THE GENERAL'S DISGRACED HEIR

David approached the fallen intruder, his steps measured and poised to strike. His mind raced with thoughts of the Demon's Shadow, a force he had longed for. "This is bad," he muttered, his voice low but strained. "If the demon is sending someone this skilled after me, it must see me as a real threat." The confusion on the intruder's face deepened as she shifted slightly, her voice soft but laced with intrigue, "Demon... threat?"

Her voice sent a strange ripple through David's senses. He had heard many enchanting voices before, but something about hers struck a peculiar chord. It was familiar and alien at the same time, as though he had heard it in a dream. "Let's see your face, shall we?" David said, his curiosity piqued. He used his boot to gently turn her head, expecting the face of a hardened assassin or mercenary.

But what he saw made his breath hitch.

The woman lying before him had short, raven-black hair that framed her pale face in a cascade of soft waves. A few strands fell elegantly over her sharp, yet delicate features. Her eyes—an ethereal, almost glowing blue—gazed up at him, reflecting a mixture of defiance and confusion.

A faint scar ran down the side of her cheek, barely visible but telling of a hard life lived in shadow. She wore an obsidian cloak embroidered with silver, and underneath it, a light suit of armour that seemed custom-made for both elegance and lethality. Her lips, slightly parted, carried a tint of colour that matched the faint blush of her cheeks.

David's entire body froze. Something inside him shifted—something primal, something he couldn't control. His chest tightened, and a sudden wave of nausea struck him. He staggered back slightly, eyes wide with shock.

Then, the system interface flickered before him, bathed in an ominous red light:

[ERROR!]

[System has been forcefully overridden.]

"What the hell..." David whispered, his heart hammering in his chest. His body trembled, his knees weakening beneath him as the system continued:

[ERROR]

[Your neural pathways have been unexpectedly rewired, triggering a phenomenon known as muscle memory induction. This unforeseen alteration may lead to involuntary spasms, vivid flashbacks, and potentially traumatic experiences.]

David's mind swirled with confusion and fear as he tried to control his ragged breathing. His hands shook uncontrollably, and his legs felt like jelly. Tears brimmed in his eyes as an unfamiliar name escaped his lips, "Angelica…" It came out broken, as if spoken by someone else.

The intruder, now no longer just a nameless assassin, blinked up at him, her blue eyes wide in disbelief. Hearing that name shattered the remaining resolve she had left. Her heart stung with a sharp, unfamiliar pain. As if on instinct, she whispered back, her voice trembling, "D-David?"

David's world tilted. His mind fought to grasp at the memories flashing before his eyes—fragments of a past he didn't recognize but that felt so real, so close. Images of a woman laughing, crying, and holding him flashed before him. He didn't know her, yet every fiber of his being screamed that he did. He felt an overwhelming sense of loss, as if a piece of his soul had been torn from him long ago.

Tears streamed down David's face, and he didn't know why. Angelica—was this the woman before him? Why did saying her name hurt so much?

Angelica, still dazed from their earlier encounter, stared at David in disbelief. He was crying—her name had drawn something out of him, something deep and painful. A dagger of regret stabbed her heart as she gazed at the man she had been spying ever since the first trial, whispering his name like a prayer, "…David."

The air between them hung heavy with emotions neither of them understood, a strange connection that defied logic or reason.

David's legs trembled, buckling beneath him as his strength gave out. His breaths came in ragged, laboured gasps, a wheezing sound filling the air. His vision blurred as his knees began to buckle, the weight of the moment too much for his body to handle. Before he could collapse to the ground, Angelica moved swiftly, catching him in her arms with unexpected tenderness. Her hands trembled as she guided him down, gently laying him onto the cold earth.

"Stay with me!" Angelica's voice was urgent, desperate, her heart racing as she watched David's condition worsen. His breathing was shallow, and his eyelids drooped, struggling to stay open. She could see the exhaustion and pain etched into his features, his once vibrant sapphire eyes dimming.

"David, please!" she pleaded, her voice breaking as panic surged through her. She pressed her forehead against his, her warmth mixing with his fading one. His hand, trembling and weak, slowly rose to her face, his fingertips brushing her cheek with a touch so soft it was like a ghost of a memory.

"You... were... alive," David whispered, his voice barely audible, but each word carried the weight of a lifetime. His words were laced with disbelief and a deep, painful sorrow. His hand lingered on her cheek for a fleeting moment before it fell limply by his side. His eyelids closed, his consciousness slipping away into a darkness so deep and all-encompassing that it felt like falling into an abyss. Angelica's cries echoed in his fading awareness, her voice calling out to him with desperation and anguish, but her words became muffled, drowned out by a silence so thick it swallowed everything.

In an instant, the world shifted.

David found himself standing in the center of a vast, dark void. The silence here was suffocating, the kind that pressed in on him from all sides, making him feel like he was the only living being in existence. He looked around, confused and disoriented, as his breath evened out and his heart stopped its frantic race. It was eerily calm here, but also unsettlingly empty.

Suddenly, the void around him began to change. Colours bled into the darkness like watercolours on a blank canvas. The sky above him transformed into a brilliant blue, with soft, fluffy clouds drifting lazily across it. Below him, the ground erupted into a sprawling field of vibrant flowers that swayed gently in the breeze. The scent of wildflowers filled the air, and for a brief moment, David felt an odd sense of peace. It was a scene so beautiful, so serene, yet unnervingly familiar.

David looked down at himself, running his hands over his body. The sensation was all too real, yet somehow dreamlike at the same time. His heart skipped a beat as he touched his hair—it was long, flowing, and stark white. He was still David, not Mark, his former self. But something felt... different. This place, this vision—he had been here before, or somewhere like it.

"Where am I?" David wondered aloud, his voice echoing in the strange landscape. He looked around, his brows furrowed in confusion. What had happened to his body just moments ago? The overwhelming fatigue, the collapse, the sensation of something slipping away from him—it all felt like a distant memory now, even though it had just happened.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of laughter—light, carefree, and full of joy. He turned just in time to see two children running past him, giggling as they held hands. They sprinted through the field, their laughter filling the air like music, the flowers bending under their bare feet.

David's heart clenched as he watched them, something about their innocence tugging at his soul. He couldn't place it, but there was something hauntingly familiar about the scene. The world around him felt like a memory, distant yet intimate, as if it belonged to another lifetime.

His mind raced with questions, but the one that stood out most was,

What was this place, and why was he here?

One of the children, a boy with short white hair, knelt in the midst of the vibrant field of flowers, holding up a small ring made of intertwined blossoms. His eyes sparkled with innocence as he looked up at the girl before him, her dark hair dancing in the breeze. "Angelica, marry me," the boy proposed, his voice earnest and hopeful.
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David, watching from afar, felt his breath hitch. The scene before him was surreal, like a dream drawn from the deepest recesses of his mind. The realization hit him like a wave. The girl standing there was none other than a younger Angelica, and the boy with the short white hair—

that

was him, the old David, before the transmigriaton, before the endless battles, before everything.

"Memories... but not mine," David whispered under his breath, his voice barely audible against the gentle rustle of the flowers around him.

Angelica, her cheeks flushed a soft pink, giggled at the proposal. Her eyes sparkled with mischief as she shook her head. "No, dummy," she teased, her voice playful. The boy, young David, looked crestfallen, his lips trembling as tears threatened to spill from his eyes. But before his disappointment could turn into full-blown sorrow, Angelica knelt down beside him. She gently placed a kiss on his forehead, her touch filled with warmth and comfort.

"You can't marry a child, silly," she said with a light chuckle, brushing a strand of her dark hair away from her face. "When I'm all grown up, ask me again," she revealed, her smile soft but promising. With that, she helped the boy to his feet, and the two resumed their playful games, running through the flower-filled field, laughter filling the air.

David, the present version of him, watched in stunned silence, his heart torn between the sweetness of the moment and the growing sense of unease that gnawed at him. The scene felt too perfect, too fragile, as if it were a memory that would shatter at the slightest disturbance.

And shatter it did.

Without warning, the field of flowers burst into flames. The vibrant colours were swallowed by searing orange and red as fire spread rapidly, consuming everything in its path. The peaceful meadow was now an inferno. The air became thick with smoke, and the sky darkened with ash. David's younger self lay on the ground, blood pooling around him, his small body battered and broken. He was fading, slipping into unconsciousness.

Angelica screamed, her voice filled with terror as mysterious figures dragged her away. Her hands reached out desperately for the boy, tears streaming down her face. "David! David!" she cried, her voice a haunting echo in the blazing chaos. But the boy was unresponsive, his small body too weak, too far gone to answer her calls.

Just as suddenly as the fire had erupted, the scene shifted once more.

The field of flowers had become a wasteland of ash. The vibrant life that had filled the meadow was now reduced to nothing but charred remains. In the midst of the destruction stood the small David, his innocent face now etched with sorrow. He stood over a crude grave made of sticks and stones, a solemn marker of loss. The air around him was cold, lifeless.

Mark—the current David—stood frozen, watching the scene unfold, wondering if seeing Angelica had triggered these memories, memories that weren't his, yet felt so painfully familiar.

The small David turned his head slowly, his pale face devoid of the joy it once held. His eyes, hollow and lifeless, locked onto Mark with a piercing gaze. "She's alive," the boy muttered, his voice a ghostly whisper that sent chills down Mark's spine.

Mark, or David, whichever part of him was in control at the moment, felt a deep unease settle in his chest. He didn't understand. The grave was there, in front of the boy—how could she be alive?

The small David turned fully now, his eyes wide and desperate, the sadness in his expression so raw it cut through Mark like a blade. "Isn't she?!" the boy demanded, his voice cracking, his question hanging in the ash-filled air like a bitter plea.

Mark stood there, speechless, his heart heavy with confusion and dread.