The Reign of the Dragons: Chapter 2: The Rebirth

I opened my eyes with great difficulty. My eyelids felt like they weighed a ton.

As my vision cleared, all I could see was grass. I turned my head slightly, and towering trees came into view.

A park?

I strained my eyes, searching for anything else, but all I could hear was the rustling of leaves. When I looked up, all I saw was a dense canopy.

I'm in a forest. Great.

I tried to move my limbs. I could feel them, but they hurt. They hurt badly.

With considerable effort, I sat up. My arms were covered in bruises. But wait... why do they look smaller? My legs, too. They were short—almost the size of a ten-year-old's.

What the hell?!

Suddenly, a searing pain erupted in my head, like someone was splitting my skull open with an axe.

Memories—memories that didn't belong to me—flooded my mind.

Oh.

I had read about this in books before. This must be the memories of the previous owner returning to me.

I let the pain take over, allowing the memories to unravel.

Her name... was also Jane Blaze.

She was twelve years old.

Her father, Astral Blaze, was the royal advisor to King Richard Breeze of Carta. Her mother, Narda Blaze née Allois, had been the main wife of Astral.

That was, until a prophecy changed everything.

The royal astronomist had declared that Jane would be the destroyer of the royal family.

What utter bullshit.

Because of that ridiculous prophecy, Jane and her mother had been cast out.

Narda was demoted to the rank of the lowest concubine and thrown out of the mansion—exiled to this very forest along with Jane.

Her mother... bless her... she was an angel.

She didn't deserve any of this.

If they hadn't abandoned Jane here, she wouldn't have died. If she hadn't died, she would have grown up like any other noble girl, possibly marrying into the royal family.

Why the hell would she destroy them?

But you know what? Since they were so desperate to make the prophecy come true...

Why don't I help them?

I spent my entire last life alone, navigating a world full of schemes. People constantly tried to replace me as the boss's right-hand, and I had to deal with every single one of them. It was exhausting.

But now?

Now, I had a reason to fight back.

I glanced at my hands—thin, frail. Too thin.

I must look like a malnourished ten-year-old. No wonder I feel so weak.

The second I get back, I'm feeding myself properly. I need my strength.

I struggled to get up, my legs trembling beneath me.

The moment I was fully on my feet, I swayed dangerously. I was about to hit the ground when—

Someone caught me.

Relief flooded me, and I was about to thank the person—until I saw his face.

Instantly, every muscle in my body tensed.

I knew this man.

He was in Jane Blaze's memories.

He was the one who threw her into this forest. He had expected the wolves to eat her alive.

But they didn't.

I tried to push him away, but my body was too weak.

He sneered at me. "Still alive, huh?"

I clenched my teeth.

If only I had my old body.

Just as I was about to lose all hope—

A sudden, scorching pain shot through my right arm.

The man yelped and immediately let go of me, stumbling backward as his hand burned.

He clutched his arm, his face twisting in pain.

"You freak!" he spat. "Wait here—I'll come back and kill you."

Then, he turned and ran.

I lost my balance and fell back onto the ground. The impact hurt, but my focus was entirely on my arm.

I pushed up the tattered sleeve of my already worn-out dress—

And froze.

A red dragon tattoo.

It was in the exact same place as in my previous body.

It didn't burn anymore, but when that psycho grabbed me, it had. I knew it had, but...

It didn't hurt me.

In my previous life, fire never hurt me. I never knew why.

I hesitantly ran my fingers over the tattoo.

Ba-dump. Ba-dump.

A pulse.

A heartbeat.

What?!

This never happened before.

I inhaled sharply. "I have a feeling... that someone is inside my arm."

I hesitated.

"...Please come out."

I know what you're thinking.

Jane, you've lost it.

But no. Jane had once overheard that the tattoos of dragons were alive. They only appeared on those worthy of wielding their power.

And then—

The dragon tattoo disappeared.

In its place, a man materialized before me.

He had crimson-red eyes and the same deep red hair. His black robes, lined with red edges, had a flame-like design at the hem.

His aristocratic features were sharp, his skin pale—almost too pale, as if he were ill. But his glowing eyes and the powerful aura radiating off him told me otherwise.

This man was dangerous.

Then, to my utter shock—

He kneeled before me. Bowed his head.

And said, "Thank you for allowing me out, my master."

Cick 'Chapter 3' to read the next chapter.