Andrew_Nickene

This is the journey of another young swordsman that was raised in a commoner family until a young age Andrew discovered that the had excellent skills to wield a sword.
The story starts when Andrew joins the biggest competition on his continet of swordsmanship 
were he is given the opportunity to get an artifact rarity of a sword called Ashren that has the power to show the past lifes of whoever wields it. 
The sword gave Andrew the power of his past life to forge his own new journey.

Ashren: The Shadow Within

Chapter 43: Shadows at the Gate

The road back to Velmora was quiet.

The royal scout who'd accompanied Andrew had vanished the morning after the Vault. Mihai said nothing, but both knew what that meant—the crown was already pulling strings, deciding how best to control what Andrew was becoming.

Ashren no longer whispered. It spoke. Each night, it drew Andrew deeper into memory and prophecy. He didn't sleep—he remembered. Armies, thrones, betrayals. The world he once ruled… and the one now rising to meet him.

As the gates of Velmora opened, the guards stepped aside without a word. Their eyes darted away from Andrew like he was a walking storm. The streets were still, the sky gray. Word of Kaelreth's return hadn't reached them—but something else had.

It pressed on the world like a second gravity.

Inside the Academy, the Headmaster—once confident and commanding—greeted him with a forced smile.

"You've returned," he said. "Whole, I hope."

Andrew said nothing. He only stepped past him and looked at the sky.

That night, as Andrew sat on the rooftop of the eastern tower, Mihai joined him with two sealed letters.

"One's from the king. The other…"

He handed it over. The wax bore a symbol Andrew hadn't seen in centuries.

A spiral of stars.The mark of the Starbound Order—a secret sect loyal to his past self.

"The world begins to tremble. We remember you. And we are watching. Should you seek allies… follow the comet's path."

"So… you were a god, a king, and now a messiah?"

Andrew let the letter burn between his fingers.

Andrew stood in a chamber of black crystal, staring into a mirror that reflected not his current self—but the Shadow King.

In the reflection, he sat on a throne built of bone and lightless stone. His generals flanked him: Kaelreth of Flame, Siryel the Boneweaver, and Mihai—though not the Mihai who stood beside him now. That version wore a helm, his eyes glowing white.

"You are not ready," the reflection said."You refuse to accept what you are."

"I'm building a new path. One not written in blood."

"Then you will bleed for every step."

At dawn, bells rang across the capital.

A rider had arrived from the western border. Bloodied, half-conscious.

"The Flame has returned… not just Kaelreth. Others. Whole villages burned overnight. And they left a message."

He dropped a scorched banner. It was marked with a rune—half flame, half shadow.

Ashren pulsed darkly in Andrew's hand.

"Not yet," he said."First—I gather the ones who still believe."