Awakening the Past

The morning sun cast a golden glow over the quiet village of Eldoria, its rays peeking through the cracks of Ryu's modest room. He sat on the edge of his wooden bed, staring at his hands—hands that should have been scarred and calloused from years of battle but were instead smooth, untouched by war.

His chest rose and fell as he struggled to process the reality before him. The familiar creak of the floorboards, the faint smell of his mother's cooking wafting from the kitchen—it was all real. He was truly back.

Fifteen years ago.

His mind raced. This was the year he had first left the village to train in the capital, wide-eyed and full of ambition. He had been naive, unaware of the treachery and bloodshed that awaited him.

But not this time.

Ryu stood, his movements sharp and deliberate. He crossed to the small mirror above the dresser, his reflection staring back at him. His dark hair was shorter, his face youthful and free of the weathered lines he had earned through years of hardship. Yet his eyes—piercing and calculating—belonged to someone far older.

"I need to act fast," he muttered, his voice steady. "The events that led to my fall will begin soon. If I don't prepare, history will repeat itself."

As he descended the creaky stairs, the sight of his mother greeted him. Her auburn hair was tied back in a simple braid, and her kind eyes sparkled as she turned from the stove.

"Ryu! You're finally awake. I was beginning to think you'd sleep the whole day away," she teased, placing a plate of steaming bread and eggs on the table.

For a moment, Ryu froze. It had been so long since he'd seen her alive. In his past life, she had died while he was away at the capital, taken by an illness he hadn't been there to prevent.

"Ryu? Are you all right?" she asked, concern creasing her brow.

"I'm fine," he said quickly, forcing a smile. "Just… a strange dream."

Her expression softened, and she gestured for him to sit. "Eat up. You'll need your strength if you're heading to the capital today."

The capital. His departure was supposed to be the start of everything. It was where he would meet Alden and the others, where he would first begin to rise in fame and power. But it was also where the seeds of betrayal would be sown.

As he ate, Ryu's mind worked furiously. He couldn't delay his departure—it would arouse suspicion. But this time, he would go prepared.

Later that morning, Ryu ventured into the village market. The bustling streets were filled with merchants peddling their wares, children laughing as they darted between the stalls, and farmers haggling over prices. It was a scene of simple, peaceful life, but Ryu knew it wouldn't last.

He approached an old blacksmith named Garrik, whose forge was known for producing reliable weapons.

"Ah, young Ryu," Garrik greeted, wiping his sooty hands on his apron. "What brings you here today? Shouldn't you be preparing for your journey?"

"I need a blade," Ryu said without hesitation.

Garrik raised an eyebrow. "A blade? For what? You'll be training in the capital, lad, not fighting bandits."

"I want to be prepared," Ryu said, his tone firm. "I've seen enough travelers get caught off guard on the road. Besides, a warrior should always have a weapon."

The blacksmith chuckled. "Fair enough. I've got a few short swords that should suit you. Nothing too fancy, mind you—just sturdy steel."

As Garrik turned to retrieve the blades, Ryu allowed his eyes to wander across the forge. His gaze settled on a dusty, unassuming dagger resting on a shelf. Its design was simple, but there was an unmistakable aura about it.

"That one," Ryu said, pointing to the dagger.

Garrik frowned. "That old thing? It's not much of a weapon—more of a relic. Found it buried near the woods years ago. You sure about that?"

"Yes," Ryu said firmly.

The blacksmith shrugged, handing it to him. The moment Ryu's fingers closed around the hilt, he felt a faint pulse, as though the blade were alive.

"Strange," he murmured, examining the intricate symbols etched into the metal. He recognized them as ancient runes, remnants of a long-forgotten civilization.

"That'll be five silvers," Garrik said.

Ryu handed over the coins without hesitation. As he left the forge, he couldn't shake the feeling that the dagger was more than it seemed.

That evening, as the village prepared for his send-off, Ryu sat by the riverbank, the dagger resting on his lap. The water's surface reflected the fiery hues of the setting sun, casting an otherworldly glow over the scene.

"This time, I'll change everything," he whispered to himself.

The dagger pulsed again, faint but steady, as if in response to his words.

And so, with the past as his ally and the future as his battlefield, Ryu prepared to embark on the journey that would decide not only his fate but the fate of an entire world.