Chapter 1: Reincarnation

When I opened my eyes in this world, I wasn't born into wealth or power.

I was the son of a farmer in a quiet village, surrounded by endless fields and distant mountains.

My parents were simple folk—kind, hardworking. We weren't rich, but we were happy.

My name is Kaiser, though I was once known as Kim Seungwoo. At the time, I didn't know it, but my life would be anything but simple.

At the age of four, I discovered something no farmer's child should have.

It started with a warmth in my chest, a strange, rhythmic pulse that didn't feel natural.

That was when I formed my first mana circle—right in my heart.

I didn't know what it meant or how it had happened, but the surge of energy was real.

Curious and restless, I experimented with this newfound power.

One afternoon, sitting behind the barn, I stretched out my hand and focused.

To my shock, bones began to emerge from the earth, clattering together until they formed a humanoid figure.

A skeleton.

He was clumsy, his movements awkward and jerky, but he stood tall, awaiting my command.

I grinned, unable to contain my excitement.

"I'll call you Hanz."

The skeleton tilted its skull slightly, as if acknowledging the name.

From that day on, Hanz became part of our family.

My parents were startled at first, but they couldn't deny his usefulness.

He worked tirelessly in the fields—carrying tools, planting seeds, even helping with the harvest.

But my father had other plans for me.

One evening, after a long day of work, he called me over.

"Kaiser," he said, his voice serious. "You're not like the other kids. That power of yours—it's a gift. But a strong body is just as important as a strong heart. If you want to protect yourself and this family, you need to learn how to fight."

I nodded without hesitation. "I'll do it."

That's how I found myself standing in front of the village dojo.

The man who owned it, Raven, was a one-armed swordsman with a reputation as a strict and ruthless teacher. He didn't tolerate weakness, and his methods were known to be brutal.

The moment he saw me, he frowned. "You? A scrawny little brat like you wants to learn swordsmanship?"

I clenched my fists. "Yes."

He raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. "Go home, kid. You'll just waste my time."

But I stood my ground. "I won't leave until you teach me."

Raven smirked, amused by my determination. "Fine. But don't cry when you regret it."

Training began the next day. He taught me the basics—how to hold a sword, how to stand, how to move.

At first, it seemed simple. Then he threw a wooden sword at me and said, "Defend yourself."

Before I could even lift my weapon properly, he was already on me.

His strikes were relentless, leaving bruises on my arms and legs.

"You're pathetic," he spat. "Swinging a sword isn't child's play. Go home."

I didn't go home. I came back every day, bruised and battered but determined.

Slowly, Raven's attitude shifted.

He began to correct my form, teach me new techniques, and even praise me—rarely, but it was there.

A year passed, and by the time I turned five, I had mastered the basics of swordsmanship. But Raven wasn't done with me.

"You're too soft," he said one morning, his voice sharp. "If you want to get better, you need to strengthen your body."

And so began the real training.

He sent me to the mountains, where I climbed steep cliffs and carried boulders twice my size.

He made me stand under freezing waterfalls to train my endurance and fight wild boars with nothing but a wooden sword. Every day was a struggle.

"That old man is insane," I muttered one evening, collapsing onto the grass.

My muscles burned, my hands were blistered, and every inch of my body ached.

But I couldn't deny the results. I was stronger, faster, and sharper than ever before.

"Not bad, brat," Raven said with a smirk, watching me from a distance. "You might actually have talent in the sword."

One thing was certain—the hellish training had just begun.

By the time I was six, my days began and ended in exhaustion.

Every morning, I strapped 20 kilograms of weight to each wrist, shoulder, leg, and chest, then ran up and down the mountains.

The air was thin, the terrain unforgiving, and my legs burned with every step. But Raven's voice always boomed behind me.

"Faster, brat! Or I'll double the weight!"

Swordsmanship wasn't any easier.

One day, with his one arm crossed over his chest, he said, "Swing your sword ten thousand times before noon. If you don't, no dinner for you."

I swung until my hands bled, until my arms felt like they would fall off.

But I finished. Hunger wasn't something I could endure twice.

Then came the wolves. Red-maned wolves, huge beasts with sharp fangs and glowing eyes.

One day, I found myself being chased by a pack—hundreds, maybe even a thousand of them.

"You call that running?" Raven yelled from a nearby cliff, grinning like a lunatic.

That crazy bastard didn't lift a finger to help. He just watched as I ran for my life, laughing as if it was all some grand joke.

The turning point came when I saw him take down a Cerberus with his bare hands.

The massive, three-headed beast was a nightmare given form, but Raven didn't flinch.

His mana surged around him, an intense and blinding force that seemed to pierce the heavens.

With a single punch, he crushed its middle head.

"What the hell was that?" I asked, staring at him in disbelief.

"Aura," he said, dusting off his hands like it was nothing. "It's what separates warriors from amateurs. A manifestation of will and spirit. Someday, you'll use it too."

Of course, he didn't stop there. He rambled for hours about aura, mana, and the path of the sword.

Most of it went over my head, but one thing stuck: if I wanted to survive in this world, I had to master it.

Ten Years Later.

At the age of fifteen, I had become a different person.

My body, once small and frail, was now honed to its peak.

I had mastered the swordsmanship Raven taught me, reaching a level even he grudgingly acknowledged.

"You're still a brat," he said one day, his tone gruff. "But a talented swordsman."

I was now an aura user, my movements enhanced by the mana that flowed through me.

My mana circle had reached the third stage, and I could summon a hundred skeletons with ease.

Hanz, my first summon, had even become a capable swordsman under Raven's harsh training.

But despite my growth, there was one thing missing.

"Father," I said one evening as we sat around the dinner table, "I want to learn to read and write. Can I go to the northern city of Abbadon?"

My father looked up from his plate, his brow furrowed. "Abbadon is a big city, son. It's dangerous out there. Are you sure you want to leave?"

"I've been thinking about it for a while," I replied. "I want to learn more—about the world, about everything. I can't do that here."

He sighed, looking at my mother, who had been silently listening.

My mother's eyes softened as she placed a hand on my shoulder.

"You've grown so much, Kaiser," she said, her voice filled with pride. "But remember, it's not just about learning how to fight and read. It's about your safety. Promise me you'll come back."

"I promise, Mom," I said, giving her a reassuring smile. "I'll come back stronger, I swear."

My father finally nodded. "Alright, you can go. But you'll need to be careful. Abbadon is a long way from here."

When I told Raven, he shouted at me in fury.

"You're leaving after all this training?" he bellowed, his one arm waving wildly. "Are you insane?"

"I'll come back," I said calmly. "Besides, I'm leaving Hanz here. You can teach him while I'm gone."

Raven's glare could've killed a lesser man, but after a long silence, he grumbled, "Fine. But if you die out there, don't expect me to visit you."

After days of preparation, I stood at the edge of the farm, ready to leave.

My mother hugged me tightly, her eyes filled with tears.

My father placed a hand on my shoulder, his pride unspoken but clear. Raven, as always, scowled.

"Here," he said, tossing me a sword. "It was the same blade I had trained with for years. Don't lose it."

"I won't," I said, gripping the hilt tightly.

"Don't forget what I taught you," Raven added with a rare, serious tone. "The world out there won't treat you kindly. But if you survive, you'll be called a monster."

I nodded. "I won't forget. Thank you, Master."

As the carriage ride to Abbadon began, I watched the farm grow smaller in the distance, the life I had known slipping away with each mile.

The journey ahead was uncertain, but there was one thing I was sure of—I was ready.

The ride was long and uneventful at first.

The passengers were mostly women and children, their conversations a constant hum in the background.

Exhausted, I let myself drift to sleep.

I woke to the sound of shouting. The carriage had stopped, and outside, a group of mountain bandits stood waiting.

"Come out, all of you!" one of them barked, his voice rough and menacing. "Hand over your valuables, and no one gets hurt."

The passengers trembled in fear, their faces pale. I glanced around. None of them could fight.

"Tch," I muttered, grabbing my sword.

Stepping out, I faced the bandits. They sneered, their eyes gleaming with malice.

"Well, look at this one," one of them said, smirking. "Pretty boy, aren't you? You'd fetch a high price in the black market."

I tightened my grip on the hilt, my voice cold. "Shut up."

The bandit laughed, raising his axe. "Oh? What are you going to do about it?"

I didn't answer. My blade flashed, and a second later, his arm hit the ground. Blood sprayed, his screams filling the air.

It was my first kill, but I felt nothing. No guilt, no hesitation. These men were scum.

"If you don't surrender," I said, my voice cold, "you'll end up like him."

The remaining bandits didn't take me seriously. "Kill him!" one of them shouted, and they all charged.

Axes, swords, and bows came at me, but they were no match.

My mana surged through my body, and my sword danced in the air.

With every strike, I took them down one by one, moving faster than they could react.

When it was over, the bandits lay scattered on the ground, dead or groaning in pain.

I sheathed my sword and turned to the passengers, their faces pale with shock.

"It's safe now," I said simply.

As the carriage resumed its journey, I stared out at the passing landscape.

This world was dangerous, filled with people who wouldn't hesitate to kill or enslave.

But one thing was certain—the hellish training with Raven had just begun to pay off.