The Sovereign Continent was divided into five major parts or regions, these were:

The Eastern Islands, the Northern Glaciers, the Southern Grasslands, the Western Deserts and the Central Jungles. Despite the seemingly self-descriptive names, these lands weren’t particularly limited to the descriptions they gave off. One such example ass the forest found in the Western desserts.

Each major region was in turn further divided into many sub regions, each of these sub regions could consist of many Kingdoms, very few, or only one. When one Kingdom had complete control of land, which was as large as a sub region, it became an Empire.

There were even a few Empires that span over multiple regions. These were called True Empires and were ruled by True Emperors. The biggest known True Empire in history, was the Coiling Dragon Empire. It was the only True Empire in recorded history that had land which was equal to one major region. That, however, was many centuries ago...

Our tale began at the core of the Great Deserts of Shandelar found in the eastern part of the Western Deserts, a dark, fragmented and unlawful region whose reputation for having a chaotic and apocalyptic air, barely illustrated its barbaric nature. Plagued with low food and water supplies as well as infertile land due to the desert climate, warfare over the little that is available has become an accepted norm in the region.

This constant state of warfare, had led to too much bloodshed and fragmentation. Therefore, there were very few Empires, let alone True Empires. As a result, the kings of these war torn countries were known as warlords, the ruler of a kingdom was a warlord whilst the ruler of an empire was called a tyrant. The negative connotation of these titles had not stopped the people of the Sovereign Continent from accepting this type of nomenclature, including locals of the western region themselves.

Whilst the region is war torn, it was also the most pleasurable region on the continent. As long as one has wealth, nothing is impossible, be it slavery or fetishes or anything that is normally looked down upon by the majority of the world.

The slave trade was believed to be the biggest market in the western region, in the Sovereign Continent it was believed that at least eighty percent of slaves, from all around the continent, were from or had passed through the Western Deserts.

Although the lands did not bare much fruit and there was little rain, the people had somehow found a way to benefit from the most widespread activity in the region, War. The victors not only left with the spoils of their success but they would have power over the losers, usually a firm grip over each of them meant to rid them of dignity and dehumanize them. This led to a growing need for saviors, people to help them when they were in danger, people who had high moral values and strength; those who were powerful but were willing to protect the masses, this led to the resultant rise of vigilante heroes.

During times of war, these so called 'heroes' were as common as sand in a dessert. One form of such 'heroes' was mercenaries. As long as one had coin, these 'heroes' would lend you a helping hand. After all, desperate times call for desperate measures.

One group of such mercenaries, the Starlight Mercenary Group, had made a camp. This camp was situated a few miles south of the city of Brom. On their flag was a star, shining on a black background. This represented one of the many regiments throughout the prosperous Kingdom of Shuria.

In one of the tents, a little boy was sleeping soundly. He was twelve years old but looked younger, due to his height. He had purple hair framing a chubby face that still radiated with the innocence of youth and spotlessly clear white skin. Just one look at how well maintained this boy was, reflected that he came from a wealthy family.

With a sleepy grunt, the boy opened his azure eyes, trying to take in his surroundings. He sat up from the floor of the tent, trying to steady himself but he realized that this was in vain, for his body felt incomparably weak. After gathering his strength for a few minutes, the boy tried to stand. He wobbled a couple of times, until he finally succeeded.

The moment he stood up, a look of confusion showed upon his face. "Yup, it seems I'm in a different body." After mumbling these words, the boy started observing every inch of his body. This body was the body of a little boy, or rather it used to be, and after one more look at his tiny arms, he sighed. He tried exiting the tent, but the moment he left, he met a situation that put him in a rather uncomfortable position...

The soul currently in this body, was the soul of Bastian Smith, a thirty year old scientist from Earth. Bastian had been diagnosed with lung cancer a few years back, and was told he only had a few years to live. Over those years he gradually came to terms with his illness. He was an only child and his parents had already passed on, both of which, were orphans, so he had no extended family.

He was divorced and had no children of his own. Alone and without any family, he passed on. He didn't expect that immediately after he died his eyes would open, or rather, he tried to open them, but something that felt like soil was covering his whole body. After realizing his odd predicament, instinct kicked in and he tried to claw his way out of the earth.

After successfully getting out of the ground, Bastian was met with a scene that utterly gob smacked him. He was in a barren earthy environment with dust flying everywhere. To make matters worse, his limbs and height seemed to have shortened. Examining his own body, one look at his currently smooth white skin told him that this body wasn't his.

After noticing his predicament, he felt a massive headache and fainted. Lucky enough for him, a merchant caravan passed by after about a day or so. They picked him up after noticing his appearance and expensive yet tattered clothing. They had realized that he was most likely a noble and decided to carry him, hoping to get a reward soon after.

Soon after they collected the boy, they headed to the city of Brom. Unfortunately for them, they met a little mishap along the way. The mercenaries, who were guarding the caravan, decided to take ownership of the boy as soon as they arrived at the city. Since it’s the ‘law of the jungle, the merchants could do nothing but comply. After they arrived at the city, the mercenaries headed toward their camp.

They reported their findings to the camp leader and were rewarded for it. The boy was then handed to one of the leaders’ right hand men and placed in a tent to rest, with a mercenary guarding the tent he was in.

"Young Master! Thank goodness you’re awake!" The guard who was guarding the tent was absolutely joyful at seeing that Bastian was conscious again. Bastian realized that the one being referred to as ‘Young Master’ was him, or rather, the owner of this body. Thoughts crept into his mind

Do they know who the owner of this body is?

The guard immediately ran over to Bastian, and held his hand, excitement and extensive zeal reflected through his eyes, "The Captain told me to bring you, Young Master to his tent the moment you woke up. I'm sure Young Master must be confused right now, but do not worry, the Captain will explain everything."

Just as the guard was about to lead Bastian away, he cocked his head up and rolled his eyes, almost as if he had remembered something important.

"Young master my apologies, please excuse this humble servant's rudeness, I forgot to ask if you are in need of anything at this instant… perhaps you would like some water, or a visit to the toilet?" Bastian stood there confused, he was still trying to process the whole ‘Young Master thing! The guard took it as if he was contemplating on what he wants.

Bastian did realize that he was somewhat thirsty, so he said to the guard, "Please get me something to drink, water would be best, thank you." The guard was large and clad in armor and weapons, he looked rather intimidating, so Bastian tried to be as polite as possible.

At this request, a strange expression showed up on the guard's face, then he started walking away, in order to bring Bastian his water, but an awkward air was left behind by his strange look, which made Bastian rather fearful.

Bastian decided to stop thinking so much, he re-entered the tent, so that he could carefully examine his new body. His skin was as white as snow, his hair purple and long, almost reaching down to his waist. Even though he had been buried in soil and was covered in dust some time ago, his hair was in perfect condition, silky smooth and glistening like amethyst.

Bastian felt there was something special about his hair, as time went by he still couldn't figure it out, so he decided to move on.

The mercenaries had dressed him in a plain gray robe in an effort to hide his nobility. He opened up his robes and was once again shocked by what he saw. There was a huge tattoo on this chest, a massive coiling dragon. In a daze Bastian touched it, without any particular warning, an immediate surge of incomprehensible information flooded his mind.

Then a powerful voice resounded in his mind, " To the owner of the Titan's Mark, be warned, you shall bear great power, but you also bear a curse, anyone who bears this mark is a child of I, the Great Ambevilius, Emperor of all that is under the heavens. If you slay or subdue 1000 Mark Bearers, you shall become a successor of mine, this is not a destiny you can escape, so fight, in the name of my glory!"

Hong!

A loud noise, like a massive bell ringing, shook his mind. Oddly enough, the moment this happened the information that had entered his mind started making sense, it turns out, they are the memories of the previous owner of this body.

After spending a few seconds processing this data, Bastian started mumbling to himself, "Sovereign Continent? Sebastian Tirius? What the heck is this?" Things started to make sense to Bastian, where he was, who he was and how he ended up here.

This was the body of Sebastian Tirius, originally a noble from a very far away kingdom, he had been kicked out of his own family, with his own set of servants and left to fend for himself. After travelling for a few years he settled in the dessert. Since he was too young to do anything his most trusted servants took care of everything.

One thing led to another, and he had his own little kingdom. One day, he was tricked by one of his Vassals into leaving his own kingdom and was attacked by assassins along the way.

Although Bastian could now understand these memories, his mind was still over taxed and he fainted again. The guard had arrived with the water the moment he fell.

"Y-young master!"