The world spun.
One moment Leon was standing in the ruins, the ground trembling beneath him—
The next, he was in his bed.
He blinked rapidly, gasping for air. The ceiling beams stretched above him, cracked and familiar. His thin blanket clung to his sweat-soaked skin. The faint morning light spilled through the shutters, brushing across the floor.
Leon froze, his breath sharp and uneven.
"This… what?" His voice trembled.
It was his room. His room.
The same one from his childhood.
He pushed himself up, his hands shaking. The bed creaked under his weight, the sheets rough against his fingers. He could smell wood. Dust. The faintest trace of warm bread.
Clatter.
A sound from downstairs. The faint noise of dishes being set, cups clinking.
And then—
"Leon! Come wash up—breakfast is getting cold."
His chest tightened violently.
That voice. His mother's voice.
"Mother…"
He staggered to his feet and stumbled down the stairs, every step unsteady. His legs felt hollow, his throat dry. His heart pounded harder with each step, as though it already knew what awaited.
And there she was.
Emma.
She stood at the table, arranging bread and milk with that soft, gentle smile. Her chestnut hair caught the morning light, her eyes bright with warmth. The sight stole the breath from his lungs.
Leon's vision blurred. His body shook. "M… Mother…"
She turned, smiling as if nothing in the world was wrong. "Oh, you're finally awake. Sit down, honey, the food's getting cold."
Leon's knees nearly gave way. His throat tightened. Tears burned his eyes, but before he could speak—
SLAM!
The door burst open.
Steel glinted. Boots thundered. Four men in black stormed in, blades drawn.
"NO!" Leon roared, rushing forward with everything in him. Spirit energy surged, his muscles burned. He was faster, stronger—he could stop this. He would stop this.
But no matter how fast he moved—
SLASH.
Blood sprayed. His father collapsed, eyes wide, lifeless.
"Father!"
He screamed, turning, but his mother's cry pierced the air. His obsidian eyes snapped toward her just in time to see the blade swing—
Her head rolled across the floor.
"NOOOOOO!"
Leon's world shattered. He stumbled to his knees, hands slick with blood, his scream tearing his throat raw.
Tears blurred his vision. His chest heaved, his body trembling violently.
"No… no, no, no, no!" He crawled forward, grasping at their bodies, at the blood, at the lifeless faces that had once been his family.
And then—
Darkness.
The sound of a clatter.
Leon's eyes snapped open.
The wooden beams stretched above him. The morning light spilled through the shutters. The blanket clung to his sweat-soaked skin.
"Leon! Come wash up—breakfast is getting cold."
His breath caught. His chest tightened.
Again.
His heart pounded violently, but he didn't understand. He didn't question. He simply moved, stumbling from the bed, desperate, frantic.
Maybe this time.
Maybe this time he could save them.
Clatter.
Leon's eyes snapped open. Wooden beams. Morning light through the shutters. The same blanket clinging to his skin.
His breath came short and sharp.
"Leon! Come wash up—breakfast is getting cold."
His chest lurched. That voice. Again.
"No…" He staggered down the stairs, his heart hammering in his ribs.
There she was. His mother. Smiling gently as she set the table. And there—his father, rising from his chair, strong, alive.
Alive.
But Leon's lips trembled. His hands shook. He knew what was coming.
SLAM!
The door burst open. Four men in black stormed in, blades flashing.
"NOT THIS TIME!" Leon roared, spirit energy erupting from his core. He lunged forward, bone weapon in hand, striking before they could raise their swords.
His weapon pierced flesh. One attacker staggered, blood spraying from his side.
Leon's heart soared—he had done it! He had wounded one!
But the second man moved faster. His blade flashed.
SLASH.
His father fell, lifeless eyes staring.
"No—!" Leon turned, but his mother's scream split the air.
SHHK.
Her head rolled across the floor, her smile frozen forever.
"NOOOOOOO!"
Leon's howl tore the walls apart, his chest collapsing under the weight of failure.
And then—
Darkness.
Clatter.
His eyes opened again. Wooden beams. Morning light.
The loop.
It began again.
---
He tried. Again and again.
Each time he rushed faster, struck harder, screamed louder. He broke bones, cut throats, even slew one or two of the attackers.
But no matter what he did, his father still fell. His mother still died.
Again.
And again.
And again.
Hundreds of times.
Leon lost count. His voice grew hoarse from screaming, his tears ran dry. His body trembled, his spirit cracked. Each death carved a wound into his soul, each failure dragging him deeper into despair.
He wanted to give up. He wanted to collapse and let the blades cut him down too.
But each time, the loop dragged him back.
Wooden beams. Morning light. The voice of his mother calling.
Breakfast is getting cold.
At last… something inside him shifted.
The screams dulled. His panic faded. His despair became quiet.
He sat still on the bed, his breath steadying. His obsidian eyes sharpened.
This isn't real.
The thought came to him like a spark in the dark. His spirit stirred, the black flame in his core flickering faintly.
He rose slowly this time. No frantic rush. No desperate scream. He walked down the stairs, calm, deliberate.
His mother smiled at him, gentle and warm. His father stood tall, proud.
Tears welled in Leon's eyes, but he didn't break. He clenched his fists, letting the warmth of their presence anchor him.
The door slammed open. The four men in black charged in.
But this time, Leon didn't lunge blindly. He didn't let despair drive him.
He closed his eyes—
And reached inward.
His spirit senses flared.
The room, the air, the intruders, even the flow of time itself—he felt it all. The illusions cracked at the edges, their false weight unraveling under the clarity of his determination.
It wasn't the men that bound him. It wasn't the blades.
It was regret.
His own regret. The grief, the guilt, the failure of his past life, chaining him, forcing him to relive it endlessly.
Leon's obsidian eyes opened, burning with black flame.
"No more," he whispered. His voice carried steel.
The scene wavered, shattering like glass. His mother's smile, his father's figure, the blades, the blood—all dissolved into dust, swallowed by darkness.
Only Leon remained, standing tall in the void, his fists clenched.
"I couldn't save them then," he said, his voice steady, resolute. "But in this life… in this second chance… I will protect them forever. I will protect everyone I love, no matter what it costs me."
His vow resounded in the emptiness, trembling like thunder.
The void itself shook. The weight of the loop vanished.
And then—silence.
Azhar's laughter echoed faintly, deep and satisfied.
"Hoho… good. In the end you faced the truth, Very good. With this.... Your second trial is complete."
Leon exhaled slowly, his body trembling but his spirit unbroken.
The trial of the mind had ended.
And he had shattered his chains.
Leon staggered as the darkness lifted. His knees wobbled, sweat dripping from his chin. His chest rose and fell with ragged breaths, yet his obsidian eyes burned like steel.
Six months.
That's how long he had been trapped in that endless loop of failure, watching his parents die again and again, every attempt to save them breaking him into smaller pieces. Six months of reliving despair until his spirit nearly collapsed.
And now, at last, silence.
The looping nightmare had ended.
But the heavens did not rumble. Azhar did not speak. There was no booming laughter, no reward falling from the skies.
Instead, a cold whisper threaded through the air, neither inside nor outside his head.
"You took six months to break free of your regrets… and yet this is only the beginning."
Leon's eyes narrowed. His fists clenched so tight his knuckles cracked. "Six months… just to stop drowning in the past." His voice was hoarse, bitter, but steady. "Then so be it. If that was the price, I'll pay it a thousand times."
He forced himself to straighten, blood-stained hands trembling as he raised his head. "But where's my reward? Where's what I earned?"
The silence stretched. Then the whisper returned, sharper now.
"Your second trial is complete. But the reward will only be given when your third ends. Endure this, boy… and you will truly step onto the path of transcendence."
Leon froze, his chest tightening. "The third trial… now?"
Before he could speak again, the world shattered.
Stone and sky peeled away like paper, leaving only a vast battlefield of black mist. And there — stepping from the haze — came a figure.
Leon's eyes widened. His breath caught.
It was him.
A mirror of himself, standing tall, clad in the same tattered clothes, gripping the same beast-bone weapons. But his reflection's aura pulsed heavier, darker, brimming with killing intent that made the air suffocate.
The figure was like a devil version of himself, he smirked, obsidian eyes gleaming with cruel light.
"Look at you," the double sneered, voice identical to his own. "Pathetic. Weak. Pretending you've changed when all you've done is crawl a little further in the mud."
Leon's fists trembled. He knew, instinctively, that this was no ordinary opponent. It wasn't illusion. It wasn't hallucination. This was his spirit trial — a battle not against beast or memory, but against himself.
And his darker self's aura flared like a storm.
The whispers returned, echoing from the mist.
"Your second trial was regret. Your third… is yourself."
Leon grit his teeth, lifting his weapons, his heart pounding with a mix of dread and determination.
"So… my enemy now is me."
His reflection grinned, lifting its own weapons into a ready stance.
"Exactly. Now let's see if you're strong enough to kill the part of yourself that will always drag you down."
The black mist roared, and the clash of the third trial began.
Thank you for reading Returned Rise up to Chapter 10! Your support means the world to me. (°^‿^°) Please continue adding the story to your library, leaving reviews, and voting with Power Stones — it's free and helps me a lot!
We've just cleared one major arc, and Leon's journey is only beginning. The third trial will push him further than ever — so stay tuned!