Red...

  Everything is drenched in RED...

  The soil takes on a reddish hue, stained by the blood flowing from the fallen—mages, swordsmen, kings, nobles, and even innocent people who had no part in this battle.

  The battlefield is littered with corpses, a massive pile of lifeless bodies stacked upon one another like heaps of cotton. And atop this mountain of the dead stands a lone figure.

  His face is well-groomed, his sharp jawline and slightly arched brows giving him an air of cold refinement. His piercing eyes survey the carnage beneath him.

  He wears a long black vest-like coat that reaches his knees, tattered at the edges and soaked in blood. Around his waist, a sturdy belt holds the sheath of his sword. Beneath the coat, he wears fitted black pants and a simple white tunic, now stained red at the front. Small daggers are embedded in his chest, clustered around his heart. His legs are clad in leather boots—both drenched in blood and Shivering a little.

  His face, especially the right side, is smeared with blood. His black hair flows from his head down his back. His hands hang at his sides, one gripping a sharp sword, its blade soaked in blood, as if it has cut down hundreds in battle.

  He gasps for breath—

  Then collapses to his knees. His sword slips from his grip, falling from the pile of corpses onto the blood-soaked soil.

  "Uhh... ahh..." He grunts in pain, pulling the five daggers from his chest one by one. Blood trickles from the fresh wounds, but he doesn't hesitate. He knows his time is running out—death is inevitable. Yet, there is no regret in his eyes. How could there be?

  After all he was, Devin Arian— The Blade Supreme The one who reached the pinnacle of swordsmanship. The man who fought countless battles against noble families and crushed them to unite a vast land known as the, Land of Nobles.

  He was dying, but his name would live on in history. Of that, he was certain.

  "It's time... I think," he murmurs, his voice weak. His eyes begin to close slowly, his energy draining from his body. His mind fades into unconsciousness.

  'It was a good life...' he thinks to himself.

  Suddenly, many faint images appears before him—a man with white hair, wearing the same kind of attire as his own. It’s Wills Throne, his friend, the one who fell in battle right before his eyes.

  '...I'm sorry, Wills. I couldn't keep my promise... But I know, my descendants will fulfill it for you...'

  Soon, everything fades into pitch-black darkness. He sees nothing—only an endless void.

  But then—

  A faint light appears before him. His eyes flutter open, his vision slowly adjusting. He blinks in disbelief.

  He is in a cradle, surrounded by stuffed toys. The soft glow of the room feels unfamiliar, yet strangely comforting.

  He tries to lift his hand—it feels weak, unsteady. With effort, he finally raises it, only to see tiny fingers, delicate and small.

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  'A... a baby's hand?!'

  His eyes widen in shock. 'I-I'm a baby?!'

  He looks around and realizes he is in a room filled with luxurious furniture and decorations. Everything exudes wealth and nobility.

  Turning his head to the left, he spots a large bed where a woman sleeps, her golden-blonde hair cascading over her face and shoulders. Even in the dim light, she looks breathtakingly beautiful.

  Beside her lies a man, though his face is barely visible in the darkness. They are likely this baby's—his—parents.

  He tries to speak, but no words come out. His mouth refuses to form even a single sound, as if he hasn’t spoken in centuries.

  'W-What the fuck is going on?! Why can't I speak?!'

  No matter how hard he tries, his body betrays him. And then, before he can stop himself—he starts crying.

  His wailing shatters the silence of the night, waking the woman on the bed. Startled, she sits up, then quickly moves toward him, gently lifting him into her arms.

  She was wearing a luxurious nightgown, its fine fabric draping elegantly over her long legs.

  With a gentle touch, she wiped away his tears and patted his back, her voice soothing and warm. "There, there... Ehan, it's alright. Mommy is right here with you."

  'Ehan? Who is that? And... she's my mother?'

  His cries quieted, though tears still trickled down his cheeks. She wiped them away with care before placing him on the bed, right between herself and the man beside her—undoubtedly her husband, his father.

  Lying on the other side of him, she whispered softly in his ear, "Sleep with Mommy and Daddy tonight, but don’t make it a habit..."

  With that, she pulled the blanket over them, closed her eyes, and drifted back to sleep.

  Now, Ehan —formerly Devin— lay sandwiched between them, his tiny body nestled between the warmth of his new parents.

  He didn’t know what was happening…

  Had he been reborn?

  Or is it just a dream?

  And if it's real then, what is his name in this world?

  Was it the same world as before, or is he in a different reality?

  Countless questions flooded his mind, but as the night stretched on, his eyelids grew heavy. Slowly, his thoughts faded, and before he knew it, he drifted into sleep.

  The next morning, when Ehan—formerly Devin—woke up, he was already in his mother’s lap, surrounded by several maids in what appeared to be a grand estate.

  His mother held him gently, while the maids gazed at him with playful admiration.

  "Hey! Hey! Look! He opened his eyes!" one of the maids exclaimed excitedly.

  "Ohh... isn't he so cute?" another cooed.

  "His cheeks look so soft. I'm sure he'll grow up to be a handsome man," a third maid added with a smile.

  Ehan didn’t fully understand the situation he was in, but one thing was clear—wherever he had been reborn, it was into an insanely rich family. So rich, in fact, that even the maids were dressed in luxurious, high-quality uniforms.

  After a few days, Ehan began to understand his surroundings. The first thing he grasped was his mother’s name—Lydia.

  But what truly shocked him was the surname. Arian...

  Lydia Arian.

  The same family name he had carried in his past life. The same lineage he had belonged to when he died.

  With that, it became clear—he had been reborn into his own bloodline. This was still his previous world.

  Though he had no idea what time period it was.

  Soon, he learned his father’s name as well—Alexander Arian. A tall and muscular man, with piercing eyes, a sharp jawline, thin eyebrows, and short, blackish hair reaching his neck.

  But what stunned him the most was—

  His father was a mage. Magic user.

  And not just him—his mother, Lydia, his relatives, his cousins—every single one of them.

  All were Mages.

  He couldn't comprehend what kind of world this was. His bloodline being mages?

  That had never been the case in his time—nor in the eras before his death. The Arian family had always been a lineage of swordsmen.

  Sure, the wives were exceptions, as they often came from other families, sometimes mage bloodlines. But the men? Every single one had been a swordsman. Even the daughters were swordswomen.

  This realization made one thing clear—he had been reborn in the future.

  Long after his death.

  Years passed, and he finally began to speak. Though his pronunciation was still imperfect, he could now form words. And as he grew, he uncovered a shocking truth—

  He had been reborn 100 years after his death.

  Yet, that revelation didn't surprise him much. He had suspected it from the moment he first arrived in this world.

  But what truly shook him was his family’s status.

  The Arian family was not just a common noble house.

  They were the Imperial Family.

  His father, Alexander Arian, was the King of the, "Land of Nobles."

  The same nation that Ehan, —once Devin—had unified in the past.

  The same land for which he had fought countless battles. The same land for which he had given his life.

  Now, in the present—

  Ehan sat on his bed, deep in thought. He is Seven years old now.

  His room is massive and lavishly decorated. A grand golden crystal chandelier hung from the center of the ceiling, casting a warm glow across the space. Two maids working only for him, at his beck and call. Stationed just outside his room's door.

  To his side, a large balcony overlooked the Arian Estate’s garden. The garden itself is as vast as a field, adorned with towering trees, vibrant flowers, and elegant statues.

  And among those statues, standing at the very center—

  Was Devin Arian’s statue.

  Inside his room, a large study table stood near an enormous bookshelf, filled with countless books.

  "Ehan... what a strange name," he murmured to himself.

  Slowly, he was getting used to it.

  With nothing else to do, his gaze drifted toward the bookshelf.

  After a while, he stood up, walked over, and pulled a book from the shelf.

  'I need to gather as much information as I can.'