That morning, Arvant woke up in the residence of Duke Heisenberg his father. Sunlight crept through the window cracks, casting light on a face he didn't recognize. He blinked several times, trying to adjust to this new reality.
[System]: 10th regression successfully executed. Host has unlocked a hidden route. As usual, host will become a hero.
Arvant let out a sigh and sat on the edge of the bed. His hair was messy, his body slightly trembling.
"I already knew that," he muttered, rubbing his temples. "This is the tenth time I've gone through this."
[System]: I'm not finished. In this life, host will become a hero... with an ugly face.
Arvant's brow twitched. He quickly turned toward the mirror on the wall. His steps were slow yet heavy, filled with unease and foreboding.
When his reflection came into full view, Arvant froze. His body stiffened, eyes wide open.
"My face..." he whispered.
He touched the mirror's surface with trembling fingers. The signature silver-white hair of the Heisenberg family had turned into a dull brown. His once-clear and smooth skin was now blemished with acne. His bright blue eyes were dim, lifeless stripped of their glow.
"Where... did everything go?"
[System]: That's not all. If host manages to defeat the Demon King, your existence will vanish. The world will forget you.
Arvant closed his eyes. A long, shaky breath escaped his lips.
"...Alright," he whispered, his voice hoarse and heavy.
[System]: Are you not saddened? All your efforts will be forgotten.
Arvant gave a bitter, weary smile.
"Since the fourth life, I've realized... I was never meant to be remembered. I just want to see them the ones I care about smile again. I've lost them too many times. If the price is to be forgotten... then so be it."
[System]: Understood.
Suddenly, a sharp pain struck his head. Arvant screamed, clutching the side of his temple.
"Aghh...!"
[System]: Memory transfer complete.
Memories from his nine previous lives flooded in, overwhelming his mind. His body trembled, sweat soaking his face and neck. He looked at the mirror again and swallowed hard.
"With this face... discrimination will be my daily meal at home and at the academy," he muttered bitterly.
A soft knock on the door broke his thoughts.
"Happy 18th birthday, Lord Arvant," came the voice of a maid—Sandy from behind the door. Her tone was gentle but hesitant. "The Patriarch has summoned you to his study."
Arvant took a deep breath, wiping the sweat from his brow. He offered a faint smile, though his face still looked drained.
"Thank you, Sandy. I'll be there shortly."
He put on his robe and walked down the hallway. Scornful glances and whispered mockery followed his steps. Once, they praised him. Now, this 'ugly' face erased it all. His back remained straight, but sorrow lingered in his eyes.
He opened the door to his father's study.
"Arvant reporting, Father Heisenberg Starlight," he said, bowing politely.
Duke Heisenberg set down his pen, took a sip of warm tea, and looked at his son with a soft smile. His eyes were calm filled with affection.
"My son... are you ready to enter Yggdrasil Academy?"
"Yes, Father. I'll make you proud," Arvant replied with a subtle nod.
"There's no need to push yourself," the Duke said, gazing into his teacup. "What I want most is for you to learn in peace. You bear the name Starlight, and you... are my greatest blessing."
Arvant fell silent. His eyes glistened. In his mind, a memory from one regression resurfaced—when he had to pierce his sword into his father's chest to fulfill the system's mission.
I… trust you…
Those were his father's final words then, blood covering his body.
"I'm lucky... to have a father like you," Arvant replied softly, bowing his head deeply.
"Three months from now is the entrance exam at Alexandria. As the heir of this family, you will stand as a symbol of hope. Are you prepared?"
"Yes, Father. I accept the responsibility."
"Good. Begin your training now."
---
In the family's training grounds, Arvant picked up a wooden sword. He rotated his wrist and adjusted his breathing.
"I have to advance from Mid Swordsmanship I to Mid Swordsmanship II in order to unlock aura…"
He swung the sword repeatedly precise, sharp, and full of experience. His muscles tensed with each movement, sweat dripping from his temples.
From afar, a muscular man with messy hair and a loose robe watched while sipping coffee. Elric Arvant's uncle was one of the Four Guardians of Alexandria, known as the Jade of Alexandria.
"What's that ugly brat doing? He hasn't even reached High Swordsmanship I…" Elric muttered, raising an eyebrow.
But as he continued observing, his expression turned serious. He squinted.
"His movements... they're too refined for his level."
Elric approached. His footsteps were firm on the stone floor of the training ground.
"Heh, kid. Looks like you've got talent."
Arvant turned to him, sweat dripping from his brow, but still managed a tired smile.
"Uncle Elric?"
"You want me to train you?" Elric asked, raising one brow.
"No," Arvant replied flatly.
"What!?" Elric's eyes widened.
"I know if I train with you, I'll end up lifting rocks, cleaning stables, and doing all sorts of weird things," Arvant grumbled, rolling his eyes.
Elric scoffed and lightly smacked Arvant's head. "Tch, you didn't inherit your father's spirit at all."
"Ow, Uncle!" Arvant winced, rubbing his head with a pout.
Elric chuckled and walked off, murmuring, "That kid's swings... like someone who's trained a million times. I need to report this to my brother."
Arvant continued his physical training—light jogging, push-ups, and core-strengthening drills. His breathing was labored, his body trembling with fatigue.
"To absorb natural mana, I need to build solid muscles and physical endurance…" he panted.
Sandy returned, her expression composed.
"Sir, Duchess Ophelia is waiting for you in the flower garden."
Arvant slowly made his way to the back garden. The air was warm, filled with the scent of roses and jasmine. Among the colorful petals swaying in the breeze, a graceful woman sat on a stone bench.
Her long brown hair flowed gently, and her calm eyes gazed into a teacup that had already lost its warmth. She was Duchess Ophelia Starlight,Arvant's mother.
Arvant approached her, slightly nervous. He bowed respectfully.
"How are you, Mother?" he asked quietly.
Ophelia gave him a soft smile. "I'm well, dear. Sit with me."
Arvant sat beside her. He looked at the flowers before him, but his thoughts drifted to the past. In one regression, he had once poisoned his mother... using tea like this.
I've done disgusting things in the name of 'saving the world'.
His fingers clenched on his lap, his body slightly tense.
"You already know your role in the academy entrance exam, right?" Ophelia asked, her voice gentle but firm.
"Yes, Mother. I will appear as a symbol of the future hero."
"And you know about your engagement to Princess Maria?"
Arvant furrowed his brow, turning with a confused look. "No. What about it?"
Ophelia took a deep breath, her expression turning cold.
"This morning, the royal family sent an official letter. Maria... has decided to end the engagement."
Arvant froze. His heart pounded.
"Why?"
"According to Maria, your face... is no longer fit to stand beside the heir to the throne."
Silence. Then, Ophelia continued.
"But your father set one condition. The engagement will be considered void only if Maria can defeat you in a duel during the entrance exam."
Arvant inhaled deeply and gave a faint smile. There was pain behind it.
"I don't care about the engagement. But... I promise to win this duel for you, Mother."
Ophelia looked at her son eyes glistening, emotions no longer held back. She gripped Arvant's hand tightly.
"My son… don't think of this as the fate of a hero. From now on, think of it... as a man."
Arvant lowered his head. He clenched his fists, then looked at his mother with resolve.
"This time... I won't repeat the same mistakes."
He picked up the teacup and took a slow sip. The tea was a little bitter, but warm—unlike in that past life.
"Thank you for the tea, Mother. I'll be going now."
Ophelia only nodded. She watched Arvant's back as he walked away—steadier than before. There was hope in her eyes.
---
> To be continued…