The blood -orange sun bled into the horizon , casting long , skeletal shadows across the ravaged battlefield.The air hung thick with the coppery scent blood and acrid sting of smoke.ln the centre of devastation , Vicky Arkaan knelt , his body a canvas of bruises and stained with grime . The will to fight had abandoned him, leaving behind only the crushing weight of defeat.
His word had ended hours ago .
Standing overhead, a figure of cold triumph , was Vinci ,the vice k night commander of the Lin family. His polished armor gleamed, a cruel mockery of the mud and death surrounding them .His voice, when it came ,was a blade
The blood-orange sun bled into the horizon, casting long, skeletal shadows across the ravaged battlefield. The air hung thick with the coppery scent of blood and the acrid sting of smoke. In the center of the devastation, Vicky Arkaan knelt, his body a canvas of bruises and cuts, his noble attire torn and stained with grime. The will to fight had abandoned him, leaving behind only the crushing weight of defeat.
His world had ended hours ago.
Standing over him, a figure of cold triumph, was Vinci, the Vice Knight Commander of the Lin Family. His polished armor gleamed, a cruel mockery of the mud and death surrounding them. His voice, when it came, was a blade of ice.
"Your struggle ends here. The great Arkaan lineage is extinct, erased from the annals of history. You are the last. The final remnant of a forgotten name."
Vicky forced his head up. Every movement was agony, but a final, stubborn ember of defiance still glowed in his eyes. He focused on the Lin insignia embossed on Vinci's chestplate.
"Your Lin Family... coveted the Duke's title this desperately?" Vicky's voice was a raw scrape, but it held steady. "There were other ways. Honorable ways. Yet you chose treachery. You chose to slaughter us in our sleep." His gaze hardened, piercing through Vinci's arrogance. "You know what my family did. You've heard the ballads, even if you now stuff your ears with lies. The Arkaan Family gave its very soul for this Empire! And this... this is our reward?"
A slow, venomous smile spread across Vinci's face. "You still don't understand, you fool. We never wanted your hollow title or your cursed lands."
A frown of confusion creased Vicky's brow. "Then what?"
"Your legacy," Vinci hissed, leaning closer, his voice dropping to a malicious whisper. "The secret combat techniques. The ancient knowledge hidden in your archives. The 'Arkaan's Legacy.' That is the true treasure. And as for the rest..." He straightened up, his grin widening into a vicious slash. "We have an arrangement with the Naira Empire. They needed a traitor to blame for their recent failures, and who better than a fallen house, accused of conspiring with demons? They sanctioned your extermination. You were merely a pawn in a game far larger than yourself."
Vicky's blood turned to ice. It was all a grotesque lie. A fabricated pretext for their greed, sanctioned by the very empire his ancestors had died to protect.
"Now," Vinci said, his patience evidently exhausted. He drew his sword, the steel singing a deadly note in the twilight. "Your purpose is served." He raised the blade high for the final, executioner's strike.
Helpless, Vicky could only squeeze his eyes shut, bracing for the cold kiss of steel.
But it never came.
A blinding, furious light erupted from the simple bronze locket around Vicky's neck—a family heirloom he had never given a second thought. The world seemed to grind to a halt. The wind died. Sound faded. Vinci was frozen mid-swing, his face a mask of stunned confusion.
A voice, deep and resonant, ancient and powerful, echoed not in the air, but within the very core of Vicky's being.
"Child of my blood... do you wish to reshape your fate?"
Vicky's eyes snapped open, wide with shock and terror. He was trembling. "Who... who are you?"
"I am the foundation upon which your house was built. I am the stone that the builder refused. I am Reman, the Founder."
Vicky's breath hitched. The Founder? The mythic hero from three centuries past? The orphan who rose to become a Duke?
"I was born with nothing, just as you have nothing now," the voice continued, its tone shifting to one of grim understanding. "I carved my destiny with these hands. I ask you again: Do you wish to seize yours?"
"How?" Vicky begged, his voice a mixture of desperation and burgeoning hope.
"I can fracture the river of time. I can send your consciousness back ten winters into your younger vessel. You can relive the last decade. You can prevent this carnage. You can save our family."
Ten years. The thought was dizzying. A second chance. Time to train, to uncover the plots, to protect his loved ones. To become strong enough to prevent this very moment.
"Yes!" The word tore from Vicky's throat, fueled by a torrent of grief and fury. "I will change everything!"
"Then close your eyes," commanded Reman's voice. "And embrace the storm."
As Vicky obeyed, a colossal force yanked at his soul. The frozen world shattered into a vortex of screaming light and color, pulling him backward through a tunnel of memory and time.
---
His head throbbed with a dull, familiar ache. Vicky groaned, disoriented. The hard, blood-soaked ground was gone. He was lying on soft, sun-warmed grass. His body ached, not from mortal wounds, but from the simple, clumsy soreness of a youth's fall.
'Why does my body hurt? And why am I in the training fields?' he thought, his mind scrambling to catch up.
"Young Master! Young Master Vicky! There you are!"
A voice, heartbreakingly young and filled with concern, cut through his confusion. He looked up to see a teenage Louis, their family butler, sprinting towards him, his face etched with worry.
"Please, sir, you mustn't be so despondent!" Louis skidded to a halt, breathing heavily.
Vicky pushed himself up, staring at his own soft, unmarked hands—the hands of a fifteen-year-old. "Despondent?" he asked, genuinely perplexed. "Why shouldn't I be?"
Louis looked surprised, then pitying. "Why... because of the aptitude test, Young Master! The Duke... he said you have no talent for combat. That you cannot sense mana. But please, do not lose heart! There are other paths—"
The test. The memory crashed over him. This was the day. The day his world had first ended. The day he was declared a failure.
A slow, deliberate smile spread across Vicky's face, one that didn't reach his cold, determined eyes. It was a smile that belonged to a man who had seen the future, not a boy who had just failed a test.
He looked at Louis, seeing not just a butler, but a loyal friend he had watched die a decade from now.
'Louis,' he thought, the fire of vengeance igniting in his soul. 'You have no idea. This isn't an end. This is where the story truly begins.'
---