I hadn't realized how much my body had changed until I stepped into the forest.
The air felt heavier. Not physically—more like it was watching me. Judging me. Probably gossiping about how I used to be a fat, useless noble who couldn't jog ten meters without wheezing like a broken accordion.
Rude.
A full year. That's all I'd given myself.
A full year of waking up before sunrise, punching air, stabbing straw dummies, running laps around the inner courtyard until servants stared at me like I'd been possessed by a workout demon.
Worth it.
My shoulders didn't ache anymore. My grip felt solid. My breathing was steady. And for the first time since regression, my reflection didn't look like it belonged to a background extra in a tragedy.
'Still not enough.'
That thought kept looping in my head as I passed between ancient trees whose roots curled out of the soil like sleeping serpents.
I couldn't go back to that dungeon like this.
Not without proving something to myself first.
If I showed up weak, sloppy, and half-baked… my master wouldn't spare me.
Actually, he would spare me.
Which was worse.
He'd look at me with that disappointed, quiet expression and say something like,
"You survived, but you wasted your talent again."
Yeah. No. I'd rather get stabbed.
A rustle came from my left.
I stopped walking.
Didn't turn.
Didn't breathe.
Just listened.
Another rustle. Heavier this time. Low. Wet. Like something dragging claws across moss.
'So it begins.'
I reached for my bracelet.
The moment my fingers brushed the metal, a faint click echoed, and my spear slid into my palm like it had been waiting all along.
Shiny silver shaft. Deep red accents along the grip and blade. Clean. Balanced. Deadly.
Still couldn't believe I'd found this thing in my desk drawer a week ago.
Who even gifts their son a weapon and doesn't mention it?
Oh right.
My emotionally constipated father.
I twirled the spear once.
The forest went silent.
Then the bushes exploded.
A wolf lunged out.
Correction.
A wolf-shaped problem.
It was twice the size of a normal wolf. Veins faintly glowing blue beneath its fur. Eyes too sharp. Teeth too long.
Mana-mutated.
I sidestepped on instinct.
Its claws slashed empty air where my face had been.
"Rude."
I thrust.
The spear pierced clean through its shoulder and slammed it into a tree.
It let out a strangled yelp and dissolved into faint blue motes.
I stared at where it vanished.
"…So that's how it's going to be."
More movement.
Right. Left. Behind.
Of course.
Normal animals that absorbed ambient mana long enough eventually evolved into monsters.
Stronger bodies. Sharper instincts. Zero chill.
I exhaled slowly.
The next thirty minutes were messy.
A deer that shot wind blades from its antlers.
A bear with skin hard enough to deflect shallow strikes.
Three more wolves that tried to flank me like they'd taken a tactics class.
By the time I finally reached the denser part of the forest, my clothes were dirty, my arms burned, and my mood had dropped from "calmly nostalgic" to "mildly homicidal."
Still.
I was smiling.
Because I felt it now.
That familiar pull.
A faint pressure behind my temples. A tingle under my skin.
Mana.
Not wild forest mana.
Dungeon mana.
My steps slowed.
My heart didn't.
I pushed aside thick vines and stepped into a rocky clearing.
There it was.
The cave mouth.
Unchanged.
Same jagged stone edges. Same unnatural darkness inside. Same faint hum like the air itself was breathing.
I stood there for a long moment.
Then muttered,
"…I'm back."
And walked in.
The temperature dropped instantly.
My breath fogged.
The walls shimmered faintly with veins of light.
Every step echoed too loud.
Every sound felt like it lingered too long.
I knew this place.
Not because I'd been here in this life.
But because my body remembered it.
I followed muscle memory down twisting tunnels until the cavern opened up.
And there he was.
Sitting cross-legged on a stone platform.
Eyes closed.
Sword resting across his knees.
Same posture.
Same stillness.
Same terrifying calm.
My chest tightened.
I took one step forward.
Stone crunched.
His eyes opened.
In the same instant—
He vanished.
Steel screamed.
I barely raised my spear in time.
CLANG.
The impact numbed my arms.
I slid back three steps.
He was already moving again.
Fast.
Too fast.
We exchanged blows in a blur.
Sword. Spear. Steel on steel.
My feet moved on instinct.
My hands followed patterns I hadn't consciously practiced in years.
He pressed me hard.
Every strike aimed to kill.
No hesitation. No mercy.
So I returned the favor.
My spear skimmed his shoulder.
His sword nicked my ribs.
We broke apart.
He stared at me now.
Not angry.
Not calm.
Confused.
"You," he said slowly. "Who taught you that footwork?"
I didn't answer.
I attacked again.
He countered.
We clashed harder this time.
Faster.
Deadlier.
Then—
He stopped.
Just… stopped.
Lowered his sword slightly.
Eyes narrowing.
"That spear form," he murmured. "That breathing rhythm."
My hands trembled.
My throat tightened.
He took a step closer.
"…It's wrong," he said quietly. "And yet… it's mine."
Silence fell between us.
The dungeon hummed.
My spear tip wavered.
My vision blurred.
And for the first time since I entered the cave—
I forgot how to breathe.