Athena's General Reincarnated in Another World

Nathan Evenhart:

The king's face twisted into a deep scowl.

"You're right—gold may mean little to men like us," he said, his voice tight. "But ten skyhorses? That's something every soul in this world dreams of owning."

"Not me," I replied.

Duncan stepped forward, his tone sharp and bitter.

"You're denying my father?" he snapped. "Your king? You'd deny both him and me?"

The soldiers around us stared me down, hands resting on the hilts of their swords.

But the king raised a hand, silencing his son.

"Nathan Evenhart," he said, voice steady but cold. "As your king, I came to you humbly, offering my time, my presence. And you dare refuse me?"

His eyes narrowed.

"You're denying your king's will... while he wears his crown?"

His tone shifted, no longer civil or diplomatic. It was dripping with contempt.

I glanced up at the crown resting on his head... then back at him.

"If you need a piece of metal on your head to call yourself a king," I said, calm and clear, "then you're worth less than the shit that drops out of a mule's ass."

His eyes flew wide, disbelief washing over his face.

For a split second, everything went silent.

Then—

"Take that back!" one of the guards shouted.

Steel rang out as swords were drawn in unison, their tips all turning toward me.

The king's face turned crimson, fury radiating off him.

Soldiers surged toward me, blades raised.

One lunged.

But I was faster.

I lifted a single finger and channeled mana through it. Compressed wind surged around my hand—and with a flick, the air exploded outward. The soldier's blade veered wildly, sent flying across the corridor, and he was launched backward like a ragdoll. He crashed into the wall with a dull, echoing thud, then collapsed in a heap.

Another came at me.

I struck his chest with an open palm. Lightning surged from my touch, locking his muscles in a paralyzing spasm. He dropped where he stood, twitching on the ground.

More followed.

Each one fell to precise, efficient strikes—bolts of electricity crackling with every blow. The corridor filled with the acrid scent of scorched air, the very atmosphere trembling with static as their bodies dropped, one by one, convulsing with residual shock.

"Stop!" the king bellowed.

His voice echoed off the stone walls as more guards halted in place.

He glared at me with unmasked rage.

"Kneel!" he ordered. "Kneel and beg for forgiveness! Press your head to the floor!"

Dozens of swords now pointed toward me, more soldiers arriving by the second, flooding the corridor like a wave.

I glanced from face to face, calm amidst the chaos.

"If you're pointing a sword at a man," I said, voice low, "you'd better be ready for the consequences."

Then—

Heat.

A wave of burning pressure pulsed from the front.

Duncan.

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A sphere of blue fire swirled in his palm, crackling unnaturally in the air.

"Take back what you said about my father!" he shouted. "Take it back!"

The fire pulsed, bright and unstable.

And something inside me snapped.

A pressure that had been building, boiling, finally erupted.

I wasn't okay.

Not even close.

I'd lost Beatrix—her voice, her laughter, gone like a flame snuffed too early.

I saw Cylla bleeding out in my arms, her breath shallow, her grip weak. That memory lived under my skin, etched behind my eyes.

And then—what I did to her.

The things I said.

I broke her.

And that guilt—it didn't just linger. It hunted me. Every second. Every breath.

Someone I loved deeply... and I broke her.

That guilt clawed at me, poisoning everything. Every breath I took, every thought in my mind.

And now I had to listen to this?

To petty men playing power games, blind to everything happening around them?

I was done pretending everything was fine.

"TAKE IT BACK?" I roared, my voice booming through the corridor like thunder.

The walls trembled. Soldiers flinched. Some staggered backward, others dropped their swords on instinct.

"I should be the one demanding that!"

I took a step forward.

The king and Duncan stepped back.

More soldiers rushed in—but none dared move.

And then—

The door behind me opened.

I didn't turn. I didn't need to.

The council chamber.

The dukes. The generals. They were all watching now.

Every eye was on me.

I locked eyes with King Charles.

And I didn't blink.

"You're a fool," I said coldly, "not even worth the shit you dump. And you—you're the prince of a shit-stained kingdom."

I stepped forward, fire rising in my chest.

"I was disrespected. Severely. You demanded—demanded—that I sell a member of my family. I should be the one demanding respect!"

For a moment, I saw it—the flicker of fear mixed with rage on the king's face.

Then—

BOOM.

An explosion erupted behind me.

I didn't have time to react. The force slammed into my back and sent me crashing through the corridor, slamming into the stone wall hard enough to crack it.

I landed on my feet, skidding and bracing myself. Sparks danced around me.

Crackling with electricity, a figure stepped into view.

Archduke John Asalon.

Lightning surged from his body like a living storm.

"You're under arrest," he said, voice crackling like thunder. "For treason, insubordination, and defiance of the crown. Nathan Evenhart, you are hereby detained!"

Before I could reply, a voice cut through the chaos.

"Stop!" my aunt cried, rushing into the corridor. "What's going on here?!"

She looked horrified, confused—desperate to deescalate.

But the archduke turned to her with eyes full of hatred.

"Silence!" he barked.

Without hesitation, he raised his hand and unleashed a bolt of lightning directly at her.

NO!

Aspect of Time.

Agony lanced through my skull as the power surged to my eyes.

The world slowed—

No. It froze.

Everything turned blue, washed in the deep hue of stilled time. Soldiers frozen mid-motion. Sparks hanging weightless in the air. The bolt of lightning creeping forward inch by inch.

I ran.

No hesitation.

I reached my aunt and touched her shoulder, breaking her from the time-lock. Her eyes widened in disbelief, confusion flooding her face.

But there was no time to explain.

I shoved her to the side, away from the oncoming blast.

Then, with a second surge of will, I locked her in time again—safe.

Release Time.

The world snapped back into motion.

The lightning bolt slammed into the wall behind her with a blinding flash, exploding in sparks and scorched stone.

Gasps echoed through the corridor.

The archduke blinked, stunned.

"What…?" he muttered. "What was that? Some kind of teleportation?"

He looked around, trying to piece it together.

"So that's what your eyes do? Teleportation?" asked John Asalon, visibly unsettled, unable to understand how my aunt had vanished from one place and instantly reappeared in another.

"Your eyes?" Duncan said beside him, still burning with fire. "What the hell just happened?"

"That kid's got a damn pair of special eyes!" said the Grand Duke.

They know!

"You tried to kill my aunt," I said, my voice low, shaking with fury. "That was your last mistake."

"You'll try to kill me, boy?" he snapped. "Then I'll make it simple—I'll rip those cursed eyes out of your skull and hang them on my mantle."

I didn't answer.

Instead, I reached into my storage bracer—and drew the Cursed Blade.

A hum of power spread through the air, reacting to my fury. On instinct, electricity coursed down my arm, flowing into the blade like it belonged there.

Duncan stepped beside the archduke, flames engulfing his body. The heat distorted the air around him as the corridor filled with tension.

More soldiers appeared—dozens, maybe hundreds. From every door, every hallway.

Even the dukes watching from the chamber looked paralyzed, unsure if they should intervene.

Lightning crackled wildly across the ceiling. The walls themselves began to tremble.

"By the authority of House Asalon," the archduke declared, voice like a thunderclap, "Nathan Evenhart is hereby sentenced to imprisonment for treason and attempted assassination of the king!"

Then he vanished in a flash of speed—his form a streak of lightning—lunging straight for me.

I raised the Cursed Blade.

Electricity exploded from my core as we collided.

And then—

BOOOOOOOM!

The entire corridor detonated.

Stone, fire, lightning—everything was thrown apart in a violent shockwave.

I was hurled backward, crashing into another wall.

Debris rained from above.

Massive chunks of marble and steel collapsed from the ceiling.

Everything was chaos.

I staggered back to my feet, ears ringing, blade still gripped in my hand.

Across from me, Archduke John was rising too—dazed, burned, and furious.

But before either of us could speak, a voice shouted:

"The attack came from outside!"

Everyone froze.

The tension shifted.

We turned.

And then we felt it.

That cold.

A crawling, suffocating chill that sank into bone.

From beyond the shattered walls of the estate...

An army.

Vast.

Silent.

And very, very dead.

Rows upon rows of corpses stood in the moonlight, eyes glowing with unnatural light. Armor rattled without motion. Blades gleamed without breath.

A dead army had come.