Jay's POV
The first thing I felt upon waking wasn't pain, but warmth. The softness of cloth swaddled my tiny frame. A steady rhythm filled the air, faint and soothing.
Breathing. My mother's breathing.
I forced open my heavy eyelids and the truth struck me like thunder.
I wasn't a man anymore. Not even a teenager.
I was… a baby.
A slow grin spread inside my mind, though my fragile face barely twitched.
Yes. Yes!
The Creator had kept His word. My deal had been fulfilled.
In my previous life, I had been born into the mighty House of Valemont—renowned for producing warriors with vast pools of spiritual energy, each generation birthing legends who shook the continent. I had even inherited the Founder's Skill itself… the Twin Emperor Dragons.
But there was a flaw. My ki pool was small—too small to bear the weight of such a Mythic-class gift. For all my talent, I was dismissed as defective, cast out like refuse. Betrayed by my kin.
Yet death was not the end. In my final moments, standing in the shadows of betrayal, I had begged the heavens for one chance—to rewrite it all.
And God had answered.
My curse had been lifted.
My bond restored.
Because lying beside me, small and frail but unmistakable… was my twin. My brother. My other half.
In my last life, he died protecting me.
This time, I would not allow it.
"Two healthy boys…" My mother's voice trembled with exhaustion, yet carried a note of joy.
Twin heirs.
House Valemont's greatest blessing… and its greatest curse.
Four Months Later – The Field of Swords
In House Valemont, blood alone did not guarantee power. Every child of noble blood underwent their first trial at just four months old: The Crawling of the Blades.
A sacred plain lay behind the Storm Fortress, where only the greatest warriors in our history had earned the right to plant their blades. Hundreds of swords jutted from the earth like the bones of giants, each one resonating with the essence of its wielder.
The tradition was simple—children were released onto the field. Whichever sword they crawled toward, whichever hilt they grasped… that was the weapon, and legacy, they would inherit.
I remembered this place. I remembered the way the air hummed with killing intent, the faint whispers of past battles clinging to every blade.
In my first life, I had crawled toward a longsword of pure silver steel, its edge gleaming like moonlight—the Founder's Longsword. My twin had chosen the Founder's Saber. Together, we manifested the legendary Twin Emperor Dragons skill—he the Eastern Dragon of Elements, I the Western Dragon of Shadow and Flame.
And then… everything crumbled.
This time would be different.
I pressed my tiny hands against the cool grass and dragged my fragile body forward. Around me, the towering blades loomed like mountains. My brother mirrored my crawl, his eyes already fixated on the saber's hilt.
And then, as if fate itself bowed to memory, my hand found the familiar cold steel of the Founder's Longsword. His gripped the saber.
Twin heirs, once more.
From the viewing platform, our father—the Storm King, the strongest human alive—watched in silence. His scarred face softened into a faint, almost curious smile.
"Destiny repeats itself," he muttered, voice like distant thunder. Then louder, so all could hear:
"Looks like they're the next dual patriarchs."
The announcement rolled like a storm across the field. The elders whispered. The warriors saluted.
And then Father raised his hand.
"Send them to the Storm Fortress at once."
Six Years Later – Storm Palace
Six years passed in the blink of an eye.
The Storm Palace was both prison and crucible. Every heir of House Valemont endured its grueling rites: three years of training within the Founder's Palace itself, where blood was spilled daily, and weakness was carved out by fire and steel.
Simon—my twin—thrived as the Eastern Dragon. His essence flowed like wind and lightning, sharp and swift. I, Jay, bore the mantle of the Western Dragon—raw force, shadow, and flame.
But I was not the same boy who once failed. My ki pool, once crippled, now surged with vitality. The Creator's gift had balanced me. My curse had been erased.
Still… the politics of House Valemont remained venomous.
It was a quiet afternoon when I reached for a book in the palace library. The scent of parchment, the silence of knowledge…
Then a scream. Sharp. Deathly.
I sprinted toward the courtyard, Simon on my heels.
There, a lifeless bird lay crumpled on the marble tiles. Above it stood two of my half-brothers, sneers twisting their faces.
In my past life, these two were serpents—ambitious, cruel, endlessly scheming. Clearly, some things never changed.
One of them nudged the corpse with his foot, then looked at me with mock innocence.
"Awww… is the baby going to cry? Where's Runcadell? Where's that legendary sword you chose?"
My fists clenched. Simon's expression darkened beside me.
"Shut up," I said softly.
The boy cupped his ear in mockery.
"What was that? I can't hear you."
My shadow stirred. Heat rose in my veins.
"I said—shut. up."
My body moved before thought could stop me. I lunged, fist crashing into his chest. Ki exploded from my pool —black flames and writhing shadows wrapping my arm. The impact hurled him across the courtyard, skidding against marble, choking on blood.
Simon followed, wind gathering around him like a storm. A gale erupted from his strike, hurling the second brother to the ground with bone-snapping force.
We stood over them. Brothers by blood. Enemies by choice.
And in the silence that followed, I swore to myself:
This time, I would not let them ruin everything.
This time, the Western Dragon would rise and conquer all.