It had been some time since I awoke in this body — or rather, in the body I once called mine.
How or why it happened still escapes me. The moment of return — if such a thing can be defined — is nothing but a smear in my memory. Like reaching for smoke. Like chasing echoes in a void.
I remember nothing beyond the moment of supremacy. Only flickers remain — weightless, senseless, detached.
Having those memories at all is a luxury.
And yet now… everything is strangely clear. Not the past — no, much of that is still fragmented — but the present. My goal is sharp. And I refuse to waste the chance I've been given by returning.
My purpose is simple: survive, grow stronger, and protect those who still matter.
Maybe even change a few things… if I'm allowed to.
Prevent certain tragedies. The incident at the Crimson Spire. Nephis's sacrifice. Cassie being forced to choose between her friends.
But even then… I'm not sure what the "right" outcome looks like.
Because here's the thing:
I want to shield them. But I also know they need to grow — on their own terms.
Through their own decisions. Through pain. Through failure.
So I buried those thoughts. Pushed them to the back of my mind like fading shadows.
The present is what matters. The now.
And what I need — truly need — is strength.
Not comfort. Not hope.
Strength that burns through doubt. Strength that doesn't flinch.
Right now, I'm shackled to a scene I know all too well: my first nightmare.
Again.
The Mountain Larvas fell like chaff before the blade. The slave caravan bled into the dust.
Familiar faces appeared — not all of them welcome.
This time, Auro of the Nine died by my hand. The Mountain King followed.
Or… perhaps that isn't entirely true.
The Shadow God devoured them.
I merely opened the door
And then, the evaluation of my nightmare began: