A Fate Worse Than Death

Chapter 1: A Fate Worse Than Death

Pain.

That was the first thing I felt as I woke up. A searing pain coursed through my entire body, as if I had been set on fire. My breath came in ragged gasps, and my vision swam with blurred images of a darkened room.

"He's awake!" A voice rang out, deep and commanding.

I struggled to sit up, my body unresponsive. The scent of damp stone and burning candles filled my nose. As my vision cleared, I found myself lying on an ornate, velvet-covered bed in what looked like a medieval chamber. Towering bookshelves lined the walls, and a massive chandelier cast flickering shadows across the room.

Wait… where was I?

The last thing I remembered was the blinding lights of a speeding truck before everything faded to black. But this? This was nothing like the world I knew.

A cold chill ran down my spine as I glanced down at my hands. These weren’t my hands. They were pale, scarred, and far more calloused than I remembered. I caught my reflection in a large mirror across the room and felt my stomach drop. I was no longer myself—I was someone else entirely.

"Veyron, my most loyal shadow. You have returned." The voice spoke again, and I turned toward its source.

Seated upon a grand, obsidian throne was a man whose presence alone exuded authority. Clad in regal black and crimson robes, his piercing golden eyes studied me with a mixture of amusement and expectation. His long, silver hair cascaded over his shoulders, and a smirk tugged at his lips.

Recognition hit me like a lightning bolt.

I knew this man. No—I had read about him. He was Darius Valtherion, the infamous Dark Lord and the primary antagonist of The Chronicles of Eldoria. And if he was here, that meant…

I had reincarnated as Veyron Nacht—the villain’s most trusted right-hand man, a master of shadows and assassinations. In the original story, Veyron was fiercely loyal to Darius until the bitter end. But he was also doomed to die a gruesome death at the hands of the protagonist.

My blood ran cold. I was in a fantasy world, in the body of a man destined for a violent and inevitable demise.

Darius leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand. "You seem… troubled, Veyron. Are your wounds affecting your mind?"

Wounds?

I looked down again and noticed bandages wrapped around my torso. Flashes of memory—Veyron’s memory—flooded my mind. A battle. Betrayal. A desperate escape. It was all there, tangled with my own thoughts.

Swallowing my panic, I forced myself to respond. "No, my Lord. I am simply… regaining my strength."

He chuckled. "Good. Because we have much work to do. The kingdom of Eldoria grows bolder by the day, and our enemies gather in the light. But you—my shadow—will ensure they fall into darkness."

I kept my expression neutral, but my mind was racing. If I wanted to survive in this world, I needed a plan. A way to avoid Veyron’s original fate.

Because one thing was certain:

I refused to die as the villain’s pawn.

End of Chapter 1.

To be continued-

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