The sky over the Kingdom of Astrum wasn't blue anymore. It was the color of dried blood, torn apart by the jagged streaks of violet lightning that signaled the end of the world.
Kaelen Vance coughed, a wet, metallic sound that sprayed crimson across the shattered remains of his silver breastplate. He leaned heavily on his sword, Aethelgard. The blade, once capable of slicing through dragon scale like parchment, was notched and dull. Around him lay the corpses of a thousand demons—and the broken bodies of his brothers-in-arms.
"Is this… the end of the line?" Kaelen whispered, his voice a raspy shadow of the command that once led legions.
He wasn't just a soldier. He was the Silver Lion, the strongest Magic Swordsman the world had seen in a millennium. But even a Lion couldn't fight a God.
In front of him stood the Void Emperor, a silhouette of shifting shadows and cold, mocking eyes. The Emperor didn't speak; he simply raised a hand, gathering a sphere of absolute darkness.
"Wait!"
A soft, desperate voice echoed through the battlefield.
Kaelen's heart wrenched. Through his blurred vision, he saw her. Elara. The High Priestess of the Sun and the only woman who had ever looked past his armor to see the man underneath. She was glowing, but not with the gentle light of healing. She was burning her very soul.
"Elara, no! Get out of here!" Kaelen roared, but the effort sent him to one knee.
"I won't let you die alone, Kaelen," she said, tears streaming down her pale face. She stepped into the path of the Void Emperor's blast. "And I won't let this world burn. If the Gods won't save us, I will give you the chance to do it yourself."
"Elara, stop! Don't use the Forbidden Chronos Rite!"
It was too late. She didn't look back. As the darkness from the Emperor collided with the gold of her soul, the world turned white. The last thing Kaelen felt wasn't pain, but the warmth of Elara's hand brushing his cheek, and her voice whispering in his mind: "Find me again. Save us all.
The Awakening
Kaelen's eyes snapped open.
He didn't feel the bite of the wind or the smell of sulfur. Instead, he smelled… lavender? And old parchment?
He sat up abruptly, his hand instinctively reaching for the hilt of Aethelgard. His fingers gripped empty air. He wasn't on a battlefield. He was in a small, cramped room filled with sunlight. He looked at his hands. They weren't scarred and calloused by decades of war. They were smooth, younger—the hands of a teenager.
He scrambled toward a polished brass mirror on the wall.
The face staring back at him was seventeen years old. Dark hair, sharp jawline, and eyes the color of a stormy sea. This was him before the Fall. Before the demons. Before he became the Silver Lion.
"It worked," he breathed, his heart hammering against his ribs. "The Chronos Rite… she actually did it."
The realization hit him like a physical blow. Elara had sacrificed her existence in the future to send him back. He was back at the Aurelius Magic Academy, ten years before the Void Emperor would descend.
A sharp knock at the door startled him.
"Kaelen! If you're late for the Mana Awakening Ceremony again, Headmaster Valerius will have your head! And honestly, I'm tired of making excuses for you."
Kaelen froze. That voice.
He threw the door open. Standing there was a girl with fiery red hair and a scowl that could melt iron. Liora. His childhood friend who had died in the first wave of the demon invasion.
Seeing her alive, breathing, and annoyed made Kaelen's vision blur with tears. Without thinking, he pulled her into a fierce hug.
"Whoa! Hey! Get off!" Liora yelped, though her face turned as red as her hair. "Kaelen, what is wrong with you? Did you hit your head?"
"I'm just… glad to see you, Liora," Kaelen said, pulling back and wiping his eyes. He forced a smile. "I'm not going to be late. Not today. Not ever again."
Liora blinked, her annoyance replaced by confusion. The Kaelen she knew was a lazy, unmotivated student with "average" mana circuits. But the boy standing in front of her looked different. His eyes held a depth, a cold, sharpened steel that didn't belong to a seventeen-year-old.
"Whatever, weirdo," she muttered, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Just hurry up. The Princess is arriving today for the ceremony. You don't want to miss the 'Golden Rose' of Astrum, do you?"
Kaelen's heart skipped a beat. The Princess. Elara.
In this timeline, she didn't know him yet. She was the royal prodigy, and he was a nobody commoner student.
I will find you, Elara, he vowed, clenching his fists. But first, I need power. I won't be the broken soldier who watches you die again. I will be the Sovereign this world needs.
As he walked down the hallway of the academy, Kaelen closed his eyes and searched deep within his soul. The mana circuits in his body were currently narrow and weak, but his knowledge remained. He knew the secret breathing techniques of the ancient kings. He knew where the legendary artifacts were hidden.
He reached into the air, and for a split second, a spark of silver lightning danced between his fingertips—the remnant of his future power.
The game had changed. The end of the world had a new enemy.
As Kaelen walked beside Liora, his mind was a whirlwind of memories and strategy. Every stone of the academy's corridor felt familiar yet strange. Ten years of war had aged his soul, making the laughter of other students sound like a distant, alien music.
"Are you even listening?" Liora nudged him with her elbow, her eyes narrowing. "I said, the Crimson Hall is going to be packed. If we don't hurry, we'll be stuck at the very back where we can't see the testing stone."
"I'm listening," Kaelen said softly, his voice carrying a weight that made Liora blink in surprise. "I was just thinking about how much has changed... even if it hasn't happened yet."
"You're acting really weird today, Kaelen," she muttered, but she didn't push him further.
They reached the Crimson Hall, a massive circular arena where the fate of every seventeen-year-old in the kingdom was decided. In the center stood the Aurelius Stone, a jagged crystal that pulsed with a faint, rhythmic blue light.
Then, the trumpets sounded.
The heavy oak doors at the far end of the hall opened, and the Royal Guard marched in, their gold-plated armor gleaming. In the center of the formation walked a girl who seemed to command the very air around her.
Princess Elara.
She wore the white and gold robes of the Solar Temple. Her beauty was legendary, but Kaelen didn't care about that. He looked at her eyes—those bright,intelligent eyes that had once looked at him with such profound love before the world ended.
In this moment, she was the 'Golden Rose' of the kingdom, a prodigy with mana levels that broke records. And he? He was just a student from the outer rims, someone whose mana circuits were considered 'clogged' and 'hopeless.'
Just wait, Elara, Kaelen thought, his heart thumping painfully against his ribs. I'm not the weak boy you never noticed. I am the man who will stand by your side when the sky falls.
As the Headmaster began his long speech about the importance of mana and the glory of the kingdom, Kaelen closed his eyes. He didn't listen to the words. Instead, he began the 'Sovereign's internal Pulse'—a high-level mana circulation technique he had mastered in the future.
He felt the dormant energy in his body begin to stir. It was painful, like hot lead running through his veins, but he welcomed the pain. It was a reminder that he was alive. That he had a second chance.
"Next! Kaelen Vance of the Third Class!" the instructor's voice boomed.
Liora squeezed his arm. "Go on. Just... don't faint this time, okay?"
Kaelen smiled at her—a real, confident smile that left Liora speechless. He stepped forward, the eyes of hundreds of students on him. He could hear the whispers of the nobles, mocking his commoner clothes.
He didn't look at them. He only looked at Elara. For a split second, their eyes met. She looked curious, as if sensing something familiar in this stranger's gaze.
Kaelen reached out and placed his hand on the cold surface of the Aurelius Stone.
This time, he thought, everything changes.