The pain hit me like a thousand knives twisting in my gut, but worse—far worse—because it wasn't just flesh tearing. It was time itself ripping me apart, thread by thread, unraveling the man I'd become over a decade of blood and betrayal. I could feel it, that cursed chronomantic backlash surging through my soul like wildfire in dry grass. I'd pushed too far this time, dipped into the forbidden well one last desperate pull, trying to bend the weave of fate just enough to... what? Save them? Undo it all? It didn't matter now. The power I'd stolen from the edges of reality was turning on me, punishing me for daring to play god.
My vision blurred, the world around me dissolving into a haze of swirling colors—blues and blacks, like ink bleeding into water. Screams echoed in my ears, not from the present, but from echoes of the past: my mother's last gasp as the Voidspawn tore through our barricade, Ben's laugh cutting short under a hail of claws, Elara's eyes... no, I shoved that memory down, deep where it couldn't claw its way back up. Not yet. A decade's worth of regrets crashed over me like a tidal wave, each one a weight I'd carried until my back broke. Slavery in the chains of lesser lords who'd risen too quick and fallen just as fast. Betrayals that left scars deeper than any blade. The endless grind of levels and tiers, chasing power that always slipped away, leaving me hollower each time.
I gasped, or at least I think I did—my body felt like it was being pulled through a needle's eye, compressed and stretched until I wasn't sure which end was up. Time stuttered around me, moments freezing and shattering like glass underfoot. I saw flashes: the final siege on the Crystal Spires, my hands slick with blood that wasn't all mine, the Void-That-Consumes whispering promises of peace in the nothing. I'd laughed then, bitter and broken, because peace in oblivion sounded better than another day of this hell. But something in me—a stubborn spark, maybe the last shred of the kid I'd been before the Merge—had refused to let go. I'd reached for the chronomancy, that forbidden art the System guarded like a jealous lover, and I'd pulled. Hard.
Now, it was pulling back.
The agony peaked, a white-hot lance through my core, and I screamed—or tried to. Sound didn't come. Instead, everything went dark, a void deeper than the one I'd fought so long to keep at bay. And then... release. Like falling from a cliff into warm water, unexpected and disorienting. My heart hammered in my chest, too fast, too alive. I smelled stale coffee and cheap takeout, felt the rough weave of a thrift-store blanket tangled around my legs. My eyes snapped open, and I bolted upright, sweat soaking through my t-shirt, breath coming in ragged bursts.
I was... here. My apartment. The cramped one-bedroom in downtown Seattle, 2024. Posters of old video games peeling from the walls—remnants of a life before everything went to shit. The glow of my laptop screen saver danced across the cluttered desk, casting shadows over stacks of unpaid bills and half-eaten ramen cups. Outside the window, the city skyline loomed under a bruised pre-dawn sky, traffic humming faintly below like nothing had changed. But everything had. I knew it in my bones, felt it in the electric hum under my skin, the echo of that temporal rip still vibrating like a plucked string.
Regression. It had worked. Somehow, against every rule the System had etched into reality, I'd clawed my way back. Thrust into the eve of the Merge, heart pounding from regrets that shouldn't fit in this younger, unscarred body. I was twenty-eight again, not the forty-something wreck I'd become—lean but not gaunt, hands steady without the calluses of endless sword grips. I flexed my fingers, staring at them like they belonged to a stranger. No missing pinky from that orc ambush in Year Three. No burn scars snaking up my arm from the mana-geyser blowout. Just smooth skin and a pulse that thrummed with borrowed time.
A bitter laugh escaped me, short and sharp, cutting the silence. Borrowed time. Yeah, that was about right. The System didn't give gifts; it loaned them with interest, and I'd pay in blood soon enough. But for now... now I had a chance. A second shot at this nightmare I knew inside out. The Merge was coming—hours, maybe less. That cataclysmic overlay where our world slammed into Aethelgard's magical framework, twisting streets into dungeons, skies into rifts. People would panic, cities would burn, and the weak would die screaming. I'd lived it once. Watched friends turn to ash, family... I swallowed hard, shoving the thought away. No time for ghosts.
I swung my legs off the bed, bare feet hitting the cold laminate floor. The room spun for a second, that haze of temporal agony lingering like a bad hangover. I gripped the edge of the mattress, nails digging into the fabric, grounding myself. Breathe, Kairos. Focus. You've got the knowledge—ten years of it, etched like scars on your brain. Every quest chain, every boss weak point, every betrayal that could've been stopped. This time, I wouldn't waste it on revenge alone. I'd build something real. Protect what mattered. Or die trying.
A faint tremor ran through the building, like distant thunder. My gut twisted. It was starting. I crossed to the window in three strides, yanking the blinds up. The streets below were stirring—joggers pausing mid-stride, cars honking as drivers stared at... nothing. Not yet. But I knew what they were about to see. The first flickers. Blue light, ethereal and cold, blooming in the air like digital fireflies. One sparked right outside my window, hovering for a heartbeat before expanding into a holographic screen, crisp and unyielding.
[Welcome, Awakened One. The System of Aethelgard integrates. Prepare for the Merge.]
The words hung there, glowing script only I could see—or so it felt in that moment. Worldwide, they said. Billions of screens popping up in eyes, minds, souls unprepared. Panic would follow like a shadow. I pressed my forehead to the cool glass, watching it spread. Down on the sidewalk, a woman in scrubs dropped her coffee cup, mouth agape as her own interface bloomed. A delivery guy swerved his bike, crashing into a lamppost with a metallic crunch. Shouts rose, muffled through the pane—confusion turning to fear, fear to frenzy.
I turned away, steeling myself against the knot in my chest. It was always the same. That raw, animal terror as reality cracked open. I'd felt it once, back when I was just Kairos Voss, barista with a side gig in graphic design, dreaming of something bigger than rent checks and dead-end dates. Now? It was fuel. A reminder of what I'd lost—and what I could save. My family. Ben. Hell, even strangers if it bought me time. Cynicism had kept me alive in the old timeline, a armor of sarcasm and solitude, but it had cost me everything soft. This time... maybe I'd let a little hope in. Just enough to keep from breaking.
No time for philosophy. Action. Always action. I moved like a ghost through the apartment, muscle memory from a life not yet lived guiding me. The kitchen first—drawers yanked open, hands delving past spatulas and mismatched forks. Kitchen knives: three good ones, serrated edges that'd do for goblin hides if sharpened right. I tested the balance on my palm, the weight familiar despite the years. Next, the utility closet in the hall—fire axe, red-handled and heavy, tucked behind the mop bucket. I'd laughed when the building super insisted on it after that fire drill last year. Now? It was my lifeline. I hefted it, the blade catching the dim light from the streetlamps below. Solid. Unyielding. Like me, or what I'd become.
My mind raced, a whirlwind of memorized strategies unfolding like a battle map. Stock the basics: water from the sink into old soda bottles—six should do for a day. Protein bars from the pantry, the kind with peanuts that stuck to your teeth but kept you going. Duct tape, zip ties from the junk drawer—restraints, repairs, whatever the moment demanded. Flashlight, batteries scavenged from the remote that hadn't worked since summer. I worked methodically, no wasted motion, piling it all on the coffee table. Inventory space would come soon, once the System fully synced, but until then, this was it. Backpack slung over one shoulder, stuffed to bursting.
A deeper rumble shook the floorboards, dust sifting from the ceiling like gray snow. Outside, the sky was lightening to a sickly purple, veins of blue light threading through the clouds like cracks in porcelain. The Merge accelerating. I paused, knife in hand, staring at my reflection in the blade's edge. Eyes too old for this face, shadowed with knowledge no twenty-eight-year-old should carry. What if I failed again? What if this regression was just another cruel joke, the System's way of toying with a bug in its code? The Void-That-Consumes had almost won last time, that sentient cancer eating at the edges of everything, turning heroes to husks. I'd fought it tooth and nail, but alone, always alone. Betrayals had seen to that.
Elara's face flickered in my mind unbidden—soft smile, eyes like storm clouds, the woman who'd been my anchor until she wasn't. No. Not now. She was innocent in this timeline, untouched by the whispers that broke her before. I'd protect her from that fate, even if it meant keeping my distance until I could trust the weave of threads around her. And Ben... god, Ben. The one constant, the fool with puns sharper than his sword ever was. If I could just get to him first, pull him from that alley before the goblins swarmed...
A crash from the street snapped me back. I lunged to the window, axe gripped tight. Down below, chaos blooming like a bruise. People spilling from apartments and cars, phones clutched like talismans, screens ignored in favor of the growing light show. A man in a suit shoved past an elderly woman, her cane clattering to the pavement. Sirens wailed in the distance, too late, always too late. The air hummed now, electric and thick, tasting of ozone and something sharper—mana, raw and untamed, seeping through the veil.
I should go down there. Help. But the old Kairos—the broken one—whispered caution. Save your strength. You're not a hero; you're a survivor with a cheat code. Still, that spark of hope tugged, faint but insistent. What if this time I was more? What if I let myself care, just a little? I shook it off, slinging the backpack higher. First things first: get out, link up with Ben at the coffee shop two blocks over. He'd be there, oblivious, cracking jokes about the "glitch in the matrix" until the first rift tore open. From there, the Tutorial Zone. I'd game it, grind the early levels clean, avoid the pitfalls that claimed so many.
Another tremor, stronger this time. The lights in my apartment flickered, bulbs buzzing like angry hornets. I glanced at the door—locked, chain still in place from habit. Useless soon. The geography was shifting; I could feel it in the subtle tilt of the floor, the way the skyline outside seemed to warp, buildings leaning like drunks after last call. Floating islands would manifest soon, chunks of earth defying gravity, mana-geysers erupting like geysers of liquid starlight. Tech would fry—phones dead, cars stalling—until we learned to weave circuits with spells.
A system ping echoed in my skull, not a sound but a pressure, like fingers tapping my brain.
[Integration: 87%. Awakening imminent for uninitiated. Caution: Anomalous energies detected.]
Anomalous. Yeah, that'd be me. The regression's echo, a smudge on the System's pristine code. It'd flag me eventually, draw eyes from the Administrators—Selene's cold gaze, maybe, or Lyra's fiery judgment. But not yet. I had time. Barely.
I strapped the axe to my back with bungee cords from the closet, the knives sheathed in belts looped through my jeans. One last sweep: wallet, keys—pointless relics soon, but habit died hard. A photo on the fridge caught my eye—Mira at her high school graduation last month, arm slung around Mom's shoulders, both grinning like the world couldn't touch them. My throat tightened. In the old timeline, I'd failed them. Too slow, too focused on the grind. This time... "Not again," I whispered, tracing the edge of the frame. Hope versus cynicism: the eternal war in my chest. Let it be hope, just this once.
The building groaned, a deep, bone-rattling shift. Outside, the first screams pierced the dawn—raw, human, the sound of reality fracturing. I grabbed the door handle, twisting it open to the hallway. Neighbors' doors ajar, shadows milling in confusion. A kid's wail from down the hall, cut short by a parent's hush. I stepped out, the air thicker here, charged like before a storm.
And then it happened. The sky split.
A rift tore open above the skyline, jagged and glowing, like a wound in the fabric of the world. Blue light poured from it, thick and syrupy, birthing shapes that tumbled out—twisted, green-skinned things with jagged teeth and rusting blades. Goblins. Low-level fodder, F-rank pests that'd overrun the streets in minutes. They hit the pavement with wet thuds, scrambling up with guttural snarls, eyes mad with hunger.
The street exploded into pandemonium. A woman bolted from her car, heels snapping on asphalt as a goblin lunged—claws raking air inches from her back. Gunshots cracked—some fool with a concealed carry, bullets pinging off crude hides. More rifts flickered to life, spewing their filth: slimes oozing from shadows, wisps darting like fireflies with venomous stings.
I stood frozen for a heartbeat, axe heavy on my shoulder, the weight of two lifetimes crashing down. This was it. The dawn of the end, or maybe—just maybe—a new beginning. My hand tightened on the hilt, knuckles white. Cynicism sneered: Run, hide, survive alone. But that spark, that fragile human thread, burned brighter. Protect. Fight. Change it.
"Not this time," I muttered, voice low and steel-edged, stepping into the fray. "I won't break again."
The first goblin spotted me from across the street, yellow eyes locking on like a predator's. It chittered, blade raised, charging through the scattering crowd. I didn't flinch. Ten years of hell had forged me sharper than any edge. As it closed, I swung the axe in a low arc, the blade whistling through air thick with mana. Connection—solid, wet, final. The thing's head rolled, body crumpling in a spray of dark ichor.
[EXP Gained: 10. First Blood.]
The System's chime was almost cheerful, a mocking jingle in my mind. More came, shadows in the dawn light, but I was already moving. Dodging a wild slash, I drove a knife up under another's jaw, twisting with practiced cruelty. Pain flared in my side—a graze from a rusty dagger—but I ignored it, adrenaline singing in my veins.
Around me, the world burned. A man fell screaming, swarmed by three of the bastards. A car exploded in flames as a mana-wisp ignited the gas tank, fireball blooming orange against the blue haze. I waded in, axe cleaving a path, pulling the man up by his collar. "Move!" I barked, shoving him toward an alley. He stared, wild-eyed, mouth working soundlessly. Gratitude? Fear? Didn't matter. Just another thread in the chaos.
My stats flickered in the corner of my vision—base human dregs: STR 10, AGI 12, VIT 8, INT 15, WIS 14, LCK 9. Pathetic, but honed by "future" trials they didn't know about. I'd level them soon, pump points into AGI for the dodges that saved lives, INT for the strategies that won wars.
A goblin leaped from a fire escape, landing on my back. Weight slammed me down, claws raking my shoulder. Pain exploded, hot and bright, but I rolled, slamming the axe haft into its skull. Crack. It went limp, and I surged up, blood—mine and its—mixing on the pavement.
[EXP Gained: 15. Quest Alert: Survivor's Instinct (Save 1 civilian). Reward: 50 EXP, Basic Inventory Unlock.]
The mother from the street—clutching a toddler, frozen as goblins circled. I didn't think. Just moved. Axe high, I charged, bellowing a wordless roar that turned heads. One goblin spun, blade thrusting; I parried with the knifed forearm, countering with a downward chop that split its shoulder. The second lunged low; I sidestepped, boot stomping its neck with a crunch.
The woman met my eyes, terror melting to something like awe. "Th-thank you," she whispered, bundling the kid tighter.
"Go. Alley. Now." I pointed, voice rough from disuse—or maybe from the screams still echoing in my head.
She fled, and the System chimed again.
[Quest Complete. EXP Gained: 50. Inventory Unlocked.]
A faint glow shimmered before me, an ethereal pouch materializing in my palm. Space to store the madness. Good. I'd need it.
But the rifts widened, more horrors spilling. The dawn fractured fully now, sky a tapestry of tears, the city a battlefield. My shoulder burned, blood soaking my shirt, but I grinned—feral, alive. This was the game. My game, this time. With foreknowledge as my weapon, regrets as my shield.
I wouldn't break. Not again.
To be continued...