The dream came again.
Fire. Screams. The sharp tang of iron in the air. Jin Seol stood among the ruins, his hands coated in blood that was not his own. The faces of the dead blurred and shifted—friends, enemies, strangers—until they all melted into the same accusing gaze.
He woke with a start, chest tight, the echo of those stares still clinging to him. Morning light was just beginning to filter through the torn fabric of the tent he'd claimed for himself. The beggar camp stirred faintly in the distance, the sounds of coughing, muttered curses, and pots clanging marking the start of another day.
Jin sat up, rubbing his temples. In his first life, the war had come much later—years later. But now, the signs were already whispering on the wind. Skirmishes near the border. Caravans being stopped and searched. Steel prices quietly rising in distant markets.
Something had changed.
A familiar voice broke through his thoughts. "You look like you haven't slept."
Do Yeon approached, a worn bundle slung over one shoulder. He still moved with the casual confidence of a man who could sell water to a drowning fool, but Jin saw the lines of fatigue around his friend's eyes.
Do Yeon crouched, opening his bundle. "Got a few things from the market. Dried meat, rice, and…" He pulled out a small pouch of coins. "Payment from a certain merchant who owed me. Figured you could use it more than I can."
Jin's lips curved in the faintest smile. "I can."
They ate in silence for a time, the camp's chaos filling the gaps in conversation. Finally, Do Yeon spoke. "I've been thinking… maybe I should stick around a bit longer this time. The road's getting… unpredictable."
Jin glanced at him. "Unpredictable how?"
"Too many questions being asked at the wrong places. Soldiers taking more interest in trade goods than they used to. It feels like something's brewing."
Jin's gaze drifted toward the eastern hills. More than you know.
"I'll be heading out later," Jin said. "Training."
Do Yeon's brow lifted. "Training for what?"
"For what's coming."
Do Yeon chuckled under his breath, but there was a flicker of unease there. He didn't press further.
⸻
The clearing was empty when Jin arrived, save for the chirp of unseen birds and the distant trickle of water. He shed his worn shirt, feeling the cool morning air bite against his skin. Scars—old and new—marked him like a map of violence.
He began with the basics. Pushes, strikes, footwork drills that would rebuild what the years of weakness had stolen from him. Every motion burned, but he welcomed the pain. It meant progress.
His mind, however, was elsewhere. The war was coming early. He didn't yet know why, but he would be ready when it arrived. This time, he wouldn't be caught unprepared.
Somewhere behind him, the wind carried the faint sound of a bell from the direction of the city—sharp and urgent. A warning.
Jin's fists tightened. It's starting.