Who am I?
That question stabbed deep as my eyes fluttered open to an unfamiliar ceiling—ornate, gilded, far too luxurious. Velvet curtains. Marble floors. Polished brass handles on towering doors.
This was no battlefield camp. No cold grave. No dying bed.
My last memory was of my body... old, frail, breath fading after a lifetime of war. Commander Kael Vardis. The Iron Warlord. Dead by age—finally at peace.
Or so I thought.
A sharp pain flared in my temple. I clutched my head as dizzy nausea swept through me, scattering fragmented images I could not understand. Visions of places I'd never seen. Memories that were not mine.
I sat up, confused.
"Where... am I?"
The door creaked open. Two young maids peeked in, their faces pale.
"Sir Neo... he's awake," one whispered.
"Look at his eyes... he's different," the other murmured, retreating.
Neo? Who was Neo?
The name hung strangely in the air—familiar yet alien.
I stood, shaky but determined. My body felt wrong—light, unscarred, young. I stumbled to a polished mirror.
Silver hair. Crimson eyes. A smooth, flawless face—barely sixteen.
"This... this isn't me..."
A cold chill gripped my spine.
Before the shock could settle, my stomach growled—a deep, aching hunger.
Driven by instinct more than thought, I wandered the mansion's corridors—vast, lined with portraits and statues. Servants avoided me, casting wary, hateful glances. I ignored them; fear in weak men was no stranger to me.
A sharp headache struck again—visions flashed: a door, warmth... food... the kitchen.
I turned left, guided by phantom instincts.
Bursting into the kitchen, I faced a dozen servants who froze, their eyes filled with malice.
"He dares show his face after last night…"
"Should we poison him this time…?"
Their whispers sliced through the air.
I met their gazes squarely. Their fear reminded me of generals I'd broken, kings I'd crushed. Their hatred meant nothing.
"Is this how you greet your master?" I snapped, voice hard and commanding.
They stiffened. Their eyes widened. Slowly—they bowed.
"Forgive us... Sir Neo Valeborne..."
Neo Valeborne. The name echoed in my mind—searing, undeniable.
Realization hit like a hammer.
This body isn't mine. I'm in someone else's life.
I turned and bolted from the kitchen, racing down the hall, heart pounding. Panic clawed at my throat.
A window. I needed to see—something, anything to make sense of this madness.
I stopped by a tall glass pane, staring in horror at my reflection.
Silver hair. Crimson eyes. Young, handsome, untouched by war.
"No... this isn't possible... why... why am I here again?!"
I slammed my fist into the frame. Glass cracked. A marble statue toppled behind me. My screams echoed.
"I died! I was finished! I wanted peace! Why... why bring me back to this cursed life?!"
Footsteps thundered.
Four strangers arrived—noble clothes, silver hair, noble faces.
Tch, I hate noble faces, although I assumed this boy was also a noble when I saw maids walking around while bowing to me. although their gazes filled with malice to strangle, even kill me
A tall man with fierce grey eyes—his aura heavy with mana.
A cold, elegant woman beside him, clutching a shawl.
A pretty young girl peeking cautiously.
And a smirking youth with sharp, cruel eyes.
"What's wrong with you now, Neo?" the young man sneered. "Screaming like an idiot again... you shame this house."
I froze.
He stepped closer, raising a fist.
Wrong move, boy.
I caught his punch with ease—reflexes from thirty years of war burning bright. His eyes widened.
Before he could speak—I twisted, shoved, and kicked him hard in the chest.
He flew backward, crashing into a marble column with a gasp.
Gasps from the others.
"You... what the hell…?" he groaned.
I'm no child.
The tall man moved—faster than sight—appearing behind me. A massive hand gripped my shoulder.
Too slow to react.
"Enough." His voice thundered with authority.
Mana flared—crushing weight pressed on my mind. My limbs slackened. Darkness swept in.
Sleep swallowed me whole.
When I awoke, I found the strange lady by my side as well, she had a worried expression on her face. her silver hair like mine along with her violet eyes made her face of worry made her beautiful.
I mean, I'm not fond of women but if i saw her in my youth, even i would
as man to which he placed his hand upon my forehead. I wanted to grab it and fling it off but my body was too exhausted after the racket I made. The man took his hands off my head.
Good.
Then he faced towards my mother with a nervous expression.
"Lady Selene, I think Master Neo has Amnesia".
Huh?