Tbate: Resurgence

-Chapter 12 : Reckoning-

Arthur Leywin

The last thing I remembered was Sylvie’s voice, followed by Alea’s, both calling out to me, their words stretching out, fading into nothingness.

It felt like they were being pulled away from me, or maybe I was the one falling away from them. I couldn’t tell anymore—the sounds, the sensations, even the pain—all of it was slipping, unraveling into the dark void that seemed to swallow everything.

And then, without warning, I was here.

I stood in a hallway—one I immediately recognized, though my mind struggled to accept it. My heart raced in my chest, pounding with an intensity that belied the surreal calmness around me. I knew this place. It wasn’t a distant memory. It wasn’t even some vague fragment of my past. No, this was the castle from my previous life, my life as King Grey.

The walls were just as they had been—immaculate, towering, and suffocatingly cold. The air here carried a weight I hadn’t felt in years. The scent of polished marble, the quiet hum of a world far more advanced than Dicathen’s ever could be—it all felt too real, too vivid to be anything other than what it was.

For a fleeting, terrifying moment, I wondered if everything I had experienced in this second life—my reincarnation, Sylvie, my family, the people I loved—had been nothing more than an elaborate dream. A cruel delusion I had concocted in the lonely, detached world of King Grey. But that thought was quickly squashed when I looked down at myself.

I wasn’t Grey. My reflection was still Arthur Leywin—the same auburn hair, the same azure eyes. The clothes I wore weren’t the royal garments of King Grey, nor the cold metallic armor of Earth’s military. Instead, I was still dressed in the more rugged, functional clothing I had worn in Dicathen. My body felt the same as it had before—beaten, bruised, but undeniably Arthur.

Yet this place, this castle... it had been home for decades.

The hallway stretched before me, its emptiness oppressive. Where there should have been soldiers standing guard, ever ready to move at my command, there was nothing. The silence was eerie, and it reminded me of how often I had walked these halls alone, even back then. My footsteps echoed through the stillness, each step pulling me deeper into this unsettling reality.

As I continued, I felt it again—the pull, the invisible force drawing me toward the throne room. I didn’t fight it. I knew what was coming, even if I didn’t want to face it. The double doors loomed ahead, and I knew beyond them lay the heart of my past—the place that had once defined me.

I pushed the doors open with little resistance, and there it was—the throne room. Vast, imposing, cold. The gleaming white walls shimmered under the artificial light, casting an almost divine glow over everything. And at the center of the room sat the throne, the symbol of everything I had once been, the cold seat of power I had ruled from for years as King Grey.

But it wasn’t empty.

Sitting on the throne was… me. Not the me I was now, but the me from my past. King Grey.

He was exactly as I remembered. Pale blond hair, neatly cut and styled. His eyes, cold and piercing, the color of steel. He was dressed in the advanced, sleek attire of Earth’s elite military commanders—garments far more advanced than anything from Dicathen. There was no warmth in his expression, no flicker of recognition or empathy. He looked down at me with the same distant, detached gaze I had once perfected.

And I stood there, staring at him—at myself—feeling my heart stop for a moment.

It wasn’t that I didn’t recognize him. No. I knew him all too well. I had been him. And recently, I had felt myself becoming him again.