The Awakening Comes After Death

A dense, heavy fog completely obscured Edmund's vision. He couldn't make out anything around him. Only silence and confusion surrounded him.

However, the darkness didn't last long. Within seconds, a bright light began to pierce through the shadows, consuming them until everything turned white. The light was so intense that Edmund had to close his eyes.

When he finally dared to open them, he felt a strange sensation—almost as if he wasn't seeing with his own eyes. It was as if he were inside the eyelids of a giant eye slowly opening.

As the "eye" opened further, the first thing he saw was the face of a woman.

Her bright yellow eyes gleamed intensely, as though they held liquid fire. Her long white hair cascaded in soft waves, framing a face that radiated warmth and beauty.

Despite the woman's imposing appearance, Edmund was too disoriented to process what he was seeing.

Then something else grabbed his attention entirely: his own body.

Looking down, he realized it was much smaller than he remembered. He could barely move his limbs, and the woman was holding him gently in her arms.

"Hello, little one. Welcome to the world," the woman said, her voice soft and filled with tenderness.

Her words left him completely baffled. What was going on? Was he dreaming? Perhaps, after the suffocation he had endured, he had slipped into a coma, and all of this was just his imagination.

But this "dream" felt far too real.

Trying to understand more about what was happening, he began observing his surroundings. This wasn't a hospital, as one might expect during a birth. Instead, it was a room adorned with refined wooden furniture, golden-framed paintings, and jewels that reflected the light of an ornate ceiling lamp. Every corner of the room screamed luxury and exclusivity.

Suddenly, a noise interrupted his concentration.

"Make way, make way!"

A masculine voice echoed down the hallway, drawing closer with each step.

"Let me through! I can't stop! It's urgent!"

Edmund, unable to move his head fully, could only wait. The door to the room, adorned with embedded jewels and precious metals, burst open.

A tall man appeared, his blonde hair gleaming like sunlight and his blue eyes as clear as the sky. He wore a peculiar outfit, a mix of lightweight armor and medieval-style clothing decorated with gold accents. But the most striking thing about him was the blood staining his clothes.

The man was panting, bent over as if he had just run a great distance. His breaths were heavy, and beads of sweat trickled down his forehead.

"Sir, you can't come in like this!" a woman dressed as a maid shouted, following closely behind him. "It's dangerous for the lady and the baby!"

The maid tried to pull the man back, but he clung tightly to the doorframe.

"Please! I need to see my wife and child!"

More maids joined in, trying to drag him out of the room. Despite their numbers, the man stood firm, displaying impressive strength.

"You may enter once you've removed that bloodied armor!" one of the maids insisted.

"I can't wait that long! I need to know if they're okay!" he pleaded, desperation thick in his voice.

It was then that a calm yet authoritative voice interrupted the commotion.

"Lord Hawthorne, the birth was a success. Both the lady and the baby are perfectly fine," said a woman dressed entirely in white, wearing gloves and a mask that covered part of her face. She was the doctor, though Edmund hadn't noticed her presence until now.

The man let out a sigh of relief but still refused to move.

"Let him in," said the woman holding Edmund, her serene smile unwavering.

The maids froze, astonished by the lady's words.

"Lady Hawthorne? Are you certain?"

"Of course. I see no problem," she replied calmly.

Reluctantly, the maids released the man, who immediately rushed to the bedside, his relief evident as he reached for his wife and child.

"Thank you so much, darling!" the man exclaimed, quickly approaching the bed to see his wife and newborn.

"Lady Hawthorne, this is completely unhygienic," one of the maids protested. "You could be putting them at risk."

"Don't worry. If anything happens, healing magic will take care of it," the woman responded with a reassuring tone.

Edmund froze at the mention of "magic." Was it just a metaphor for medicine? Or was he really in a place where magic existed?

Ignoring the maids' concerns, the man leaned toward his wife, his expression filled with a mix of relief and guilt.

"Darling, I'm so sorry I took so long," he said, clasping his hands together in a pleading gesture. "But you know, I was on an urgent mission."

The word "mission" piqued Edmund's interest. What exactly did he mean? And what kind of mission left someone covered in blood?

Lady Hawthorne looked at him with patience and concern.

"Don't worry. Everything is fine now. But tell me, what happened?" she asked softly.

The man lowered his gaze, his expression darkening.

"It was horrible…" he murmured, his voice laden with pain. "Those bastards from Souris and Oniris infiltrated Priteron again. This time, they used their methods to create a massive dungeon in a densely populated area."

"A dungeon?" Edmund thought, the term surprising him.

"It can't be…" Lady Hawthorne replied, sadness clouding her eyes.

"It's true… It was a massacre. So many innocent people lost their lives."

His voice was bitter, filled with helplessness. As he spoke, Lady Hawthorne's expression also darkened, mirroring the grief her husband described.

For Edmund, the word "dungeon" conjured images of video games and fantasies where such places were meant to provide rewards and experience. But here, it seemed to represent something far more sinister—a real threat that brought only tragedy and destruction.

Lady Hawthorne broke the silence, her tone filled with hope.

"Darling, I'm sure this war will end someday. And when it does, Priteron will emerge victorious. You're the strongest man in the army. I know you'll bring this to an end."

The man nodded slowly, though his eyes betrayed his uncertainty. Suddenly, he changed the subject, as if trying to escape the darkness of his thoughts.

"But let's forget about that for now. Tell me, did the birth hurt a lot?"

Lady Hawthorne rolled her eyes with a small smile.

"Darling, it's childbirth. Of course it hurt."

"But you didn't suffer too much, right?!" he asked anxiously.

"Stop worrying about me so much. Look at your son. He's watching you."

The man quickly turned to Edmund, who was staring back at him with a mixture of confusion and curiosity.

"Oh! I'm so sorry, my son! It's just that I'm a first-time father and don't know how to act."

Lady Hawthorne, smiling with gentle irony, replied, "I'm a first-time mother too, so you're not alone."

"That makes us both idiots," the man murmured nervously.

"Speak for yourself," she retorted seriously.

The man tried to redirect the conversation again.

"Darling… It's a boy, right?"

"Yes, he's a boy."

Immediately, a grin of joy spread across the man's face.

"Yes! Let's go!"

He turned to celebrate, raising his arms in victory. However, the disapproving look from his wife stopped him in his tracks.

"Darling, don't look at me like that. It's just that I always dreamed of having a son. Now I can train him to be an excellent soldier, even better than me."

Lady Hawthorne sighed, though her expression softened.

"If you're happy, then I'm happy too."

As the man played with the baby, Edmund began to accept the reality: this wasn't a dream. He had likely been reborn into this world.

Although Edmund was starting to accept his situation, he couldn't help but feel a swirl of mixed emotions. On one hand, he felt excited by the possibility of achieving his dreams in this new life. But on the other, he was overwhelmed with sadness, knowing he would never see his mother again. Their last interaction had been an argument, and the thought of that filled him with guilt and regret.

"It seems he likes you, darling," Lady Hawthorne commented as she watched the interaction between her husband and the baby.

"Of course he does! After all, I'm his father," the man replied proudly, gently brushing his finger along Edmund's tiny nose.

"Now that I think about it… he didn't cry when he was born, did he?" Lady Hawthorne said, her brow furrowing in thought.

"You're right… He didn't cry. Isn't that strange? Babies are supposed to cry at birth, aren't they?"

The man's face lit up with pride as he heard this.

"That just means he's a real man! Just like his father."

Edmund couldn't help but feel slightly uncomfortable with that comment. Still, he decided to let it slide—he didn't exactly have the means to protest at the moment.

"Have you thought of a name yet?" Lady Hawthorne asked, turning her attention to her husband.

"I want him to be named Lucius," he answered with a satisfied smile.

"Lucius Hawthorne…" she repeated, savoring the sound. "It has a nice ring to it. I like it."

Edmund found himself drawn to the name as well. It sounded strong and dignified, fitting for someone destined for greatness. In his mind, it conjured the image of a hero—a noble warrior-prince respected by all.

Suddenly, a foul odor filled the room.

"Darling… Do you smell that?" Lady Hawthorne asked, wrinkling her nose.

"Yes… It smells awful."

"Gyaaaaa!" A loud wail erupted from Edmund as he expressed his discomfort in the only way he could, his tiny body wriggling in protest.

The man stepped back slightly, looking at the baby in surprise.

"Darling… I think Lucius needs a diaper change."

"Wait a minute! Did he…?"

Lady Hawthorne let out a lighthearted chuckle.

"That's right. Which means it's your responsibility to change his diaper."

"Me?! But I don't know how to do it!" the man protested.

"Consider this your punishment for arriving late to your son's birth."

"What?! But I don't want to!"

"You'll have to learn. You are his father, aren't you?"

The man looked at his wife, resigned, as she smiled playfully at his plight.

And so began the new life of Edmund Hughes, now known as Lucius Hawthorne.

A life filled with new opportunities and challenges, carrying the hope that this time, he could truly achieve his dream of becoming a real hero.