I looked around the village as I walked, the cobblestones uneven beneath my feet. Everything was so painfully familiar, yet foreign. The crooked chimneys, the chipped paint on the windowsills, the shopkeepers' cheerful chatter—all exactly as I remembered. But the faces were younger, untouched by the grief and pain I'd seen in my last life. Their laughter felt sharper, echoing in my head, reminding me of what I had failed to protect. But I knew now with my second chance, it was my responsibility to stop it.
I turned the corner, the narrow alley opening up to the market square. I stopped for a moment, letting my eyes roam over the bustling crowd. It was all so normal, so ignorant of the storm that was brewing. They had no idea. How could they? Even the air felt lighter, untainted by blood and despair.
I weaved through the market, keeping my head down, moving quickly. There was no time to waste. I had to find them. I had to find my team. I have to make sure they were ready, ready for what was to come.
But first, I needed to reclaim my strength.
This time, I'll protect them all.
As I walked further into the village, my thoughts raced ahead to the path I needed to take. I had no choice but to prepare in secret, at least for now. The people of this time wouldn't understand what I knew, not yet. I would need to be careful, and I would need to train.
My first step? To find the old training grounds—the place where I had honed my skills before. I hadn't been there in years, but it was still there. Hidden beneath the trees at the edge of the forest.
The training grounds, now overgrown and forgotten by most, had been built long before I was born. They were a relic of a time when the village had been forced to prepare for the unthinkable. Decades ago, during the Great Conquest War between the Lyridia Kingdom and the Drakos Kingdom, every village and town near the borderlands had to be battle-ready. The war had been ignited by Lyridia, the larger kingdom, in its bid to expand and seize Drakos's abundant natural resources. Villages like Kazemura—Tatsuo's home—were caught in the crossfire.
Kazemura, though small, had narrowly avoided destruction. Its residents had united to fortify their defenses, ensuring the village did not become a vantage point for Solvire's forces. Many villagers had taken up arms to protect their home, and while their efforts were ultimately successful, it came at a steep cost. Families who survived still remembered the names of those who had fallen, their lives lost defending Kazemura from raiding parties and stray skirmishes.
The training grounds had been built during that tumultuous time, a place for villagers to prepare themselves for the looming threat of war. Located on the forest's edge, it provided some seclusion while still being close enough for the community to access quickly. But once the war had ended and the borders were redrawn, the need for constant vigilance faded. Over time, the grounds were abandoned, left to be swallowed by the encroaching wilderness.
For the families who had lost loved ones, the training grounds were a painful reminder of the sacrifices made. Many avoided the place entirely, preferring to let it fade into obscurity along with the memories of war. Now, it stood as a forgotten relic of an era that the village was content to leave behind—except for me.
As I approached the forest's edge, a strange sense of determination filled me. The training grounds might have been abandoned, but for me, they were about to serve a purpose once more.
This time, I would ensure that Kazemura—and the people I cared for—would never have to face the horrors of war or the grim fate of its future destruction.
As I neared the forest, a cold breeze brushed past, rustling the leaves overhead. I shivered, a chill running down my spine. I couldn't shake the feeling that someone was watching me. My eyes darted around, scanning the shadows for threats, but the woods were empty. Just the wind and the faint echo of distant birdsong. Still, unease gnawed at me, a feeling I couldn't shake.
I forced myself to keep moving. Paranoia wouldn't help me now. I needed to train. I needed to be ready for when the darkness returned. I needed to be ready for when the darkness returned.
And that meant confronting everything I had lost, everything that had been taken from me, one step at a time.
The trees thickened as I ventured deeper into the forest, their twisted branches curling overhead like skeletal fingers. The sun dipped lower, casting long shadows that danced across the path. I focused on my breathing, steadying my nerves. Each step brought me closer to the place where my past and present converged.
Memories flooded my mind, unbidden and sharp. Training here with Kenta, laughing at his crude jokes while dodging his monstrous swings. Sparring with Sora, his speed a blur as he taunted me with his agility. Akari's sly grin as she outmaneuvered me again and again. Ryo's steady presence, always a step ahead in both strategy and strength. And Yuna... her gentle smile, always watching from the sidelines, her healing light ready to mend our wounds.
My heart tightened, the ache of loss blooming in my chest. They were all here, alive and untouched by the pain that awaited them. But for how long? How long before fate repeated itself?
The trees opened up to a clearing, I found the training ground just as I remembered it—untouched by time. The wooden posts used for combat training still stood, the markings on the ground where I had practiced my stances and footwork still faintly visible in the dirt. Everything was just as I remembered it, yet it felt distant, like a fragment of a dream.
I stepped forward, my fingers grazing the rough wood of one of the posts. Splinters pricked my skin, grounding me in the present. This was real. This was my chance to change everything. But the hollowness on my back reminded me of my weakness. No weapon. No power. Just a boy standing alone in a forgotten place.
My chest tightened, frustration boiling beneath my skin. I slammed my fist into the wooden post, the impact jolting up my arm. Pain flared, sharp and bright, but I welcomed it. I needed to feel something—anything—to drown out the emptiness.
I pulled back and punched again, harder this time. And again. And again. The wood groaned under the force, dust splintering into the air. My knuckles throbbed, skin splitting, blood smearing across the worn surface. But I didn't stop. I couldn't stop.
Memories crashed over me, relentless and cruel. Yuna's lifeless body cradled in my arms, her blood staining my hands. Kenta's roar of defiance as he was overwhelmed. Sora and Akari's final stand, their faces twisted in pain and fury. Ryo's shattered shield, his voice breaking as he called my name. And the Vampire Elders... their cold, pitiless eyes watching as everything I loved was torn away.
I gritted my teeth, a growl escaping my lips as I swung my fist again, the wood splintering beneath my rage. I wouldn't let that future come to pass. I wouldn't lose them again. No matter what it took.
The sun dipped below the horizon, shadows swallowing the clearing. My breath came in ragged gasps, my body trembling with exhaustion. Blood dripped from my knuckles, staining the dirt below. I leaned my forehead against the post, my eyes stinging with unshed tears.
I straightened, wiping the blood on my shirt. This place... it was more than just a training ground. It was the starting point. The place where I would rebuild myself from nothing. Where I would become strong enough to protect them all.
The darkness was coming, but so was I. And this time, I would be ready.
I took a deep breath, the air cold and biting. The forest whispered around me, its shadows curling in the fading light. I would train. I would fight. I would win.
And I would save them all.
But Tatsuo wasn't the kind of man to wait for the impossible to happen. He would forge his own path. And for that, he needed strength. Not just the kind of strength that came from power or weapons, but from within—mental, physical, and emotional resilience.
I grabbed a wooden training sword off the rack, its familiar weight grounding me. It was nothing compared to Nocturnis, but it was enough for now. I took a step forward, feeling the familiar weight as I settled into my stance. The air was still, the clearing silent except for the rustling leaves overhead.
Taking a deep breath, my body moved before my mind could catch up, muscle memory guiding me through the familiar dance of battle. The sword cut through the air, slicing invisible enemies as I flowed from one strike to the next. Each movement was precise, practiced. A high swing followed by a sharp thrust, a pivot on my heel to deflect an imagined blow. The wooden blade vibrated in my hands with every strike, the impact dull but satisfying.
The rhythm of combat was like a song I couldn't forget, the beat pulsing through my veins. It didn't matter that I was weaker now, that I had no magic to amplify my attacks or a legendary weapon to back my will. None of that mattered. What mattered was the resolve burning in my chest—the promise that I would be ready, no matter what.
Sweat trickled down my temple, a salty reminder of my own limitations. My muscles burned with each movement, a familiar ache settling into my shoulders and back. But I welcomed the pain. It meant I was still alive. It meant I could still fight.
I twisted my body, the wooden blade arcing in a wide slash that would have cleaved an enemy in two. But there was nothing there. Just the whisper of wind and the echo of battles long past. My breath came in ragged bursts, my chest heaving as I fought against the exhaustion threatening to pull me under.
I had to keep going. I had to push harder. I couldn't afford to be weak—not again.
The clearing blurred around me, memories overlapping with reality. I saw Kenta grinning, his massive axe swinging toward me in a bone-shattering blow. I dodged to the side, my wooden blade intercepting the invisible attack. In my mind, his laughter echoed, boisterous and carefree.
A shadow darted behind me—Sora's lightning-fast speed as he went for my blind spot. I spun on my heel, the sword slicing through the air where his head should have been. His smirk danced before my eyes, his voice taunting as he vanished like smoke.
A flicker of gold—Ryo, his shield raised, his sword poised to strike. I parried his phantom attack, the impact reverberating up my arm. His steady gaze met mine, his words a reminder to always stand firm, no matter the odds.
A whisper of movement—Akari's form blurred as she closed in, twin daggers aimed for my throat. I deflected the attack, my heart racing as I remembered her teasing grin, her voice playfully chiding me for being too predictable.
My chest tightened, the ache of loss clawing at my insides. I swung the sword harder, faster, the wooden blade a blur as I fought against shadows. But no matter how many times I struck, no matter how many enemies I cut down, they always vanished. Always out of reach.
Then I saw her, Yuna. Her gentle smile, her soft voice calling my name. My heart twisted painfully, the image of her lifeless body flashing before my eyes. Blood on my hands. Her warmth was fading. Her light extinguished.
"No!" I roared, the wooden sword crashing into the ground with a force that splintered the dirt beneath me. I stood there, panting, my body trembling with exhaustion. My vision blurred, tears threatening to spill as the memories clawed at me, refusing to let go.
Suddenly, a voice broke the silence, the sound cutting through the forest like a blade.
"Tatsuo? What are you doing out here?"
I froze mid-motion, my body still poised in a fighting stance. My heart skipped a beat as I turned to see Yuna standing just inside the clearing, her figure framed by the trees. Her bright eyes studied me with a mixture of concern and confusion, her long hair swaying gently in the wind. She looked at me with wide, curious eyes, as if trying to understand what I was doing.
"I thought you were going around the market," she said, a hint of confusion in her voice.
"What are you doing all the way out here?"
Her words hit me like a wave. She was right. I wasn't supposed to be out here, training alone. I was just a child—at least, that's what everyone believed. I should have been doing what other kids my age did—laughing, playing, studying. Yet here I was, pushing myself to prepare for battles that no one else could even imagine. My grip tightened on the wooden hilt as I fought to keep my emotions in check. It was foolish.
But I couldn't afford to be anything but ready. Not when I knew what was coming.
I couldn't let her see the pain in my eyes, the battle scars of a life I'd already lived once.
Yuna studied him for a moment, her brow furrowed in concern. Then, with a sigh, she stepped forward, her eyes softening.
"Tatsuo… you're still so young. You don't have to push yourself this hard."
Her words sliced through me, deeper than any blade could. I turned my face away, unable to meet her gaze. Her kindness, her concern—it hurt in a way I couldn't explain. I didn't want her to see the cracks, to see the weight I was carrying. I couldn't afford to be vulnerable.
But her words—they peeled away the layers of resolve I had wrapped around myself, leaving me exposed in a way I wasn't ready for.
Yuna stepped closer, her voice gentle but firm, carrying the weight of memories they shared.
"You've always been like this, Tatsuo," she said softly.
"Even back at the orphanage. You were always the one standing up for the younger kids, taking on more than you needed to. Do you remember when those older boys kept picking on Hiroshi? You didn't even hesitate. You stood between them, even though you knew they were bigger and stronger than you."
My lips tightened, my jaw clenching as the memory resurfaced. I could still see the look of fear on Hiroshi's face, the way his small body trembled as he clung to my shirt. And I could still feel the bruises I bore afterward, though they didn't hurt nearly as much as the thought of doing nothing.
Yuna's expression softened further, her voice tinged with a mixture of admiration and sadness.
"And even when you got hurt, you never let it show. You didn't want any of us to worry about you. You'd just get back up, brush it off, and keep going like nothing happened. You always tried so hard to protect everyone else, Tatsuo… but you never let anyone protect you."
My shoulders tensed, and I could feel my fingers loosening slightly on the hilt of the wooden sword. Her words felt like a challenge to my resolve, a reminder of the weight I carried and the isolation it brought.
"I have to be stronger. If I'm not, then—"
"You don't have to carry everything alone," Yuna interrupted, stepping closer until she stood directly in front of me. Her eyes searched mine, earnest and unwavering.
"You've always been strong, Tatsuo, but strength doesn't mean doing everything by yourself. It doesn't mean pushing yourself until you break."
Her hand reached out hesitantly, resting gently on my arm.
"You're not alone anymore. You have me, you have everyone at the orphanage. We're here for you, too. Please… don't forget that."
I looked down at her hand on my arm, my chest tightening with a mix of emotions I couldn't fully name. Yuna had always been there, even in my past life. She had always believed in me, even when I didn't believe in myself.
"I…"I started to speak, but the words caught in my throat. I didn't know how to tell her that I couldn't stop, that I wouldn't stop. Not when I knew what was coming. Not when I knew how much we all had to lose.
Instead, I forced a small, faint smile.
"Thanks, Yuna," I said finally, my voice quiet but sincere.
Yuna studied me for a moment longer, as if sensing the storm of emotions I was trying to hide.
"Just… promise me you'll take a break once in a while, okay?"
I nodded, even though I wasn't sure I could keep that promise.
"I'm... just making sure I'm ready," I said, my voice low but steady.
"For when the time comes."
Yuna tilted her head as if she didn't fully understand, but she didn't press the issue. Instead, she stepped closer, her gaze softening.
"Tatsuo… you've been acting so strange lately. Like you're carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders."
My chest tightened as I stared at her, her words striking a chord deep within me. She had always been this way—selfless, caring, and unwavering in her determination to help those she cared about. Even in my past life, she had been my anchor, the light that kept me going through the darkest of times. Her unyielding resolve mirrored the selfless spirit I remembered—the unwavering ally who sacrificed everything for our team, for me. The memory lingered in my mind, pulling at me, urging me to open up and let her in.
But how could I? How could I burden her with the truth of a life she hadn't lived, of battles she hadn't fought, of pain she hadn't endured?
"I'm fine, Yuna. You don't need to worry about me."
Her expression faltered for a moment, and she stepped forward, her gaze never leaving mine.
"I do worry. I always have. And... I don't think I can just stand by while you carry everything by yourself."
My mind raced, torn between the urge to push her away to protect her and the overwhelming desire to tell her the truth, to show her the strength she had always shown me, the strength I had once known.
But before I could respond, a rustling sound came from the bushes at the edge of the clearing. Both of us stiffened, alert. My hand instinctively reached for a weapon that wasn't there, my body reacting faster than my mind could keep up. I felt the weight of my vulnerability keenly now, the realization that without my scythe, without my magic, I was just a boy.
Out of the shadows emerged a figure—a tall, wiry man with dark eyes that gleamed with malice. His tattered cloak billowed around him, and his presence was suffocating.
A vampire.
My blood ran cold.
"Well, well," the vampire said, his voice smooth and taunting.
"Seems I've found something interesting. A little warrior in training, and the girl he's so intent on protecting."
My instincts flared, the urge to protect Yuna overwhelming me. I moved to step in front of her, my body tense, but Yuna's hand gently pressed against my arm, holding me back.
"I don't think you understand," Yuna said, her voice trembling but strong.
"We're not afraid of you."
The vampire smirked, stepping closer, his crimson eyes gleaming with amusement.
"Not afraid? How curious. But you…"
His gaze locked onto me, and his smirk widened as if he had discovered something unusual.
"There's something different about you. The way you stand… firm, unwavering. That fire in your eyes—it doesn't belong to a mere child."
I tightened my grip on the wooden training sword, my body rigid with tension. I could feel the vampire's gaze piercing through me, as if peeling away the surface to uncover the truth hidden beneath.
The vampire chuckled softly, tilting his head as though examining a puzzle that intrigued him.
"You're not ordinary, are you? I can see it… potential. I've heard whispers… rumors of someone like you."
He paused, a glint in his crimson eyes.
"Strength waiting to be unleashed. Tell me, boy, what makes you so different? What are you hiding?"
My heart pounded in my chest as dread clawed its way into my thoughts.
Could the Vampire Elders have remembered their previous lives?
The notion sent a chill through him, his grip on the wooden sword tightening.
If they had somehow retained their memories, just as he had, then their presence here wasn't random—it was deliberate. It was for Revenge.
The thought sent a chill down my spine.
But the vampire only smirked wider, as if reading the conflict in my eyes.
"Such a fierce glare for someone so young. You carry yourself like a fighter—disciplined, sharp, and... restrained."
His tone was light, almost mocking, but his eyes held a flicker of genuine interest.
The vampire chuckled softly, tilting his head as if reading my thoughts.
"No need to look so alarmed, boy."
"That fire you think you have? It's just smoke and mirrors. A child's game."
He laughed, a chilling, dark laugh rumbling in his throat.
"But it will be… someday."
I remained silent, my body tense as I forced myself to meet the vampire's gaze.
The vampire's smirk deepened, his expression one of cold amusement.
"Until then… play nice."
I gritted my teeth, trying to push past the gnawing fear that clenched at my gut. I had to have misinterpreted the vampire's words. They didn't know. They couldn't have. I was nothing more than a child in this world—a child they saw as unusual, perhaps promising, but nothing more.
They only saw the potential—the instincts of a seasoned fighter that had carried over from a life long past. But even that was enough to draw their attention.
I swallowed hard, trying to quell the gnawing fear that clawed at my gut.
However, if they were already watching me, sensing my potential, then it was only a matter of time before they made their move.
And if they were after me, I had no choice but to stay one step ahead.
The vampire stepped closer, his footsteps slow and deliberate, the dark air around him thick with malice. His eyes burned with an eerie, predatory gleam as he licked his lips.
"Hmm..." he began, a gleeful smile spreading across his face as he licked his lips, savoring the anticipation.
"You're a lot more interesting than I thought, boy," the vampire hissed, his voice a venomous whisper.
A cold sweat trickled down my spine as the vampire's form seemed to loom larger, his presence suffocating. There was no trace of the man who might have once been a human in this creature, only a hunger that oozed from every movement.
The vampire's smile widened into a wicked grin.
"I wonder, boy, how sweet your blood will taste. I wonder how your screams will sound when you beg for mercy."
I instinctively stepped back, my heart pounding. I couldn't let the vampire get any closer to Yuna. My thoughts raced—this creature, this monster, wasn't just here for me. It wanted to feed. And Yuna… Yuna was far too vulnerable.
I placed myself between Yuna and the vampire, my body tense, every muscle coiled to react. I wasn't sure how strong I was now, not in this child's body, but I had to try. I wasn't going to let this monster lay a hand on her.
I tightened my grip on the wooden training sword already in my hand, my knuckles whitening as the familiar weight grounded me. My stance was unwavering, feet planted firmly, and my body poised with the precision of a seasoned warrior. The movements came instinctively, muscle memory from a past life guiding me as if I had never stopped training.
The vampire's expression faltered, just for a moment, his eyes narrowing in disbelief. I was holding the wooden sword with such precision, such confidence, that it seemed impossible for someone my age to exhibit such control. It was the posture of a seasoned warrior, of someone who had fought countless battles.
"Interesting…" the vampire muttered, his grin still present, though tinged with irritation.
"A little… showmanship."
"How… quaint."
He took another step, the air growing colder.
"Such… child's play won't help you."
But I could feel the pressure mounting. I wasn't ready to fight a creature of this caliber—not in this fragile body, not without the strength and weapons I had once wielded. But this wasn't a fight I could avoid. This wasn't about winning; it was about survival. About protecting Yuna.
The vampire began to advance, each step deliberate and heavy, as if savoring the tension in the air. His crimson eyes glinted with malice, locking onto Tatsuo with a predator's focus. The way he moved was unnerving, a slow, fluid gait that made the space between them shrink with an unbearable inevitability.
His lips curled into a wicked grin, revealing sharp fangs that glimmered in the faint light. The oppressive aura around him thickened with each step, suffocating and cold, like the chill of a shadow creeping over a helpless prey.
"You're trembling," the vampire said softly, his voice a venomous purr that dripped with amusement.
"What's the matter, little warrior? Afraid of your own weakness? Or are you afraid of me?"
I stood firm, gripping the wooden sword tighter despite the sweat slicking my palms. My heart pounded like a drum, but I refused to move, my body coiled and ready to react.
The vampire chuckled darkly, his imposing form now mere feet away.
"Brave, aren't you? Let's see how long that lasts."
The vampire lunged suddenly, a blur of motion, and my heart raced. I had barely managed to raise my sword to parry the vampire's strike when the creature's claws reached for my throat.
But just before the vampire could grab hold, a sharp, cold pain struck through its back. The vampire froze mid-step, a howl of surprise and pain escaping its lips. My eyes widened as he saw a blade protruding from the vampire's chest—a thin, silvery knife buried deep in its spine.
The vampire stood there, its mouth opening in a silent scream before it collapsed to the ground with a heavy thud. The figure that had struck it stood still in the shadows, a silhouette barely visible in the dim light. The vampire twitched and gasped for air, but it was clear that it wouldn't be getting back up.
My heart pounded in my chest as I turned, lowering my wooden sword slightly. I wasn't sure who this new person was, or why they had intervened, but I wasn't about to waste the opportunity. My gaze flicked to Yuna, who was still standing behind me, wide-eyed and trembling but safe.
"Stay behind me," I muttered under my breath, not taking my eyes off the downed vampire or the mysterious figure.
The mysterious figure stepped forward, their face still hidden in the shadows. Their voice was calm, measured, and dangerous.
The figure's gaze softened as he stepped forward, his voice calm and measured.
"You must be more cautious, young one," he said, his tone almost too refined.
"Vampires, though dangerous, are not the only perils that linger in the shadows."
I tightened my grip on the sword, ready for anything. My instincts screamed at me to remain alert—this wasn't over yet.