"Wake up Mika! Stop shaking it."
Two deep blue eyes shot open as the loud voice entered his ears.
Bright sunlight landed right on his eyes, but the panic overcame the irritation.
His chest heaved up and down as his breath came out in large gasps.
His eyes shot to the sides to figure out where he was, only to find patched walls around him.
He was in a camp tent…
"Nightmare?"
A calm voice came from the front, a contrast to the previous one.
Still in panic, he shot up to see the source of the voice, his body ready to fight.
But his panic turned into shock as he saw the two men in front of him.
Sleek black hair, just like him. Red crimson eyes and a bright cheerful smile on his face.
Icarus Heliarke.
Unruly meadow green hair. Golden eyes that shone like the brightest amber and a neutral-bored expression on his face.
Modric Sylbane.
His eyes widened, his pupils trembling as recognition finally set in.
How could he not know them?
They were…
His squadmates. A part of his only family that he had fought with for his whole life.
The only thing was…
With shaking hands, he reached out to grab Modric's pale arm, his fingers closing around it.
A shiver travelled through his body at the touch.
'How were they alive?'
Was the only thought that ran through the 20 year old Squadron Commander, Mikhail Hendrix.
They were all supposed to be dead.
In fact..
His gaze wandered to his own hands, both pale as snow and without any blemishes.
Taking aside the bandages that covered the forearms and the ragged clothes, there was not a single injury.
'How is this possible?'
There was not a single injury on his whole body.
But how was this happening?
Mikhail could still vividly remember it as he forced himself to remember what he could last think.
In the middle of a tundra. Stranded with nowhere to go.
Lifeless bodies of his squadmates in front of him, covered in blood.
Mikhail himself, on the verge of death.
But then…
'Huh?'
His memory ran blank.
Mikhail could remember nothing else.
What happened after was a white slate in his mind now.
'Argh!'
He pushed even further, trying to remember what happened..
But nothing.
The only thing Mikhail knew for sure was that he had died right there.
Along with his whole family.
But..
Why could he not remember his death?
Flash! Snip!
Suddenly, a flash of a memory ran through his mind, causing him to collapse back in his bed rucksack.
"Hey, you good Mika?"
But Mikhail could not focus on Modric's voice right now.
His mind was focused on the flash that just ran through his mind.
It was a snippet of his memories before his death.
Long hair. Pale white skin. A beautiful smile on her face.
A woman.
By his side right before his death.
That was all Mikhail could remember for now.
No matter how much he focused, he couldn't remember her face or anything about her.
'Fuck.'
It was too much to digest for him right now.
He needed to sort it out first with a calm mind.
Taking a deep breath, he looked up at Modric.
"I'm fine. Just a bad dream."
Modric's eyes paused over his words for a second before nodding.
"Alright. We came here to inform you that the morning drills are going to start soon and we need your presence commander."
Mikhail nodded.
In this world, beyond the Empire's walls was nothing but outstretching wilderness.
In that wilderness, wormholes often opened up, connecting the Wormscape and the real world together.
Oftentimes, these holes also ended up leaking the monsters out from the Wormscape into the real world.
To prevent the world from flooding with these leaks, the Empire dispatched its squadrons into the wild.
Squadrons whose purpose was to patch up the holes and make sure to kill each monster.
Each Squadron was composed of 5 or 6 people at most, with their commander included.
These were all people that had been picked and forced together into a team as kids.
Already from the moment they entered the academy, those squadrons were designated their Squadron number.
The academy by the Empire trained them for 12 straight years before finally throwing them out in the wild to survive and fight.
And that's how it was for Mikhail.
Being the Squadron Commander of Squadron 21, Mikhail's whole family was his own responsibility.
As Modric and Icarus reached the tent's flaps, Mikhail called them out.
"Wait."
Both of them turned back.
"Hm?"
Without any change in expression, Mikhail asked.
"What's the date today?'
Icarus's eyes widened while Modric's eyebrows raised a little.
But that didn't bother Mikhail at all as he kept starting.
"I think he might have hurt his head somewhere while sle-"
"Shut up Icarus, he's just lightheaded after that dream."
Icarus turned silent at his words, scratching his words in apology.
"It's Tuesday. April 9th, 2093 today Mika." Modric turned back to Mika, his eyes fixated on him.
Mikhail's eyes momentarily widened but he composed himself and nodded.
"Yeah, I remember now."
Modric nodded.
"Alright, I'll be outside in a couple of minutes with everyone."
Nodding once more, the duo left the tent, leaving Mikhail alone.
Once they were outside, Mikhail quickly stood up, taking quick breaths.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck." He cursed.
His eyes darted around him, instinctively landing on the mirror to his right.
He stopped, his eyes widening.
The mirror wasn't that big, enough to fit in the tent that he had.
Being quite old, it had a few cracks on it.
Looking at his cracked image in the mirror, a chill ran down his spine as another curse flowed through Mikhail's mouth.
"Shit, how the hell?"
He might have not known how it happened but he definitely knew now what happened.
Mikhail had regressed after dying.
Right back to 9th April, 2093. Exactly 7 years before his death.
And that meant, right 7 years from now…
He and his squadron would die once again.
A drop of sweat beaded down his face upon the chilling realization.
'But how could this have happened?'
There was no reason for him to have been chosen to go back in time randomly.
And why only him? Why not his squadron?
What did he even-
Mikhail's eyes widened as something ticked in his mind.
Without wasting a moment, his hands went to the bandages wrapped on his neck, starting to loosen them up.
Within a minute, he was done, the bandages falling on the ground.
His eyes darted towards a part of his neck in the mirror, along with his fingers.
And just right above his collarbone, in the crook of his neck where the neck and the shoulder connected…
Was a tattoo.
A tattoo of an inverted rosemary cross.
As he looked at it, it suddenly shone in crimson light, burning against his neck.
Mikhail's shocked face twitched against the pain but his eyes didn't leave the mark.
After a moment, the light dimmed down, returning the tattoo back to its abyssal black color.
But Mikhail's shock had not disappeared.
"What the hell?" He exposed even more of his neck, looking at the mark with panicked eyes.
The mark…
It wasn't supposed to be like this. It wasn't supposed to be inverted…
It was supposed to be a straight rosemary cross.
The cross mark on Mikhail's neck was something people would die to get in this world.
In this world, including him, only 8 people had this mark, also known as a Rosaryth.
In this world, there were 7 Churches, one for each magic element.
Each church was ruled by one person. A person who had been blessed with the Rosaryth.
The Rosaryth was a tattoo, a symbol that granted the owner limitless potential in that respective element.
There was no limit to their growth in that element.
And those who possessed this mark were called Dominiques.
There was no age limit on who could get a Rosaryth.
It could be randomly blessed on any person chosen by the gods, whether young or old.
And the ones that were blessed with it were instantly granted the highest amount of luxury from the Empire.
The Rosaryth was a symbol that eliminated all sorts of discrimination towards you from the Empire as well.
Your looks and race didn't matter, as long as you had that mark, the Empire would instantly look after you.
Naturally, having one, Mikhail could just show this mark to the Empire and live his whole life in peace.
However…
As he had just said, including him, there were only 8 people in the world with the Rosaryth.
But there were only 7 Churches.
Yeah, there was no Church for Mikhail's element.
The element of Oaths, Otharis.
And even besides that, there were several other reasons why Mikhail couldn't show the world this mark.
Even in his past life, Mikhail never showed that there was an eight Dominique in this world.
However, something had changed after his regression.
The Rosaryth mark wasn't supposed to be inverted…
Yet it was now, despite not even being like this in his past life.
More and more mysteries were just piling up and he couldn't make sense of any of them.
Suddenly, a head-splitting pain shot through him, making Mikhail collapse right on the ground.
Mikhail felt like tearing his skin off as he squirmed on the ground with the pain.
The next moment, his body convulsed and he quickly brought his hand to his mouth.
"Blergh!"
Mikhail felt something spit out of his mouth onto his hand as the pain finally subsided.
As he looked, shock passed through his eyes.
Blood.
The taste of iron registered in his mouth as he looked at the crimson stain on his bandages.
"What the hell is happening?"
But then.
—————〔Essentia〕—————
• [Otharis]
﹂ ꝏ
• [Aqualis]
﹂ Herald
• [Cindralis]
﹂ Monarch
• [Norvalis]
﹂ Monarch
——————————————
[Regression Assimilation Complete!]
[Oath Complete!]
Suddenly, a window popped up in front of him.
—————〔Oath XXX〕—————
• Condition: *$@*#@((@$&
[Penalty]
• Death
———————————————
[Low Character Progression!]
[Unable to display conditions of Oath XXX]
'What the hell?'
Mikhail couldn't make sense of anything that was happening.
He didn't remember making any oath!?
He had just woken up in this world for fuck's sake.
Not only that but the penalties set for the oath were crazy.
Suddenly, another window opened up in front of Mikhail's eyes.
And as he looked at the new window…
—————〔Chronicle I〕—————
• Condition: Uncover the assassination and save your academy from getting destroyed.
[Rewards:]
• Character Progression: +15%
• Mana Increase: +300
———————————————
Made his face turn ghost white.