Chapter 1
September 6th, Year 726 of the Continental Calendar.
King Solinor lay helplessly on his sickbed.
For the last time, he tried to gather strength in his body.
A desperate attempt to sit up.
His body, once overflowing with infinite vitality, able to achieve anything, was now no more than a relic of the past. His once powerful limbs were now thin, unable to feel even a fragment of their former glory. No matter how hard he tried, all that returned was a feeble response.
‘Today is truly my last.’
He had sensed it for some time, as he felt the flame of his life flicker weaker with each passing day.
He was satisfied with the life he had lived. He had achieved much, and gained much.
But there are always regrets, no matter how much one has accomplished.
“Sigh…”
The King of Solinor let out a deep sigh, pulling words from the deepest part of his heart.
“It is a great regret that I must leave so early, without seeing the kingdom grow stronger. I should have lived longer, but for that, I am truly sorry.”
“Sire! Please do not say such things. We, your humble subjects, know better than anyone how hard you have worked for the kingdom. I can scarcely imagine how bitter it must be for you to leave us so soon.”
Sylvius, the royal court magician who had once always boasted of being the eldest in their party during their adventuring days, was now an old man with a full head of white hair.
‘When I became a magician, you were just a crawling infant! Show some respect!’
The rude behavior that had once soured many meals was now nowhere to be found, replaced by the respectful demeanor of a proper servant. His actions and words were full of the reverence one would expect from a subject, but his smile carried a mix of playful mischief and sorrow.
The King strained to push out a voice that barely came out.
“Hah… Hearing you speak so formally makes me cringe. Sylvius, enough with the jokes. We’ve had plenty over the years. Now, as a friend, give me a proper farewell.”
The subjects standing by the King’s deathbed were long-time comrades, who had shared life and death with him over the years. They had spent far more time as adventuring companions than as sovereign and vassal.
Whenever no one else was around, they would treat the King comfortably as he preferred. Yet, there were also moments like now, when they adhered too strictly to formality, as Sylvius had just done.
“On purpose, just to make the king uncomfortable.
They wanted to tease him even in his final moments in this world.”
Isn’t this what true friendship is?
As soon as the King of Solinor finished speaking, Sylvius immediately changed his tone.
“Solinor, if I had never met you, I would still be an arrogant fool who only grew older. But why is it that I’m still alive, an old man, while you, only forty years old, are about to leave us? I truly can’t help but resent the heavens. It’s too bitter to bear.”
It was a lament that the old magician had buried for many years, never truly expressing his heartfelt emotions.
Thanks to Solinor, Sylvius had shed his stubborn shell and been reborn as both a human and a magician. Now, at the very end, he was finally showing a small part of the gratitude he had accumulated over his lifetime.
Solinor smiled, finding Sylvius’ words easier to hear now.
“Yes, you’re an old man too now, so we’ll meet again on the other side soon, won’t we? Then we can have a drink together once more.”
As Sylvius stepped back from the bedside, the King called for his beloved wife.
“Aiorin.”
Her tear-filled, clear blue eyes gazed at him. Unlike Solinor’s wrinkled forehead, her skin was flawless and taut. How many years apart were they, really?
She collapsed onto his right arm, unleashing a torrent of complaints like a rapid-fire cannon.
“Honey! If you die now, what am I supposed to do! I don’t want to be a widow yet! Eldric is only two months old, you can’t just leave us like this! If I had known you would leave this soon, I would’ve stayed hidden in the forest!”
The golden-haired beauty wept like a child.
Despite her youthful appearance, the age gap between them was only four years. The hint lay in her pointed ears. Aiorin was an elf, one of the rare inhabitants of the Fey Forest, a race almost never seen in the human world.
At only 36 years old, she was a runaway elf who had not even reached adulthood by elf standards.
Who would have thought that this immature spirit mage who once adventured with Solinor would now be the Queen? It was a Cinderella story in every sense.
However, her title of Queen was merely symbolic, and her personality remained that of a child.
“Aiorin, I am truly sorry. Leaving you and Eldric behind breaks my heart as well. Please take good care of Eldric. Help him grow into a great king. And… I love you.”
Solinor’s final farewell, delivered with all his might.
He thought he had said it in the coolest way possible, but Aiorin was in no mood to accept it gracefully. After all, who would want to become a widow at such a young age?
“Oh, for crying out loud! That time when you decided to fight the Ice Dragon! You took a direct hit from its breath, and it shortened your lifespan by 30 years! Damn that Ice Dragon. Give me back my husband’s years!”
Aiorin threw a tantrum, and Solinor could only manage a wry smile.
“There was no other choice at the time. If we hadn’t stopped the Ice Dragon, the northern tribes of the Fey Forest would’ve lost their homes, and our kingdom’s territory would’ve been much smaller. Besides, we didn’t know it back then, but that area was rich in mana stones. Now it’s the most important source of income for our kingdom, so it was the right decision.”
“If you die, what good are those mana stone fields? You’re far more precious to me than any patch of land or any stone!”
Aiorin clung to Solinor’s arm, sobbing uncontrollably. It took her a long time to calm down, but eventually, she sniffled and pulled herself away.
Solinor then began to call the names of his remaining vassals, one by one.
“Aryen, Hadwin, Corbin, I have a favor to ask of you, not as your king, but as a friend. Please watch over my son Eldric and help him rule the kingdom well. In the end, let’s think of this as a return to our adventuring days, sitting around a campfire, and have a relaxed conversation.”
The first to step forward was Aryen.
During their adventuring days, she had been the best healer, always pulling comrades back from the brink of death. Now, she was the royal healer.
She had once been as beautiful as Aiorin, the elf.
But humans are humans.
Now, faint wrinkles marred her face, and her hair had slightly lost its luster.
Even if it was unfair, what could be done? Maybe she should hope to be born as an elf in the next life.
“Solinor, I missed my chance because Aiorin made the first move, but I also liked you a lot. Now, I’m happily married to Hadwin and living a good life, but I wanted to tell you this before the end. I’ll do my best to make sure our nation’s healers become the best in the continent, so rest easy.”
“Of course, Aryen. Countless lives, including my own, were saved thanks to you. Without you, there wouldn’t be a kingdom today. Be proud, and live happily with Hadwin.”
Next, it was her husband Hadwin’s turn.
He had always been known for his bald head since their adventuring days, and for the last five years, he had served as the kingdom’s grand general—Hadwin the Undefeated.
Even he had not escaped the passage of time, and his beard was slowly turning gray.
The fact that he had no hair left to turn gray could be seen as a small blessing… or maybe not.
“Oh boy, I knew my wife had a crush on Solinor, but hearing her say it out loud is a bit of a shock! Haha! I swear on my life that no one will dare challenge our kingdom as long as I live. So don’t worry about the kingdom, and rest in peace.”
“Hadwin, Aryen was just feeling sorry for me in my dying state and said those things. There’s no way I could match your manly charm. Haha! Please, keep protecting our kingdom.”
Lastly, it was Corbin’s turn.
He had been the versatile joker of the adventuring party.
With sharp observation skills and flawless marksmanship, Corbin had excelled at unlocking traps and picking locks in dungeons.
He was also a Grimkin, a rare species in human society with dark gray skin, perfectly adapted for hiding in the shadows.
Add to that the quick reflexes honed in the back alleys, and you had the ultimate escape artist.
After the founding of Silbrenoa, Corbin had taken charge of the kingdom’s intelligence operations from the shadows.
Officially, he was also the minister overseeing the welfare of the non-human population in the kingdom.
“My, my, I can’t believe our dear Solinor is leaving us this early. Hey, Solinor, don’t you think it’s time to admit that I won that dice game back then? I know it might seem a bit petty to bring it up on your deathbed, but when else can I settle this? I can’t argue with you from your grave, after all. Just admit defeat and go in peace.”
“Haha! Corbin, I’ll never admit it. If you’re that bitter, come join me in the afterlife, and we can finish the match. As always, your farewell is uniquely you.”
After five years as king, Solinor’s tone had become somewhat formal.
But in these final moments, it felt as if he had returned to his adventuring days, speaking naturally with his old friends.
Summoning his remaining strength, Solinor lifted his head.
He gazed lovingly and respectfully at his five companions—his friends, his vassals, and his wife—before closing his eyes.
“Well then, take care, everyone. I’ll see you on the other side someday.”
And with that, the stormy life of an adventurer-turned-king came to an end.
—
Yes, that should have been the end.
But in the next moment, Solinor found himself alive again.
His well-honed danger sense, developed over years of adventuring,
Remained silent, showing no sign of alarm.
It didn’t seem like a dangerous situation.
‘Is this the afterlife then? Or is it just a long dream before death?’
Solinor was deep in thought.
But the objects in front of him were so vivid in both color and form.
Another hypothesis crossed his mind.
‘Could it be… that I’ve been resurrected? Then where am I?’
It was dark since the light was off, but he could see the ceiling was painted a clean white.
The air around him was warm.
‘Judging by the softness under my body, it doesn’t seem like I’m in a grave.’
Solinor tried to sit up.
Suddenly, he felt the air around him pressing down on his body, as if something heavy was weighing him down.
He couldn’t overcome the pressure and collapsed back into his seat.
The next moment, a sharp pain surged through his head.
‘What is this sensation? Is it a binding spell?’
Solinor lay there for a while, enduring the pain.
After some time, visions began to flash through his mind, like a video reel.
The memories of someone’s childhood.
At first, he didn’t understand, but he quickly grasped what was happening.
After all, he too had once had a childhood long ago.
The issue was whose memories they were.
Muriela Silbrenoa, the young daughter of King Eldric of Silbrenoa.
Solinor’s granddaughter.
‘Wait, she’s my granddaughter? Or rather, is this the body I’m occupying now?’
He was struck by an overwhelming shock.
‘Does this mean I’ve killed my own granddaughter in a sense?’
The despair of suddenly becoming an accidental “grandchild killer” overwhelmed Solinor, along with the intense headache.
Unable to bear it, he drifted off into sleep.
In truth, it was simply Muriela’s body feeling sleepy.
Kids can never resist sleep, after all.
A little while later, Muriela’s handmaid, Bianca, entered the princess’s room.
She quietly began to clean, being careful not to make any loud noises while the princess slept.
—
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