Dawn broke, the first rays of sunlight struggling through the dust motes dancing in the window, casting sparse light patterns on the floorboards of Corbin Thorne's simple wooden cabin. Corbin rose from his bed, his body flowing like water, and sat silently on the edge. Light outlined the boy's lean cheeks, their lines already hinting at nascent determination. Beneath his slightly tousled black hair, his blue eyes were as calm as a deep pool; examined closely, a faint, starlight-like shimmer seemed to swirl in their depths, revealing a maturity and insight far beyond his years.
He closed his eyes, a practiced habit, his consciousness reaching outwards like invisible tendrils. Outside the window, the rustling whispers of distant trees, the rapid, tiny frequency of sparrows' wings nearby, the faint "drip-drop" as dew drops condensed and finally fell from leaves – he captured it all with crystalline clarity. The air, humid with the scent of soil, fresh with the aroma of distant forest flora, and even carrying the faint, almost imperceptible whiff of cooking smoke from Aunt Mary's kitchen next door, seemed meticulously separated, each scent distinct and layered. Beneath him, he felt the texture of the rough linen fabric, the strong beat of every pulse, even the minute flexing of muscle fibers; every detail of his body was under his command and perception.
This wasn't something he was born with; it originated three years ago.
A severe illness had nearly claimed his young life, and the accompanying, soul-wrenching grief of his father's sudden death had been fate's cruel turning point. Just as his original soul was faltering, "he," a consciousness from faraway Earth, was swept up by an irresistible force, brutally, jarringly, and forcibly shoved into that dying body, fusing with the fragmented soul in a chaotic, tearing process. The pain, like his very mind being ripped open and reshaped, remained a deep-seated brand, vivid even after three years.
Ultimately, the Earth-Corbin's consciousness became dominant. He inherited the original body's vast and jumbled memory fragments, including warm and profound affection for his father, an attachment to the simple life of Windbreath Town, and scattered knowledge of this world concerning swords, magic, and the gods – things that had once stirred a fervent longing in him, an eagerness to immediately verify and understand them.
But the experiences and inherent caution from his past life constantly reminded him to be careful, to maintain his pretense. For the initial weeks, he could only feign the aftereffects of a high fever, playing the part of a mute child, silently observing and furiously absorbing everything. Fortunately, the soul fusion brought far more than just memory fragments; it granted him astonishing information processing and cognitive abilities, as if his brain had been instantly expanded and certain barriers shattered. In merely two weeks, the once-chaotic memories, the world's rules that should have taken time to grasp, were rapidly restructured and analyzed by his transcendent, rational mind, solidifying into a clear system of knowledge. This included the language and writing of this world, and even the scattered insights his original father had uttered in his final moments, like delirium, about the Way of the Knight, about strength, about the surface truths of the world. And so, he became Corbin, and Corbin became him; the life experiences of two worlds intertwined within him, forging a completely new being.
Having inherited the original body's memories, Corbin could not escape the emotional bonds deeply ingrained within him. After shedding his initial pretense and enduring the most difficult period of adaptation, he immediately visited his father's close friend, Knight Boone.
Gazing at the burly figure before him, who in his "new" memories had once shared drinks and missions with his father, even playfully teased the young Corbin, his emotions were a complex mix of inherited filial affection and his own rational assessment.
He took a deep breath, his young voice clear and carrying a tone appropriate for his age, but the content of his words slightly surprised Boone:
"Knight Boone, sir, I feel much better. I... I would like to go see the place where my father was attacked."
He looked directly into Boone's experienced eyes, letting the inherited longing and remembrance, along with his own deep-seated quest for truth, converge in that single request.
Boone studied the boy before him, who seemed to have shed his childishness overnight, determination now evident. In his clear eyes, which held a certain hidden strength, Boone saw a reflection of his old friend Gareth Thorne. He was silent for a moment, then finally let out a slow breath, a trace of inexpressible heaviness in his voice, and gently nodded:
"Alright, I'll take you."
Now, three years later, his body had grown strong through the rigorous fundamental training at the Windbreath Town training ground. And the scattered words about swords and combat, left in his memory by his father like childhood bedtime stories, offered him unique guidance and insights. Together, these had forged his current strength; he was no longer the frail, sickly body of that time.
He rolled out of bed, a fluid, light motion, his body coiled like a string held taut, displaying coordination and explosive power the moment he left the mattress, landing silently on his feet.
He walked to the wall and took down the washed-out linen tunic, the simple yet resolute eagle crest of the Thorne family embroidered on the chest. Beside the tunic, on the bedside table, lay a Knight's Proof, similarly engraved with the eagle crest – the most direct link and memento left to him by his father, Knight Gareth Thorne. His fingertips touched the cool metal; its weighty presence felt like his father's silent trust and expectation, and also like a stone pressing on his heart.
Having straightened his attire, Corbin pushed open the creaking wooden door. A gust of fresh air, carrying the scent of soil and distant mountain flora, greeted him.
Windbreath Town, perched on the edge of the Solon Mountains, bordering the Human Kingdom and the Night Elf territories, was bathed in the morning light. The flagstone paths gleamed with the mellow luster of age, and wisps of cooking smoke rose between the low, irregularly placed houses, painting a picture of peaceful, everyday life.
Yet, beneath this surface calm, Corbin's keen Perception detected a hint of tension, a subtle undercurrent, a coldness that felt alien to the town's usual rhythm.
Just as he stepped out of the yard, a sudden, jarring commotion erupted from the direction of the town entrance, accompanied by hurried footsteps and the sharp clang of weapons. The sounds were a mix of human shouts of anger and curses, and a low, guttural growl, laced with menace. Corbin's heart seized; he quickened his pace.
As he neared the town entrance, a chaotic, tense scene unfolded: townspeople crowded the street sides, craning their necks with fear and curiosity; a group of Town Guards, clad in leather armor and armed, were roughly escorting several ragged, sullen, yet fearful humans, and... several small goblins with grey-green fur and eyes glinting ferociously.
The goblins were crudely bound with ropes, emitting low growls and grinding their teeth in frustrated restraint. The air was thick with the smell of blood, particularly pungent to his Supernatural Sense of smell.
Beside the Town Guards and the prisoners, a young Town Guard Knight clutched a bloodstained arm, his face pale, clearly injured in the previous conflict. Beside him, a middle-aged Priest in a white robe, holding a simple wooden staff, chanted softly, a gentle white light illuminating his fingertips, shining upon the young knight's wound.
"Praise be to the Goddess of Light, may your mercy heal the wounds." The Priest's gentle voice carried a sacred aura; although it was a simple basic healing spell, in a border town like this, it was a precious power.
The young knight groaned in pain, but immediately felt the burning in his wound lessen.
"Thank you, sir Priest."
Corbin stood on the outskirts of the crowd, observing everything subtly. A human smuggler, attempting to break free, was met with an immediate, forceful strike to the back of the knee from a Town Guard Knight's spear haft. The man screamed in agony, then collapsed with a choked cry, the sickening crunch of bone clearly audible.
The nearby goblins seized the chance to shriek louder, struggling more violently, but were quickly subdued by another Town Guard using his weapon sheath to strike them hard on the head and back, eliciting painful whimpers.
The cold, efficient way they were handled, the mix of fatigue and anger in the Town Guards' eyes, and the sight of humans and goblins being led together as if they were part of the same criminal group, further heightened Corbin's unease. This unsettling mix of human and non-human beings, this aura of unrest, seemed to have grown stronger recently.
Just then, on the distant stone bridge, several familiar figures came into view. There was the tall, sturdy Matthew, habitually carrying his heavy greatsword, his walk a reassuring rhythm; the somewhat lively Rhodes, agile, gesturing excitedly as he walked, his one-handed sword at his waist; and the energetic Lianna, holding a relatively light knight's sword, her steps quick, her eyes bright with a young girl's characteristic curiosity. The three walked towards him, talking and laughing, radiating the vibrant energy unique to young people. Their voices and expressions formed a stark contrast to the heavy atmosphere at the town entrance.
Aunt Mary, tending to the flowers by her door, saw Corbin and smiled kindly:
"Corbin, going to the training ground again today? Young Matthew and the others have been waiting for you."
"Yes, Aunt Mary, good morning." Corbin smiled back, consciously suppressing the heaviness brought on by the scene at the town entrance, aiming for a voice that sounded light and natural.
He walked towards the stone bridge and met up with his friends. Matthew, sharp-eyed, spotted him and immediately waved and shouted excitedly:
"Corbin! You're finally here! We've been waiting for you!" His booming voice carried a direct strength.
Rhodes eagerly rushed forward, his eyes shining with a readiness to act:
"Did you see the town entrance? Heard they caught a few more smugglers! Security's been really bad lately. We have to train even harder today!" As he spoke, he couldn't help but demonstrate a sword move.
"Oh, I saw." Corbin's tone was flat, as if a casual remark, but internally, he had swiftly connected the scene at the town entrance, Rhodes' words, and the scattered rumors he'd heard recently. "Someone was injured, too." He subtly watched his friends' reactions, keenly detecting the flicker of tension beneath Rhodes' fleeting excitement.
Lianna walked over, her eyes casting a concerned glance at Corbin; she knew he had taken a few days off to visit his father's grave.
"Don't listen to Rhodes' nonsense, Corbin." Lianna's voice was always soft and warm. "How was your rest? I heard the Town Guard were out again last night, rounding up those people and those... strange folk."
"Yeah, the town really hasn't been peaceful lately." Matthew's voice dropped, sweeping away his previous excitement, a hint of suppressed anger simmering within him. "Those goblins, and the human scum mixed in with them... My grandfather said that when he was young, goblins only dared to hide in the mountains; the most you'd find near town were a few foolish bandits. Now, look at this, they dare to raid villages! They even injured a Town Guard!" He clenched his fist, his burly frame seemed to hum with suppressed power. Clearly, these incidents struck a deep chord of worry about his homeland's safety, perhaps even rooted in his family's or his own past.
"Those strange folk... you mean the goblins?" Corbin's voice deepened slightly; this time, he didn't fully mask his inner question. His experiences from two lives, coupled with the sensitivity to "abnormalities" brought by the soul fusion, made him clearly feel this was far from ordinary smuggling or banditry. Goblins typically resided underground, hostile to humans, rarely crossing specific boundaries of the Solon Mountains, much less collaborating with human criminals on such a large, organized scale to openly raid near a human town. This was a fundamental violation of the norm, an imbalance. What he saw felt more like a long-planned infiltration, a deeper, more dangerous undercurrent attempting to erode this seemingly peaceful border town. That strong sense of "wrongness" and unease weighed on his heart like an invisible boulder.
Rhodes and Lianna's conversation, and Matthew's personal outburst upon mentioning the goblins, further validated Corbin's suspicion: this threat was real, escalating, and already affecting the emotions and worries of those close to him. He knew this wasn't the time for an in-depth discussion; conversations in the public eye demanded caution.
He drew a deep breath, temporarily pushing down the jumbled thoughts in his mind, and looked at the group of vibrant friends before him, who had not yet fully grasped the true crisis. Their anger and worry were genuine, but compared to Corbin's assessment, based on his two-lifetime perspective, they were still focused on the surface.
"Come on, let's head to the training ground first." Corbin said with a smile to his friends, and set off towards the training field.