Chapter 1.1 – The Rebirth of a Genius

Awakening in a New Body

A blinding white light.

Then—nothing.

Joshua Martin's last memories were of a dimly lit lab, the hum of high-powered machinery, and the flickering glow of his life's ultimate achievement—the Arc Reactor. A near-infinite energy source that would change the world. It was supposed to be his legacy. The culmination of decades of research, sleepless nights, and countless sacrifices.

But as he stared at the near-finished project, his body betrayed him.

His chest tightened. His vision blurred. And then—darkness.

No triumphant moment. No dramatic farewell. His body had simply given out.

But now…

Joshua gasped as his lungs burned, his throat raw as if he had been deprived of air for days. His body convulsed, muscles stiff and unresponsive as he bolted upright—only to be struck by an overwhelming wave of dizziness. His limbs felt like twigs, brittle and useless. This wasn't his body.

The ceiling above him was wooden, its beams old but sturdy. Candlelight flickered from a nearby iron chandelier, casting dancing shadows on the stone walls. The air was thick with the scent of burnt herbs and damp fabric.

This wasn't his lab.

His heart pounded as he forced his sluggish body to move, his fingers digging into the coarse wool blanket covering him. He turned his head slightly, and the shift made his stomach roil.

Something was wrong.

Before he could make sense of his surroundings, the heavy creak of a wooden door snapped his focus to the entrance.

A small group of servants rushed in—three women and two men—each dressed in modest medieval-style clothing. One of the younger maids, a girl no older than fifteen, gasped, her hands flying to her mouth.

"My lord! You're awake!"

The words sent a chill down his spine.

They weren't speaking English. The language was foreign, yet somehow, he understood every word.

Joshua—no, Aldric—winced as a flood of memories suddenly crashed into him, his head pounding with unbearable pressure.

Two lifetimes collided.

Memories that weren't his own forced themselves into his mind. The privileged yet miserable life of a noble heir. The years spent bedridden, his body frail and weak since birth. The constant disappointment of his father, Duke Alaric Ravensbourne. The jeering whispers of the court, calling him a cripple unfit to inherit his title.

And then… the illness.

A poisoned cup of wine.

It was to make sure to ensure his death and to make him even more pitiful in the eyes of the nobility. But his body had already been fragile, barely strong enough to endure everyday life. The poison had pushed him over the edge, sending him into a two-week coma.

And during that time, his soul had died.

And Joshua Martin had taken his place.

His breath hitched as the pain in his head ebbed, leaving behind a sense of clarity.

He was no longer Joshua Martin. He was Aldric Ravensbourne.

A sickly, frail noble. The disgraced heir of House Ravensbourne.

And the last two weeks had likely changed everything.

The servants were still staring at him, their expressions a mix of shock, relief, and uncertainty. He had been expected to die. His survival was an anomaly.

He had little time to adapt.

Suppressing his panic, Aldric licked his dry, cracked lips and forced himself to speak. His throat ached, his voice raspier than he remembered.

"How… long was I unconscious?"

A male attendant hesitated before answering. "Nearly two weeks, my lord. We feared you would never wake."

Two weeks.

His father, Duke Alaric, must have assumed the worst. The nobles likely gossiped about how House Ravensbourne's sickly heir had finally succumbed. His half-brother, Lucien, would be preparing to take his place as heir.

And the one responsible for poisoning him… they would believe their plan had succeeded.

Aldric clenched his weak fists.

He had no intention of remaining the helpless, bedridden noble they all expected him to be.

His mind—his greatest weapon—was still intact.

And if there was one thing Joshua Martin had always excelled at, it was rewriting the future.

No more weakness. No more shame. Aldric Ravensbourne would rise.

And the world would never be the same.