It was morning once more, and a new day had dawned upon the entire kingdom.
It had been just two years since their birth.
Asher, now a two-year-old child, had more delicate freedom than when he had been a re infant. To be precise, it was a fragile kind of freedom, one he knew could shatter at any mont.
Both he and his sister were now allowed to move around the castle at will, granting them the opportunity to explore. However, there wasn't much to see—just endless corridors of stone, towering pillars, and guards stationed like unwavering titans.
The guards were clad in tal armor, though it was not overly bulky. For so reason, they had their hands constantly brushing against the hilts of their swords in a slow, deliberate motion. It was an awkward movent.
Upon closer inspection, Asher realized that these weren't ordinary blades. They were high-grade weapons, exuding a faint magical aura, their hilts adorned with ancient engravings that hinted at their formidable nature.
After observing several other guards and finding the sa eerie pattern, Asher decided to leave that section of the castle.
Today, however, he had wandered into a rather troubleso vicinity.
The training grounds.
The reason this was troubleso was simple—the risk of getting caught. If that happened, his fragile freedom would be revoked, or worse. He had no idea what disobedience ant in this world, and he wasn't eager to find out.
From the very first glance, even soone from Earth would notice the stark difference in these people. Their voices carried a hoarse, worn-out quality, as though they had only just recovered from screaming for days. Others barely spoke at all, never slacking off in their duties.
A strict discipline governed this place.
If the ruler treated his subordinates with such severity, what would his own punishnt be if caught?
He had no answer.
But the sight before him made the risk worthwhile.
Guards sparred relentlessly, one after another, each battle fiercer than the last.
Asher watched in awe.
They're incredible...
Their movents were almost inhuman. Their speed, their endurance—it was insane.
He absorbed every detail, every stance, every technique. His gar sense allowed him to break down the fighting styles without fail. The problem wasn't the style itself.
It was the weaponry.
Wielding weapons with such mastery as a human seed almost impossible.
A question lingered in his mind.
Why would I ever need to beco this strong?
In every life, all that truly mattered was money. With the right price, everything could be bought.
But it didn't take long for that notion to be shattered.
The sparring matches slowly ca to an end, and the exhausted guards, now stripped to nothing but their trousers, sat down, drenched in sweat.
The sun blazed high above, its unbearable heat forcing every man in the courtyard to sweat profusely.
Since Asher wasn't supposed to be there, he quickly tucked himself behind several barrels to hide his presence.
One of the guards let out a frustrated groan.
"Man, I'm so tired. This training—it's too intense."
"Tell about it," another guard replied.
"The queen keeps preparing for war endlessly, against either the other races or the other kingdoms! It's like she's lost her mind since her husband's last predicant... the one she created for herself back in Halvarok."
Wait... did he just say Halvarok?
A splitting headache struck Asher's mind.
A searing pain enveloped his entire being, forcing him to stagger back until his body collided with a barrel.
His tiny hands clutched at his head, shaking violently as if trying to force the pain away.
It felt like sothing was clawing its way out from deep within his skull, a foreign sensation rising from his throat up to the center of his head.
For several agonizing monts, the tornt continued.
Then, just as suddenly as it had co, the pain faded. It was as if it had never existed.
And then...
"Ding!"
[Welco back, Yuka... Asher.]
[System reboot successful.]
[All mories locked by the Administrator have now been unlocked.]
Not gradually, but all at once, his mories ca flooding back.
Another headache surged, though not as intense as the first.
It took ti to recover, but when he did, his eyes were filled with nothing but worry and questions.
What happened to ?
Why were most of my mories from Earth stolen?
He still couldn't recall much. It was all jumbled, fractured pieces that refused to fit together.
His gaze shifted toward the group of guards—not to listen to their conversation, but to observe their uniforms.
A symbol stood out on their armor.
A reaper with a dark hat and a flowing black cloak.
Recognition sparked in his mind. The na of the kingdom. The subtle clues that had been placed before him all along.
His surna.
A realization struck him like a bolt of lightning.
Could it be... that we are inside a video ga?
Not just any ga... but The Deity Ga?
Did I just get reincarnated into a video ga?!
[Congratulations, you are the first to recover your mories.]
[Great Gar! Would you like to see your rewards?]
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