Chapter 5: Introspection

Michael walked back to his room, his footsteps echoing through the empty corridors. The air was eerily sterile, and the dim lighting cast long shadows on the cold, metallic walls. It was unsettling—this place, this world—so different from the battlefields he once knew. A warrior should never be alone with his thoughts for too long. Isolation breeds doubt, and doubt leads to hesitation. Yet here he was, surrounded by silence, burdened by questions.

He stopped before the blinking icon on the map displayed by his wrist device. The moment he stepped forward, a thin beam of light scanned him from head to toe.

"Scan complete. Welcome back, Michael Everheart."

His body tensed instinctively at the disembodied voice, but he quickly shook off the paranoia. He was no longer in a world of swords and bloodshed. At least, not yet.

Michael stepped inside, letting the door slide shut behind him. He collapsed onto the bed, staring at the ceiling as his thoughts swirled. The events of the past few hours replayed in his mind like a fevered dream.

The final battle against the Demon General. The clash of steel, the stench of blood, the moment he tore the blade from his own chest and struck the final blow. The blinding pain. The darkness. And then—this place. This world of technology and metal, so foreign yet strangely accommodating.

How was any of this possible? His reality was Acacia Tales, that much he was sure of. But no one recognized him. The village where he grew up, the people he had known, the history he had lived—it was all the same, yet different. A world preserved in time, untouched by the horrors he had once witnessed. How? Why?

"Hey, I need to ask something." His voice was hoarse, his throat dry. "What is Acacia Tales?"

The ever-present voice answered with mechanical precision. "Acacia Tales is a virtual reality game with promising potential. It offers otherworldly adventures and enticing rewards, both in-game and in reality."

Michael's fingers curled into the bedsheets. A game? A mere simulation? He took a slow breath, forcing himself to remain calm.

"When did it start?"

"The game was launched a little more than a year ago."

Michael frowned. A year? That made no sense. He had fought in the war for years before his death. How could this world—a world so real—be only a year old?

His mind raced, reaching for answers.

"What is its setting?"

The voice continued without hesitation. "The game revolves around a medieval-style setting. In-game, the current year is 724 of the Anolynius Calendar. More information can be found on their website."

Michael barely registered the latter part of the explanation. His pulse quickened. Year 724.

That's more than twenty years ago.

His breath hitched. His hands trembled. He sat up slowly, his thoughts turning to ice.

The last time he had stood on the battlefield, the year was 745. The garrisons had crumbled, the legions had fallen, and the Demon Hordes had left nothing but ruin in their wake. By 746, the Kingdom was reduced to ashes. By 746, he had already met his end.

Had he traveled back in time?

His heart pounded against his ribs. This wasn't just a game. This was his past.

But how? Was this world merely an imitation of his own, constructed through imagination? Or was it real—a tangible past that he had somehow returned to? If so, did that mean he had a chance to change everything? To prevent the war, to stop the demons, to rewrite history itself?

His fingers dug into his palms as his mind spun with possibilities. If this truly was the past, he knew what lay ahead. He knew the horrors to come. And that meant—seeing my beloved wife again. May it be imaginary or not, game or reality, he just needed to see Maydee once more. To feel the warmth of her embrace and hear the joy of her laughter.

He had one month to prepare.

One month before he was forced to leave this place and re-enter an unknown society. One month to understand this new body, to regain his strength, to master the knowledge of this strange future he had awoken in.

Michael exhaled slowly, steadying his resolve. His fate was no longer sealed. The future was no longer set in stone. This time, he would not fall. This time, he would not fail.

This time, he would win. But first, he needed to train his body.