Darkness.
Complete, utter darkness.
A young man floated, suspended in an endless void. Whether he was anchored in place or drifting through some far-off realm, he couldn't tell. Direction didn't exist here—neither did time.
There was nothing. No sound, no smell, no taste. No sense of touch either. A pool of absolute nothingness surrounded him, swallowing him whole.
Oddly enough, it felt almost peaceful—almost. That serenity was quickly undercut by the sheer terror of it all. It was as if he was teetering on the edge of existence. It was as if the universe was hesitating, unsure whether to keep him or let him go.
Then, slow fragments of memory began to return.
Humanity's last stand.
He remembered standing amongst the last of the human race as they faced the invasion from the lost continent. The horns protruding from their heads. The wicked smiles on their faces. The lifeless bodies of those closest to him. He remembered it all.
Next came nothingness.
Fear crept in like a tide. He tried to move—but he had no limbs. Tried to scream—but he had no vocal chords. His heart should've been racing, thundering in his chest. But he had no heart.
Panic overtook him like a wave crashing over a fragile stone. He fought it, clawed at it with the tattered remains of his will, trying desperately to stay sane.
But it was no use.
Insanity bloomed—it spread like ink in the water, covering every corner of his mind. He felt it—not as hallucinations or voices, but as gnawing chaos beneath the surface. His mind remained painfully clear, but that clarity only made it worse.
Time passed. Or at least, he thought it did. In that timeless nothingness, it could've been seconds or centuries.
Then, a sudden shift. Something in his vision began to change. The darkness bent inward, folding into itself, condensing into a deeper shade, as if trying to devour itself.
Then—a sudden flash of light blinded his vision.
The oppressive black vanished, replaced by shimmering, iridescent rays. The light danced and pulsed like it had a mind of its own. It shifted in patterns, alive and breathing. He tried to look away, to turn from it—but he couldn't move. All he could do was stare.
"Is this what death is like?" he wondered.
The light inched closer—slow at first, then faster. Another flash exploded across his vision and suddenly, things changed again.
This time, it wasn't darkness. It wasn't light either. It was... a sound. Distant at first, then growing clearer.
[ Your Regression is Complete. ]
Confusion flickered in his mind, and one by one, his senses returned.
"Reg… regression?" he muttered.
A shiver crawled up his spine. He caught the faint chirping of birds outside the window, followed by the creak of timber settling under the wind. Then warmth—sunlight spilled across his face, prying his eyes open.
Lying on a narrow wooden bed was a young man with unkempt black hair. His eyes snapped open, revealing crimson red irises.
He turned his head and scanned the room. Bare wooden walls, a chipped table with a single clay cup, and a small window letting in thin rays of light. The smell of old pine and dust clung to the air. It was small, almost suffocating, but painfully familiar.
His childhood bedroom.
"What…? What the hell is going on?!"
It had been five years since he'd last been here—the day of the Awakening Ceremony.
"Is this a dream…? A memory…?"
Questions piled up in his mind. He pinched his arm, and the sharp jolt of pain made him grimace.
"H-how…?" he whispered.
As if in response, a sudden knock rattled the wooden door of the bedroom.
Before he could even move, the door creaked open. Standing in the frame was a young girl with long black hair and the same crimson eyes as his own.
"You're gonna be late for your Ceremony!" she snapped, a deep frown tugging at her face.
"Eve…" he breathed.
His eyes widened.
His sister is alive.
The same sister who had died nearly a year ago.
A wave of disbelief crashed into him, followed by a cold rush of clarity.
This wasn't a dream. This wasn't some illusion before death. He was alive… but not in the present. He returned five years in the past.
Back before everything fell apart.
Before the invasion.
And before everyone he cared about had died.
All the regret. All the loss. He could change it all.
His stunned expression slowly shifted into a faint smile, the weight of it all settling in his chest like a quiet thunder.
Eve tilted her head, confusion clear on her face. "What are you zoning out for? Get ready!" she huffed, turning on her heel.
The door slammed shut behind her with a loud thud, shaking the old wooden frame. A faded cloth wall-hanging fluttered from the impact, half-dropping to the floor.
He stared at it for a moment, then let out a breath he hadn't realised he was holding.
He had been given another chance.