My second life as a swordsman

In a dark and quiet room, where the soft moonlight filtered through the window, casting shadows on the cold stone walls, "Athar" lay on a worn-out bed. His frail body, burdened by time, seemed to suffer with each breath he took. The wrinkles told the story of many long years of struggle, and his eyes, once shining with the vitality of youth, now seemed to carry the weight of a lifetime.

The room was filled with stillness, save for the sound of Athar's labored breaths. There was no one by his side, only the familiar solitude that had been his companion in his final years. In those moments, as he stared at the ceiling, memories began to flood his mind like an unstoppable current.

"So this is how the story ends," he muttered in a barely audible voice.

He remembered his childhood in his family's grand palace, where he lived a comfortable life among his siblings. The family was wealthy and renowned for their magical abilities, and learning magic had become an integral part of their lives. Among all the magic they learned, Athar had excelled at basic spells, mastering them at a remarkable pace.

Then, he remembered her… his mother. The woman who was the center of his world. Her warm words and the tenderness in her eyes had always been his sanctuary. But she had passed away suddenly. Her death marked the turning point in his life; he felt as though time itself had betrayed him, taking her away without warning.

"It was the beginning of the end," Athar thought. After her funeral, he shut himself off from the world, burying himself in the pages of magical books in his private library. He was searching for an answer, for a way to turn back time, until he found the book that would change his life.

The book of time was filled with ancient texts and ominous warnings. But one thing drew him in: the promise of restoring what was lost. He remembered the long nights spent studying and experimenting, decades of isolation, while his life moved forward without his realizing it.

"I was obsessed," he whispered to himself. "All I ever wanted was to see her again."

But time had not been kind to him. Despite everything he had achieved – slowing time, stopping it – he never reached the stage he dreamed of: reversing time. He had lived and died without fulfilling his only wish.

"But... at least I tried."

These were his last words, whispered to himself as if offering solace to his soul.

Then, suddenly, everything disappeared.

There was no pain. No sensation of dryness or heaviness. All that existed was darkness. It was as if he had fallen into a bottomless abyss. There was no sound, no light, only emptiness.

But as the moments passed, he began to feel something strange. It was as though time itself had stopped, or at least that's what it seemed like to him. There were voices seeping through the darkness, muffled sounds as if coming from far away. Unintelligible words, yet somehow familiar. That voice sounded like his mother's, the voice he had heard in his dreams.

He suddenly opened his eyes, startled.

He was not in his old room, nor in a place he had ever seen before. There was a soft light seeping through a small window, and faint voices speaking somewhere in the distance. Around him, everything was new, unfamiliar features, strange scents filling the air.

Then he felt something strange... his body.

He had returned to life, but in an unfamiliar way. His hands were tiny, and his legs were weak. He turned to find himself in the arms of a woman with a gentle face, her eyes widening in surprise. This was a woman he had never seen before, but her presence was warm, and her sight brought him an odd sense of comfort.

He opened his mouth to scream, but the sound that escaped him was so faint, resembling the cry of a newborn. He began to wonder, "Is this a dream? Or am I...?"

But before he could think of an answer, he realized one thing: he was in another world now.