Beginning after the Fall - 01

(Author's Note: All names and figures stated in this novel are purely fictional and have no connection to real people in our world.)

*Country of Sanctaris

Sanctaris is a country founded and led by a High Priest, also known as the Pope. It is said that he has achieved the highest level of power known to mankind—the 11th tier as a magic caster. This country holds holy magic in the highest regard while shunning those who wield dark magic, labeling them as "heretics." Anyone born with dark magic in Sanctaris faces a grim fate—either executed on the spot or enslaved.

Other types of magic also exist in this world, including fire, air, earth, and water magic. Additionally, rare casters with unique mana attributes—such as lightning magic, poison magic, and more—occasionally appear. The Cathedral teaches that all magic originates from holy magic, reinforcing their doctrine to the citizens of the nation.

*Veyltharion

Veyltharion was founded 300 years after the establishment of Sanctaris. Its founder was a dark magic caster who had escaped from slavery in the neighboring holy country. After attaining 11th-tier power, he returned to liberate all the slaves of Sanctaris and, together with them, built the kingdom of Veyltharion from the ground up.

Over time, Veyltharion became a safe haven for dark magic casters and a powerful nation that could rival the holy country of Sanctaris.

*Earth

A man in his thirties lay on a hospital bed, his body weak and frail. Beside him stood his beautiful wife and his beloved daughter, their faces filled with sorrow.

"I've really let you and our daughter down," Anthon said weakly. "All I've ever given you is suffering and poverty. If I die… I want you to remarry—find someone accomplished, someone who can provide for you and our daughter in ways I never could."

Tears welled in his wife's eyes as she gripped his hand tightly.

"Don't say such things," she pleaded. "We made a vow—to be together for better or worse, in sickness and in health. I won't remarry. I'll take care of our daughter with all the love and care she deserves."

From the corner of his vision, Anthon saw his daughter crying. The sight crushed him. His breathing grew shallow, the steady beeping of the hospital machines fading into the background.

If there is a next life… I will do everything in my power to make my family happy. I won't let them suffer again… I won't let them cry ever again…

Those were his final thoughts before everything went dark.

*Outskirts of Sanctaris

His last breath had come softly. No grand realization, no dramatic farewell—just an overwhelming sense of loss.

But then—

Air. Thick, unfamiliar, heavy with an unknown scent. His body ached, his mind swam, and as his vision cleared, he saw something that sent a chill down his spine.

A sword.

A sword buried in his chest.

I thought I died in the hospital… So what the hell am I doing here?

He struggled into a sitting position, wincing as the pain in his body flared up. With trembling hands, he grasped the sword's hilt and slowly pulled it out.

A surge of pain and warm blood gushed from the wound.

"Shit! Am I gonna die again?!"

Suddenly, a flood of memories not his own crashed into his mind. Images, emotions, knowledge—all belonging to the previous owner of this body.

Anthon Dawncrest… That's this guy's name?

Within the inherited memories, he discovered items stored in his ring, including a potion capable of healing his injuries.

"So I just need to use mana to activate the ring… Alright, got it."

He quickly grabbed a small vial filled with shimmering liquid and gulped it down. The pain in his chest slowly subsided.

As his breathing steadied, more memories of Anthon Dawncrest surfaced.

"This bastard… He actually hurt his own wife and daughter? No wonder they hate him."

The memories merged, creating an unsettling confusion within him. For a moment, he questioned his own identity.

Am I still the man from Earth… or am I truly Anthon Dawncrest?

It took him several hours to recover from the disorientation. Slowly, he pieced everything together.

"So he died because his body was already too weak due to his severe injury when he used the teleportation artifact… I guess I should thank him. If not for him, I wouldn't have gotten this second chance."

Then, an image of his wife flashed in his mind. No—not his wife, but Anthon Dawncrest's wife.

"She looks just like my wife…"

Another memory surfaced—this time, the final thoughts of the strongest knight before his death.

When Anthon Dawncrest had used the teleportation artifact, it had sent him to a random underground cave. He was lucky, yet also unlucky. The cave had protected him from immediate threats, but his wounds had already sealed his fate. As his strength faded, his final thoughts had been of his daughter.

"I should have stayed with them… I should have never hurt them. They loved me… They truly loved me… But my arrogance blinded me. I let my power consume me, and now, I've disappointed my own daughter…"

Regret. Deep, overwhelming regret.

Back in the present, the new Anthon Dawncrest clenched his fists.

"Now that your memories have merged with mine… You and I are one."

His gaze hardened with newfound resolve.

"Let me do what you should have done. Let me become the husband your wife deserved… the father your daughter needed."