A general born to rule

The beginning

Chapter 1: The Final Stand

Prologue: The Battlefield

The acrid smell of gunpowder hung thick in the air, mingling with the scent of burning metal and the sharp tang of blood. The distant rumble of artillery was a constant reminder that death loomed over every soldier in the camp. General Marcus Steele, the best of the best, stood at the edge of the command tent, surveying the battlefield through a pair of high-tech binoculars. His steel-blue eyes, sharp and calculating, took in every detail—the placement of enemy troops, the lines of defense his own forces had managed to hold, and the ominous shadow on the horizon that could only mean one thing: a new assault was imminent.

Beside him, Samuel "Sam" Harrington, his oldest and closest friend, was bent over a map, his hands moving with the precision of a craftsman. Sam was the genius behind the military’s most advanced weapons and vehicles, a man whose mind was as sharp as any blade. Together, they had forged a bond stronger than steel, one that had seen them through countless battles. But this time felt different. This time, the weight of the war pressed down on them like never before.

“We’re holding, Marcus,” Sam said, his voice steady, but there was a hint of tension in it that Marcus rarely heard. “But barely. They’re throwing everything they have at us. It’s almost like they know something we don’t.”

Marcus nodded, his jaw clenched. “They do. They know we’re the last line before the capital. If we fall, they march right into the heart of the country.”

Suddenly, the ground shook violently, and the deafening roar of artillery fire erupted from the enemy lines. Marcus’s eyes widened as he saw the shells raining down on their position, the enemy’s artillery barrage finally breaking through their defenses. Explosions tore through the camp, sending men and equipment flying.

“Sam, we need to—” Marcus started, but he was cut off as a shell exploded nearby, throwing them both to the ground.

Marcus’s vision blurred as he struggled to push himself up. Through the smoke and chaos, he saw Sam lying a few feet away, bloodied but still conscious. The realization hit him like a punch to the gut—they weren’t going to make it out of this.

With a final burst of strength, Marcus crawled over to his friend. Sam looked up at him, his face a mix of pain and resignation.

“This… this is it, isn’t it?” Sam whispered, coughing up blood.

Marcus nodded, his voice thick with emotion. “Yeah, Sam. It looks like it is.”

As the world around them descended into chaos, Marcus and Sam shared a final look, a silent understanding passing between them. They had given everything they had, fought until the very end. And now, all they could do was hope that their deaths would buy their country the time it needed to survive.

The last thing Marcus saw before everything went black was the sight of the enemy forces closing in, and then—nothing.

**Chapter 1: Rebirth in a New World**

The first thing Marcus felt was warmth. Not the searing heat of battle, but a gentle, comforting warmth, like the sun on a summer’s day. Slowly, he became aware of other sensations—the soft rustle of leaves in the wind, the distant chirping of birds, and the earthy scent of the forest.

He opened his eyes, expecting to see the battlefield or perhaps the afterlife. Instead, he found himself staring up at a canopy of green leaves, sunlight filtering through in dappled patterns. Confused, he sat up, his mind racing. The last thing he remembered was dying in the middle of a war, and now he was… here?

“Where… where am I?” Marcus muttered, his voice surprisingly high-pitched.

He looked down at himself and froze. He was no longer a grown man, but a child—a small, frail boy, no older than ten. Panic surged through him, but then he heard a familiar voice.