Aren Ravaryn woke up gasping.
His back arched as air rushed violently into his lungs, his heart hammering as if it were trying to tear itself free from his chest. Cold sweat soaked through his nightclothes, clinging uncomfortably to his skin.
For a brief moment, the cave was still there.
Blood. Stone. The altar.
Lucus's calm voice.
The dagger.
Aren's fingers twitched violently.
"No—"
The word escaped his lips before he could stop it.
The scent changed.
Instead of damp stone and iron, he smelled clean sheets, faint incense, and polished wood.
"Young master!"
A familiar, worried voice cut through his thoughts.
"Please wake up—young master Aren!"
A hand gently shook his shoulder.
Aren's breathing slowly steadied. He forced his eyes open.
A high ceiling greeted him. White curtains swayed slightly as morning light filtered in through tall windows. Everything was… intact. Clean. Untouched.
A woman stood beside his bed, her brown hair tied neatly back, eyes wide with concern.
"M-Mary…?"
His voice was hoarse.
The maid let out a sharp breath of relief. "Thank the gods—! You were sweating so badly, I thought you had fallen ill again."
Again.
That single word grounded him.
Aren slowly pushed himself upright. His body felt light. Too light. Weak in a way that was painfully familiar.
"Where… am I?" he asked, keeping his tone controlled despite the tension coiling in his chest.
"And… what day is it?"
Mary blinked, confused by the question. "You're in your room, young master. The Ravaryn estate."
She hesitated, then added gently, "And today is the 12th day of Frostwane. In one year, you'll be entering the Royal Aether Academy."
Aren froze.
One year.
The academy.
His fingers tightened against the bedsheets.
So it was real.
A translucent screen flickered into existence before his eyes.
Mary didn't react.
[Regression Complete]
[Host Synchronization: 100%]
Name: Aren Ravaryn
Age: 10
Status: Stable
Core Synchronization… Complete
Aren's pupils constricted.
"…Mary," he asked slowly, eyes still fixed on the floating screen, "can you see this?"
"See what, young master?" she replied instantly.
His heart skipped.
The maid frowned as he went silent, then stepped closer. "Should I call a doctor? You look pale—"
"No." Aren shook his head. "I'm fine."
He inhaled deeply, then forced a calm expression onto his face. "Please leave. I just need rest."
Mary hesitated. "Are you sure—?"
"Yes."
After a moment, she bowed lightly. "I'll bring breakfast later."
The door closed softly behind her.
The instant it did—
Aren clenched his fist.
His nails dug into his palm as rage surged through him, hot and sharp.
"…I'm not becoming a hunting dog again."
The screen shifted.
[Status Window]
Strength: F
Endurance: F
Agility: F
Mana: E
Vitality: F
Bloodline:
▸ Ancient Bloodline — LOCKED
Condition: Unmet Requirements
Another section expanded.
[Skills]
▸ Survival Instinct (Unique) — 0.0%
▸ Tactical Memory (Unique) — 0.0%
▸ Sixth Sense — ACTIVE
▸ Weapon Adaptation — 0.0%
▸ Mana Circulation — 0.0%Skills / Abilities:
Sixth Sense — 0.0%
Strategic Mind — 0.0%
Support Magic — 0.0%
System Map — 0.0%
System Appraisal — 0.0%
Assassin — 0.0%
Survival — 0.0%
Alchemy — 0.0%
Summoning — 0.0%
Ancient Bloodline Skill — Locked
They were all there.
Every skill he had carved into himself through fifteen years of blood and survival.
Just… reset.
The room fell silent, except for his heartbeat. The floating screen glowed faintly, the Ancient Bloodline still locked, taunting him with mysteries he didn't yet understand.
Aren exhaled slowly.
"I'll make you all pay," he whispered.
"Lucus. The stepmother. Everyone who pulled the strings behind them."
The screen faded.
Aren swung his legs off the bed.
His body wobbled slightly. Fragile. Underfed. Weak from years of neglect and quiet isolation.
"That comes first," he muttered. "This body."