Elise, who had cried for what felt like an eternity in her brother's arms, now lay curled beneath the thin blanket. Her small hands clutched the fabric tightly, as if it were the only anchor in a storm she had barely survived. Her breathing was slow and rhythmic, the only sound in the dimly lit room. Her face, once twisted with anguish, now looked peaceful, almost serene—as if a heavy weight had been lifted from her chest.
But for Ethan, the relief was nowhere to be found. After carefully carrying his sister to her room and tucking her in, he couldn't bring himself to leave. He stood by the door, his fingers gripping the frame as though it were the only thing keeping him upright. His body ached—not from physical exertion, but from the crushing weight pressing on his mind.
He should have felt relief, knowing Elise was finally asleep, her tears spent. Instead, a storm of emotions erupted within him, each one sharper than the last.
How much had I ignored her pain? The question echoed in his mind, relentless. How many burdens had she borne alone, her small soul weighed down by things I couldn't even see? How could I have been so blind for so long?
With a slow, resigned sigh, he turned away from the door. There was still work to be done.
Ethan returned to the dining room, his steps rhythmic as he began clearing the table and washing the dishes. The rhythmic clatter of silverware filled the otherwise quiet room, but his mind was far from quiet. His mind raced, consumed by the reality of his situation. It was a painfully harsh truth that had become crystal clear.
Twelve years. He had been sent back twelve years in time.
In exactly two years, disaster would strike. It was a calamity unlike anything the world had ever known. Monsters—beasts beyond human comprehension— would emerge from a portal, rising up from the depths of nightmares, slaughtering millions and reshaping civilization beyond recognition. It was a future he knew all too well. He could never quite forget it even as the years passed.
In this second chance at life, Ethan had one undeniable advantage: the knowledge of what was to come. But that knowledge, as precious as it was, was far from enough in the face of what was coming. His ability, Blaze, was only C-rank—far from the power he needed to survive, let alone protect those he loved. It was far better than average, but when faced with the disasters that awaited him, it was laughable.
He had only two simple, yet crucial goals:
1. Seek vengeance for the tragedy that had befallen his family.
2. Keep his sister and his friend safe from the impending disaster.
After tidying the room, Ethan sat down in a chair, his resolve hardening. He grabbed pen and paper, jotting down everything he could remember about the future—every detail, no matter how trivial it might have seemed. These were the things he couldn't afford to forget, no matter the cost. The events that would shape the world to come.
Not all of the events he recalled were pleasant. Some, trivial as they were, had been moments of joy. But most were memories filled with death, suffering, and cruelty—tragedies that had left scars too deep to heal. Scars that would forever remain etched in his heart, no matter how hard he tried to move on.
Daybreak arrived, bringing with it the soft chirping of birds. Thin rays of sunlight filtered through the small gaps in the house, casting gentle light across the room. Ethan, however, remained in the dining room, surrounded by scattered papers—each one filled with the events he had written down, detailing the future that had already begun to slip away from him.
But despite his efforts, he had not left the room. He couldn't. His mind was trapped in a cycle of frustration, unable to devise a plan that would guarantee his success. In truth, none of his ideas even came close. With the knowledge of the future in his mind, he had considered every possible route.
"An academy?" He muttered to himself, shaking his head. "No, I don't have the funds."
"Army training?" He scoffed. "They'd barely train me before tossing me aside. No real earning potential. Besides, given my background, they'd never take me."
"Guilds? Without a high-ranked skill, I'd be a liability, not someone they'd want."
His fingers ran through his hair, tugging at it in frustration. Every plan he came up with faltered at the same obstacle:
Skills.
No matter how hard he tried, a C-rank ability was nothing but a death sentence in the world he faced. Even in his past life, he had to use every trick and ounce of cunning just to survive.
He exhaled shakily. "Am I… really powerless?"
It was true that skills could be learned, but the innate abilities people were born with created a path far more certain. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't break through the C-rank. That was the ceiling. Even if he pushed his body to its absolute limits, he would always fall short of a B-rank veteran's strength.
To escape the cycle of weakness, he needed either a powerful skill or vast wealth.
To gain wealth, he needed strength.
To gain strength, he needed a better skill.
And so, the cycle repeated in his mind, endlessly, trapping him in a loop of frustration.
"Why?" His voice cracked, barely more than a whisper. "Why am I so useless?"
Despite everything—despite dying, despite returning, despite having all this knowledge—he was still bound by his own limitations. The weight of it all pressed down on him.
"Even after getting another chance… will I still fail?"
His teeth clenched, and a wave of frustration surged through him. If he couldn't even protect Elise, what was the point of being given a second chance?
"Why? Why? Why? Why? Why?!" His voice grew hoarse, the words tumbling from his mouth in a bitter mantra, each one more desperate than the last.
Then—
{DING!!}
A sharp chime shattered the silence.
Ethan jolted upright, his exhaustion vanishing as adrenaline flooded his veins. His fingers twitched, instinctively reaching for a weapon that wasn't there. His breath hitched. His eyes darted around the room, scanning for danger.
Nothing.
No figures lurking in the shadows. No shifting movements. Absolutely nothing. Just him.
{TRANSFER COMPLETE.}
A strange voice—no, a notification—echoed in his mind. Cold. Mechanical.
His pulse thundered in his ears. He spun on his heel, fists clenched.
"What the—? Who's there?!"
Silence.
And then, right in front of him—
A glowing blue window flickered into existence, floating in midair.
Ethan stiffened. His breath came in short, sharp bursts as his eyes locked onto the text forming across the translucent screen.
{CONGRATULATIONS ON BEING REVIVED, HOST. Apologies for the delay. Additional time was required to initialize the system.}
The words hit him like a hammer.
Revived.
His mind reeled. His vision blurred as a sickening realization clawed at the edges of his consciousness.
His mouth went dry. He took a step back, nearly stumbling over his own feet.
"No… No, no, no, no…" His voice trembled. "This—this has to be a dream."
{Negative. You are perfectly sane. Please keep calm.}
"Calm?"
A hysterical laugh bubbled up in his throat. His heart pounded against his ribs like it was trying to break free.
His hands shot to his temples, pressing down hard, as if he could physically stop his thoughts from spiraling. "Wait—does this mean—" He swallowed, his throat dry as desert. "Everything I've seen so far… Elise, my regression… Was it all fake? Just a dying man's illusion?"
{HOST, Please refrain from jumping to conclusions. I will explain in detail.}
Ethan barely heard the words. His head swam with nausea.
"How long?" He barely recognized his own voice. "How long have I been hallucinating?"
His hands clenched into fists as panic surged through him. He forced himself to breathe, but every inhale felt like dragging glass through his lungs.
{HOST, please listen. I am—}
"No, wait—what if—"
{WILL YOU SHUT UP AND LISTEN, YOU FLIPPING MORON?!!!!}
The words slammed into him like a physical force.
Ethan froze.
A stunned silence filled the room.
"…Huh?"
{Ahem. Sorry for raising my voice. But please, for the love of all that is logical, listen first before asking questions. Is it clear?}
His brain stalled. The sheer absurdity of the situation nearly made him laugh.
Slowly, hesitantly, he gave a small nod.
{Good. Now, let's get some things straight. One: You are not dreaming, you are not hallucinating. Two: You really are back in time. Three: I am the entity responsible for your retreat. Four—and pay close attention to this—no, I'm not a ghost, so don't even think of asking if I'm sick of this question.}
Ethan's eye twitched.
"…Then what are you?"
{AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!}
A deafening, high-pitched screech tore through his mind like nails on a chalkboard.
Ethan stumbled backward, barely catching himself before he hit the ground. "WHAT THE HELL?!"
{ARE YOU DEAF?! DID I NOT JUST SAY TO LISTEN FIRST?! AM I SPEAKING A FOREIGN LANGUAGE? HUH? IS THAT WHY YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND ME?}
He threw his hands up. " Alright! I'm sorry! I'm won't disturb you again! I swear!"
The screeching stopped.
Silence.
Then—
{…Sorry. I lost my temper. This is my first rodeo, so I've been under a lot of stress. I hope-- }
Ethan blinked. Then without missing a beat he shot back.
"…Wait. You can get stressed?"
A long pause.
"Oh, shit," Ethan muttered, realizing what he'd just said. "I did not mean that. I meant--"
A soft, shaky sniffle echoed in his mind.
{…You meanie.}
Ethan's eye twitched. "Wait. Wait. WAIT. Why are you crying?!"
The voice wailed.
{JUST GO DIE. I SHOULD NOT HAVE COME HERE. I AM LEAVING. I WILL NOT RETURN EVEN IF GRANDMA THREATENS ME.}
Ethan paled. " Hey! H-Hold on! Don't just leave! What the hell is happening?!"
And that day, without knowing it, Ethan took his first step toward rewriting the fate of the world.
His first step toward becoming the Savior of Humanity.
Or that's at least what was supposed to happen. Stay tuned to find out just who is this crybaby and how will it impact Ethan's journey.