---

  War is, at its core, a disaster caused by humanity itself—one that could be avoided, yet human pride often stands as an unyielding barrier against reason.

  The year is 2054, and once again, Europe is engulfed in war. This time, the chaos spreads across Eastern Europe and the Balkans. Extremist groups have risen to prominence once more, fueled by the failure of governments to manage their nations.

  Some countries have risen, while others have fallen. The geopolitical ndscape is in turmoil, and war has become inevitable. It raged on for four long years, finally grinding to a halt in early 2058—not because of peace, but because exhaustion had set in on all sides.

  Even though the war has ended, its scars remain visible everywhere. Soldiers still patrol the streets. War victims sit on the roadside, begging for scraps. Opportunistic criminals take advantage of the disorder, while war criminals hide among the common people, trying to escape judgment for their atrocities.

  And here I am—just another man shopping for groceries in a city still haunted by war.

  It has been three months since the fighting ceased, yet it all still feels like a nightmare. Then again, losing my right arm and my left eye serves as a constant reminder that it was all too real.

  "Um…"

  "Hm?"

  As I pce my items on the counter, the cashier—a young woman, barely more than a girl—seems hesitant. She clearly wants to ask me something, but her nervous expression makes it obvious that she's afraid her question might offend me.

  "It's fine. We live in a free country—at least for now. So go ahead and ask whatever's on your mind."

  She looks startled by my response, as if she wasn't expecting me to be so open. Then again, this is exactly why we soldiers fought in that damned war—to protect people like her.

  "Well… Are you a veteran? Did you fight in the war?"

  "…"

  "Oh! I'm sorry! If you don't want to answer, it's totally fine!"

  I follow her gaze and notice she's been sneaking gnces at my prosthetic arm. She must have also seen how much trouble I had just trying to get money out of my wallet.

  I was the one who encouraged her to speak freely, so I'd feel guilty if I refused to answer now. I have no intention of going back on my words.

  "Yeah, I served in that cursed war. But why do you want to know, miss?"

  "I see… I'm sorry for your loss."

  "No. If you only asked to pity me, then you're not just insulting me—you're insulting my comrades who died on the frontlines. So keep your sympathy to yourself."

  "Ah! I'm so sorry!"

  She panics, bowing her head apologetically. She must think she offended me. What a na?ve and innocent girl—far too soft for this cruel world.

  "But… That's not why I asked."

  "Hm?"

  "Actually, my te father—who used to own this store—left me a request. He told me that when the war was finally over, he wanted every veteran who shops here to get a fifty percent discount. And you… You're the first veteran to visit since the war ended."

  "…Is that so? If there were more people like him, maybe war wouldn't happen in the first pce."

  "Haha… Maybe you're right."

  "But… If you don't mind me asking, how did your father pass away? Was he a soldier?"

  "Oh, no. He was just a civilian. My father had a medical condition, so even if he wanted to enlist, he wouldn't have been allowed. He… He died in an accident. On his way home, his car was hit by a military truck. The driver was a drunk soldier celebrating the end of the war."

  "I'm… sorry for your loss. If you tell me who that soldier was, I might be able to—"

  "Oh, no need for that. I heard he was given a heavy punishment, though I don't know the details."

  "…I see."

  After a few more exchanges, she hands me a simple form—nothing complicated, just basic information about my service.

  Name, age, years of service… The usual questions for veterans.

  '7th Armored Cavalry Division…'

  "…Something wrong?"

  "Ah! I-I'm sorry! I didn't mean to peek!"

  "I don't mind."

  After filling out the st few bnks, I hand the form back to her. True to her word, I only have to pay half the price.

  "Thank you for your service, sir!"

  "Haha, stop that. Look at me—I'm just a washed-up, one-armed old man. But thanks, miss. See you around."

  She gives me a warm smile as I take my groceries and head for the exit.

  ---

  I step outside, the weight of my grocery bag shifting in my grip. The air is crisp, ced with the lingering scent of rain, and the streets are quieter than usual—almost eerily so.

  Then, suddenly, heat blooms in my chest.

  It's not just warmth. It burns. A searing, unnatural fire spreads through my ribs, up my throat, down my limbs—like molten lead coursing through my veins. My breath catches. My vision flickers.

  What the hell is—

  A deafening pulse. A force sms into me, not from the outside, but from within, rattling my skull, my bones, my very being. My knees buckle. The grocery bag tumbles from my hand.

  The world around me bends, warping like ripples in a pond. The streetlights stretch into jagged streaks, buildings distort, and the pavement beneath my feet disintegrates into nothingness.

  My pulse hammers in my ears, drowning out everything else.

  No. This isn't a heart attack. This isn't PTSD. This is something else.

  I try to breathe—but there is no air.

  There is no ground beneath me. No sky above. No sound, no time, no sensation except for the unbearable pressure crushing my existence.

  And then—

  Light.

  Blinding. Infinite. All-consuming.

  It devours me, reducing my body, my thoughts, my memories to something weightless, something untethered. I try to scream, but I have no voice. No body. Just… awareness.

  For how long?

  Hours? Days? Months? Years?

  Then—sound.

  A voice. Distant, muffled, yet clear.

  "Oh, it's a girl! I was hoping for a boy so he could serve the kingdom as a loyal Soldier… But I suppose a daughter isn't so bad either."

  What…?

  "Haha, I had a feeling it would be a girl from the moment I carried her in my womb. And now, my sweet little angel… I shall name you Erina."

  My head is spinning. My thoughts are sluggish, fragmented. My body feels wrong.

  No, not wrong—small. Weak. Helpless.

  Panic surges through me, but I can't move, can't fight back.

  And that's when it hits me.

  The voices. The warmth. The weightlessness.

  This isn't a hallucination.

  I've been reborn.

  "…Eh?"