Waking up in Another World

Morgan gazed across the construction project his unit was responsible for. As the U.S. involvement in the war in Iraq came to a close, he was stuck building a bridge in the middle of nowhere for some god-forsaken country. If there was one thing he had learned during his four years as an officer in the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers, it was unwise to criticize the high command's stupidity openly.

Thus he kept his mouth shut as he and the other officer's mapped out the construction project while the enlisted personnel was hard at work building the massive bridge that served virtually no purpose whatsoever. In his mind, the U.S. had invested over billions of dollars in the war and thousands of lives, yet before their mission was complete, they were pulling out. Leaving a fledgling country like Iraq. This was Afghanistan and Vietnam all over again, and we all know how that turned out.

Despite his internal protests over the geopolitical situation, he was glad to be out of the region on a personal level. He was much more comfortable sitting in the barracks of some base in the homeland playing strategy games, city builders, and agricultural simulators. When he wasn't working, he played such games or educated himself on history, philosophy, politics, economics, and old technology.

After all, he was a fairly educated individual, having graduated at the top of his class in Civil Engineering from Westpoint. During his youth, he always had a fascination with Engineering. If you gave him a toy, he was more interested in taking it apart and putting it back together than he was playing with it.

As he grew into adolescence, he had spent most of his time on the web or in a library researching history and how the Industrial and Agricultural revolutions came to be; The significant improvements in technology, and how to replicate them. With a photographic memory and an above-average IQ, he could commit these things to his permanent memory.

During his college years, he once more focused on his studies, taking many unnecessary electives; by the time he graduated and entered the armed forces, he was practically a walking textbook of knowledge ranging from liberal arts to technical knowledge.

Yet here he was, stuck in the Middle East, engaging in a construction project in a country the U.S Military had already declared its full withdrawal date, which was only a month away. He didn't understand the brass' thinking, but it was just another enormous waste of the taxpayers' money at the end of the day.

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While he was thinking of such trivial things, he could hear the voices of a few Non-Commissioned Officers joking around in the background, discussing how they intended to celebrate the end of the war. These older men had been in the war far too long and did have a shred of nationalism left in their bodies; as such, they did not care about the loss the country faced in this land; they only cared about going home. Not that he could blame them.

Just as one of the NCOs was about to mention their plans, a large explosion went off in the distance, and the whistling sound of a shell in the air could be heard as it headed in John's direction. Only a single thought crossed Julian's mind as he gazed at the shell coming down upon him.

'Fuck my life!'

and with that final thought, his consciousness was engulfed in the blast of the explosive shell, as well as the lives of the other officers in the area. He was truly, and utterly dead.

Noiax awoke with a shout as his hoarse voice echoed throughout the large forest. His eyes darting frantically across the area. After careful examination, he realized he was not blown up by an artillery shell but instead lying on a primitive bed made from leaves.

He found himself in a bewildering state of shock as he regained consciousness in the unfamiliar body of a lizardman. His thoughts raced as he tried to make sense of his surroundings, his memories overlapping with the strange sensations of his new form.

"What in the... Where am I?" he muttered to himself, his voice gruff and unfamiliar. "This isn't Iraq."

He flexed his clawed fingers, feeling the rough texture of his scales against his touch. Panic threatened to overwhelm him as he struggled to reconcile the reality of his situation.

"How did this happen? Am I dreaming? No, this feels too real."

Memories flooded back to him—memories of his life as John Morgan, a soldier, an engineer, a man of duty and honor. And yet, here he was, inhabiting the body of a creature straight out of myth and legend.

"Could this be some sort of elaborate prank? A hallucination brought on by injury?" he pondered aloud, though he knew deep down that this was no mere hallucination.

But amidst the confusion and fear, a spark of determination ignited within him. "No matter how I got here, I'm still alive. And if I'm alive, then I have a chance to make something of this... of myself."

As Noiax, ventured deeper into the forest, he found himself inexplicably drawn to the echoes of ancient stories and forgotten legends that seemed to permeate the very fabric of the world around him. With each step he took, memories and knowledge not his own flooded his mind, intertwining with his own experiences and shaping his understanding of this new reality.

As he traversed through dense forests and treacherous swamps, images of towering citadels and sprawling empires danced before his eyes, remnants of a glorious past now lost to time. Whispers of ancient prophecies and tales of mighty heroes resonated within him, stirring something primal deep within his soul.

At times, the memories came unbidden, surfacing in dreams and visions that blurred the lines between past and present. He saw battles fought beneath blood-red skies, heard the chants of mystic rituals performed beneath the light of a thousand stars, and felt the weight of centuries-old grudges and alliances pressing down upon him.

Through these glimpses into the past, Noiax began to piece together fragments of a grand tapestry—a tapestry woven from the threads of countless stories, each one a testament to the resilience and ingenuity of the beings that inhabited this world. From the majestic dragons that once ruled the skies to the enigmatic sorcerers who wielded the very forces of nature itself, he marveled at the rich tapestry of cultures and civilizations that had come before him.

Yet, amidst the grandeur and splendor of this ancient world, he also sensed a darkness lurking in the shadows—an ever-present threat that loomed on the horizon, waiting to consume everything in its path. It was a reminder that even in the face of seemingly insurmountable odds, hope still flickered like a lone flame in the darkness.

And so, armed with the knowledge of ages past and the determination of a warrior reborn, Noiax pressed onward, his heart filled with the echoes of legends long forgotten and the promise of a destiny yet to be fulfilled. For in this world of wonders and mysteries, he knew that his journey had only just begun.