"This is… so strange."
I muttered as I took off my shirt and looked down at my body.
My reflection stared back — a lean, almost frail frame with faint outlines of muscle. These weren't the hardened, battle-forged muscles I'd spent decades building through blood and sweat. My body was soft… ordinary.
Even the massive scar that once stretched across my chest — a twisted reminder of the Great War — was gone, as if it had never existed.
"Unbelievable…"
I sat on the edge of the bed, elbows on my knees, and tried to organize my thoughts.
I'm sure that after we fought that serpent… everyone was dead.
The memory hit me like cold water. The battlefield of despair, the howling winds, that final roar that split heaven and earth — and then darkness.
"Maybe some survived," I murmured. "But no one could've saved me. My body was… swallowed whole."
I clenched my fists. "So no — I died."
And yet… here I was. Alive. Whole. Fourteen again.
"It's not a dream," I whispered, rubbing the sore spot on my cheek from the dozen times I'd slapped myself earlier.
I tried to retrace my final moments. Everything was fading fast, but one image burned in my mind —
That light.
"The necklace…" My eyes widened. "My lucky charm."
The same broken necklace I'd worn since my mercenary days. It had glowed right before that monster came for me.
"Could it be…?"
I thought it was just a minor magical trinket — a charm that slightly nudged fate in your favor. But looking at my current state… there was no denying it had done something extraordinary.
"Where did I even get it?" I muttered, frowning.
I searched my memories — scouring every mission, every deal, every fight.
Nothing.
Not when. Not where. Not even how I came to wear it.
"No…" I whispered, dread creeping in. "I don't remember."
My brows furrowed as I rubbed my temples. It wasn't just a gap — it was like the memory had been cleanly cut out of my mind.
"Did someone… alter my memories?"
The thought sent chills down my spine.
I stared blankly at the mirror. A young boy's face looked back, eyes wide and uncertain.
"For now, I need to calm down," I told myself firmly.
I inhaled deeply, letting the air fill my lungs — something I hadn't done in what felt like ages. Slowly, the chaos in my chest began to settle.
"Okay, Kael," I said to my reflection. "You're alive. That's all that matters for now."
Because no matter what that necklace was, no matter who tampered with my memories — I was back.
And this time, I thought with a bitter smile, I'm going to live for myself.
Yes. Forget about saving the world.
I know exactly where I stand.
I'm a weak, washed-up man with a Tier-1 ability — the lowest rung of power. I trained my ass off for decades, clawed my way through hellish battlefields, and bled until there was nothing left to bleed. And yet, I never broke through the Mortal Realm.
While I spent years honing myself on the edge of death, bright-eyed prodigies — kids barely old enough to hold a sword — soared past me like it was nothing.
Sure, I might've been stronger than most Tier-1 trash… but in front of absolute power, I was still nothing. A bug. A joke.
So what's the point?
Saving the world? Protecting humanity? Screw that.
Who cares about humanity? Everything is shit. Everyone is shit.
In my last life, I watched those "heroes" — kings who ordered men to their deaths, nobles who trampled the weak, geniuses who believed they were gods — all die like dogs in front of that serpent. I want to see that again. No… I need to see that again.
Let the proud fall. Let the righteous break. Let them all sink into despair.
I could go warn them about the future. I could use my knowledge to prepare humanity's defenses. But what's the damn use?
There's always a gap between humans and monsters — and it never changes. Even if humanity slays that serpent, another monster will rise. And even if we win… humans will just turn on each other again.
Yes, I know humans too well. We're hypocritical beasts pretending to be civilized — animals who lie to ourselves that we're not animals.
In the end, the world will burn. Humanity will perish at the claws of beasts. Just like before.
So this time, I'll live for myself. Not for the world. Not for anyone else.
Food. Fight. Sex. That's all any living creature truly needs.
All my life, I starved for everything — for food, for warmth, for love. There were countless delicacies I never tasted, countless women I never touched. I lived as a tool, not a man.
But not this time.
This time, I'll eat every meal I crave. I'll fight only when I want to. And I'll chase pleasure without shame or guilt.
I've got forty years left until the world ends —and I'll enjoy every single day of it.
"Let me think…" I muttered. "Judging by my surroundings, I must still be living with my family."
In contrast to the wild man I'd become, I was born into nobility — a proud and powerful house. My true family name was Veyne, one of the great pillars of the kingdom. For generations, the Veynes had been the kingdom's shield, the fortress that never fell.
I, however, was the black sheep.
"Even though I'm the eldest son," I muttered with a bitter laugh, "my half-brother's the one who'll inherit everything."
The Veynes had cast me out not long after my coming of age. I tried to remember why.
"What was the reason again…?"
Before the memory could surface—
Creak!
The door opened without so much as a knock. My thoughts shattered, and I scowled toward the intruder.
"Yep," I muttered under my breath. "That's my place in this family all right… even the servants walk in like they own the place."
Memories flickered through my mind — fragments of the cold, distant home I once knew.
Then I saw who it was.
A maid.
Long black hair framed her face, and a pair of glasses perched neatly on her sharp nose. Her eyes were an earthy brown, calm but firm. She looked older than my current body, yet her mature air made her beauty impossible to ignore.
…What the hell? Who is this woman?
My mind blanked for a second. Every step she took made her uniform shift just slightly, and I had to fight the urge to look away—or rather, to not look too much.
Get it together, Kael. You're fifty-four, not fourteen.
Still, she scowled at me as if reading my thoughts.
"You're still in your room, sir?" she asked flatly.
Her tone carried the barest hint of respect, like she was clinging to etiquette by habit rather than duty.
At least she still uses honorifics, I thought dryly. For a second, I'd half-expected her to talk down to me like I was a child.
"You're usually out early in the morning," she continued. "Have you given up on that as well—after Lady Lyria Esten broke off the engagement yesterday? I suppose hard work isn't one of your virtues."
I froze.
…Is she mocking me?
Does she even realize who she's talking to? Sure, I might be a bit of a weakling, but I've survived through a lot of battles.
I let out a short, dry laugh.
"Ha!"
***