A War Beyond Time

Darkness. Then fire. Then screams.

Priyam felt his body being dragged through the Well of Memories, his consciousness unraveling as visions consumed him. He wasn’t just watching—he was there.

A battlefield stretched before him, scorched under a blood-red sky. Giants of molten rock clashed with winged titans. Dragons breathed storms of fire. Elves, humans, and beastmen fought side by side, their faces twisted in rage and desperation.

And at the heart of it all—

A man stood with a silver sword, cutting through his enemies like death itself. His golden eyes blazed, his presence commanding.

A name echoed through the void.

"Priyam."

Wait. What?

"Priyam… Priyam… PR-IY-AM!!!"

The battlefield dissolved in an instant, and Priyam shot upright—only to find himself inches away from Lyria’s gorgeous violet eyes, her soft lips slightly parted, her emerald hair cascading like silk around her flawless face.

…Okay, that was new.

“…Are you going to keep staring, or should I assume you’ve lost your mind?” Lyria raised an eyebrow, her melodic voice carrying a teasing edge.

Priyam blinked. Holy hell, I just woke up to an elf princess hovering over me. I must be the luckiest guy alive.

Then he groaned, rubbing his temples. “What… happened?”

“You collapsed,” Evelyne said, standing beside the bed with a relieved look. “You were out for hours.”

Priyam frowned. “Hours?” That memory—no, that vision—felt like mere moments.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

Lyria, still far too close for his sanity, studied him with an unreadable expression. “You spoke a name while unconscious. A name that has not been spoken in over a thousand years.”

Priyam swallowed hard. “What name?”

Lyria’s eyes darkened. “…Asvarion.”

The moment the name left her lips, the air grew heavy. The runes on the walls flickered. Even Malakar, standing near the doorway, stiffened.

Evelyne gasped. “That’s the name of the Lost King.”

Okay, time-out. Lost King? As in, super ancient ruler? The kind of guy whose statues people put in museums? And why the hell was his name mixed up with mine?

I turned to the readers. Y’know, I was fine just being the accidental isekai protagonist. But now? Now we’re in the "I might be the reincarnation of some legendary warlord" territory. And honestly? I did not sign up for this.

The Elven Beauty

Before Priyam could fully process his new existential crisis, Lyria leaned in even closer, her violet eyes gleaming with curiosity.

"You are more interesting than I thought," she murmured, a hint of amusement in her voice.

Now, let’s take a moment to appreciate Lyria in all her elven perfection.

Her long emerald hair shimmered like liquid jade, cascading down her back in elegant waves. Her skin was flawless, smooth as the petals of a moonflower, glowing faintly under the soft enchanted lights. And those violet eyes? Hypnotic. Piercing. Like they could see straight through him and into his soul.

Her outfit didn’t help his situation either—an intricately designed gown of silver and blue, woven with threads of magic, clinging to her curves just enough to be distracting.

Focus, Priyam. Focus.

Evelyne cleared her throat, shooting Lyria a warning glare. “We should focus on what this means.”

Lyria smirked. “I agree. But first, I believe Priyam should rest. The Well of Memories is no trivial matter.”

Rest? After dropping a bombshell like that? Yeah, right.

Still, the exhaustion hit him hard, and he barely had time to protest before his body gave in. As his eyes closed, he heard Lyria whisper softly—almost too softly.

"Who… are you really, Priyam?"

A Night of Secrets

When Priyam woke again, the moon was high, casting a silver glow over the city of Sylveria. He stepped onto the balcony, the crisp night air helping to clear his mind.

Lost King Asvarion. What did it mean?

“Couldn’t sleep?”

Priyam turned—and immediately wished he hadn’t.

Lyria stood there, wrapped in nothing but a thin silk nightgown, the fabric hugging her body in ways that should have been illegal. The moonlight illuminated her curves, the soft outline of her form barely concealed beneath the translucent material.

Okay, what is this, a romance novel? Priyam thought, once again turning to his invisible audience. Not that I’m complaining, but seriously?

Lyria smirked as if reading his mind. “You’re staring again.”

He quickly turned away. “You’re the one standing there like that!”

She chuckled. “Elves have different customs. Modesty is a human concept.”

Right. Sure. And I’m supposed to just accept that without question?

She leaned on the balcony beside him. “Tell me, Priyam. What do you truly desire?”

That caught him off guard. “Huh?”

She didn’t look at him, her gaze lost in the distant stars. “You’ve been thrown into a world not your own. People tell you that you are important. That you are connected to something greater. But… what do you want?”

Priyam hesitated. No one had asked him that before. Did he want power? A way home? Answers?

He sighed. “I don’t know.”

Lyria finally looked at him, her violet eyes filled with something he couldn’t quite place. “Then let’s find out together.”

She reached out, gently taking his hand. Her touch was warm, delicate, yet powerful.

Priyam’s heart skipped a beat. This elf princess… she’s dangerous.

Before he could say anything, a loud horn blast echoed through the city.

Lyria’s expression turned serious. “The Sylverian Gates… they’re under attack.”

Priyam’s blood ran cold. Just when I thought I’d get a peaceful night.

He turned to the reader. Welp. Time to jump headfirst into another disaster. Stay tuned, folks.

To Be Continued…

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