Harrowvale, the Duchy of Dunleigh;
Year 918, Second Age;
Rain whispered against the roof of the carriage as it traveled through the wilderness. In the sky, the heavy clouds swallowed the last light, further diminishing one's eyesight.
Two silver-furred Direwolves pulled the creaking black carriage onward. The Phoenix crest, bright and proud on its side, glistened whenever the wheels splashed through puddles.
The Carriage wasn't traveling alone in this wilderness, enveloped in such weather.
A dozen riders flanked it on all sides, many of whom were on foot except for two who were on bicorns, the fastest horse breeds in the world.
Inside the carriage, the air smelled of spiced wine and perfume as a young man was seen lounging against plush cushions with his shirt half-open. His green eyes seemed to be glassy from drink. His dark hair clung to his forehead, and laughter slipped from his lips as the maid beside him whispered something in his ear, pressing her mounds against his body.
Another swallow of wine. Another lazy kiss.
For a while, it seemed as if the young man was filled with ecstasy.
But everything changed as the carriage came to a sudden halt and the twin wolves barked loudly. Outside, the sounds of steel rang against steel, shouts tearing through the rain.
Icarus froze mid-breath. He blinked, frowning, as the maid gasped in panic. As the battle outside roared in his ears, he pushed her aside gently. The curtain lifted in his hand.
Through the haze of rain and dim light, he saw his guards locked in brutal combat with shadowy figures.
"Assassins?" Icarus blinked once, and then twice.
A while later;
The ground outside was littered with bodies, guards, and assassins alike. The rain only became heavier.
Icarus was seen lying on the ground, stabbed in atleast five places. He couldn't move a bit. Blood poured from his wounds like a stream of water.
*Cough* Cough*
Icarus didn't beg for mercy. He didn't ask for help. He merely lay there and stared at the sky.
A figure soon loomed above him. A broad-brimmed hat shadowed the man's face, but the sword in his hand was smeared with so much blood that not even the rain could wash it off.
Icarus coughed again. This time, a chuckle of betrayal escaped his mouth, "Heh… I always thought House Griffin would be the ones to kill me. Because you know, I figured they are against the marriage and attempt assassination discreetly. But I never expected you, Uncle."
The man, Aelius, slowly tipped his hat back, revealing a weathered face. His voice was low and hoarse as he replied. "Nothing personal, kid. Orders from my lord are absolute."
Icarus gave a dry, broken laugh. "Even if he doesn't like me, my father won't let this go. He'll hunt you down and your guild like…"
Aelius's eyes were empty as he interrupted Icarus. "After tonight… neither will House Phoenix survive, kid."
The words struck harder than the blades. Icarus's eyes widened, "Wh… Why?"
However, the answer never came.
The sword plunged into his heart in the next second.
The rain drowned out the rest.
His vision dimmed to black.
*Ding!
The chime of a strange sound was the last thing Icarus heard before the blackout.
**
Meanwhile, on Earth, Shanghai City, Year 2024;
Somewhere in an apartment in an affluent neighborhood, the sounds of endless, frantic clacking of keyboard keys filled a room.
Pale blue light from the computer screen cast a ghostly glow across the man's face, highlighting the hollow shape of his cheeks and the dark circles nesting under his eyes. His glasses hung crooked on the bridge of his nose, and behind them, his eyes were dry, red, and half-lidded.
Every few minutes, he would blink like he was waking from a dream, only to resume typing again.
Beside the monitor, a small heap of empty energy drink cans leaned dangerously to one side.
Some had been crushed absentmindedly.
Others were still sticky with whatever spilled during one of his frantic typing bursts.
The bitter smell of caffeine lingered in the air.
His fingers danced across the keys like they had a will of their own, moving faster than his thoughts could catch up.
The only breaks were brief pauses, muttered lines under his breath, small edits, and a twitch of satisfaction whenever a sentence finally landed just right.
Then, after what felt like forever, his hands froze. He stared at the screen, and slowly, a smile of satisfaction spread across his face.
"Done."
The whisper came out cracked, like his voice had forgotten how to speak.
He slumped back into the chair. The creaking sound echoed in the small, cluttered room. One hand ran through his messy hair. His shoulders sagged with the weight of exhaustion.
"That's the last one," he mumbled, voice barely audible. "Volume One of my upcoming novel has been completed. Can't believe I'm already publishing my 25th novel. After this work, I will take a long hiatus and tour around the world."
*Ugh*
His body groaned as he stretched. His bones popped, and muscles ached. But he still grinned.
Sleep was all he wanted now, after 37 hours of sleep-deprived, relentless writing.
"Ugh… this headache…"
He stumbled to bed on sleep deprivation. The soft mattress bed greeted him with open arms.
He didn't bother to change clothes. Didn't even pull the blanket over him.
The world faded to black the moment his head hit the pillow.
Ding.
A sharp sound rang out in the silence.
Then another.
Ding. Ding. Ding.
His eyes snapped open, then widened. "Hmm?"
A wooden ceiling stretched above him, polished, dark, and inlaid with golden patterns. The air was thick with the scent of sandalwood and something flowery.
He sat up quickly, almost instinctively, and looked at himself. His hands looked smooth and different. He was wearing strange robes.
Looking in his surroundings once again, he mumbled. "Where… am I?"
As if something intended to answer his question, the moment those words escaped his mouth, suddenly… a chime rang in his head.
*DING!
Followed by the sound, a glowing screen appeared midair. The light was soft, bluish-white, like a game HUD. Lines of text began to scroll across it.
[Congratulations, Host.]
[War God System Activated.]
He stared at the screen. "Uhh... what?"
He rubbed his eyes, shook his head. The screen remained, floating there.
Before he could say another word, notifications began to roll in, one after another, stacking and expanding until they filled half the space in front of him.
[Beginner Gift Pack sent to Inventory.]
[Mission System Unlocked.]
[Library Function unlocked.]
[Talent Tree Unlocked.]
[Gear System unlocked.]
[Summoning Contracts Function Available.]
Each message dinged softly as it appeared, like a game tutorial greeting a new player.
His eyes widened as the list grew. "Just what kind of dream am I having? After writing novels over and over, do I even have such a realistic, lucid dream of a new story or something?"
Then, just as the last message faded, another screen popped up, this one in bold red letters.
[Would you like to merge the Host Body's Memories or erase them?]
[Warning: Irreversible Decision.]
He stared.
His lips moved silently, trying to form words, but nothing came out.
He couldn't understand whether he was in a dream or the transmigration reality that he often used in his fictional novels.
But in the end, a quiet chuckle escaped his lips. "Alright… I don't know what's going on with this dream, but let's see where this goes. Maybe I can get some new ideas."
He raised his hand. His index finger hovered over the [Merge] option for just a second, then tapped.
The screen disappeared instantly.
And all of a sudden, a firestorm of memories crashed into his brain, everything at once.
"Oh, Fu*k."
He clutched his head and gritted his teeth while sweat poured down his temples.
*Thud*
His knees hit the floor with a hard thud as the world spun around him in the next second. His breath came in short, ragged gasps.
And then… a name escaped his lips. "Icarus."