Damon couldn't believe what he saw upon opening his eyes again. Everywhere he looked, everything seemed unfamiliar, foreign even. And to top it off, there was a full set of armor in his room, along with other items that looked too lavish to be called bedroom decor. He had been into many lavish rooms and houses, and this one easily tops it all.

As he stood up, Damon realized something strange - his legs and body were completely healed, despite feeling like he had just been through a brutal beating. To confirm his suspicion, he removed his shirt and inspected his body. Much to his surprise, there wasn't even a hint of a bruise or scratch on his skin. Yet despite this, his body still looked pale and skinny, like a twig that had been withered by the harsh winter winds.

But the biggest shock came when he caught sight of his reflection in the mirror. "Holy mother of Lincoln... That's not even me!" he exclaimed in disbelief. His face looked almost a decade younger than he was, and the facial structure was vastly different from his original one.

Suddenly, his brain was filled with a rush of information, as though his memory was merging with another. The experience caused his balance to falter, but even with the confusion, he couldn't help but stare in awe at the memories flooding his mind.

Among the memories, he saw a vision of himself being brutally beaten by someone who looked like the original owner of his body's brother. As he tried to make sense of it all, he realized that the world he was in was far different from the earth he knew.

This was a world filled with magic, and people used mana to wield it. Damon's family was part of a group called the Wynegard, who were known for possessing the continental sword - a legendary weapon that was used to fend off dark demonic forces.

Everyone in the family had exceptional talent in swordsmanship and magic, except for Damon. He was always treated terribly by his kin, so what would stop them from killing him now? He was nothing but a useless member of the family, and his death would go unnoticed.

"I need to get out of here..." Damon muttered under his breath, pulling on his shirt as he resolved to find a way out of this death zone that was the mansion.

Damon burst out of the door in a hurry, causing some of the maids who were working outside to jolt in surprise at the sudden commotion. Among them was his personal maid, who looked bewildered as she witnessed this unusual behavior from Damon, who was known for his lethargic demeanor.

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As he descended the stairs, he spotted the exit and sprinted towards it, his heart pounding in his chest. But before he could make it out, he was struck in the stomach, causing him to double over in agony. "Ahhh..." he groaned, struggling to catch his breath. And then he saw him, Phillip, his brother in this life.

Damon hoped he wouldn't have to face him. Just the thought of being near him was enough to send shivers down his spine; it was as if he had also inherited some of the feelings that the previous owner of the body had. But there was no escaping this confrontation.

Phillip's eyes widened in shock and anger. "Where do you think you're going, brother?" he asked, stretching his hand towards Damon's face, ready to deliver another blow.

"Stop it!" Damon yelled, mustering all his strength to stand up. As he met Phillip's gaze, he could see the fury burning in his eyes. "What did you say, you bastard?! I'm just playing around with you! And you ask me to stop?!" Phillip roared before throwing a kick toward Damon's legs. But Damon was quick to react, dodging the attack with a jump back.

'This guy is an actual psycho…' Damon thought as he looked at Phillip, who got angry from that small retaliation before raising his hands to prepare for any attack.

Damon couldn't help but think that this guy had some mental illness as he watched Phillip's face turn from anger to sadness. "Aw... I never knew that you would fight against me... Why would I want to fight with you? You're my brother," Phillip said, gesturing to his butler, Edmund, who walked towards Damon.

At six feet tall, Damon was tall enough to tower over most men, but Edmund was even taller, with muscles similar to a bulldog. Edmund threw a boulder-like punch toward Damon, who weaved it and delivered an uppercut to the groin, causing Edmund to grunt in pain. Damon ran as fast as he could towards the door, but he felt his collar being pulled, and suddenly he was thrown back inside. As his body hit the ground, he felt a bone on his back break again.

Damon rose to his feet with a sense of urgency, but before he could take a single step, he felt an excruciating pain shoot up his spine. The sensation was all too familiar; a bone had been broken again. "Why on earth is this body so weak?!" Damon muttered in frustration, his mind racing with the unfairness of it all.

He looked up to see Edmund charging towards him, his muscular frame radiating with malice. Damon knew he had to move fast if he wanted to survive. He tried to run, but his legs betrayed him, causing him to trip and fall to the ground. "No, no!" he grumbled under his breath, panic rising in his chest.

He tried to crawl away as fast as he could, his heart pounding in his ears. But the sound of heavy footsteps getting closer and closer, like the footsteps of inevitable death.

But all of a sudden, the footsteps stop, and the punch never followed through. As Damon turned behind he saw a slender and womanly figure stopping Edmund's fist with unnatural ease.