Left in the quiet solitude of the infirmary, I closed my eyes and began to reframe every memory, every battle, and every tragedy from before my regression.
I called upon the Eternity.
Instantly, a faint, icy aura radiated from the center of my temple. Like a Daoist master reaching the peak of enlightenment to bloom a treasure flower, the energy washed over my shattered body. When I opened my eyes, the cracked ribs and lingering aches were gone. Fully healed.
I stared out the window at the starlit sky, murmuring softly into the dark, "Father... this time, you will claim what is rightfully yours."
By the time morning arrived, I was already walking back home.
(Behind me, back at the infirmary, Arog was currently hyperventilating beside an empty bed, clutching his clipboard in sheer panic as he frantically searched for his missing patient.)
Standing before the wooden door of my family's house, I hesitated. In my past life, my father would return from this very dungeon raid hailed as the Hero of Cimmeria—a title that brought both glory and immense blood.
I knocked.
"Coming!" a cheerful voice echoed from inside.
The door swung open to reveal a gorgeous young woman who looked barely in her twenties: my elder sister.
Looking at her face—alive, whole, and unburdened—a deep, yearning emotion welled up in my chest. "I'm home, Sis."
My sister stopped. She stared at me awkwardly, raised a hand, and began gently tapping my skull. "Wait... I thought Tixi punched you in the ribs. Did she hit your head instead?"
I lightly slapped her hand away. My touching moment evaporated as I took in her appearance: a total tomboy lounging in a loose camisole, aggressively gnawing on a strip of dried beef.
"When did you even get back?" I muttered drily. "Dad's going to be furious if he sees you dressed like a bandit."
She playfully brushed my hair, flashing a bright, impish grin. "Yeah, but you're not mad, right?"
I offered a small smile and walked past her, stepping straight toward the woman standing near the hearth.
"Mom," I spoke, my voice carrying the weight of the Third Heaven. "I want to meet Grandpa."
Drop.
The house plunged into absolute, dead silence.
The cheerful atmosphere vanished instantly. My sister froze mid-chew, the jerky hanging out of her mouth, while my mother's eyes widened in visible, trembling shock.
I had just broken the ultimate taboo of our household and I had done it as casually as asking what was for breakfast. My sister immediately snapped out of her daze, frantically glancing out the windows to check if any neighbors had overheard the dangerous request.
Before the silence could suffocate us, I repeated myself, louder and clearer.
My mother, Rumilia, reacted instantly. Moving with practiced speed, she slapped a glowing rune onto the floorboards, expanding a soundproof subspace around the house.
"Purna, what are you—"
"I have awakened the Nodes," I interrupted.
My mother's eyes nearly bulged out of her head. Blasphemy. Absolute, utter blasphemy. To claim node awakening at sixteen years, five months, and seventeen days was unheard of.
Behind me, my sister's jaw dropped so wide that a shower of half-chewed jerky fountain-sprayed out of her mouth. Her brother was claiming to have achieved the power of the realm's strongest martial artists—all for the sake of meeting the 'Old Fart' who had exiled our family to the most dangerous post in the entire Empire just because our compassionate father had dared to marry a commoner.
Rumilia took a slow, deep breath, staring directly into my eyes.
She looked for signs of a juvenile outburst, but found none. Unlike other teenagers, her quiet, ridiculously talented son never made baseless claims, nor had he ever backed down from a promise.
A heavy sadness settled in her eyes as her maternal instincts ceded to reality. "Talk with your father once he returns," she said quietly.
"Aaargh! What?!" my sister shrieked, outraged by our mother's sudden compliance. "Mom, you're believing him without even testing him?!"
Striding forward with rough, energetic bounds, my sister grabbed me by the back of my collar like a misbehaving cat and began dragging me toward the back yard. "Come on! Out! You're proving this right now!"
"Hey Sis, stop dragging me! What are you doing?!" I protested, dangling uselessly from her grip.
Before we could cross the threshold, another rune flared bright blue beneath our feet. A soft gravitational field pinned both of us to the spot, completely immobilizing my sister's grip.
"There is no need to prove anything," my mother declared, her tone leaving no room for argument. "Let your father decide this matter. Do not engage until he returns. The discussion is closed."
She turned toward the kitchen window, her gaze softening as she looked toward the distant dungeon gates.
"Your dad will be back soon," she murmured softly. "Let's prepare dinner. He's going to be famished."
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Before the broken, stampeded aisle leading to the ancient ruins, a battalion of roughly two hundred people moved at a painfully slow crawl. Nearly seventy percent of them battered adventurers, local knights, and exhausted medics halted at the base of what appeared to be a submerged temple, waiting in tense, breathless silence.
Carved into the weathered stone above the entrance were the words: ANGKOR WAT.
Flanking either side of the massive obsidian doors was a ancient, chilling inscription:
"He who etched history reverberates with the primordial lords. Sumeru is nothing but an ideal host."
Suddenly, the atmosphere shifted. A man who appeared to be in his mid-thirties stepped to the front, his mere presence demanding absolute silence.
"Everyone!" His voice echoed across the quiet plaza. "Today, we have achieved what our forefathers could only dream of since the Ragnarok. Across that gate lies our final step. Beyond it, our frontier will finally be free from these Legna bastards!"
The man paused, looking over at four formidable figures standing beside him. He gave them a firm nod before turning back to the crowd.
"Only five of us will enter the Sanctum—myself and the four Brigade Commanders. The rest of you will hold the line out here."
A collective gasp rippled through the battalion. To the soldiers, sending only five people into the inner core sounded like a suicide mission. Yet, hearing their Grand Commander's orders brought a bittersweet wave of both relief and agonizing worry. Relief, because they were spared from the meat grinder—and worry, because the gentlest, kindest man among them was once again acting as a sacrificial shield to keep them alive.
Across the continent, this man was revered. He was the Sword King—a warrior second only to the legendary Sword Emperor, and the only member from the Sword Emperor's party who had walked out of the Ragnarok alive.
Without another word, the five legends stepped through the threshold: the Sword King, the Commander of the 10th Imperial Knight Order, the Archmage, the Saint, and the Rune Master.
Inside, the grand gates slammed shut behind them.
"Odysseus!" the Knight Commander called out, his eyes scanning the gloom. "It's a Five-Headed Golden Dragon. I think it can shapeshift."
The Rune Master grumbled as he adjusted his focus, adding, "For the love of peace, just make sure I don't get caught in the crossfire like last time."
"The cave is virtually dripping with raw mana," the Archmage chimed in with a reckless smirk. "It's do or die. Let's roll!"
Beside Odysseus, the Saint gently tapped his shoulder. "If something goes wrong in there—or if I don't make it back—promise me you'll adopt Arog and Ladab. Keep those two nerds disciplined."
Odysseus looked around at his comrades—his closest friends and family he has found in this world, the men he trusted with his life. A confident, familiar grin spread across his face.
"Don't worry," Odysseus chuckled softly. "I'll be the one having the last laugh!"
The four men exchanged grins of their own. Hearing their leader utter his trademark, ridiculously arrogant catchphrase right before a life-or-death battle was all the reassurance they needed.
The Rune Master slammed his staff onto the stone floor, activating a detection skill. Instantly, the cavern's gloom parted to reveal the shadowy silhouette of a distant, massive mountain range crowned with five gleaming golden peaks.
The Archmage sighed, throwing his hands up. "Well, looks like I lost the bet."
Without missing a beat, the Archmage conjured a glowing array of magic circles, launching a high-speed acceleration buff straight onto the Knight Commander, who was already sprinting toward the golden peaks at full speed.
BAAAAAM!
Before the Knight Commander could even cross half the distance, the entire mountain range shattered into dust.
Out from the collapsing stone emerged a magnificent Golden Dragon, five elemental celestial orbs orbiting its massive heads like miniature suns.
The Knight Commander was the first to strike, closing the gap in a flash of blinding steel—but to his horror, the dragon didn't even bother engaging him. Slipping past his great sword with terrifying agility, the beast vanished in a blur of gold, reappearing instantly in front of the one person who needed protection at all costs: the Rune Master.
SWOOSH!
Three destructive elemental beams came hurtling straight for the squishy spellcaster.
"Get down!"
Odysseus moved like a streak of lightning. Leaping into the line of fire, the Sword King deflected two of the three elemental blasts right back at the monster. But the sheer force of the third caught the edge of their defense—costing the Rune Master his right arm in a shower of blood and burning ash.