Medieval Warrior Reincarnated To A World Of Magic

Year 1429, Battle for Angers, France

– C-commander! – I heard, in the distance, a trembling cry from my subordinate. 

Looking back in the direction where he was located, I saw a sword in his throat and the one who did it. I rushed towards the intruder to pierce my sword into him and cut off his head.

But to my surprise, it was a trap set up to murder me. Six French soldiers jumped out of the ground and surrounded me at once.

Our fight ended quickly; unfortunately for them, my skills at handling a sword were unmatched, but fatigue took the upper hand, and I showed weakness. I let my guard down, just for a moment. But that slight moment was enough, and the second I realized, there was a sword sticking out of my chest. 

I fell to the ground and saw the one who pierced me—it was a child, who was about 12? Or 13? I couldn't tell for sure, but there was one thing I was sure about: his eyes.

His eyes were the same as mine in the past, full of hatred and anger. He resembled me from the past, and I remembered what I had sealed in my memory - my tragic childhood.

As I recall those memories, I can only feel sadness about the life in my native village and how this village disappeared from the face of the earth. 

From early childhood, I only had a mother, but I did not complain because she did everything for me; she fought for my life so her only child could live a life without hardships. We lived in an old house, which even for the inhabitants of the village was of lower quality. But even that satisfied me, as long as I was with my mother.

In the village, there were two schools: one for the nobles and one for people like myself. But even so, I was an outcast. No, I wasn't an outcast only at school but throughout the whole village. due to my eyes being black as the night without the moon. Without a sclera in my eyeballs, I looked like a monster that came from heaven to curse this world. 

At the age of 10, I realized something. I was strong, and not just strong. I was overwhelmingly strong. My body was made to kill. No, I state this for a reason; my talent for handling the sword is what pushed me toward this idea. I could wield the sword as if it belonged to me - no, as if it were a part of me.

At the age of 12, I learned everything I could from the books. I went to work as a mercenary. My talent was recognized quickly, and at the age of 13, after training as a mercenary, I was sent on my first mission. 

It was a siege of a military fortress, and that's where I got my first combat experience. Our siege did not last long; we quickly seized the fortress. 

That was my life until the age of 16, completing missions and returning home to my mother, who was dying of worry for me. I felt good; I was no longer the same boy who everyone looked down upon; I was stronger now.

But things can't always go smoothly. 

After another mission, on the way back home, I saw something that I couldn't even imagine: ashes everywhere. There was no trace left of my village. Houses, barns, and stables - all of it was destroyed. There was nothing left. I ran to my house, but it was also burned to the ground. I was overwhelmed with a storm of emotions: anger and nervousness as I could not find my mother. I had to search for her.

My search lasted for days. I didn't eat, sleep, or drink for days as I had to find her. 

After about a week of searching the landscape, I found some kind of refugee camp. As I spotted familiar faces inside the camp, I rushed there; they were the people of my village. Seeing me, who had rushed towards them with cries like, "Mom!" Where are you? "Have you seen my mother?" They lowered their heads. 

And I immediately understood what was going on. I couldn't say anything; no, I couldn't do anything; I was paralyzed from trying to digest the news.

I stood like that until the sunset and the dark night came. Villagers tried to help me by offering food, water, and lodging. But it didn't matter to me anymore. 

Later, I was told who burned our village. It was the French. They sneaked into our village to collect food and materials. I was mad. I was filled with hate. 

Then, I joined the royal army. I was quickly recognized because, in a battle, no one could compare with me. This is how I lived my life, until recently. a year ago. It happened then. I had a dream - a dream where I saw my mother. I cried and sobbed like an infant when I saw my mother, and I hugged her. And she spoke with her usual soft and calming voice,

– Son, as I see you right now, I can only feel depressed, seeing you filled with hatred, seeing you seek revenge... "I don't want that; I don't want my only child to live a miserable life, so

please. –

After talking with her a little more, I realized what I was doing was simply my personal desire and not my mother's; she wouldn't want this; she was the kindest person I knew. Even though they murdered her, she still wouldn't take revenge, and she wouldn't want me to pick the path of revenge.

I realised now, what was the purpose of my birth, and my genius like talent. I had to end all the wars in this world so that there would be no more children like me who were affected by war.

After finding my path, I fought for my goal, determined to achieve it no matter what, after becoming a gene-...

-Well...It doesn't really matter anymore; I'm dying. It's getting harder to breathe every second..huh, so this is how it feels to be near death? Pretty painful.. Well, I can't do anything about it; I just need to accept it and wait till I die, and I guess I will see my mother again... 

Although I doubt I will go to heaven,

I'll find out soon...