Pain.
It burned through my chest like wildfire, a searing agony that stole my breath. My vision blurred as I staggered, the tip of a gleaming sword protruding from my abdomen.
I recognized the blade. **My blade.**
I turned my head, my strength fading, only to meet the cold, victorious gaze of **Elias Greythorne**, the so-called Hero of the Empire.
"Checkmate, Lucian," Elias said, twisting the sword deeper. I gritted my teeth, refusing to scream. Not in front of him.
The room around us was in ruins—bloodstained banners, shattered marble pillars, and the bodies of my most loyal subordinates. **The Blackthorn Tyrant has fallen.**
"You… you think this changes anything?" I rasped, my voice dripping with venom.
Elias smirked. "Oh, I think it changes everything. You won't get another chance to destroy this world."
Darkness crept into my vision. My knees buckled. I fell.
And then—
**A notification appeared in my mind.**
---
[ **System Activation: Save Point Detected.** ]
[ **Reverting to last save...** ]
---
I gasped. My eyes shot open.
**I wasn't dead.**
Instead, I was sitting upright in a familiar place—a grand, candlelit study filled with shelves of dusty tomes and an enormous stained-glass window. My hands trembled as I ran them over my body. No blood. No wounds.
I knew this place.
**This was my room… from ten years ago.**
I staggered to my feet, rushing to the mirror. A face I hadn't seen in a decade stared back at me—**younger, softer, untouched by war and cruelty.**
My breath caught.
I had returned.