Chapter 2:Awakening

Chapter 2: Awakening of the Conqueror

A dull ache pulsed through Leon's skull as he slowly regained consciousness. His body felt heavy, as if weighed down by something far greater than mere exhaustion. The sterile scent of healing potions lingered in the air, and the faint hum of magical energy coursing through the academy's infirmary surrounded him. He blinked against the dim light, his mind sluggish, his thoughts tangled in a haze.

Then it struck.

A surge of pain, sharp and unrelenting, tore through his consciousness. Memories—foreign yet familiar—flooded his mind like an unstoppable tide. Battles fought on fields soaked with blood. Kingdoms bowing before his banner. The weight of command, the burden of sacrifice. He saw the fall of his comrades, the endless war against the monstrous tide, the final stand upon a mountain of corpses. He felt the sting of betrayal, the pride of conquest, and the sheer, indomitable will that had defined his past life.

Leon Akros, the fallen noble, had lived seventeen years in this world.

Leon Akros, the Godfather of House Akros, the warlord, the conqueror of Aincedra, had lived decades more.

Two selves, separated by time, had become one.

His breathing quickened. His fingers clenched the sheets beneath him. The weight of two lifetimes pressed against his very soul. He had died—he had felt it. The cold embrace of death, the darkness swallowing him whole, and then... the light. A whisper in the void, a force pulling him back. Aicendra.

Realization dawned upon him like a roaring inferno. This was not merely a second chance. This was a deliberate act. The world itself had brought him back. But why? His mind raced through the implications. If he had returned, then the invasion, the destruction, the fall of kingdoms—it would all happen again. Only this time, he was here before it all began.

A slow, exhale steadied his mind. This was not the time to lose control. He had been given a chance, and if fate had chosen him as its instrument, then he would wield it with the same iron will that had once carved his name into history.

A soft creak drew his attention. The door to the infirmary opened, revealing a young woman in healer's robes. She startled upon seeing his piercing gaze, the golden hue of his eyes now carrying an intensity far beyond that of a mere academy student.

"You're awake," she said, recovering from her initial shock. "You collapsed after your duel. We were worried."

Leon took a slow breath, the remnants of his past life settling into place. He could not reveal what had happened—not yet.

"I see," he murmured, his voice steady. "How long was I unconscious?"

"Two days," she answered, studying him closely. "Your mana was unstable, but your body showed no injuries. It was… strange."

Two days. Enough time for rumors to spread, for the academy to take notice. He would have to move carefully. His duel had already placed him in the spotlight—something he had intended. Now, however, it was more than just proving himself. It was the first step toward reclaiming what was his and preparing the world for the war that was coming.

Leon swung his legs off the bed, testing his strength. His body responded well, if a bit stiff. He would need to re-hone his skills, adjust to the difference between this young frame and the battle-hardened one he once possessed. But there was no doubt in his mind.

He was back.

And this time, he would not fail.