A Foolish Regressor's Only Choice
An infected world.
With a never-ending invasion.
Status screens, unique skills, gods and demons… even monsters capable of ending the world in a single breath.
"Hah… what kind of circus do we keep getting thrown into? I am still not sure whether humanity deserves this or if the universe is just bored.."
By the time he reached his twelfth life, Iskael had already watched the world end more times than he could count on two hands.
He had failed as a hero, as a survivor, and as a lover, thrown back again and again using the tool he desperately monopolized.
he stood alone at the cliff’s edge, but he looked nothing like the terrified survivors scattered far behind him.
He looked over the Zenith Chasm in silence. Below him, the abyss seethed with monsters in the millions.
An evil smile permeated his face, a face no normal soul could ever be able to make staring endlessly at an abyss.
It was the kind of smile that would have made his classmates step back on instinct, a smile that did not match any sane person who still claimed to fight for humanity.
Wind pressed against his clothes, dragging the torn fabric slightly over his frame.
And beneath it, black linen tattoos shimmered like living veins of ink.
The unearthly symbols crawled and shifted across his torso, disappearing into the hidden folds creased into his figure.
He stood above the ever hollowing Zenith Chasm, as the sole vanguard for the beginning of the raid.
Having fearful last minute thoughts would be normal, for anyone staring at such an abomination of numbers.
Yet you see only one mantra stayed firm to this young man, Iskael's heart.
A coping mantra more dear than anything.
“Whether you step back, or decide to step forward.
to understand is to move, to step through and feel your hurt again, ultimately until the loop bends to you.
Then time will also be nothing but your lesson,
and your tool to carve the little life you were denied from having.”
This time he chose to step forward.
Air rushed past him as he let himself fall, his body flipping weightlessly through the tranquil yet furious winds, and as he fell those black tattoos began glowing brighter with each rotation in preparation for something.
Then, as monsters roared and the world shook beneath him, he whispered:
“It is such a melodramatic thing to say.."
But you see, my little karma farms...”
His feral grin widened.
“I’m a regressor.”
**BOOOM**
