Echoes of a Forgotten Life

The fresh forest air brushed against his face, but Leonar barely noticed the breeze as he struggled to control his ragged breathing. His body still trembled from the lingering pain and echoes of that deadly ambush on Earth. He couldn't stop thinking about how he had gone from a street fight to a strange grove under a sky dominated by a majestic and fierce-looking giant bird.

He inhaled deeply, forcing himself to calm down. He examined his hands closely, and a pang of confusion ran through his body. His fingers were long and slender, the pale skin covered in scars he didn't remember earning. His arms were lean but muscular, nothing like the body he had forged through years of martial arts training."What the hell...?" he murmured, touching his forearms and noticing the absence of calluses that should have covered his knuckles.

Confusion gave way to panic. He leaped to his feet and felt his torso and legs. The body he saw wasn't his. He was thinner—or rather, he had never been muscular. Instead of the solid, defined musculature of a martial artist, he had a lean and wiry frame, like a young man still in training."This can't be…" he whispered.

Then, a sharp pain shot through his skull, and he clutched his head, collapsing to his knees. The world around him spun as images and stories swirled in his mind. They weren't his memories, yet he felt each one as if they belonged to him. Visions of a massive stone mansion with large windows and golden banners fluttering in the wind. A boy with hopeful eyes running across a training yard, trying to impress a stern-looking man.

"Leonar… that's me…" he thought as the memories kept flowing. His mother, a woman with a warm and melancholic gaze, always smiled tenderly as she stroked his disheveled hair. He was an illegitimate child, born from a forbidden love between a powerful nobleman and a humble maid. Leonar's mother had been expelled from the household when the legitimate wife discovered the pregnancy, but his father protected her from execution due to the promise of a child with potential.

The memories continued, engulfing him in a mixture of sorrow, anger, and despair. As a child, he had shown an innate talent for absorbing the universe's power, an ethereal energy permeating the world that its inhabitants could harness to strengthen their bodies and awaken their Celestial Armors. The young Leonar was seen as a prodigy, someone destined to stand out. His father, intrigued by his talent, even considered recognizing him as a legitimate heir.

But fate was cruel. When Leonar was ten, his mother died under suspicious circumstances. He found her cold, lifeless body in the small cabin where they lived, her eyes staring into the void. From that day forward, the cheerful and curious boy became withdrawn and melancholy. And on the same day his mother died, he was taken to undergo the most important test of his life: the awakening of his Celestial Armor.

The power of the universe flowed through all living beings in this world. Those fortunate enough could awaken a Celestial Armor, a physical manifestation of their potential and inner strength. Armors were classified into seven categories for humans:

Mortal Armor

Earthly Armor

Lesser Celestial Armor

Spirit Armor

Divine Armor

Immortal Armor

Supreme Celestial Armor

Each category had sub-ranks from F to S, determining the power level within each type. Once an armor was awakened, the limit was set—a bearer of a Mortal Armor could only improve it within that category, while the luckiest reached the heights of the Immortal or Supreme Celestial rank.

However, not only humans had the gift of awakening armors. Beasts and non-human races could also manifest their own armors, though the process differed. These creatures accumulated the universe's energy through hunting, meditation, or ancient rituals. Their armors, known as Primordial Armors, weren't classified the same way as humans'. They were organized by levels of wild power, increasing their ferocity and destructive capabilities.

The most powerful beasts, known as Primordial Guardians, possessed armors as deadly as Immortal Armors, and their abilities were an extension of their predatory instincts. The most feared were those capable of materializing weapons or lethal claws that could break through any common defense. In contrast, civilized non-human races, such as elves, demons, and beastmen, awakened spiritual or ancestral armors linked to their traditions and bloodlines.

Leonar, a boy with immense potential according to his father, became the laughingstock of all when his awakening revealed a Mortal Armor of rank F, the lowest and weakest of all. Disdainful whispers and mocking laughter echoed in the evaluation hall. His brothers looked at him with contempt, their eyes gleaming with malicious satisfaction. The mother of his half-siblings, a woman with a venomous gaze, whispered cruel words, suggesting his impurity came from his mother.

"A disgrace to the bloodline," sneered one of his older brothers. "The bastard is nothing but a burden."

His father, who once looked at him with hope, only showed an expression of disappointment. The promise of recognition was discarded, and Leonar became a pariah in his own home.

From that moment on, the young man was ignored and despised, confined to the margins of noble life. His talent for absorbing the universe's power was undeniable, but without a worthy armor, his abilities were worthless. Five long years passed since that fateful day. During that time, Leonar endured insults, scorn, and loneliness. He was seen as an anomaly, a failure of noble blood.

Over the next five years, Leonar's life became an endless test of endurance. His five siblings—three men and two women—never missed a chance to remind him of his bastard status and failure. All of them proved worthy heirs: four awakened Earthly Armors, powerful manifestations of strength and prowess, and James, the eldest and family pride, achieved what few in the kingdom could: awakening a Lesser Celestial Armor.

This feat was celebrated for weeks. Such an armor was a symbol of power, prestige, and limitless potential. Rumors said that even in the kingdom, only a handful of knights and nobles could boast such talent. Armors from the Lesser Celestial category and above represented a qualitative leap in power, far beyond Earthly Armors, and not to mention the pathetic Mortal Armor.

In this land, the awakening of an armor was only the beginning. At ten, all noble-born youths were evaluated to determine the type of armor they would possess, but until fifteen, they could not summon them for the first time. This transition period, called the Preparation Stage, was crucial to strengthen the body and allow celestial energy to flow properly. During those years, training was rigorous, and only those who managed to forge a robust and stable body could control their armor's energy when finally summoned.

But for Leonar, that stage was a constant torture. His siblings beat him daily under the pretense of "strengthening his body" and "preparing him for his filthy Mortal Armor." The attacks were brutal—more an expression of cruelty than true training. They mocked him, calling him "the family's disgrace" and reminding him his mother had been a disposable servant. Other nobles, visitors, and allies of the family also joined in the mockery when bringing their own children to train. In each encounter, Leonar stood alone, a human punching bag.

Despite the beatings and humiliations, Leonar endured the pain in silence. Deep down, he hoped to grow stronger, to use the suffering as fuel to become more powerful. At night, he meditated and tried to absorb universal energy, using the limited resources he could gather within the mansion. It was an exhausting exercise, but he did it with the hope that, one day, he would prove he was not useless. His determination was the only thing keeping the spark of his will alive.

Yet that hope crumbled on his fifteenth birthday. In a grand ceremony, his older siblings were called to summon their armors for the first time. The atmosphere was thick with anticipation.

James went first, and with a surge of celestial energy that made the air tremble, a Minor Celestial Armor of imposing appearance materialized around his body. The pride in his father's eyes was evident, as was the envy and admiration of the onlookers. The other brothers were also successful, showcasing Earthly Armors of elegance and power.

When Leonar's turn came, a tense silence gripped the place. He closed his eyes, focusing all the energy he had accumulated over those years of suffering. Celestial energy flowed through him, but what emerged was a simple, rough, and dull-looking armor: a Mortal Armor of rank F. Derisive whispers and stifled laughter felt like knives. His father's face reflected a mix of anger and disappointment.

Leonar's hope died in that instant. The hard work, meditation, and sacrifice had been in vain. Everything he endured was useless. From that day on, his fate was sealed as the laughingstock of the family.

The situation worsened when James was publicly recognized for his awakening, becoming the pride of the lineage. In a cruel twist of fate, Leonar was dragged by his brothers into the forest on the outskirts of the city, under the pretense of testing his skills and displaying the power of their newly awakened armors.

Unbeknownst to him, his brothers had planned something far more sinister. As soon as they reached the forest, the contemptuous looks transformed into pure hatred. They beat Leonar mercilessly, unleashing years of pent-up scorn. Their resplendent armors loomed like executioners as he lay on the ground, bleeding and groaning in pain. His so-called brothers left him on the brink of death, their bodies bathed in celestial light as they walked away, mocking the "family disgrace."

And so, the true Leonar died, betrayed and abandoned, with a broken body and a shattered heart.

But then, the consciousness of the new Leonar awakened. The fury and hatred of the young man who had been despised fused with the soul of the man who had fought to survive on Earth. Rage, thirst for revenge, and an unrelenting desire to prove he was not a failure.

"Now, I am Leonar," murmured the new host of the body, with a steely determination. "And I will make every one of those bastards pay."

Cold resolve gleamed in his eyes. His enemies would not only face a humiliated bastard but a warrior with an unbreakable will, ready to use every wound and insult as fuel for a fire that would never be extinguished.