Chapter 1: The Rebirth of The Hero
Aelric Valion's last memory was one of searing pain. His body had been betrayed by those he trusted the most — the comrades he fought side by side with in countless battles, those he called his brothers and sisters. The Hell Gate, a massive rift that tore through dimensions, was supposed to be a place of ultimate challenge, but in his final moments, it became his tomb. His comrades had poisoned him, leaving him to die alone in the Hell Gate's never-ending void, a place where the very fabric of reality was distorted.
Aelric's vision had blurred, the darkness swallowing him whole. He felt his power — the power he had honed over his entire life — slipping away from him. He had no regrets, only the bitter taste of betrayal, knowing that no one would ever truly understand the burden he carried.
Then… nothing. Silence.
But now…
Aelric gasped, his body jerking upright as cold air filled his lungs. His chest rose and fell in a frantic rhythm as he blinked in confusion. The harsh darkness of the Hell Gate was replaced by soft golden light. The walls around him were made of marble, adorned with intricate designs that seemed to reflect an air of nobility. He sat on a lavish bed, the sheets rich and soft, like nothing he had ever experienced before.
Where am I?
His mind raced as he looked around the room. This wasn't the Hell Gate. This wasn't the place of his death. He rubbed his temples, trying to recall anything that would explain this sudden shift.
The pain in his chest was gone. The poison that had coursed through his veins had vanished. His limbs, once heavy with the weight of betrayal, felt light and full of energy.
As his hand reached up to touch his face, Aelric caught sight of his reflection in a mirror across the room. The man staring back at him had silver-gray eyes, sharp features, and a demeanor that spoke of someone who had lived through countless struggles. His hair was dark, tousled, and he looked younger — far younger than he should have been.
He stood, his movements fluid and practiced, though he felt a strange discomfort in his chest. This was his body, but not quite. He looked exactly as he did when he was younger, before the battles, before the betrayal, and before the death that had left him stranded in the Hell Gate.
He knew then: he was not in his original world. He was somewhere else. Reborn.
Who am I now?
The name came to him like a whisper in the back of his mind. Yusha Valenhardt.
The moment he spoke the name, a sense of familiarity flooded over him. Yusha Valenhardt was who he was now. But it didn't feel like it was a new life. It felt like an extension of his past, a continuation of a path he had never expected to walk again.
Aelric — no, Yusha walked to the window, his mind still trying to process the strange feeling of being alive again. Outside, the world was different. The buildings were majestic, the city sprawling, with ornate structures and luxurious courtyards. It was clear that this was a world of nobility, a society where power and status ruled all.
He had been Aelric Valion, a hero in his past life. He had been an unstoppable force, someone who could manipulate the very laws of physics. Aelric had control over gravity, force, motion, and the very fabric of reality itself. He could collapse a building with a wave of his hand, alter the gravitational pull of an object, or even control the flow of time in small, finite moments. It was a power that made him feared, respected, and, ultimately, betrayed.
His betrayal had come from the ones he trusted most — his own comrades. He had been left to die in the Hell Gate, abandoned to rot in a dimension where monsters roamed freely. They didn't care about him or his abilities. They only cared about the power he wielded. And when they saw it as a threat to their own ambitions, they cast him aside.
But what hurt most wasn't the betrayal. It was that he had died without ever having the chance to explain himself — to show them that his power was never meant for domination. It had been for protection.
Aelric's powers had been a gift, a rare and almost mythical ability. Few people had powers that were outside the normal range of elemental magic. Most could manipulate fire, water, air, or earth, but he — Aelric — could control the very forces of nature. He could move mountains if he wished, create storms, and break apart the laws of physics themselves.
But now, he was Yusha Valenhardt, the son of a Viscount in a society that valued noble blood above all else. His new family had long since abandoned their past as assassins, but they had retained their skills in secrecy. His father was a stern, disciplined man, a symbol of the Valenhardt family's long history of power.
Yusha had been raised in a world of strict rules. His family's name was respected, but their wealth and status had not come from magic alone. They were known for their combat skills, their assassin techniques, honed over generations. Yusha had been trained in these methods as a child, not to become an assassin, but to protect himself in a world where danger lurked at every corner. He had learned the art of quick reflexes, stealth, and the subtle, deadly techniques of his family. Techniques like the String Technique, where a single thread of energy could be used to sever the neck of an opponent from afar, or the Silent Step, a movement so quiet that even the most trained ears would fail to hear him approach.
But despite the training, Yusha had always known that he was different. He was more than just an heir to a powerful family. He was a hero in his previous life, a being of immense power, capable of bending reality itself. Yet, in this new world, he would need to hide those abilities.
The world wasn't ready for a person like him.
As he stood before the mirror, his thoughts shifted back to the present. The servant had called him. His father, the Viscount, awaited him. He couldn't afford to delay. In this new life, he had to fit in, to play his role, and to hide his true power.
The servant knocked once more. "Master Yusha, your father is waiting."
Yusha took a deep breath. His heart was calm. His mind was sharp. The situation had changed, but his purpose hadn't. He had been given a second chance. And he would use it wisely.
With one final glance at his reflection, he walked out the door.