**Chapter 0: A Second Chance**

  ---

  ### **A Deal with the Divine**

  Darkness. Cold, unfeeling, endless darkness.

  Was this death? Was this what lay beyond the final breath?

  Ragnar had expected oblivion. A dreamless void where his old, frail body would finally find rest. But instead, he felt… aware. Not of a body, but of an existence. A drifting consciousness, untethered and weightless.

  Then, a voice called out. Deep. Resonant. It wasn’t sound, not in the way one would hear through ears, but a force that reverberated through the very fabric of his being.

  **"You wished for an adventure, didn’t you?"**

  Ragnar’s thoughts stirred. He tried to speak, but there was no mouth, no voice—only intent. The voice understood.

  **"You lived an ordinary life. You grew old, waiting for something extraordinary, yet it never came. But now, you stand at the precipice of something far greater than you ever imagined."**

  A sudden shift. The void cracked like shattered glass, and before him, a vision unfurled—a vast **world**, a perfect reflection of Earth but **magnified in scale and wonder**.

  A **continent at its heart**, brimming with life. Towering mountains kissed the skies, dense forests pulsed with ancient mana, and sprawling cities glowed with the brilliance of civilization. Here, humans, elves, dwarves, demons, and dragons coexisted, bound by the pursuit of strength and survival.

  Beyond the lands of men lay **the Unknown Continent**, a world of unspeakable horrors, where even the bravest warriors dared not tread. A divine **barrier** sealed it away, its purpose clear—to keep those monstrous entities from consuming the realms of mortals.

  **"This world teeters on the brink of destruction,"** the voice continued. **"Seven Demon Gods have begun corrupting its balance, their influence seeping through cracks in the barrier. I can no longer act directly. My power wanes, and I require a champion."**

  Ragnar, still formless, absorbed the weight of these words.

  “A champion?” he thought. “Why me?”

  **"Because you seek adventure, and I offer it."**

  The god extended an offer, revealing its terms.

  **"Rebirth. A new body. Power to carve your name into history. In return, you will be my agent—hunting those who seek to corrupt this world."**

  Ragnar hesitated. The prospect of living again, of experiencing magic, of wielding power—

  It was exhilarating. And terrifying.

  “…What happens if I refuse?”

  **"Then you fade. Forgotten. A dream never realized."**

  Silence. Then—

  “I accept.”

  The God smiled. **"Then let your journey begin."**

  ---

  ### **Rebirth in Blood and Rain**

  Pain.

  The first thing Ragnar felt was an unbearable **ache** in his chest, as if a fire had been lit in his veins. He tried to move, but his limbs felt sluggish, weak—**far too small**.

  **Raindrops** pelted his skin, the cold seeping into his bones. **His body trembled.** His breath came in shallow gasps.

  His **body?**

  Memories flooded his mind, overwhelming and violent.

  A boy—**fragile, unwanted, tormented.**

  A noble name without strength.

  Bullied. Beaten. And finally—**poisoned.**

  Ragnar’s fingers twitched against the damp soil beneath him. His heartbeat pounded in his ears, uneven, struggling.

  A voice cut through the rain, raw with urgency.

  Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  **“Ragnar! Wake up!”**

  His heavy eyelids cracked open, revealing a blurred figure—

  A man, kneeling over him. Broad shoulders, **red hair matted with rain, fierce brown eyes filled with worry.** His uncle.

  A name surfaced in his fractured mind. **Uncle Eirik.**

  “Damn it… Ragnar, answer me!” Eirik’s voice shook as he gripped the boy’s frail shoulders.

  Ragnar tried to speak, but his throat was dry, his body betraying him. The poison was still in his system.

  Then—

  A **warmth** spread through his veins. The fire in his chest dulled, his heartbeat steadied, the pain slowly fading into numbness.

  His body relaxed. His eyelids grew heavy.

  Before the darkness took him once more, a single thought surfaced in his mind.

  **“I won’t waste this chance.”**

  The journey ahead

  would be long, and it would test him in ways he could never anticipate. But Ragnar was ready.

  ---

  Chapter 1: Awakening

  Ragnar slowly opened his eyes. His body felt sore, covered in bruises and scratches. The faint scent of medicine lingered in the air. As his vision adjusted, he saw a dimly lit room, a familiar warmth beside him.

  "Ragnar...?" a voice called out, filled with disbelief. He turned his head slightly and saw a man with a rugged yet concerned face—his uncle, Eirik.

  Ragnar’s heart skipped a beat. "That's my name too?" he thought. A strange sense of familiarity and confusion washed over him. Before he could react, a pair of warm arms wrapped around him tightly.

  "Ragnar! You're awake!" his mother sobbed, her voice shaking. Tears streamed down her face as she held him close. "I thought I lost you... I thought—"

  Ragnar felt an overwhelming warmth in his chest. It had been so long since he had felt the love of a family. His grandfather stood nearby, his usual stern expression softened by teary eyes, while Eirik clenched his fists, struggling to hold back his emotions.

  "You should rest," his grandfather finally spoke, his voice steady but carrying a hint of relief.

  But Ragnar’s mind was already racing. Memories not his own flashed before him—the pain, the bullying, the poisoning. He recalled how the previous owner of this body suffered at the hands of three noble children. Each attack was worse than the last until they finally tried to kill him.

  Eirik noticed the change in his expression. "Ragnar… how did you survive? You were poisoned. No one expected you to wake up."

  Ragnar clenched his fists. "I remember everything," he said, his voice calmer than he expected. "They tried to kill me. This wasn't the first time, but this time... it was meant to end me."

  Silence filled the room. Eirik’s face darkened with fury. "Who? Who did this?!"

  Ragnar took a deep breath, steadying himself. "Three of them. A girl from the Zareth Clan, and two boys—one from the Fangorn Clan and one from the Drakthar Clan. They’ve been tormenting me for years."

  Eirik stood up, ready to storm out, but Ragnar’s mother grabbed his arm. "You can’t! We have no power against them. The clan king won’t intervene."

  "That doesn’t mean we do nothing! They tried to kill him! Even if they’re nobles, even if—"

  "Eirik," Ragnar interrupted. "We don’t need to rush. I have a plan."

  His uncle turned to him, eyes narrowed. "A plan?"

  Ragnar reached into his sleeve and pulled out a small, sharp needle—the very one used to poison him. Eirik’s eyes widened.

  "With this, we have proof. Let’s be smart about this."

  His grandfather exhaled and placed a firm hand on Eirik’s shoulder. "For now, let him rest. We’ll discuss this later."

  Ragnar watched as they reluctantly left the room. As he lay back, he let his mind wander through the memories of this body. His new family was strong yet bound by the harsh rules of their clan. His father, Randal the Crimson Hound, had been a legendary hunter, a leader in the Blood Hounds. He had sacrificed himself on a hunt three years ago, leaving behind his wife, son, and younger brother.

  The clan was ruled by three forces:

  1. The Clan King – The absolute ruler, chosen through strength.

  2. The Council – Former warriors who guide the clan’s direction.

  3. The Hound Divisions – The military forces, each specializing in different fields:

  Poison Hounds (Assassination & Toxins)

  Blood Hounds (Hunting & Beast Taming)

  Drake Hounds (Warriors & Combat Specialists)

  Gray Hounds (Guards & Internal Security)

  Ragnar’s father had been a respected leader among the Blood Hounds. But the true story of his life was far more complicated than anyone knew.

  ---

  Randal’s Story: A Dream Unfulfilled

  Randal had always been a dreamer, even from a young age. While most members of the Valkar Clan accepted their fate as warriors, bound by the clan’s rigid traditions, Randal had long harbored a different vision. He didn’t want to be tied to the land, the endless training, and the unforgiving life of a hunter. His dream was to explore the world, to travel beyond the borders of the Valkar Clan's territories, and see the wonders beyond the mountains. He had imagined himself as a legendary traveler, seeking out new lands, learning from different cultures, and living a life free from the oppressive clan law.

  But his aspirations were constantly thwarted by the unyielding weight of tradition. The Valkar Clan was built on strength, and only the strong could rule. There was no room for a dreamer in the clan’s system. Randal's desire to break free was met with disdain and derision by his fellow warriors. He was told time and again that he was born into the clan for one reason: to lead the Blood Hounds, to fight, hunt, and conquer in the name of tradition.

  Despite this, Randal persisted. He pursued his dream in secret, searching for ways to explore the world even as he excelled in the bloodied rites of the clan. But his path was a difficult one. He was forced to balance his ambition with the reality of his duty to the clan. In his heart, he knew that breaking tradition would come at a great cost.

  Randal’s life took a pivotal turn when he met Astrid, the woman who would become Ragnar’s mother. Astrid was from outside the Valkar Clan, a woman with no bloodline to speak of, a foreigner in a clan that valued blood above all else. Yet, she had caught Randal’s eye. Despite the dangers of crossing the clan’s laws, Randal fell in love with her. They shared a passionate bond, and he dreamed of a life with her, a life away from the constant demands of the clan.

  However, such a union was forbidden by the clan's laws. Marrying outside the clan was considered an act of betrayal. But Randal was determined. With the help of his uncle, Baldur, he had secretly petitioned the then-clan king for permission to marry Astrid. To his surprise, the king granted it, but with one condition: Randal would remain loyal to the clan for the rest of his life, and he would abandon any further notions of exploring the world. His dream was crushed, but Randal honored his promise, marrying Astrid in a quiet ceremony.

  But fate was not done with him.

  Years later, when Ragnar was still a child, Randal was sent on an ill-fated hunt into the Dark Forest. It was a dangerous expedition, and the Valkar Clan had received word of a massive creature roaming the woods. Randal, eager to prove himself and secure his place in the clan's history, led the hunt. But the forest proved treacherous, and Randal was slain by the beast, his body never recovered. His death left a gaping hole in the Blood Hounds division and shattered his family.

  ---

  The Blood Rite

  Before his death, Randal had been preparing for the Blood Rite, the sacred ceremony marking the end of a warrior’s service to the clan. It was meant to be the final act of loyalty before retiring from the front lines, an offering of blood to signify that the warrior’s spirit would live on in the clan's legacy. But Randal’s death in the Dark Forest had prevented him from completing this rite. His body, though buried, was never honored properly.

  The Blood Rite had been a significant part of Randal’s life and one of the last traditions he had sought to fulfill. It symbolized the passing of a warrior into the realm of legend, but also marked the transition from battle to quiet remembrance. Without the rite, Randal’s name would fade into obscurity, and the dreams he had shared with his son, Ragnar, would remain unspoken.

  ---

  As Ragnar continued reading his father's journals, he felt the weight of the man’s dreams and sacrifices. Randal had wanted to leave a legacy, not just in the Blood Hounds, but as a man who sought freedom. Ragnar could feel his father’s determination, his love for his mother, and the crushing reality of a life constrained by duty.

  Ragnar closed the journal, his heart heavy but resolute. "I will survive. I will grow stronger. And I will break the chains that bound my father. I’ll make sure his dreams aren’t lost."

  Determined, he turned to the mana book his mother gave him. It explained the basics of harnessing mana, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t feel anything. Hours passed, night fell, and frustration built inside him.

  "Why can’t I sense it?" he muttered.

  Deciding to seek help, he stepped outside. His grandfather sat under the night sky, staring at the moon. "Still awake?" the old man asked without looking at him.

  "I need help," Ragnar admitted. "I can’t feel mana, no matter what I do."

  His grandfather chuckled. "Come here, boy. Turn around."

  Ragnar did as told. Suddenly, a warm hand pressed against his back. A strange heat spread through him—gentle yet powerful. Then, for the first time, he felt it. Mana. It wasn’t something external; it was inside him all along. He had been searching the wrong way.

  The warmth faded as his grandfather removed his hand. "Now do you understand?"

  Ragnar nodded slowly, eyes wide with realization.

  "Good. Go get some sleep. Tomorrow, train with Eirik. And don’t stay up too late."

  "Thank you, Grandfather."

  As Ragnar returned to his room, his grandfather watched him with a knowing smile. "He learned it in just an hour… when his father and the current king took months. We may have a true prodigy in our midst."

  Back in his room, Ragnar sat cross-legged, focusing on the new

  found sensation. He was weak now, but that would change.

  "I will survive. I will grow stronger. And I will make