Karelia Empire · Border city-state · Dawn Tower residence
"Hah-!!"
Ragged gasps pierced the room's stagnant silence. Nuoyaji jolted upright on the wooden bed covered in coarse woolen cloth, his forehead covered in cold sweat that clung stickily to his youthful fringe. His chest heaved as though he had just struggled free of a boundless, dark abyss.
His heart slammed wildly against his ribs, its pounding especially clear in the quiet room. This was no ordinary palpitation after waking from a nightmare, but fear and agony etched into his soul, as though those mountains of corpses, seas of blood, and cities burning in the flames of war had been before him only an instant ago.
He gulped for air and looked around in bewilderment.
He saw the familiar low wooden beams. A worn magical copper bell hung beneath the eaves, a basic magical implement issued by the city-state's magic apprentice workshop to detect faint flows of mana nearby. In the corner stood an oak bookshelf with peeling paint, piled with yellowed books on the fundamentals of magic, their covers bearing the emblem of the Karelia Empire's Tower Mage Corps, along with several tactical notebooks whose pages he had thumbed until their edges curled.
A warm brass steam pipe was set into the wall on his right, part of the city-state's central heating system. Fine beads of condensation gathered on it and dripped audibly-this was his apprentice residence in the Dawn City-State on the empire's border when he was seventeen, in those youthful days before he had stepped onto a battlefield, witnessed the empire's collapse, or lost everything.
Nuoyaji slowly raised his hands and stared blankly at them.
They were slender hands, with the distinct knuckles of youth. His palms bore only the thin calluses worn by long hours of holding a pen to copy magical incantations. There were no hideous scars, no thick calluses left by gripping war spears until they shattered, and no dark red marks stained with the blood of comrades and enemies. Clean, young, and full of vitality untouched by war.
An absurd yet utterly real thought exploded through his mind like thunder.
Ignoring the thin cotton nightshirt he still wore, he stepped barefoot onto the cool wooden floor. Without even stopping to put on shoes, he stumbled toward the beveled silver mirror at the back of the room. It was the finest object available to a city-state apprentice, its surface enchanted to reflect every strand of hair and every inch of skin with perfect clarity.
The boy in the mirror had a youthful face, sharp features, and a jawline that had yet to fully develop. His skin was pale from years of studying in the magic workshop, and his eyes held a stubbornness and fire that time had not yet worn away. It was his seventeen-year-old self.
Nuoyaji reached out with a trembling hand and gently touched the mirror. His fingertips met the cold silver frame, then slowly moved down to touch his own cheek.
Warm to the touch, real skin, youthful contours...
Had he... regressed?
It was not an illusion, not a dying dream. He had truly returned to his youth, to a time before any of the tragedies had happened or any of the betrayals had unfolded, when the empire still stood beneath the Magic Nexus Mountains and there was still time to set everything right.
Those lingering voices surged through his mind again like a tide, so real that his entire body tingled. Every sentence carried heartrending despair and final requests. These were no illusory dreams, but the last words of all those closest to him and most trusted by him, spoken in the final moments of his previous life.
"Hello, Nuoyaji..." That was his mentor's gentle voice when he first entered the magic academy, filled with expectations for a gifted apprentice.
"Nuoyaji, go prove it to them! You're right! This is justice!" Those were his comrades, who had fought at his side, roaring for him to hold fast to his convictions as rebel troops and monsters attacked them from both sides.
"Go defeat them... those scheming, self-serving scum. They betrayed everyone!" That was a senior member of the Tower Mage Corps, roaring with hatred as the conservative nobles framed him.
"Nuoyaji... the empire is going to fall. I'm sorry. We failed." That was the emperor's feeble sigh as the golden throne crumbled beneath the claws of a demon god's minions.
"Nuoyaji... live on..." That was the last faint wish of the person he cherished most, before an abyssal aberration devoured them.
Countless voices intertwined, echoing over and over through his consciousness until his eyes burned and his nose stung.
It wasn't a dream.
That continent swallowed by storms and monsters, those legendary powerhouses who had died in battle, those civilians engulfed by torrents of war machines, those city-states sacrificed to conceal the secret of the seal, those lofty nobles and conservatives who had betrayed the empire and its people for power... all of it had truly happened.
And he had returned, carrying all the memories, pain, hatred, and obsessions of his previous life.
Nuoyaji clenched his fists, his nails digging deep into his palms. The sharp pain cleared his head further, and the bewilderment in his eyes was instantly replaced by overwhelming excitement and resolve.
There was still hope!
There was still time for everything!
He could still stop the infighting between the conservatives and reformists, reinforce the demon god's seal, expose those nobles' plots, protect the empire and everyone he cared about, and stop this world from reaching its ultimate destruction!
Intense elation and a sense of purpose filled his chest. He all but stumbled toward the room's only window, a wooden one fitted with colored glass. Opening it would reveal the whole of the Dawn City-State, the outline of the distant Magic Nexus Mountains, and the vast plains of the Karelia Empire.
He wanted to see that peaceful scene with his own eyes, breathe air untainted by war and magical energy, and confirm that he had truly returned to before everything began.
His hand caught the cold wooden window latch, and he gave it a sharp pull.
"Creak-"
The window swung fully open, and howling wind rushed inside, making his nightshirt snap. Icy raindrops struck his face hard, their bone-piercing chill instantly extinguishing much of his elation.
The smile froze on Nuoyaji's face. He stood rooted to the spot, staring blankly at the world outside as utter confusion and shock replaced the excitement in his eyes.
Wait... what was going on?
The world outside the window no longer resembled what he remembered from when he was seventeen.
The Dawn City-State's stone-paved streets were deserted. Every steam factory chimney that should have been trailing faint white smoke had gone out. Magical streetlights swayed incessantly on either side of the streets, and the city-state's distant stone walls trembled slightly in the gale. Even the house beneath his feet was shaking faintly, as though something enormous was moving far away, sending continuous low-frequency tremors through the ground.
The sky was no longer clear blue, but blanketed in extraordinarily thick black clouds. Far away on the eastern horizon, a pitch-black dot was expanding furiously at a speed visible to the naked eye, like ink dropped into clear water, rapidly swallowing the entire sky. Lightning churned and storms raged around its edges. It was the source of this raging wind and torrential rain.
More terrifying still, between the horizon and the black clouds, several enormous gray-black tornadoes stood over the plains like giant serpents linking heaven and earth. They moved slowly and violently, uprooting trees and utterly destroying fields in their path. Even the small villages in the distance were torn apart in an instant.
The wind howled, rain poured down, and the sky and earth changed color, as though the end of the world were approaching.
Nuoyaji stood dumbly at the window, letting the freezing rain drench his entire body, his mind utterly blank.
He stared fixedly at the expanding black clouds in the distance, feeling the constant tremors beneath his feet. Decades of memories from his previous life raced through his mind, every point in time, every disaster, and every war perfectly clear.
Had this... happened in his previous life?
In the year he turned seventeen, the Karelia Empire's border had seen only minor clashes with the Marquisate of Bolundeng, routine examinations at the magic academy, and normal mining of mana veins. There had never been such a terrifying natural disaster, never a superstorm that covered the horizon, never so many tornadoes, and certainly no upheaval of the earth that made the entire city-state tremble.
This devastating natural disaster simply did not exist in his memories of his previous life.
What... had happened?
Could his regression have changed more than his own fate? Had even this world's course already deviated completely from its original path?
An unease unlike anything he had ever felt quietly crept into the boy's heart, replacing the joy of his regression and making his clenched fists tremble once more.
Meanwhile, far away on the coast of the Endless Ocean, two world-destroying beasts still faced each other across the scorched, shattered land.
King Ghidorah's three golden heads were slightly lowered. His central head narrowed its sharp golden slit pupils, looking down at Apekus, who lay on the ground, charred all over, his tentacles drooping. Faint electricity shimmered over King Ghidorah's golden scales. The storm above his heads slowly subsided, yet still covered an area spanning thousands of kilometers. The rift in the stratosphere had not fully healed, and raindrops kept striking his scales with crisp sounds.
What Apekus had just said had stirred some curiosity in him, adding a trace of interest to his previously indifferent expression.
He shifted the enormous claw pressing down on Apekus's torso, and his telepathic thoughts echoed through the beast's consciousness with a hint of mockery.
Was it that serious?
Apekus's massive body shuddered slightly. His scarlet eyes still held traces of the panic he had felt upon detecting the world node. Only King Ghidorah's question snapped him out of it. He hurriedly shook his enormous sea-dragon head, countless wet tentacles scraping across the ground and splashing up scorched mud and seawater, then hastily replied with respectful, timid thoughts.
It wasn't serious.
King Ghidorah's left head snorted. A flicker of displeasure crossed his golden eyes, and the electricity around his body flashed faintly, frightening Apekus into freezing on the spot.
Then why were you so nervous?
Apekus drew his head back, pressing his enormous body as close to the ground as possible, looking utterly terrified. His thoughts were filled with grievance and lingering fear, and even his voice trembled.
Sorry... after you had just beaten me up, I thought it was another overwhelming threat...
He truly had been frightened out of his wits. One moment, he had been enduring King Ghidorah's terrifying electric shocks; the next, he had sensed a world node appear. He had instinctively assumed that another extraterrestrial destroyer like King Ghidorah had arrived, which was why he had lost his composure so badly. Only now that he had calmed down did he realize it was merely a minor variable in the human world, hardly worth mentioning.
King Ghidorah's central head tilted slightly, clearly dissatisfied with this explanation. His golden gaze locked onto Apekus, demanding an answer.
This wasn't one?
No. Apekus hurriedly shook his head, terrified of angering the menace before him again. He hastily began explaining in detail, his thoughts conveying the information granted by the world's origin, clearly and accurately. He did not dare exaggerate or conceal the slightest thing.
It was only a minor node capable of influencing the human world. These were very common... such variables appeared every few eras, products of the world's will correcting itself. They would not threaten the planet itself or shake the world's foundations, only alter the course of human civilization.
He paused, then continued, telling King Ghidorah every secret of the human named Nuoyaji.
This human was a regressor. Carrying the memories and obsessions of his previous life, he had returned to his youth, wanting to change his fate, save his empire, and change the outcome of human civilization. To me, and to this planet, it was a matter as insignificant as dust, far less dangerous than the demon god's seal weakening and abyssal aberrations pouring out. Naturally, it did not count as serious.
King Ghidorah listened quietly. His three heads exchanged glances, and the indifference in his golden eyes was completely replaced by intense interest.
A regressor...
He came from Earth, so naturally he understood what the term meant. Countless novels, films, and television shows featured such plots: returning with the memories of a previous life, defying heaven to change one's fate, becoming the protagonist who saved the world, cutting through every obstacle, defeating powerful enemies, and protecting everything.
So this seemingly uneventful seventeenth era actually concealed a variable like this.
A protagonist?
King Ghidorah raised his three heads and looked toward the distant continent where the Karelia Empire lay. His enormous golden wings stirred slightly, raising a light breeze. A playful smile flickered in his eyes, and his thoughts, brimming with interest, sounded across the shattered coast like a quiet murmur to himself.
Interesting...