As the world crumbled around him, one truth remained unmistakable. Humanity had never stood a chance against the Nightmares.
Even now, Lucian found it strangely unreal.
To live a life sculpted by duty, burdened by lineage, and sharpened by expectations, only to stand as the last heir of a fallen empire moments before humanity's extinction, was a truth that settled bitterly upon him.
"Lucian Arthur Pendragon."
"…Yes."
"They broke through."
"…"
Lucian slowly dusted his ruined coat. Even surrounded by fire and ruin, the gesture carried the quiet grace of nobility that refused to fade.
The final fortress of England lay in flames with its walls collapsed. Nightmares poured through the breaches, filling the sky with twisting silhouettes that covered out the entire horizon.
Bodies covered the ground in numbers far beyond counting.
Beside Lucian hovered his Daydream — once a radiant golden star, now a dim, trembling light, struggling to hold its shape.
"Lucian…"
His fragile voice made Lucian pause as he murmured.
"You stayed with me longer than I expected. It's been a great ride, my friend."
And just as Lucian was about to bid farewell, a roar tore across the battlefield.
Nightmares surged forward. They were an endless tide of distorted shapes.
Lucian Pendragon, the last crown of a dying kingdom, watched them approach with calm and steady eyes.
"Let them come."
The earth trembled beneath him, but his feet stayed firm on the ground.
In front of him, the final barrier shattered into fragments of red light that scattered like broken shards of dawn. His Daydream moved in front of him, cracks spreading across its fading golden body.
"Lucian… this is where we fall."
"Then we fall with dignity. Farewell, my friend!"
The first Nightmare lunged as the Daydream released what remained of its power, exploding into a flash of golden light that shielded Lucian one final time.
Claws tore through flesh as Lucian felt his knees weaken. The world dimmed around him.
And as his consciousness slipped away, an ancient voice rose through the fading chaos, like a forgotten prophecy returning to claim its place.
"At the world's end, the last crown will fall.
Alone beneath a crimson sky.
Yet the one who dies with honor's call
Shall rise again before the eye."
The light bent, and the time twisted as Lucian Arthur Pendragon's final breath left him.
Just before death could take him, he vanished from the end of the world.
***
"15 November, 2025"
A young man with blonde hair and ocean eyes whispered the date aloud. The sky above him held no sun or moon at all. Only a single massive red eye that hovered in their place and observed the world without blinking.
Lucian tilted his head up, studying that monstrous eye as a strange chill ran down his spine.
He lowered his gaze to the glowing phone in his hand. His ocean eyes scanned the screen slowly, reading each headline with concentrated focus.
[Global Emergency Council releases statement on rising Backdoor instability.]
[Massive Vow-Trail manifests above three continents simultaneously. Witnesses report the sky "opening in golden scripture."]
[Dreamwalker Union reports surge in first-time contractors. "Humanity stands at a turning point," says Director Hale.]
Another notification appeared.
[Experts warn of growing Woken Nightmare cases. "Broken vows are becoming catastrophic."]
Lucian let the information settle.
"It's still the early era, just as I remember."
Backdoors were already tearing across continents like glowing scars, releasing horrors that no weapon or doctrine could explain. The Crimson Eye had taken its place in the heavens, unmoving, as if waiting for something.
Vow-Trails drifted through the night like rivers of gold, granting miracles and curses in equal measure.
Humanity had not yet understood the rules of this new age. They were still fumbling in the dark, grasping for meaning.
Lucian exhaled slowly as his hands shook greatly while holding his phone.
"I really have returned."
The truth was heavy. Regression or Rebirth? Whatever it was, none of it felt real.
His last memory had been of death, a final stand in a world drowned by Nightmares. And yet he stood here.
When he first awoke, confusion had driven him from the Pendragon estate. His instincts screamed that this could not be reality. He walked through the Capital like a ghost, searching for any sign that this world was false. Instead, he found everything painfully accurate.
Reports of Backdoors.
Early Daydream contracts.
First waves of trained Dreamwalkers.
People talking about golden trails of light twisting across the night.
Humanity was still standing. Barely, but standing.
He eventually drifted into a quiet district, far from the main arcades and the constant emergency broadcasts. The silence made the truth sink deeper.
He looked at the headlines again as every sign pointed to a singular conclusion.
He had been returned to the moment before the world began its true descent.
"Young Master. It is dangerous to wander alone at this hour, especially today."
A soft voice emerged from the shadows behind him. Lucian did not need to look to recognize it. Of course, they had found him. The Pendragon household was relentless when it came to its wayward heir.
"It has been a while, Elara," Lucian said.
There was a brief silence.
"…A while, Young Master?"
Elara Vexley stepped into the dim streetlight. She was young, barely eighteen, clad in the dark blue and silver uniform of the Pendragon attendants. Her expression remained composed, yet her eyes flickered with visible confusion. For her, they had spoken only hours ago.
For him, she had died shielding him on a battlefield he had not yet lived through.
Her gaze trailed over him, hesitant.
"You should not be outside, Young Master. The Awakening Assembly begins in less than an hour. The elders are already displeased."
Lucian let the words settle. Today was the Daydream Awakening Assembly. His third and final chance to become a Dreamwalker.
He had failed twice before, unable to form even the faintest connection to a Pathway. Every noble house talked shit about him. The disgrace of Pendragon. The useless heir. The rotten young master with no control over his mouth.
He remembered the disappointment and the cold stares from the High Council. He remembered how this very day had ended for him in his original timeline. There was no awakening, no Daydream, and definitely no future.
His downfall had begun here.
Elara stepped closer.
"Your father sent me to retrieve you. If you miss the assembly again, the consequences for both of us will be severe."
She tried to maintain a professional tone, but her voice softened slightly toward the end. Despite everything, Elara had always been loyal to him, even when he gave her no reason to be.
Lucian looked at her quietly. The gentle breeze moved her short dark hair as she waited for him to respond.
"I understand," he said.
"You do?" She blinked. "This is unlike you, Young Master."
Lucian allowed a faint smile. She was right. The Lucian she knew would have complained, insulted everyone, or run away again. He had done all of that in his first life. He had been every bit the wretched noble they accused him of being.
But that Lucian had died.
"We should go," he said.
Elara hesitated. Something about her young master felt different. His gaze looked too distant, as if he was seeing something she couldn't ever perceive.
"Young Master… did something happen?"
He glanced up at the sky. The enormous crimson eye stared down in perfect silence, unchanged and eternal.
Something had happened.
He had returned to the past. Returned to the moment everything began. Returned to the moment he lost his chance at power.
And this time, he would not fail at the Awakening Assembly.
"No," Lucian replied softly. "Nothing happened. Not yet."
Elara looked at him, unsure of what that meant.
Lucian stepped forward.
"Let us go, Elara. I will not be late today."