Reborn: Lord of the Undead Dominion

In the early morning of July, year 673 of the Davorma Era, the sharp ring of a magic timer echoed through the guild dormitory.

Luo Yan groaned. He slapped the timer quiet, lay there for a moment, then finally pushed himself up.

Another day. More work.

The sunlight in the corridor was bright and almost painful. His vision swayed for a few seconds, like it always did when he woke up. Allen had once said it was a side effect of overworking on magic experiments. Luo Yan didn't really understand the theory. His disciple liked talking about strange concepts and odd ideas. But the boy was talented and endlessly creative. Luo Yan, a middle-aged mage, couldn't help but admire him.

If only that faint, cold light didn't sometimes flash behind Allen's cheerful eyes.

After a deep breath, the dizziness faded. Hunger replaced it. He thought of breakfast and quickened his pace.

Fresh fish roe from the Gona River. Cream-roasted cabbage. Venison-pumpkin pie.

Not bad at all.

The Magic Guild had offered free meals for registered mages for about a century. Officially, the goal was to keep mages from worrying about survival so they could devote themselves to research. But according to rumor, everything started with a "tragic accident" in the Seiya City branch 120 years ago.

Nearly ten mages had been poisoned by badly prepared magical beast entrails. Three were bedridden for half a year. One of the greatest alchemists of the era died. Research stalled. Projects collapsed. The loss was worse than any battle.

After that, the Guild President issued an order:

"Let professionals handle food. Dying of bad meals is the greatest shame for a mage."

The ancient Magic Tower rose in front of Luo Yan as he left the side building. Sunlight spilled through the arches, scattering colors on the stone floor and forcing him to narrow his eyes again.

For some reason, today felt too bright. As if something was about to happen.

Inside the dining hall, only a handful of mages sat scattered at the tables. No one greeted him. The staff were polite, but distant.

Luo Yan was a necromantic alchemist - rare, but not exceptional. His talent was average. His research results were ordinary. Without the rare profession label on his identity card, even the guild's benefits might have slipped away.

The Magic Guild was not a charity. You could eat. But if you wanted luxury, that was a dream.

Even with free food, Luo Yan still lived frugally. His monthly allowance barely covered the strange and rare materials needed to keep his experiments going. It was enough to survive - but far from enough to fund his ideals.

And if people knew that this quiet, disciplined necromantic alchemist secretly dreamed of becoming a rich, spoiled, carefree playboy, jaws would drop across the entire Davorma Empire.

Sadly, that dream had shattered 120 years ago, the day his father fell in the Discipline Office.

After breakfast, satisfied but still thoughtful, Luo Yan left the dining hall. The cabbage was a bit undercooked. The cream hadn't soaked in. But the venison-pumpkin pie was excellent. Someone had added pepper, masking the gamy flavor and giving it bite.

Yes - he truly had the heart of a playboy. What mage noticed things like that?

"Today, I have to finish that load-bearing experiment!"

He muttered to himself as he walked.

For more than ten years, Luo Yan had worked on one thing: increasing the combat power of necromantic summons. His goal was simple - a support spell, like an aura, that could double the strength of all undead within range.

For necromancers used to fighting among mountains of corpses, that would change everything.

Skeletons. Zombies. Ghosts.

With stronger bodies, sharper claws, harder bones - they would no longer be cannon fodder. They could crush ordinary troops. Maybe entire armies.

If this spell succeeded, war itself would change. So would the continent.

He could already imagine the future people praising his name.

If, of course, it worked.

After more than twenty years, he could boost a small number of undead. Now he was expanding the range. Another two weeks, he estimated, and the experiment would finally reach completion.

But rumors had spread. The guild warned him to be careful. Someone, somewhere, did not want this research finished.

After twenty years of effort, and with a comfortable life finally within reach, Luo Yan became cautious.

"Master!"

The familiar voice made him turn. A small black-haired figure ran toward him.

Allen.

The little genius who liked saying strange things.

"Good morning, Master!" Allen beamed.

Luo Yan frowned. "Didn't I tell you to rest at home today?"

Allen scratched his head. "There's nothing to do at home. I already took six days off this month. I want to practice first-level magic earlier, so I came anyway."

"Rest is part of training," Luo Yan said. "You need a solid foundation. Don't rush. When I was young, Master Aboya told me- and the Guild President also-"

His long lecture made Allen's smile stiffen. Finally, Allen cut in, laughing nervously:

"Master, you're doing your experiment today, right? Everything is ready. The president is waiting. I'll visit Master Adams and then go back. Don't worry about me."

Allen had assisted him for years. He understood magical materials better than most senior mages. And he had been deeply involved in the final stage of the enhancement experiment.

Reminded of the schedule, Luo Yan hurried away.

Inside the laboratory, the preparations were perfect: half-orc hearts, star gold, five-element fruit, wind crystals, strong acid. Beakers lined the tables. Alcohol burners flickered. The furnace glowed.

Luo Yan put on his gloves and began.

He roasted the half-orc heart over the flame. He dropped the star gold into a tube and poured in acid to dissolve it. Movements practiced. Calm. Focused.

Something flashed.

A thin blue flicker at the edge of his vision.

That shouldn't happen. Half-orc blood didn't glow like that.

Before the thought finished, the world exploded.

The blast shook the tower and shattered the windows. Mages across the guild winced at the thunderous sound.

Another failed experiment.

A severe one.

Explosions were common. Three or five a day. People barely reacted anymore.

But when the smoke cleared, Luo Yan's laboratory was gone - and so was Luo Yan.

The affairs of the world pass like a shuttle - but during the greatest historical review in our records, we uncovered a shocking truth.

As if guided by something unseen, every ten thousand years a new race rises on the continent of Amelia. They defeat the old overlord, seize the throne of destiny, and become the new rulers of the land.

Giants.

Then the sea folk.

Then the winged clans.

Then the elves...

Like sunrise and sunset, like the movement of the stars, the pattern never changes. Each race rules for about ten thousand years, and the difference never exceeds two hundred - only the speed at which the new race replaces the old.

Looking back over all of history, it feels like a melody written long ago, each note echoing quietly through time.

And among hundreds of thousands of years of history - only one note is out of tune.

"The Protagonist One Hundred Thousand Years Later - Walking Beneath the Wheels of History."

...

Everything was dark.

Luo Yan felt himself walking through endless night. No cold. No warmth. No feeling at all. He didn't know who he was or where he was - only that he kept moving.

Then fear hit him. Sudden. Crushing.

The darkness itself terrified him.

He gasped - and his eyes flew open.

Blinding sunlight flooded in. His vision turned white. Before he could adjust, the pain came. Sharp. Splitting. Like his whole body was being torn apart.

He cried out - and then, strangely, the pain faded. It washed away like a tide, leaving behind a cool, soothing comfort, like stepping into a mountain stream on a burning summer day.

What... is happening to me?

That thought barely formed when a soft, anxious voice reached him.

"Son - what's wrong? A nightmare?"

Luo Yan's whole body trembled.

That voice.

That gentle, familiar voice.

He turned his head - and saw a young woman rush in, worry on her face.

He froze.

Those eyes - the ones burned into his dreams for over a hundred years - were right in front of him.

Mom.

His body shook. He threw himself into her arms and burst into tears.

He didn't care why his mother - who had died when he was eleven - was alive again. If this was a dream, he wished it would never end.

Only when you lose something do you realize how precious it truly is.

The pain of that memory hit him all over again.

His mother, confused, patted him down in panic and sighed in relief when she found no injuries.

"Hey now, why are you crying like this? Did you dream something scary?"

His breathing finally steadied. A century of mental training helped him calm down. He wiped his tears, made sure everything felt real, and whispered:

"Mom... I missed you."

Words buried in his heart for over a hundred years.

His mother just smiled and tapped his forehead.

"Silly boy. You only napped four hours. It's not like we haven't seen each other in a hundred years."

It has been a hundred years.

He shouted inwardly - but she didn't notice anything wrong.

"Alright, go play. I need to make dinner. Your sister will be home soon."

But today, Luo Yan refused to leave. He followed her everywhere and insisted on helping. Seeing it was getting late, she simply picked him up and carried him to the kitchen.

Leaning against her, Luo Yan smiled with a happiness he hadn't felt in a lifetime.

...

Sitting quietly on a small stool by the stove, he finally forced himself to think.

He looked at his tiny hands. At his mother's busy figure. Even with more than a hundred years of discipline, his heart wavered.

What is going on?

He tried to recall everything.

Waking up.

Breakfast.

Meeting Allen.

Preparing the experiment.

The orc heart.

Then - the blue flame.

Blue flame?!

That should never happen - unless someone secretly added mist vine powder.

And if that happened... it would explode.

His face went pale.

Why? Why would Allen do that?

He pushed the question aside. There would be time for answers later.

Right now, one possibility terrified him more.

Could I... really have been reborn?

...

By afternoon, he had mostly accepted it. Maybe it was absurd, but as a mage - and a necromancer alchemist - absurdity wasn't new to him.

And honestly, what was there to fear?

He had his family back.

He tried instead to figure out the year - and the moment his sister came home from her first day of school, everything lined up.

Davoma Year 535.

He was five again.

And the tragedy that destroyed their family... had not happened yet.

Thank the God of the Dead.

Another chance.

This time - he would not fail.

After the Era of the Gods...

No one knew whether it was the will of the gods or the will of nature. But everyone agreed on one thing - the first rulers of the continent of Amelia were the Giants. Their age was called the "Post-Gods Era."

Long before written history, in those wild and distant days, the Giants built a brilliant civilization. They were tall, powerful, and terrifyingly strong, their skin gleaming like bronze or black iron. Many of them stood two or even three meters tall, and could do things ordinary people would never dare imagine - shatter boulders, uproot trees, reshape the land with their bare hands.

Some claimed the Giants were descendants of the gods. The Giants themselves denied it. Confident in their bodies, they didn't bother with magic. Many scholars later believed their natural resistance to magic was exactly what cut them off from it. Because of this, during the reign of the Giants, martial arts flourished instead. Countless warriors created legendary combat techniques - and even today, many of the strongest manuals can be traced back to that era.

"The Protagonist One Hundred Thousand Years Later - Walking Beneath the Wheels of History."

...

Night fell. Faint moonlight slipped through the window, coating the floor with a cold, pale glow.

Luo Yan lay on the bed, eyes open, unable to sleep. His mother and sister were already resting in the other room. He, however, felt too restless even to close his eyes.

The events of the day were still echoing in his mind. The sudden explosion. The darkness. Then waking to find himself not at 140... but back at the age of five.

Only now did he finally have the time to think.

There was no doubt about it - he had truly returned to his childhood. If not for his memories, he might have thought the next hundred years had simply been a dream. But every detail rang true. This was not a fantasy.

He would have to face it.

"...No matter what, this is a good thing."

Once he accepted that thought, Luo Yan began to consider what came next.

Fortunately, he had returned at five. If it had been months later... even days later... that disaster - the one that haunted him his entire life - would already have happened.

His hand tightened into a fist. He silently gave thanks.

But that was only one piece of his second life. Being reborn was more than luck - it was an opportunity he could not waste.

A spark of excitement flickered in his chest.

The next hundred years would be an era of upheaval. Human kingdoms would rise and fall. Orc tribes would surge in power. Forgotten races would reappear from the shadows. Whether it was wealth, influence, magic, or alchemy, Luo Yan already saw countless opportunities.

Then reality poured a little cold water on his enthusiasm.

Five... was an awkward age.

He was small. Weak. Dependent. Anything he wanted to do would meet restrictions at every turn. And worst of all - he couldn't tell anyone the truth. As a mage, he knew all too well how scholars obsessed over "mysteries." If someone learned he had been reborn...

He didn't want to end up on a dissecting table.

He sighed.

Annoying...

He rolled onto his back and focused on himself instead.

"In my last life, I started magic at twelve. Now I have seven extra years. That should at least qualify me as a genius, right?"

Magic had been his greatest talent - and his only profession. And naturally, he had no intention of abandoning alchemy either.

In his previous life, poverty delayed his studies. He didn't begin training until twelve. His progress was slow. By the time he reached one hundred and twenty, he had only clawed his way to seventh-level. For the last twenty years, he never advanced again.

Becoming an eighth-level mage had felt impossible.

A faint smile tugged at his lips.

"With a seventh-level mage's experience and a century of knowledge... calling myself a genius shouldn't be too much."

He decided on his first goal:

Become a "magical prodigy" - something his parents could be proud of.

His second goal was simpler, but no less sincere:

Help his father rise in status.

On the continent of Amelia, geniuses appeared every year - twelve-year-old third-level mages, six-year-old apprentices, even four-year-old prodigies. Some soared. Some vanished. A little fame was acceptable. It would make him stand out - but not too much.

And meanwhile, it gave him a reason to work openly.

Yet beneath that calm planning, a faint pressure gnawed at his heart. The tragedies of his last life had carved something deep into him - an instinctive hunger for power. For strength strong enough to protect his family. Strong enough that no shadowy hand could play games with their fate again.

He might never meet the mastermind from before. But he would still prepare.

He closed his eyes, focusing inward.

A few breaths later, he laughed bitterly.

His magic... had not followed him back.

Everything he spent more than a century cultivating was gone. He would have to start from nothing - again. So much for instantly becoming a "peerless prodigy."

What stung even more was his aptitude. It wasn't any better than before.

He had secretly hoped for a miracle.

In his past life, he had always been stuck somewhere in the middle. Not hopeless - but never impressive. He advanced slowly, gradually, inching forward. His journey looked plain at best... disappointing at worst.

A genius among commoners. An ordinary man among geniuses.

He let out a breath.

Fine. Rebirth itself was already a miracle. And this time, he had five more years than before. That alone was worth more than most treasures.

Then suddenly - something clicked.

His eyes widened.

Wait.

He slipped back into introspection.

Moments later, joy surged through him like lightning.

His magic power was gone.

But his mental power remained.

Everything he had refined through 120 years of meditation... had returned with him.

Luo Yan nearly burst out laughing.

For any mage, this would be greater than gold, greater than relics, greater than titles.

Magic could be trained. Resources could accelerate it.

But mental power... only time could build.

And now, at the age of five...

He possessed the mental strength of a man who had cultivated for more than a century.

His lips curled.

So what if his aptitude was average?

He knew countless ways to improve magic growth. Effort could close that gap. And with this mental foundation, he could control spells more precisely than most archmages.

Yes.

A genius among ordinary people.

An ordinary man among geniuses.

That would be his path in this life.