much darker path. Under Bessita's orders, he and his hunting dogs had beaten him to death… and even that wasn't enough. Later, he had the audacity to confront him again, demanding crystals as payment for sparing his life.
My body trembled with satisfaction at the thought that, in this line of destiny, he would not face the cowardly Leylin of before… but the new one. The one who would crush him, make him spit blood, and reduce him to dust beneath the feet of true darkness.
I studied him carefully. Strong? Without doubt. Yet still… smaller than me. He tried to radiate masculinity and dominance to his lackeys, and they obeyed, but to me it sounded like the hollow roar of a dog about to be hanged.
And then… my eyes landed on her.
Bessita.
Surrounded by a few girls, as if she were the rarest flower among weeds. Daughter of a small kingdom in the Chernobyl Isles… but in truth, much more than that. It was because of her that the demon called Leylin fell into this world. The pivotal piece of fate… the spark that ignited all the calamity.
I nearly let out a laugh when I saw her. She was exactly as I remembered… fiery.
Skin pale and smooth as ivory. Tight red garments clung to her body, accentuating every voluptuous curve of her figure. Silver hair shimmered under the rising sun, and eyes red as rubies bathed in blood. Within them gleamed both arrogance and fragility, a silent invitation to perdition.
She was the kind of woman who could ignite a war with a single smile.
And in that instant, my lips curved into a dark, almost demonic grin.
"Hah… you two really do match," I thought, watching the way she exchanged glances with Ourin. "But don't be mistaken. The redhead won't live much longer… and when he falls, when the ground drinks his blood, it will be in my arms that you'll find refuge, little princess."
My smile widened—cold, merciless—while a flame of desire and conquest burned in my eyes.
1247 words