The battlefield was pure chaos.
Blood and corpses were scattered everywhere, smoke choked the air, and the cries of the dying mingled with the roar of flames.
Life and death were intertwined in a horrifying scene.
At the center stood Lucas, his white hair plastered to his head with ash and blood, his blue eyes reflecting only the suffering he had witnessed and endured.
In his trembling hands was the shattered sword that had pierced the heart of the Demon King.
"It's… finally over,"
he muttered, his voice hoarse, yet his heart felt unbearably empty.
Suddenly, memories of Elena, his childhood friend, flashed before him.
She had been taken from him ten years ago—killed by the Demon King's own hand.
He had seen her fall, her amber eyes wide with fear, her hand slipping from his grasp.
That day had changed everything, shaping the path of vengeance he would follow for the rest of his life.
---
Now, ten years later, after countless battles and seas of blood, he stood before his goal: the Demon King.
Finally, he had slain the monster, and the battlefield began to quiet, the darkness lifting.
But his victory was short-lived.
The members of his so-called Hero's Party, who had fought alongside him for years, betrayed him.
Just as the glory of victory landed on his shoulders, they struck, killing him to claim the fame for themselves.
Lucas's blue eyes widened in disbelief.
How could those who had shared his struggles betray him like this?
Every scream, every drop of blood, every sacrifice… wasted.
"Elena… I'm sorry,"
he whispered before closing his eyes and being swallowed by darkness.
---
Then, he opened his eyes to a sound far removed from the battlefield—birds chirping, a gentle breeze carrying the scent of baked bread in the village.
The place was familiar, yet peaceful, almost unreal.
He lay on a soft bed, covered with a thin blanket.
His body was small and unscarred, free from all pain and injuries.
Slowly, he lifted his head, staring at his own reflection: a child.
"What…?"
He ran to the mirror and froze.
The face staring back was his own, yet just seven years old… twenty years before the great war.
A shock washed over him, his heart pounding, tears threatening to fall.
Then came a familiar voice from outside, small yet filled with innocence:
"Lucas! Breakfast is ready!"
He ran toward the voice, heart racing with disbelief, joy, and sorrow all at once.
And there she was—Elena—young, innocent, her amber eyes shining like morning sunlight, golden hair tied in simple braids.
She laughed, carrying a basket of flowers, her steps light and carefree.
Lucas stopped dead, words stuck in his throat.
She's alive… Elena is alive…
Tears streamed down his cheeks, yet he forced himself to stay composed.
Elena smiled at him innocently:
"You're crying… are you okay?"
He wiped his face and gave her a trembling smile.
"Y-yes… I just… remembered something."
At that moment, Lucas made a silent vow in his heart:
This time… I will protect you, no matter what.
I will never let any force or fate take you from me again.
And so, as the sunlight touched his face, the world began to move anew, unaware that the hero who had died had returned to life, carrying with him the knowledge of the
future and the deep wound of loss.
follow