Chapter 8: The Echo of a Past Life

The world was cold and silent, except for the cutting sound of the wind. A snowstorm raged mercilessly, swallowing the old man in a sea of endless white. He trembled, each step heavier than the last, while the sword in his hands felt like dead weight.

His name was Eryos , and his life had been marked by failure. Born without talent in a world where strength and skill determined a man's worth, he had dedicated decades to relentless practice with the sword. Every strike, every movement, every technique—studied and executed with painstaking care. Yet, what had he gained in return? Nothing but exhaustion and despair.

The sound of the blade slicing through the wind was almost melancholic. Eryos stopped for a moment, panting, staring into the void before him. His body was covered in old scars and calluses, marks of a life spent in constant struggle.

"Why?" he murmured, his voice lost in the wind. "Why was my effort never enough?"

He raised the sword once more, as if defying fate itself. The blade trembled in his hand, not because of the wind's force but from the weakness of his body.

Since childhood, Eryos had dreamed of becoming a swordsman. Not a grand hero or a legendary warrior, but simply someone capable of protecting what mattered to him—his village, his family, his friends. Yet, from the beginning, fate seemed to mock his ambitions.

Other apprentices mastered techniques with ease, while Eryos lagged behind, stumbling at every step. He practiced more than anyone, trained until his hands bled, but the gap never closed.

The village masters despised him. "You'll never be more than a peasant holding a sword," they said, their words cutting deeper than any blade.

But Eryos persisted. Every failure was met with another attempt. Every defeat saw him rise again. His determination was almost pathetic, yet he never gave up.

---

Now, amidst that howling snowstorm, he knew the end was near. His aging body no longer had the strength to continue. He could barely lift his sword. But still, he didn't stop.

Eryos assumed his stance, as if facing an invisible opponent. With slow, trembling movements, he began what would be his final training.

"Diagonal cut…" he murmured, swinging the blade with difficulty.

"Lateral defense… retreat… advance…"

Every move was imperfect; every strike lacked power and precision. But for him, it was everything.

The cold began to consume his body. He could no longer feel his feet, and his fingers struggled to hold the sword.

"Just one more time… just one more…" he repeated to himself, as if those words were enough to keep his soul within his body.

---

Eventually, his body gave out. He fell to his knees in the snow, his arms slack, the sword buried beside him. Tears streamed down his face, only to freeze against his skin.

"Was it all… for nothing?" his voice was barely a whisper.

He looked up at the gray sky, feeling the weight of a life filled with failure. Eryos was no one special. He never became a respected swordsman, never had his name carved into history. He was just an ordinary man, trying to fight against an unchangeable fate.

His eyes began to close, and the last thing he saw was the snow falling gently around him, covering his body like a shroud.

---

Cael woke up with a start, his heart pounding. The chill of that snowstorm still seemed to linger on his skin, even though he was lying in his bed, wrapped in warm blankets.

He placed a hand on his chest, feeling the invisible weight of something he couldn't fully comprehend.

"Who was he?" Cael murmured, recalling the vision.

Fragments of that past life danced in his mind, like pieces of an incomplete puzzle. He didn't know who Eryos truly was, but one thing was clear: his determination and failures echoed within Cael's soul.

Though Cael was a lazy and easygoing boy, something inside him knew that the old man, lost in the snow, had left him more than just memories. There was a purpose to his reincarnation, a reason for that story to continue.

And as Cael held his sword, something deep in his mind whispered:

"Get up. Keep trying. Just one more time."

Lying in bed, Cael stared at the worn wooden ceiling of his dormitory at the academy. The memory of the snowstorm and Eryos's life still pulsed in his mind, but instead of motivating him, it left a bitter taste in his mouth.

"So, that's it..." he murmured, turning to his side, still wrapped in blankets. "All that effort… for what? To die frozen in the middle of nowhere?"

He let out a long, heavy sigh, as if the air itself carried years of accumulated frustration. At that moment, the last thing he wanted was to repeat the mistakes of his past life.

"I won't follow the same path. Effort without reward? What a joke."

Since his reincarnation, Cael had always been calm by nature, but now it all made sense. He didn't want to stand out, fight great battles, or seek glory. All he desired was to live a quiet life, free of complications and expectations.

At the academy, such a philosophy seemed almost impossible. The students around him were always competing, training, striving to be the best. For Cael, even watching was exhausting.

Reluctantly, he got out of bed, his hair messy and his eyes half-closed. On the small desk beside his bed lay his training sword, glinting in the light streaming through the window. He frowned at the blade.

"Why do I have to do this?" he asked himself. "It's not like I want to be a hero or anything."

The thought of following Eryos's fate deeply bothered him. Giving his all only to achieve nothing seemed like a pointless cycle.

Even with his determination to avoid effort, Cael knew he had to fulfill the minimum requirements. The academy had rules, and he didn't want to be expelled—not out of fear of losing the opportunity, but because it would cause more complications.

In the dining hall, he found his classmates. Lana, Marla, and Ren were sitting together, discussing a new spell they had learned in enchantment class. Thorne was beside them, jotting down quick notes in a book, while Elynn and Taron seemed more interested in their food than the conversation.

As Cael approached, they all glanced at him with light smiles.

"Finally decided to crawl out of your cave, Cael?" Ren teased with a playful tone. "I thought you were planning to hibernate until next semester."

Cael shrugged, grabbing a piece of bread and sitting down with his usual calm demeanor.

"Sleeping seems more productive than training until you collapse, don't you think?" he replied flatly.

The table burst into laughter, though there was a hint of truth in his words.

Although Cael was lazy and preferred to avoid unnecessary effort, he couldn't completely ignore the weight of that memory. Every time he held his sword or tried to cast a spell, he felt as if something inside him was on the verge of bursting. It was as if Eryos's determination still burned within him, even against his will.

During a combat class, the instructor ordered the students to pair up and practice basic techniques. Naturally, Cael chose the calmest opponent in the group, someone who wouldn't pose much of a challenge.

"Take it easy, okay?" he said, holding his training sword in a relaxed grip.

His partner nodded, but the moment the match began, something shifted. An instinctive strike from Cael disarmed his opponent before they could even react.

"What was that?" the other asked, surprised, picking up their weapon from the ground.

Cael stood still, feeling a mix of confusion and frustration. He hadn't wanted to fight seriously, but his body seemed to act on its own.

"Nothing…" he replied, sighing and lowering his sword. "Let's keep going."

---

Cael knew he had a natural talent, likely inherited from his past life, but he didn't want to embrace it. The idea of striving for something grand seemed like an unnecessary burden.

In the following months, he continued to keep a low profile, avoiding attention, but his charismatic personality and unpredictable actions always ended up drawing others to him.

Whenever someone challenged him or tried to pressure him to work harder, he gave the same calm response:

"I don't want to be a hero. I just want peace."

Yet deep down, Cael knew the world wouldn't let him live in peace forever. Something greater awaited him, and despite his resistance, fate seemed determined to put him back on the path of conflict.