“I can’t believe that slipped out,” Ren muttered, running a hand through his hair as he stared into the flickering fire.
A year ago, his life had been a world away from the one he lived now. He’d been the president of the Great Republic—a modern nation he’d dragged from the depths of poverty to the pinnacle of global power during his twelve-year tenure.
In those two terms, he had transformed the country from a struggling third-world nation into the world’s top superpower. He had waged and won wars, his influence casting long shadows over every corner of the globe.
There were many who praised him for it, calling him a liberator, a man who had toppled oppressive regimes and ushered in a fragile peace. They’d called him a visionary, a force for justice and progress.
But power and praise were never the whole story. There had always been those who despised him, enemies who saw his methods as ruthless, his hand too heavy.
His enemies had come for him first with words, trying to sway the international community against him, painting him as a tyrant in reformer’s clothing. When that failed, they’d resorted to threats, pressuring his allies, promising crippling sanctions if they continued to stand by his side.
Ren had never flinched. He’d known that if the world was going to change, he had to be unyielding.
In response, he’d imposed even harsher sanctions, bringing entire economies to their knees. Entire nations fell under the weight of their own broken systems, sinking into debts they’d spend decades trying to claw out from. For Ren, these sacrifices were necessary, calculated choices in a brutal world.
But that didn’t mean he hadn’t foreseen the backlash. He knew that innocent people—ordinary families—would bear the brunt of his actions, caught in the crossfire of policies far beyond their control.
He told himself it was for the greater good, but he could never escape the weight of what he’d done. There were sleepless nights, moments he’d stare into the darkness, haunted by the faces of those he’d hurt along the way, people he’d never meet, people who’d curse his name.
The peace he’d built endured for a time, but it was fragile, stretched thin over a fractured world. One day, it snapped. And when it did, he’d paid the ultimate price.
He could still recall the scene with haunting clarity—an international visit to one of his closest allies, the tense undercurrent that had marked the trip from the start.
They’d driven through a crowded street when the ambush struck. In an instant, the glass of his limousine shattered, a sniper’s bullet piercing through with fatal precision. He’d had barely a moment to register what had happened, the world spinning away as the darkness rushed in, a final fragment of thought vanishing into nothingness.
When he awoke, he was alone, adrift in an unfamiliar world.
He’d found himself on a desolate path through a dense forest, his body somehow younger, like he’d been pulled back to his mid-twenties. No longer a president. No longer a man of power. Just a stranger in a strange world, everything he’d fought for left behind. And in the silence of that first moment, he felt the full weight of his solitude—the life he’d built was gone, erased in an instant, leaving nothing but the echo of his ambition and the shadows of his past.
You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.
----------------------------------------
"A powerful mage must have performed a summoning ritual. It’s rare, but it has happened before," Hazel explained thoughtfully after Ren finished recounting his story.
Her calm acceptance of the fantastical revelation caught him off guard. He had expected skepticism, if not outright disbelief, at the idea of someone plucked from another world.
"It has happened before?" he echoed, still trying to process her words.
"Yes," Hazel confirmed. "Summoning is an ancient ritual, often reserved for moments of national crisis—when a specific set of skills are needed, skills unavailable within the kingdom. It’s not unheard of among mages; they’ve been known to summon ancestors for guidance, so calling forth someone like you… well, it follows similar logic."
Ren gave a faint, incredulous smile. "If I hadn’t been here for a year, I’d say you were out of your mind. Where I come from, magic is nothing but myth. I struggled to believe any of this until… well, until I had no choice."
"You would dare suggest the princess is mad?" Ogren’s voice boomed as he rose to his feet, his face twisted in rising unmerited fury.
"Apologize this instant!"
Ren met Ogren's glare with a mocking smile, his voice steady. "Let me guess. You don’t make many friends, do you?"
Hazel stifled a laugh as Ogren’s face darkened, his posture stiffening as he took a step toward Ren. But before he could move any closer, Magron stepped between them, his presence like a drawn blade.
"Are you mocking me?" Ogren’s hand fell to the hilt of his sword, his knuckles whitening.
Magron’s voice cut through the tension like steel. "The chief does not answer to you. Even allowing you two here—listening to your requests—is an act of generosity. Your titles mean nothing now; your power is gone, and you stand before him as commoners. So I suggest you remember your place… unless you wish to be reminded."
Ren’s voice turned sharper than before. "Magron, that’s enough."
Magron looked back, a flicker of surprise in his eyes. "Apologies, Chief," he said, lowering his weapon but still tense, ready to defend his leader. "But my anger was stirred when this man dared to question your authority."
Hazel placed a gentle hand on Ogren's arm. "Stand down," she commanded softly, her tone brooking no argument. "There is no need for this."
Ogren gave a curt nod, though his hand lingered on his sword a moment longer, a warning unspoken. Hazel's gaze shifted back to Ren, her expression unreadable, as the tension gradually ebbed.
----------------------------------------
She then gave Ren a contemplative look for a moment.
When Hazel first learned of her family’s brutal assassination, a darkness deeper than despair settled over her. It felt as though a chasm had opened beneath her feet, swallowing everything she’d ever known. She couldn’t fathom a life beyond that night, a future without her father’s steady guidance or her mother’s gentle strength.
Every mile south felt hollow, purposeless.
The breaking point came at the Aporian River, its dark waters surging past with a fierce, relentless power. She slipped from her horse and stood at the riverbank, feeling the cold wind biting against her skin.
The sound of the rushing water matched the chaos in her heart, each wave crashing like a reminder of her loss. She took a step forward, her breath catching in her throat as she stared into the swirling depths, entranced. Perhaps here, she thought, the pain would finally end. She closed her eyes, letting herself lean forward.
But Ogren’s arms wrapped around her just as she plunged into the frigid water. Hazel struggled, thrashing against him as he pulled her back, her body fighting against his strength even as her spirit had already given up.
The river roared around them, icy water clawing at her as she tried to break free. “There is no point in any of this, Ogren!” she screamed, her voice torn between fury and anguish. “We should just end it here! I have nothing left!”
The weight of her loss overwhelmed her, each struggle against Ogren a release of the grief she couldn’t hold inside. Her tears mingled with the river, her voice breaking as she shouted against the emptiness. “Why should I live when they’re all gone?” she choked out, the last of her strength spent in her cries.
Ogren’s grip on her was unyielding, his face set with fierce determination as he swam against the thrashing current, pulling her to safety. “Have faith in your father, Princess,” he urged, his words carrying the weight of a command but softened with an understanding that only he could offer. “Do as he wished. Your suffering will not last forever. There is more to your life than this pain.”