He was running.
His lungs burned. His legs felt like they belonged to someone else. Ten laps. The instructor said ten laps. It felt like a death sentence.
But his mind was clear. It was working faster than his body.
'It wasn't a dream. It wasn't a memory.'
The burning city. The man in white robes. The monster. It all felt so real, like it happened a minute ago. But the sky was blue. The ground was solid.
'So, I came back in time.'
The idea was crazy. But it was the only answer.
He had to be sure.
As he ran, he used his right hand to pinch his own leg. He pinched it hard.
'Ouch, fuck. That hurt.'
The pain was sharp. It was real. It was all the proof he needed. This was real. He was back. Three years in the past.
The thought made his head spin.
And then he thought of his family.
His father, the Emperor. His mother, the Empress. His six older brothers and sisters. They were all so powerful, so brilliant. He was the seventh child. The extra one. The failure.
He was never close to them. They lived in a different world, a world of power and politics. He was just a shadow.
But they were his family.
And he saw them die. He saw their great empire burn to the ground.
A sharp pain hit his chest. It was worse than the pain in his lungs. He wanted to see them. He wanted to run from this academy, go to the capital, and just see their faces. He wanted to see them alive.
The feeling was so strong, he almost stopped running.
His body stopped him first.
After the fourth lap, he couldn't go on. His legs felt like jelly. The world started to spin. He had to stop. He bent over, put his hands on his knees, and tried to breathe.
'What the hell is wrong with this body?' he thought. 'Was I this weak?'
He remembered his body from the war. It was scarred and thin, but it was strong. It could run for hours. It could fight. It could survive.
This body was different. This was the body of a prince who never worked a day in his life. It was soft. It was pathetic.
He looked up. The instructor, Commander Valerius, was yelling at some other students. His back was turned.
An idea came to him.
He started to cheat.
When the instructor wasn't looking, he would walk. He walked fast, trying to look like he was still jogging. He took deep breaths. When the instructor turned around, he would start running again.
It was a small thing. A stupid thing. But it felt good. It felt like he was in control.
He was on his last lap. The tenth lap. He was so tired. He looked down at his feet, just trying to make them move. One step. Then another. He wasn't looking where he was going.
And he ran right into someone.
It was like hitting a brick wall. He stumbled back. He almost fell, but he caught his balance at the last second.
"Fuck, Ivan! Watch where you're going!" a loud voice shouted.
Ivan looked up. It was Marcus Thorne.
Marcus was tall and strong. His father was a powerful duke. He was known for being arrogant. He was known for being a bully.
In his old life, Ivan would have been scared. He would have said sorry and tried to run away.
But Ivan was not the same person. The person inside this body had seen the world end. He was tired of being scared.
"Shut up," Ivan said. His voice was quiet, but clear. "You were in my way. You should have moved."
The students nearby went quiet. They all stopped to watch. No one ever talked to Marcus like that. Especially not Ivan.
Marcus just stared. He looked shocked. Then, his face got red with anger.
"Careful with your words, princess," he said. He used the nickname everyone used to make fun of Ivan. "Don't think you're special just because your father is the Emperor."
Ivan laughed. It was a short, bitter sound.
"You're just jealous," Ivan said, looking straight into Marcus's eyes. "You say the same stupid thing every day. You'll probably still be saying it when you're a grown man."
He knew he was pushing Marcus. He knew it was a bad idea. A small part of him wanted to stop. But a bigger part of him didn't care. He was done being weak.
It was too much for Marcus.
"You want trouble?" he yelled.
He didn't wait for an answer. He moved fast. He kicked out, aiming for Ivan's side.
It was a good kick. It was fast and strong.
But Ivan had seen much faster.
The war had taught him how to fight. His mind saw the kick coming. It knew how to block it. It knew how to counter it.
But his mind and his body were two different things.
His body moved on instinct. He lifted his leg to block the kick. His shin hit Marcus's foot. It was a good block.
But his body was too weak.
The force of the kick shocked his whole leg. A sharp pain ran up his side. He lost his balance and stumbled backward. He waved his arms around like an idiot to keep from falling. He managed to stay standing, but he looked weak. He looked clumsy.
Marcus put his foot down. He had a big, cruel smile on his face. He had won the first exchange. He had made the prince look like a fool.
He pointed his finger at Ivan. He shouted so everyone in the training field could hear him.
"I call for a duel! Right here, right now!"
Then he stepped closer. He lowered his voice so only Ivan could hear the insult.
"You're not going to back down, are you, princess?"