The blurred sight of a familiar setting made me blink a few times to confirm that I wasn’t dreaming.

Looking down at my long fingers and calloused palms, it seemed I was back in my old body.

Getting up from the couch I was sitting on, I stared blankly at the portrait of myself—one I’d always hated—peering down at me arrogantly from the wall. Confused as to what was going on, I rushed out of my room inside the castle. A young maid, who had been waiting for me just outside, greeted me respectfully as soon as I opened the door.

“Good morning, King Grey.”

I didn’t even bother glancing in her direction. She followed a few paces behind me as I walked through the immense, candle-lit hall.

Reaching the courtyard where all the trainees were lined up, swords held in front of them, I turned my attention to the instructors, who were shouting about proper stance and breathing. When one of the instructors saw me, he immediately stood at attention and gave a crisp military salute, and the other instructors and trainees followed suit.

I simply motioned for them to continue, and kept walking. Passing by the marble fountain, I finally reached the private study and pushed open the large double doors to stand in front of an aged man with a head of thick white hair that matched his long beard. He glanced up, his emerald eyes glimmering with cunning, wisdom, and knowledge—Marlorn, the head of the council.

I held the title of “king,” but I couldn’t consider myself anything more than a glorified soldier. The ones who actually governed the country, managing the politics and economy, were the members of the council.

So what was the significance of my position as king?

As king, I was something like a one-man army. Due to the decreasing birthrates and increasing scarcity of natural resources, the councils of each country had assembled. After countless months of discussion and arguments, they finally came to the conclusion that, if mankind continued to wage wars, we would eventually wipe ourselves out.

Eliminating war would lead to two major outcomes: fewer deaths, leading to population growth; and a decrease in the destruction of resources and damage to arable land. The solution they enacted was to replace wars with a different form of combat.

This new form of ‘warfare’ became known as the Paragon Duels. Whenever a dispute arose at a level that threatened to impact a country, a Paragon Duel would be declared, with each country sending the representative they deemed the strongest. In most countries, that representative was named king and given the appropriate honors for the duration of his reign, basking in the praise of the public while the council members quietly enacted policy. Despite the seemingly deceptive nature of this, no one could doubt its effectiveness—humans wanted the simplicity of a black-or-white, win-or-lose situation, and the duels gave them just that.

Looking up with the insincere, unctuous smile that seemed to be an inborn trait of politicians, Marlorn exclaimed, “King Grey! What brings you to my humble dwelling?”

“I’m retiring.”

Without even giving him the chance to react, I unclipped my badge—that piece of metal so sought after by every practitioner—and slammed it down on his giant oakwood desk, then walked out the door.

All these years, what have I been living for? I was an orphan, brought up in a camp designed to raise duelers. Everyone I had ever cared about had been stolen from me by violence. At twenty-eight years of age, I’d never dated, never loved. Until now, I’d devoted almost my whole life to being the strongest duelist, representing my country.

And for what?

Admiration? Money? Glory?

I’d had all that, but never in a million years would I choose it over what I’d had in the town of Ashber.

I missed Alice. I missed Reynolds. I missed Durden and Jasmine and Helen. I missed Angela. I even missed Adam.

Mother… Father…

As I stormed back toward my room, frustrated by these memories of what I could only see as a dream, the halls began tilting. Losing my balance, I fell to the ground as a muffled ringing sounded in my ears. The ringing became louder, piercing, and pulsed painfully in my head until my vision darkened.

The sound of someone coughing made my eyes snap open, and the pain I felt told me the coughing had been my own.

I closed my eyes and opened them again to find myself lying on my back, towering trees and dangling vines filling my vision. However, the excruciating pain that welcomed me told me I wasn’t dreaming.

Where was I? How was I alive?

I tried to get up, but my body wouldn’t listen. The only thing I was able to manage was turning my head, and even that involved a series of throbbing pains in my neck.

Looking to my right, I spotted my knapsack. I slowly turned my head to the left, gritting my teeth through the pain.

My eyes widened at the sight and I immediately had to fight the urge to vomit. To my left lay what remained of the conjurer I had dragged down with me. A pool of blood surrounded the corpse, which probably had more broken bones than ones still intact. I could see the white shards of his ribs jutting out of the sunken cavity of the chest, and a pile of his entrails beside him. The mage’s limbs were sprawled out at unnatural angles, his skull shattered in the back, brain matter oozing out along with blood.

His face was frozen into an expression of surprise and disbelief, only hollowed cavities remaining where his eyes used to be. A trail of dried blood ran down his face. I couldn’t turn my head away fast enough. Even in my past life, I had never come across such a badly mangled corpse. The nauseating stench and insects feasting on the gore were too much to take.

My already-weakened body was assaulted with both the gruesome sight and repugnant smell, and I vomited what was left in my stomach until I was left gagging and dry-heaving. With parts of my face and neck covered in my own vomit, I finally managed to turn my head away from the sight of the mage’s grotesque remains.

How was I still alive?

I couldn’t help wondering what had happened while I was unconscious. The mage had been alive up until the landing… so what had happened to me? I should look very similar to his corpse right about now, maybe even worse. But not only was I alive, I didn’t seem to have even so much as a broken bone.

I pondered over the possible answers until I was interrupted by a strong grumble from my stomach.

I fought through my body’s protests at my attempts at movement. The only parts of my body I could control were my right arm and my head and neck. I willed mana into my right arm; using my fingers to claw my way, I dragged my body across the ground until I could reach my knapsack. It couldn’t have been more than a yard away, but it felt like an hour before I finally managed to cover the distance. Pulling the bag closer to me, I rummaged through it with my one good hand until I found what I was looking for: the dried berries and nuts my mother had insisted on packing.

I succeeded in pouring myself a mouthful of the snack. In my reclining position, some of it strayed past my tongue, sending me into a choking fit, and the coughing triggered another round of agony in my body. Fumbling for the water skin inside my knapsack, I slowly poured a bit of the water into my mouth, then managed another handful of food. Tears rolled down the sides of my face and into my ears as I continued to chew on the dried rations. Finally I passed out again, using my knapsack as a makeshift blanket.

My eyes fluttered open as I stirred awake at the brisk bite of cold. I looked around as best as my stiff neck would allow and realized, by the position of the first rays of light peeking through the mountains, that it was dawn.

Using my mana, I managed to slowly get up. I carefully inspected my entire body, making sure everything was in place before allowing myself to relax.

First things first.

I made my way to the mage’s corpse, trying to avoid looking at the heinous injuries that had caused his demise. Spotting what I was looking for, I quickly jerked the knife out of his thigh. I wasn’t sure how long I would be here, so having a weapon was critical.

‘Oh, you’re awake.’

I instantly dropped into a fighting stance, gritting through the pain from the sudden movement. With my knife in hand, I turned to face the carcass.

I swear to God if this corpse is the one that’s talking…

A melodic chuckle made me look around for the source of the voice.

‘Do not worry. You won’t have to worry about that corpse reanimating.’

The voice, which seemed to come from nowhere, had a dignified yet gentle quality, evincing a sense of royalty. It was powerful and resonant, yet had a silky, soothing sound that made me want to trust it.

Still on guard, I managed to mutter a less-than-elegant response. “Who are you? Are you the one who saved me?”

‘Yes, to your second question. As for the first, you will find out soon enough, when you arrive at my dwelling.’

This voice seemed awfully sure that I would try to find it.

As if reading my thoughts, it continued, ‘I am the only one who will be able to get you home from this place, so I advise you to make haste.’

That jerked some sense into me. That’s right! I have to get back home! Mother! Father! The Twin Horns! My baby sibling! Are they all right? Did they reach Xyrus safely?

If the voice could really take me back home, I had no choice but to find it.