The air smelled of iron and ash.
Nazeku stood at the edge of the town square, where morning mist hung low and thin over the cobblestone streets. The cries of merchants and the rhythmic clang of blacksmiths filled the airsftersounds he hadn't heard in years.
This was Dunra Town, the border settlement of the Iron Kingdom. His birthplace.
The same place he once swore he'd never return to.
Yet here he was fifteen again.
Children ran past him, chasing each other with wooden swords.
Women carried baskets of fruit, bargaining loudly.
Warriors in worn armor strode through the streets, their weapons at their sides, aura faintly flickering like smoke.
To everyone else, it was an ordinary morning.
But to Nazeku, it was a world he'd already seen destroyed.
30, This street… burned first when the calamity began, he thought quietly. Half the town was gone before the beasts even reached the capital.
His gaze hardened, and he began walking.
Each step was steady, calculated,:not the steps of a boy, but of someone who remembered dying here.
He passed a bulletin board crowded with posters and faded scrolls.
"Beast sighted near the Western Ridge."
"Recruitment for Iron Guild apprentices."
"Missing hunter."
The same problems as before.
The same hopelessness.
His fingers brushed the edge of one scroll — a notice for warrior apprenticeships.
"Guild of Iron Fang," he read aloud. "Still as greedy as ever."
He remembered their training system — brutal, exploitative. They used poor trainees as beast bait while keeping the noble-born safe in the back.
He had barely survived their "tests" in his past life.
"I'll need to join them again," he muttered. "I can't draw attention yet… but I'll need resources."
He turned away from the board and walked toward the guild's outer compound.
The Iron Fang Guild was massive, a ring of forges, training grounds, and beast cages. Smoke rose from the chimneys, and the scent of oil mixed with blood.
Dozens of young warriors trained in the yard, swinging dull swords, their movements clumsy but determined.
Instructors barked orders.
"You call that a stance, idiot? Even a boar would hit harder!"
Nazeku stopped at the gate.
A guard glanced at him lazily.
"Apprentice registration's over," the man grunted.
"I'm not here to register," Nazeku replied evenly. "Just to observe."
The guard frowned at his tone. "Observe? You from a noble house, boy?"
Nazeku smiled faintly — the kind of smile that didn't reach his eyes.
"Do I look like one?"
The guard scoffed and waved him off. "Whatever. Don't cause trouble."
Nazeku walked past him, hands in his pockets, eyes scanning everything.
He was mapping it all, the positions of the beast cages, the training routines, the aura flow of every fighter in the yard.
It was strange. In his past life, this place had overwhelmed him. Now, everything seemed slower.
He could read their movements, sense their intent, predict mistakes before they happened.
"Eye of the dragon… it's dormant, but still sharp," he murmured.
He stopped when he saw a young boy struggling to lift a training blade, while a group of older apprentices laughed.
"You'll never make it, weakling!"
"Go home before a beast eats you!"
Nazeku's expression darkened.
He remembered hearing those same words.
When one of the bullies shoved the boy to the ground, Nazeku stepped forward.
"That's enough," he said quietly.
The laughter stopped.
The biggest of the group turned, sneering. "What'd you say?"
Nazeku met his gaze without flinching.
"I said", He moved faster than their eyes could follow.
His hand snapped out, grabbing the bully's wrist mid-punch.
There was a soft crack.
The boy screamed and fell back, clutching his arm.
Nazeku's expression didn't change.
"If you can't control your aura, don't swing it at others."
He turned, helping the fallen trainee to his feet.
"Train smarter next time. Not harder."
The others backed away, confused and slightly afraid.
Nazeku left without another word.
By noon, he found himself at the edge of town again, near a quiet hill overlooking the plains. He sat beneath a tree, the breeze soft against his face.
"Still weak," he muttered. "Still too careful. But better than before."
He closed his eyes, feeling the faint hum of aura around him.
The dragon's will stirred faintly, not fully awake, just watching.
"You interfere with the weak," the dragon's voice whispered faintly.
"Why?"
Nazeku smirked.
"Old habits. Don't worry. I'll shed them soon enough."
As dusk settled, the Iron Fang bell rang across the valley, signaling another day's end.
Nazeku stood, brushing the dust from his clothes.
"The same world… the same cruelty… but this time, I'm not the same."
He turned his eyes toward the horizon, where the massive silhouette of the Iron Kingdom's capital stood faintly against the red sky.
"I'll climb back to the top," he whispered. "And this time, I'll burn everything that stands in my way."
The dragon's voice rumbled faintly in reply.
"Then climb, mortal. Climb… until you reach the heavens themselves."
The wind howled softly through the grass as Nazeku began walking down the hill, his shadow stretching long behind him.