The night wind slipped quietly through the open windows, carrying the scent of rain and distant flowers.
Inside the chamber—vast, bright, and decorated with treasures that could bankrupt kingdoms—several men stood in solemn silence around a luxurious bed.
On it lay an old man whose name had once shaken continents.
His skin was thin like parchment, his hair silver-white, and his breathing faint… but the pressure he carried was still terrifying.
Even at the age of one hundred and fifty, he remained the ruler of a nation that feared no enemy.
The Emperor of Levoticus.
Lias Dan.
At the edge of the bed, a tall man with red, swollen eyes trembled as if his knees would give out.
It was Johnny—his right-hand man, his general, his brother-in-arms.
Johnny's lips quivered. His voice cracked.
"Brother…" he whispered, choking on the word. "You've lived… a long and successful life."
A sniffle escaped him, ugly and human.
But Lias Dan only laughed faintly.
"Haha… that's right." His voice was weak, yet strangely calm—like a mountain that had accepted the passing of seasons. "I accomplished everything I desired in this world."
He slowly turned his gaze toward the men gathered around him—ministers, warlords, generals, and kings of subordinate regions.
"And now," Lias continued, "it seems I shall finally ascend to the heavens."
His eyes half-lidded.
A peaceful smile sat on his face.
"No regrets… not a single one."
The air in the room seemed to tighten.
Lias Dan raised his hand slightly, fingers trembling with age. Yet the moment he spoke again, everyone immediately straightened, as if lightning had struck them.
"I leave the nation of Levoticus… in Johnny's hands."
Johnny froze.
Lias' voice grew firmer, as if the Emperor's soul refused to weaken even if his body had collapsed.
"Those who are present—bear witness."
The men around the bed immediately knelt.
"I proclaim Johnny as the next Emperor," Lias declared. "May Levoticus continue to prosper. Uphold justice. Protect the innocent. And maintain peace."
A collective roar erupted.
"We hear and obey!"
The chamber trembled.
Even in death's shadow… Lias Dan still ruled.
Johnny clenched his fists.
"Brother… please…"
But Lias only smiled.
Then, as if the world had finally been satisfied…
His breathing slowed.
His eyelids lowered.
And with the gentleness of a candle being snuffed out…
Lias Dan, the True Magic Sword Master…
The Miraculous Alchemist…
The Great Emperor of Levoticus…
Passed away in his sleep.
Darkness.
Silence.
Then—
Lias opened his eyes.
A ceiling stared back at him.
But it wasn't the familiar golden roof of the imperial palace.
His eyebrows furrowed.
"…That's odd," he muttered. "Why was I transported to a different room?"
He sat up.
And froze.
His body felt… light.
Too light.
Energetic.
Like youth had returned.
Like he wasn't one hundred and fifty years old.
Like he wasn't supposed to be breathing at all.
Lias stared down at his hands.
They were small.
Smooth.
Childlike.
"…?"
A chill crawled over his spine.
For a man who had slaughtered armies and negotiated with devils, fear was rare.
But this?
This was unfamiliar.
He swung his legs off the bed, stepping onto the floor.
His footsteps were quiet.
His movements—too easy.
Too nimble.
Lias walked toward a door and opened it.
A strange room greeted him.
Bright tiles. Shiny surfaces. A shelf lined with unfamiliar bottles filled with colorful liquid.
But none of that mattered.
Because on the wall—
There was a mirror.
Lias stepped closer.
And the moment his eyes met the reflection…
His breath stopped.
A child stared back at him.
A boy.
No.
Not even a teenager.
A small boy with messy hair and wide eyes—eyes that contained something far older than they should.
His face paled.
"What the hell…?" Lias whispered.
He reached up and touched his cheek.
The reflection copied him.
He pulled at his hair.
The reflection pulled too.
He stared.
And stared.
And stared.
"…This can't be…"
His voice became hoarse.
"But this is a child."
He clenched his fists.
He could feel it.
His soul.
His magic.
The immense mana he had cultivated for more than a century was still there, sealed deep inside his being like a sun trapped under skin.
He closed his eyes.
Took a deep breath.
And forced himself to think with reason instead of emotion.
"…I see."
His lips curved slightly.
A dangerous calm returned.
The calm of an Emperor.
"My soul was too powerful," he muttered. "When I died, the mana inside me caused a tear in the boundary as I traveled toward the heavens…"
A smile, cold and logical.
"And instead of ascending… I was absorbed into a different dimension."
He opened his eyes, looking at the child in the mirror like a tool to be examined.
"A fresh body."
Which could only mean one thing—
The original owner of this body had already died.
And his soul… had taken the empty vessel.
Lias' gaze darkened.
"Now then…"
He lifted his hand.
"Let's see who you were."
A faint blue glow flickered in his palm.
A technique so rare that even gods would kill for it.
A skill he once reserved for interrogating enemies who refused to speak.
Read Memory.
Lias smirked.
"Fortunately… this world still contains mana."
He inhaled slowly.
"And this child's mana channels are not blocked."
Perfect.
He activated the skill.
Pain exploded in his skull.
It felt as though his brain had been ripped open and flooded with molten metal.
Lias gritted his teeth, veins bulging, but he did not scream.
He endured.
Because Emperors did not scream.
The pain lasted only a short while.
Then—
It faded.
And countless memories poured into his mind.
A name.
A life.
A family.
A world.
"…I am now…"
Lias whispered.
The boy in the mirror stared back, silent and trembling.
"…Ralph."
A useless young master.
A laughingstock.
The embarrassment of the Dier Family.
A country called Magicia.
A world called Waralow.
His expression slowly turned cold as the memories continued flowing.
The boy had been mocked.
Humiliated.
Beaten.
Bullied for years.
And worst of all…
His last memories were of swallowing pills.
Poison.
The boy had wanted to die.
Not because he was weak.
But because he had been crushed until he believed he had no worth.
Lias' eyes narrowed.
"…How pathetic."
But his voice wasn't mocking.
It was almost… heavy.
A pity.
A very rare thing.
Lias Dan had conquered nations.
But he had never tolerated injustice.
Slowly, his gaze sharpened.
"Fine," he murmured.
"You failed."
"But I will not."
He turned away from the mirror, walking with the calmness of a man who had once ruled the world.
"Let's begin."
His stomach growled.
The Memory Read skill had drained him.
A huge portion of his mana.
He smiled faintly.
"…I'm starving."
He glanced down at his stomach.
His soul could already sense the poison inside—curled like a dark snake.
But he was not worried.
Poison was a joke to him.
After all—
He was the Miraculous Alchemist.
The Great Emperor.
The True Magic Sword Master.
And now…
He had been reborn.