“You’re a genius.” Those words spoken to him in childhood turned out to be poison.
Encrid had always dreamed of becoming a knight, but he quickly understood how hopeless it was.
“With skills like yours, you think you can survive by the sword?” Some mocked him.
“Just quit while you’re ahead,” others warned.
Yet his dream never wavered. He slept less, ran farther, and pushed himself harder than ever.
Then came the day he died—stabbed through the neck. But when Encrid opened his eyes again, it was “today’s” morning once more.
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