The first thing Verus became aware of was the dull ache spreading across his body. His limbs felt heavy, his wounds sore, but not unbearable.
The second thing he noticed was warmth—far too much warmth for where he thought he should be.
The last memory he had was of snow, blood, and steel clashing in a battlefield that had turned into a slaughterhouse.
Slowly, his senses stirred, and instinct urged him not to move.
He kept his eyes shut, his breathing shallow, pretending to still be unconscious.
If he had been taken by the enemy, then knowing where he was and what his captors wanted would make the difference between life and death.
But before he could sharpen the details in his mind, a low, cold voice cut through the silence.
"Stop pretending to sleep. You’ve already been caught."
Verus’s eyes shot open.
The first thing he saw was a sharp, dangerous gaze staring directly into his own.
The woman who had saved him earlier stood just an arm’s length away. Her hand rested casually on her sword’s hilt, but the weight in her eyes made it clear she was ready to draw the blade at the slightest provocation.
She wasn’t smiling. She wasn’t relaxed. She was watching him like a predator waiting for prey to twitch.
Verus’s own instincts flared, and he returned the glare. Suspicion brewed in his chest.
He didn’t know where he was or who these people were, but he knew better than to trust strangers—especially ones who looked ready to cut him down.
Verus turned his head quickly toward the sound and froze.
Beside the woman, sitting at a desk piled high with papers, was a white-haired teenager.
The boy looked younger than Verus, but his presence was heavier than any soldier Verus had ever faced.
His calm eyes flicked up from the parchment he was writing on, meeting Verus’s gaze without flinching.
"I see you’re awake. Good. That makes this easier."
Verus’s suspicion sharpened.
The boy leaned back slightly, setting the papers aside.
"Lucian. Leader of this settlement. And also the one who led the team that found you fighting monsters."
Verus’s brow furrowed. He didn’t want to believe such words so easily. But almost by reflex, he activated the skill that had saved his life countless times before—his lie detection.
The result came back instantly.
His chest tightened. This boy was telling the truth.
Still cautious, Verus sat up a little straighter.
"I see... My name is Verus. Thank you... for saving me. But I can’t stay here. I need to leave immediately. I was in the middle of a war. My comrades are out there, and I need to make sure they’re alive."
His voice grew more urgent.
The sharp-eyed woman finally moved, letting out a low scoff. Her voice carried clear disdain.
"A war? You must have hit your head harder than we thought. No one’s foolish enough to wage war in this frozen wasteland. Not when there’s barely food to eat."
She repeated mockingly.
Verus blinked at her, her words not making sense.
"What are you talking about? Of course there’s a war. My people—"
The woman’s gaze hardened, and she jerked her chin toward the nearest exit.
"If you don’t believe me, look for yourself. This building’s tall enough that you can see past the town walls. Go on."
Verus hesitated, but his instincts told him she wasn’t lying. Slowly, he rose to his feet, ignoring the pain gnawing at his body, and made his way to the door.
The moment he pushed it open, a blast of freezing air hit his face.
He stepped out onto the balcony and looked beyond the protective barrier of the settlement.
His breath caught in his throat.
Where he expected to see plains, or maybe mountains—perhaps even battlefields—there was nothing but an endless white hell.
A raging snowstorm stretched as far as his eyes could reach. The cold howled like a beast, and the storm’s fury made even standing feel like a challenge.
It was a world consumed by ice.
Verus stumbled back inside, the door slamming shut behind him. His face was pale, his mind spinning.
"...Since when? Since when has it been ?"
He asked, his voice hoarse.
The woman, still watching him with that same unflinching gaze, finally answered.
"For the past few centuries."
Verus’s body stiffened.
"There’s been no war. Not for a very long time. The only fight anyone cares about now is survival. And most people are already losing."
Verus’s thoughts shattered. His heart pounded, his breath caught, and confusion wrapped around him like chains.
Everything he thought he knew, everything he remembered—it all clashed violently against this cruel, frozen reality.
If what she said was true... then where was he?
What had happened to his world?
Verus’s hands clenched into fists as he turned back toward the room. His voice trembled, not from fear but from disbelief.
"You’re lying... You have to be lying. I was just there—on the battlefield. My comrades... my friends... They’re waiting for me!"
The woman didn’t flinch at his outburst. Instead, her grip on her sword tightened, as though she expected him to lash out. This content belongs to novel✶fire.net
Lucian, however, remained calm. He set his pen down, leaned forward on the desk, and met Verus’s desperate gaze.
"No one is lying to you. But maybe what you remember and what you see now—both are true. You need to think of other alternatives as well. Maybe you’re no longer in the world you lived in. "
Verus’s breath hitched.
"...Not the same world?"
"Take your time thinking about it all. If you are not from here, you will need help getting settled in. I will help you out with whatever you need for now."
Verus’s heart hammered painfully against his chest. He was no longer in his world? Somehow, his instincts told him that it was the case.
But then, how did he end up here and why? And what could he do to go back home?
Could he even go back home?
He staggered slightly, bracing against the wall as the weight of Lucian’s words settled into him.
This wasn’t a dream. This was real.