Luther's soul floated through the void, an endless expanse of darkness and light. Time and space seemed to lose all meaning in this place, a void space where past, present, and future converged. The experience was disorienting, his consciousness stretched thin as he drifted. The forbidden arts had drained much of his life force, and now, without a physical form, he felt weaker with each passing moment.
In this state, Luther's memories surfaced, vivid and painful. He remembered his father's death and the smiles of his siblings as they perished in war while defending him and his mother. These were the events that formed him, hardened him into a weapon of vengeance. Yet now, in this vast emptiness, they seemed like distant echoes, hollow and meaningless.
As he drifted, Luther felt an ancient presence, an entity far older and more powerful than anything he had ever encountered. It reached out to him, a soothing warmth amidst the cold void. "Who are you?" he tried to ask, but no words formed. The presence did not speak, but Luther felt a message resonate within him—a message of opportunity, of a chance to change his fate.
Suddenly, the darkness around him shifted, twisting and warping as if responding to his thoughts. The sensation was overwhelming, as if his soul was being pulled apart and reassembled. Luther felt a surge of pain, sharper than any wound he'd ever received. It felt as if he was being torn from the fabric of time and space itself. His soul wailed quietly, the torment threatening to consume him completely. Yet amidst the pain, there was a strange clarity—a realization that this was his only chance for redemption.
Just as the pain became unbearable, it stopped. The void around him shimmered, then burst into a kaleidoscope of colors. Luther felt himself being drawn towards a point of light, brighter and more intense than anything he had ever seen. As he moved closer, the light enveloped him, and he felt his consciousness being compressed, reshaped, and finally, anchored.
When Luther opened his eyes, he found himself in a familiar place—a grand hall adorned with banners and candles. The sound of laughter and music filled the air. He looked down and gasped. His hands were small, his body youthful and unscarred. He wore fine clothes, a far cry from the battle-worn armor he had been accustomed to. The realization hit him like a tidal wave: he was at his childhood home, a day before coming of -age his 12 birthday.
For a moment, Luther was paralyzed by shock. He reached out and touched his face, feeling the smooth skin of his younger self. It was real—he was truly back in his own past. He looked around the room, recognizing the familiar faces of friends and family, all celebrating his birthday. His brothers, still alive and full of life, laughed and joked nearby. His father, a towering figure of strength and wisdom, stood proudly, a rare smile on his face. And there, amidst the revelry, was his mother, her eyes filled with warmth and love as she watched over him.
Luther's heart ached with a mix of joy and sorrow. The pain of losing them all was still fresh in his mind, yet here they were, alive and well. He felt tears well up in his eyes, overwhelmed by the emotions coursing through him. He knew this was a second chance—a miraculous opportunity to change the course of his life and the fate of his family.
But the journey through time and space had not left him unscathed. He felt a profound exhaustion, his soul still weak from the ordeal. The forbidden arts had taken much from him, and the process of being pulled through the void had drained him further. His body, though young, felt the strain, and he swayed on his feet.
"Are you alright, Luther?" His father's voice brought him back to the present. The man looked at him with concern, noticing his son's sudden pallor.
Luther forced a smile, nodding. "I'm fine, just... overwhelmed," he managed to say, his voice trembling with suppressed emotion.
His mother approached, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. "You've had a long day. Perhaps some rest will do you good," she suggested, her eyes full of understanding.
Luther nodded again, grateful for the excuse to retreat. As he made his way to his room, his mind raced. He needed to understand what had happened and how much time he had. The future he remembered was bleak and filled with loss. This was his chance to prevent it, to protect his family and maybe even himself from the horrors that awaited them.
Once alone in his room,Luthure try to suppress the weakness he felt from the void travel ,
"It much harder then I thought" he cursed try to focus on his weak soul that is about to collapse at any given moment with slight distraction.after some struggle he somehow manage to stable his soul.
Even though he used his family forbidden arts in desperate to kill his enemy and miserable failed at the end ,still because of this he got a second change to change all of it.
Luther closed his eyes, exhaustion finally overtaking him. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, he slept peacefully, filled with a renewed sense of purpose and hope. He had been given a second chance, and he would not squander it. The future was a blank canvas, and he was determined to paint it with his own colors, no matter the cost.