Far beyond all known continents and oceans, a range of mountains rose, ancient and colossal, seeming to pierce the heavens themselves. Atop their peaks, an enormous dragon seemed to be resting, a majestic and awe aspiring being.
But this ancient dragon was not sleeping, far from it. It was instead experiencing a vision.
A vision of a world yet to come unfolded before him, a maelstrom of chaos spiraling outward in branching paths, each one as destructive as the other. The ancient dragon saw the sky torn asunder, lands consumed by endless war and unending conflict. Spells capable of unmaking the world casted, shattering the natural order, and entire races erased from existence. The seas boiled and ran red with the blood of the world. Even the Great World Tree was torn from its roots and cast down and at the end of it all amid the ruin, the ash, the screams of the fallen It saw itself defeated.
The ancient dragon had witnessed a many visions and overcome countless catastrophes throughout its long existence but never one felt as inevitable, as absolute, as this one.
Then the visions began to narrow.
The endless maelstrom of chaos bent toward a single point, a convergence. All of it converged, and the culmination of all the horrors caused seemed to originate from a single catalyst.
Caused by one man.
He bore no malice. He did not conquer for greed. He sought no power, no strength, no dominion over the world.
Yet this man held power beyond imagination.
And in the vision, he was weeping. His hands covering his face as tears streamed endlessly between his fingers, falling without restraint. He wept as though something inside him had been ripped away.
In the next vision looked to be reaching forward, desperately trying to grab ahold of something that was no longer there, and something that could never be attained.
The dragon pushed deeper into the vision, forcing its sight, past possibility and into inevitability, straining himself to comprehend the source or face of who would cause such ruin.
A title appeared before him:
"The Weeping Monarch."
Then the vision immediately shattered.
The dragon's massive golden eyes opened, wide with dread. Its voice was low, heavy, and filled with fear and uncertainty:
"What… comes for this world?"
But it was not only the ancient dragon who saw this vision...
Deep within the most sacred of forests, where elves resided, stood the Great World Tree, the most sacred existence that the elves worshiped.
Its roots stretched across all continents. Its branches brushed the edge of the sky.
But suddenly, the majestic, and reverend tree trembled uncontrollably, as though seized by a fear it could not withstand.
In the temple beneath its trunk:
"High Priestess… is the World Tree alright?"
The High Priestess stood frozen, her hands pressed against the ancient bark. As her whole body suddenly started shaking uncontrollably.
"No…" she whispered.
She too had seen it.
The same visions, and the same silhouette of the man as the ancient dragon saw.
"The Weeping Monarch…" she muttered, dread creeping all over her body.
"Who are you…?"
In the Holy See:
Saintess!" a holy knight shouted, rushing forward to help her to her feet.
The Saintess staggered, blood streaming from her eyes. As she violently coughed blood from her mouth some of it dripping all over her white robes.
The divine protection of the saintess had shattered the moment the vision forced its way into her mind.
"D—Des…" Her throat gave out. As blood filled her mouth as she tried speaking. "Des… tr—uction…" she gasped, as she forced the words out, it felt like her lungs itself were being torn apart.
"R—ru…" Her body convulsed violently. "Ru…in… it… c-comes… all…" Each syllable and word tore her throat, as blood continued to pour profusely out of her mouth.
Her fingers clawing at the floor as she struggled to speak.
"Th—e…" She gasped, as blood kept spilling down her chin. "W—Wee…" Her voice cracked into nothing.
With the last of her strength, she forced the words out, choking on the blood that filled her mouth.
"—ping… Mon—arch!"
…
Far from mountains and cities, in a small rural village untouched by the world.
A woman screamed as she was giving birth.
"Hold on a little longer dear!" her husband cried out, gripping her hand tightly.
From the man's point of view, he could see the child's feet poking out.
Until suddenly it seemed as though the baby used his strength to push himself out.
The man immediately scooped up the baby in his hands, cradling him.
The baby's golden eyes opened the instant he emerged.
The baby's eyes did not look like those of a newborn… they were different somehow.
Huh… What the hell? His thoughts were clear, and coherent, he remembered he was no child.
The child was a regressor, a man who had lived, fought, and died in a ruined future.
Impossible... Who did it? he wondered. Someone must have sent him back.
If I've regressed… then that means…
His mind immediately snapped to a single name, as he thought of him hatred surged through him.
The Weeping Monarch.
Weeper, he thought bitterly.
In his previous life, he had seen the end, the ruin, the destruction caused by that one singular man.
I don't know who sent me back, he thought, staring at the wooden ceiling above.
But I swear… I will eliminate you before you plunge this world into chaos.
Outside the village, the wind suddenly stilled.
—
In the central plaza, I could make out a crowd forming around the carriage bearing a noble crest that wheeled closer toward what I assumed was my keep, the carriage was guarded by mounted horsemen. There seemed to be some kind of noble inside or at least someone important enough to warrant that kind of attention. My pulse quickened. Right… I realized this wasn't my body, but somebody else's, and immediately began thinking of everything.
If I was a count, then this wasn't just any city. It was mine. My seat of power. And if I was in the body of someone who owned this city.
That meant I wasn't just a spectator.
These thoughts grounded me, this wasn't a dream at least I didn't think it was.
I was no longer my hospital bed, this was my world now.
I wiped my tears with the back of my hand, forcing myself to steady my breathing.
While this world was beautiful, I could not be fooled. Beneath that beauty, the other side of the coin always remained hidden quietly.
Seeing the structures of the city, it was obvious I was living in a medieval age. I wasn't a fool.
If I wanted to keep living like this, I had to survive. I have read enough historical books to understand the ruthlessness of noble feuds, the betrayals of those who sought more than their station, and the dangers posed by ambitious lords and men.
I needed to understand this world quickly and protect my new life.
The carriage came to a stop, and the guards leapt from their horses. My heart raced as I watched them approach. The men rode forward, dismounting one by one, and one of them stepped up to open the carriage door.
As the carriage door opened a man emerged out of it.
A tall man with black hair, with the look of a hardened warrior about him. He wore luxurious robes and a cloak that stayed perfectly straight, even in the wind. He didn't glance at the crowd of armored men surrounding him, his eyes were fixed solely on the keep.
"Welcome Baron Dane. The Count is currently eating his breakfast. Please follow us as he finishes." A knight said, his armor a mix of blue, clearly he was a high ranked knight.
"Please tell the count it's urgent." he said, emphasizing the word urgent.
"Time is of the essence."
I froze. Who could that be and what could they want?
What do they want? My land? My title? My riches if I had any at all?
I forced myself to breathe, to calm down and think.
Survival first, and to never show weakness.
I wiped the sweat from my palms on my robe. "Right. I'll meet them," I muttered to myself. I had no idea what I was walking into, but one thing was clear: I had to show the presence of a lord.
I straightened my back. Closed the window and opened my door.
As I opened it, four armored men stood watch at my door. The sight nearly made me stumble back, but I quickly regained my composure.
"Good morning my lord." They all said, as I exited out.
"You four—" but as I was about to speak I was interrupted.
The maid that I first saw when I awoke, was rushing towards me, carrying a wheel of food trays atop it.
"My lord! Baron Dane is downstairs and wishes to see you urgently."
"You… you dare interrupt me?" I said, hands clasped behind my back.
"Yo—" I said, about to order the guard, when she slapped her own face.
"Forgive this maid for rudely interrupting you, Count!" she said, bowing as a red mark appeared on her left cheek.
I eyed her, then the food she had brought.
Did I go too far? I thought. It wasn't like she meant to interrupt me, and she had brought me food. A faint tingle of shame coursed through me as I stared at the dishes before me.
The food looked incredible, far better looking than any hospital meals I'd ever seen. Back then, the only way I could eat was through a tube in my nose connected to my stomach. I had never really tasted anything.
Yet now, faced with these large, delicious-looking dishes, my stomach couldn't help but growl.
"Ahem. You are forgiven."
"Thank you, Count."
"Also, as for that I've changed my mind. I wish to eat at the table. Bring it to where I normally eat," I said.
"At once!"
At that moment, my thoughts were pure bliss. That breakfast was perhaps the best meal I had ever eaten not just because of the cooking, though it was excellent but because it was the first time I could eat real food. That made every bite ten times more delicious.
As I finished the last piece of meat on my plate, I realized just how messy I had been. I grabbed the napkin beside me and began wiping the stains from my mouth.
"You," I said, staring at the knight beside me. "What is my ranking among the nobles?"
The knight blinked, clearly shocked by the sudden question.
"The prestigious House of Magus is, of course, very highly ranked, my lord!" he replied, clearly misunderstanding the depth of my question.
"Right. And how did my house come to power?"
"With the mighty progenitor! Lord Palhan Von Magus becoming the kingdom's greatest magician, my lord! His might was great, and thus is yours my lord!"
"Good. You know your history," I said, nodding.
What the hell is this guy talking about? I thought. A family rising to power because their ancestor was a magician? Their progenitor must have been a master conman to fool the kingdom's royal family into granting him a county. Scoffing at such the absurdity of the story.
As I cleaned most of the stains on my mouth I placed the napkin back down and eyed the knights beside me.
"Alright. Lead the way to where Baron Dane is being held."
"At once, my lord!" they all shouted, pressing their fists to their armored chests. I stared at them, I could only assume that was some salute of some kind.
The four knights led the way to where Baron Dane waited. As I reached for the door, one of the knights opened it for me. I immediately reeled my hand back, I had forgotten for a moment, I reminded myself that I was of nobility and needed to act like one.
As I stared at the room, I saw multiple blue-armored knights surrounding Baron Dane, while the brownish-armored men who I could only assume were his own retainers stood around him closely.
As I entered the room, Baron Dane and his knights, and everyone else standing in the room, immediately all knelt down when they saw my presence.
"Baron Dane… tell me, what is so urgent that you needed, urgently?"
"Greetings, Count! I apologize for disturbing you on such short notice, but I believe this information is urgent and required your immediate attention," Baron Dane said respectfully, his eyes flicking to one of the brown-armored men standing beside him.
The brownish armored men beside him, immediately understood and reached to grab something inside his armor.
My knights beside me, along with all the blue-armored men in the room, reacted instantly when the man reached for something. Their eyes glaring at the man, and their hands firmly rested on the hilts of their weapons.
The blue-armored men behind Baron Dane shifted closer to the brown-armored men, their hands resting on the hilts of their weapons.
"Sirs, please, calm yourselves…" the man said, raising one hand high while taking out a scroll with the other. He remained kneeling before me, extending the parchment upward, offering it towards me.
The knight at my side stepped forward at once, his hand fixed firmly on the hilt of his sword as he took the scroll. He returned to me without a word.
He was about to open the scroll and read it aloud until—