Chronicle of the Crimson Thorne

He rose not as a man, but as a question. On a battlefield bathed in purple moonlight, Johann awoke among corpses still warm—the wound in his chest had closed on its own, but his memory had not. There was no explanation, no purpose, only the instinct to survive in this cruel world. With a foreign weapon in his hand and another man's memories in his head, he was forced to walk the thin line between corpse and life, between a forgotten soldier and a lost stranger. And behind the silence of the shattered fortress, the whispers of the world began to be heard—revealing the secret that his greatest defeat was not death, but surviving what should have buried him.