Arin Devain awoke to the soft glow of morning light filtering through the grand arched windows of his chambers. The ceiling, adorned with intricate gold patterns, greeted him—a stark contrast to the dull, gray walls of the cramped Mumbai apartment he once called home. Even after days of inhabiting this body, the vastness of House Devain still felt surreal.
The knowledge of his past life had come rushing back with his awakening. It had not been a pleasant revelation. In his previous life, he had been an ordinary man—a software engineer struggling with the monotony of existence. He had lived, worked, and eventually died without making a meaningful impact. Now, he was Arin Devain, the only son of Duke Alistair Devain and Lady Helena Devain, one of the most powerful noble families in the Kingdom of Eldoria.
Yet, power was no gift. It was a weight, a burden of expectations.
Sitting up, Arin let out a deep sigh, running a hand through his now silver-white hair. Unlike his past self, who had been dark-haired and average-looking, his new appearance was striking. He had inherited his father's piercing amber eyes and his mother's aristocratic features. But such blessings came with a curse—he was bound by the rigid structures of nobility.
Today, he would be officially introduced to his father after weeks of recovering from his supposed 'fever.' In truth, his body had been undergoing its awakening—the moment every individual in Eldoria regains the memories of their past life and awakens their Samsāra Shakti—a unique power shaped by their deepest understanding and beliefs. For Arin, his power was still uncertain, but one thing was clear: his new life had given him the opportunity to change fate.
He had read about this world before. In the original story, Lady Evelyne Valmont, the so-called villainess, was doomed to be executed. Her crime? Merely being an obstacle in the path of the heroine. But Arin knew better. She was no villain—only a scapegoat. And if fate had placed him in this world, then perhaps it was his responsibility to rewrite its tragic script.
The Meeting with Duke Alistair Devain
A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts.
"Young Master, the Duke awaits you in the solar," said a voice from the other side.
Arin exhaled slowly, standing up. This was it—the moment he had been preparing for.
The halls of House Devain were silent as he walked, his polished boots clicking softly against the marble floors. Servants lowered their heads in respect, though he could sense their subtle glances. His recent awakening had been the subject of whispered gossip.
When he reached the solar, the heavy wooden doors opened to reveal a grand room bathed in warm sunlight. At its center sat Duke Alistair Devain, his father, dressed in dark regal attire. His presence was imposing, his sharp features marked by years of authority. Beside him sat Lady Helena, her beauty cold and distant.
"So, you've finally awakened," the Duke said, his voice carrying an edge of scrutiny. "Tell me, Arin, what have you learned from your memories?"
Arin met his father's gaze. "I have learned that this world is far more intricate than it appears. That power is not given freely, and nobility is not a privilege but a responsibility."
His father studied him for a moment before nodding. "Good. You are no longer a child. You now bear the name of House Devain in full. Do not disgrace it."
Lady Helena sipped her tea, her expression unreadable. "And your power? Have you discovered what form your Samsāra Shakti has taken?"
Arin hesitated before answering. "Not entirely. But I believe it is still growing."
His father's eyes narrowed slightly. "Then you must ensure that it is honed before your debut in court. The weak are devoured in Eldoria. Do not forget that."
Arin inclined his head. He understood the warning well enough. Power dictated one's place in this world. And if he was to survive—if he was to save Evelyne—he needed to grow stronger.
A World Shaped by Trees
The power system of this world was unlike anything he had ever encountered. Upon awakening, an individual's Samsāra Shakti manifested as a branch of an ancestral tree—one that was influenced by their bloodline yet wholly unique to their own beliefs and understanding.
The roots of the tree were inherited from both parents, but at fifteen, the individual's personal experiences determined the way their branch grew, forming a distinct ability. Some branches flourished into mighty oaks, granting overwhelming strength; others became twisted, their powers unpredictable and volatile.
Mastery was no simple feat. It was not enough to have talent—one had to cultivate their understanding. If someone sought to wield fire, they had to grasp not just its destructive force but also its nature, its essence, its balance. To specialize in the sword, one had to comprehend the philosophy of the blade, its purpose beyond mere combat.
And Arin? His tree had yet to bear fruit.
A Decision to Rewrite Fate
Later that evening, Arin stood in the grand balcony overlooking the city of Eldoria. His thoughts drifted once again to Lady Evelyne Valmont.
Why was he so fixated on saving her? Was it guilt? A sense of duty? Or was it simply because her fate was unjust?
He closed his eyes, recalling the memories of his past life—the loneliness, the regrets, the feeling of insignificance. He had always wanted to make a difference, to matter. Perhaps in this life, he had finally been given the chance.
Fate had written Evelyne's demise. But what if fate was wrong?
He clenched his fists. He would change her story, not as a hero, nor as a noble seeking glory. But as someone who refused to accept a world where injustice was deemed destiny.
And so, his journey truly began.