The battlefield was a storm of steel and blood. The sounds of clashing swords, the cries of wounded men, and the roars of warriors filled the air. Smoke and dust clouded the battlefield as the soldiers pressed forward, their eyes burning with determination.
The enemy fortress loomed ahead, and at its steps—stood the enemy general.
Draped in black armor, his halberd resting on his shoulder, the general watched them approach with cold, calculating eyes.
Leonhardt felt the weight of the battle pressing on him. But there was no hesitation. He had come this far—he wasn't stopping now.
Then—the general moved.
He lunged forward, his halberd slicing through the air. Leonhardt barely managed to evade as the blade tore into the ground, splitting stone and earth apart.
Leonhardt countered, dashing in with a precise thrust.
Clang!
The general deflected it with ease. Then, with frightening speed, he twisted his weapon and swung again.
Leonhardt barely had time to react. The force sent him skidding back, his feet struggling to hold ground.
He was fast. Too fast.
But Leonhardt had fought countless battles in his mind before. He had trained endlessly, suffered defeat after defeat—this wasn't new to him.
He adjusted his stance—this time, he wouldn't just react. He would read, anticipate, and strike.
The general lunged again. But this time, Leonhardt sidestepped, letting the halberd narrowly miss.
Then he struck.
His sword sliced through the air, aiming for the general's exposed side—
But—the general vanished.
A shadow moved behind him. Too late.
A blinding flash—dirt exploded.
Leonhardt staggered back—his vision blurred. Dust and sand filled his eyes. A dirty trick.
And then, pain.
The general's spear pierced forward.
Leonhardt saw it too late—but before the killing blow could land—
Clang!
A blade intercepted the attack.
The captain had stepped in.
Leonhardt gasped, clearing his vision just in time to see the captain deflect the spear with a powerful swing.
"Still alive, rookie?" the captain grinned, his breath ragged.
Leonhardt steadied himself. His heart pounded, his hands trembled—but he wasn't afraid. He was excited.
The general's eyes narrowed.
The battlefield had shifted.
The soldiers behind them had broken through the fortress gates, overwhelming the enemy. The battle was turning.
Seeing no other choice, the general let out a sharp whistle. His remaining soldiers hesitated, then retreated, following their leader back to their kingdom.
Leonhardt exhaled, his grip loosening.
They had won.
The soldiers behind him erupted in cheers, their voices echoing across the battlefield. The fortress was theirs. The war was theirs.
Leonhardt stood among them, the weight of victory settling in.
But deep down—he knew.
This was only the beginning.
The sun began to set as the victorious army made their way back to the kingdom. Cheers and laughter echoed through the ranks—soldiers clapped each other on the back, celebrating their hard-earned victory. The weight of war still lingered, but for now, they could rejoice.
Leonhardt, however, felt detached. As the others cheered, he remained silent, walking among them with a mind clouded in uncertainty. Unlike the rest, he had no home to return to—or so he thought.
As they approached the castle gates, a voice suddenly called out.
"Leonhardt!"
He turned, only to see a young girl—probably around eighteen—rushing toward him. Her short blonde hair bounced as she ran, her blue eyes filled with relief. Before he could react, she threw her arms around him.
"You're alive!" she cried, her voice trembling. "Thank the heavens... I was so worried."
Leonhardt stiffened.
Who is she?
He pulled back slightly, looking at her face. There was warmth in her eyes, an undeniable familiarity—but he couldn't remember her.
Seeing his confusion, the girl frowned.
"Leonhardt...? What's wrong?"
"...Who are you?" he finally asked.
She froze. The joy on her face was quickly replaced by shock.
"You... don't remember me?"
Leonhardt remained silent, unsure how to respond.
The girl bit her lip, then took a deep breath.
"I'm Elly... your sister."
Sister?
Leonhardt's mind spun. He had no memory of having a family—no memory of Elly. But the way she looked at him, the way she spoke, he could tell she wasn't lying.
A strange, uneasy feeling settled in his chest.
"Come on," Elly said, forcing a small smile. "Let's go home."
—---
The house was small, tucked away in the quieter part of town. The moment they stepped inside, Leonhardt was met with the sight of a young boy, around thirteen years old, waiting eagerly at the door.
"Elly! Is he really—" The boy's words caught in his throat when he saw Leonhardt. His eyes widened in awe.
"Leonhardt..." The boy hesitated before breaking into a wide grin. "You're back!"
Leonhardt stared at him.
"And you are?"
The boy's smile faltered.
Elly let out a nervous laugh, rubbing the back of her head. "Uh… this is Javier. Our little brother."
Javier blinked. "Wait… don't tell me you forgot me too?!"
Leonhardt remained silent.
Javier pouted. "Seriously?! What did those army guys do to you?"
Elly shot Javier a look, then turned back to Leonhardt. "Come inside. Mom will be happy to see you."
Leonhardt followed them in. The house was modest, but warm. Simple wooden furniture, a small dining table, and a few old paintings on the wall. The scent of home-cooked food filled the air.
In the kitchen, a woman in her forties turned to look at them. The moment her eyes met Leonhardt's, she dropped the plate she was holding.
"Leonhardt…" Her voice was barely above a whisper. Then, tears welled up in her eyes. She rushed forward, embracing him tightly.
"My son… You're home."
Leonhardt felt his body tense up again. He didn't remember her. He didn't remember this home. But as she held him, trembling with relief, he couldn't bring himself to pull away.
"Mom… I..." He didn't know what to say.
She wiped her tears and smiled. "Come, let's eat. You must be starving."
—---
Dinner was a quiet affair at first. Elly, Javier, and their mother watched Leonhardt as if afraid he would disappear.
Then, the conversation started.
"So," their mother asked, smiling warmly, "tell us about the war. Were you safe? You didn't get hurt, did you?"
Elly and Javier leaned in, curious.
Leonhardt hesitated before answering. "I fought in the frontlines."
The room fell silent.
Elly choked on her drink. Javier nearly dropped his spoon. Their mother paled.
"The frontlines?!" Elly exclaimed. "But… but why?!"
Leonhardt shrugged. "It just happened."
"You're saying you—what? Just woke up one day and decided to charge into battle?" Javier looked at him like he had gone insane.
Leonhardt stayed quiet. He knew why they were shocked. The real Leonhardt had never been a warrior.
No wonder I struggled to even lift a sword at first. This body wasn't trained for battle.
His mother reached out, placing a hand on his. "I'm just glad you're safe."
Leonhardt nodded, but deep inside, his thoughts were a mess.
Who was the real Leonhardt?
—---
That night, Leonhardt lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. The events of the day replayed in his mind.
Victory in battle.
A family he didn't remember.
A life that wasn't his.
Could he truly live as Leonhardt?
Before he could answer that question, a knock echoed through the house.
Elly's voice came from outside his room. "Leonhardt, there's someone here to see you."
Frowning, he got up and made his way to the entrance.
Standing at the doorstep was Captain Muller.
The same captain he had fought beside—the one who had saved him from the enemy general's final attack.
"Leonhardt," Muller said, a smirk playing on his lips. "We need to talk."
TO BE CONTINUED...
End of Chapter 3.