《Reincarnation Of Earth's Strongest Warrior》 Battle of my death A sword hissed through the air, its blade sparking violently as it clashed against the demon¡¯s talons¡ªcurved claws sharper than honed steel. The demon stood twelve feet tall, its obsidian horns jutting from its skull, shoulders, and forearms. Its movements were a blur, faster than sound itself, yet the swordsman pressed on, thrusting and parrying with fading strength. In a final, reckless gamble, the man lunged for the demon¡¯s neck. The blade bit deep, slicing halfway through sinewy flesh before lodging itself in place. But the strike left him exposed. The demon roared, driving its claws through the man¡¯s chest in a spray of blood. Staggering backward, the creature clutched its mangled throat. ¡°Ugh¡­ YOU,¡± it rasped, its voice like grinding stone. ¡°YOU ALMOST¡­ KILLED ME!¡± The swordsman¡ªGarth¡ªcollapsed onto the blood-soaked ground. His breaths came in ragged, wet gasps, each exhale punctuated by a fresh torrent of crimson. ¡°I¡­ killed¡­¡± he choked, his voice brittle. ¡°Ten¡­ of you¡­¡± A weak, blood-flecked laugh escaped him. ¡°What¡­ were you¡­ expecting?¡± The demon¡¯s claws flashed. Darkness swallowed Garth as his head rolled free. Garth awoke to a void. Then, like dawn breaking, light flooded the emptiness, coalescing into a vast chamber of alabaster stone. Towering pillars stretched upward, their surfaces etched with carvings so intricate they seemed to spiral into infinity. Above, the columns dissolved into clouds, as though the chamber existed between realms. Drawn by curiosity, Garth approached one of the pillars. The carvings deepened the longer he stared, pulling him into their labyrinthine patterns. ¡°Garth.¡± A voice¡ªsoft yet powerful¡ªechoed through the chamber. Startled, he stumbled against the pillar. A sharp creak echoed as the stone tilted, then collapsed. Like dominos, the pillars fell one after another, crashing until the chamber lay in ruins. Garth turned toward the voice. ¡°Sorry,¡± he muttered, scratching his head. ¡°My bad.¡± Before him stood a woman clad in a gown of woven light, her hair cascaded like white silk blending seamlessly with her attire. ¡°Do not trouble yourself,¡± she said, her tone edged with irritation. ¡°This place is but a reflection.¡± ¡°Who are you?¡± Garth demanded. ¡°Where am I? Is this teleportation magic? Are you a Medicus?¡± ¡°I am Calista,¡± she replied. ¡°And you are in my domain.¡± Garth froze. Memories surged¡ªthe demon¡¯s claws, the screams of his loved ones, his severed head tumbling through the air. He clutched his temples, the phantom pain of death buckling his knees. ¡°If you¡¯re Calista,¡± he whispered, tears streaking his face, ¡°why did you let them die? My father¡­ my brother¡­ her.¡± His voice cracked. ¡°You let demons drown the world in blood.¡± Calista¡¯s tear glowed like molten diamond as it traced her cheek. ¡°I would never abandon my children,¡± she said, her voice trembling. ¡°But the laws of this realm bind even me.¡± ¡°Laws?¡± Garth spat. ¡°Your laws let my family die?¡± Calista stepped closer, her presence radiating sorrow and power. ¡°I can undo it,¡± she said. ¡°I will send you back fifteen years. Stop the demon kings before their resurrection.¡±This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. Garth¡¯s breath hitched. ¡°Do it. Now.¡± ¡°You defeated ten kings with fading knowledge and luck,¡± she warned. ¡°Will fragments of skill be enough to save the world?¡± He met her gaze. ¡°I¡¯ll tear them apart. Even if it kills me.¡± Calista smiled faintly. ¡°That fire is why I chose you.¡± She pressed a finger to his temple. Light erupted, and he vanished. Her whisper lingered: ¡°Grow stronger, Garth.¡± --- ### The Second Chance Garth jolted awake. Sunlight filtered through pine branches, and the murmur of voices filled the air. He lay on a coarse mat in a forest clearing, surrounded by tents. Venators¡ªdemon hunters¡ªsharpened blades and traded stories, oblivious to the doom ahead. He stared at his hands. Smooth, unmarked. Fifteen years¡­ A shrill bird cry pierced the silence. Ice flooded his veins. That sound. Memories detonated: May 13th, 509. The night the Eastern Kingdom¡¯s Venators fell. Ambushed at midnight. A quarter slaughtered¡ªhis comrades, mentors, friends. His first mission. ¡°No,¡± he breathed. ¡°Not again.¡± He scrambled to his feet, heart pounding. The camp sprawled before him¡ªa maze of tents and smoldering campfires. Venators laughed, their blades glinting in the sun. They have no idea. Ten minutes. He sprinted toward the command tent, shoving through hunters. ¡°Move! Move!¡± Just seconds before reaching the ten, a hooded figure emerged. He was tall, with robes swallowing his form, his features hidden save for twin emerald eyes glowing like cursed flames under his hood. The man raised a hand, freezing Garth mid-stride. The hooded figure carved out a seal in midair. A symbol appeared on Garth''s temple. It was a circle with one of six dots amidst its rim. One dot¡ªmarking him as a Pigeon, the lowest-ranking Venator class. The Venator ranking system began with Pigeon, followed by Sparrow, Falcon, Hawk, and Eagle. But the truly exceptional¡ªthe strongest warriors on Earth¡ªwere ranked as Phoenixes and honored as Epics. Each rank was divided into ten subdivisions called Constellations: those numbered one to five were termed Moons, while six to ten were Suns. Garth, despite being a Pigeon, had clawed his way to Two Moons¡ªthe bare minimum to avoid being deemed a civilian. How he¡¯d even made it through training was a mystery known only to Calista. The robed man tilted his hooded head, speaking in a voice both weathered and sharp. ¡°Why does a Pigeon stand before me at this hour?¡± He flicked a hand, and Garth felt an invisible lock dissolve from his lips. ¡°An ambush,¡± Garth blurted, urgency stripping his words of preamble. The Elcana¡ªa high-ranking magic wielder¡ªbelieved him instantly. Garth stood within the man¡¯s protective circle, a spell that granted its caster dominion over truth and lies within its bounds. ¡°From where?¡± the Elcana demanded. ¡°Everywhere. We¡¯re surrounded.¡± ¡°Dammit.¡± The man touched the glowing markings on his wrist bracelet. ¡°All Elcanas, alert the Raid Leaders¡ª¡± ¡°No time,¡± Garth interrupted. ¡°Order them into the Onion Formation.¡± The Elcana bristled at being commanded by a lowly Pigeon, but the gravity in Garth¡¯s voice stayed his reproach. ¡°Elcanas,¡± he barked into the bracelet, ¡°rally the troops. Formation Onion.¡± Garth watched as the man paused, listening to unheard replies. ¡°No¡ªno debates,¡± the Elcana snapped. ¡°Do it. Now.¡± With a wave, the Elcana freed Garth from the circle¡¯s binding spell. He then summoned a staff and slammed it into the earth. A pulse rippled outward, rousing every Venator within three hundred meters. ¡°Will the formation hold in four minutes?¡± the Elcana asked. ¡°If we act fast, Elcana Harold,¡± Garth replied, using the man¡¯s title with pointed familiarity. Harold¡¯s hood shifted¡ªa flicker of surprise. Elcanas, as masters of primal magic, outranked elemental wielders of earth, fire, water, wind, and lightning. Their authority was second only to Raid Leaders, though their ranks were eternally fixed at Hawk, a fact many resented. ¡°Where first?¡± Harold pressed. ¡°Northeast. Replace earth wielders with fire at the front.¡± ¡°What?¡± Earth wielders were always the vanguard. ¡°Please,¡± Garth insisted. Harold hesitated, then relayed the order. The Onion Formation layered Venators in concentric rings: earth wielders at the front, fire behind them, followed by lightning, water, wind, and finally Elcanas. But in the northeast, fire wielders now stood ahead of earth. Yellow-scaled snake demons surged from the trees. Fire wielding Venators unleashed torrents of flame, reducing the creatures to ash. Next came bull-like demons charging blindly. Earth wielders raised walls to halt the stampede, then dropped them, allowing Fire wielders to finish the job. ¡°Elcana Harold,¡± a voice crackled through Harold¡¯s bracelet, ¡°the northeast holds. Your formation saved us. How did you know?¡± Harold glanced at Garth, who stared intently at the fray. ¡°I¡­ had counsel.¡± ¡°From whom?¡± ¡°The formation¡¯s complete,¡± Garth cut in. ¡°Now order earth wielders to elevate the lightning Venators. The next wave¡¯s coming.¡± Harold thought to himself ''How could a Pigeon know this?'' But he didn''t speak, rather he obeyed. Garth clenched his fists, struggling to dredge up half-remembered details. Then¡ª ¡°No!¡± he shouted. The ground quaked. Giant rock creatures erupted from the earth, piloted by shrieking monkey demons perched on their shoulders. ¡°Too late,¡± Garth whispered as the stone behemoths encircled the camp. A Sacrilegious Plan "Raid Leader Fury,¡± Elcana Harold called into his bracelet, his voice taut. ¡°I can hear you,¡± replied a graveled voice. ¡°Do you understand the situation?¡± ¡°Stone golems¡ªmagic-imbued. Direct lightning wielders to strike their chests. They¡¯ll collapse.¡± ¡°Understood.¡± Harold severed the link, then opened the psychic bond shared among Elcanas. ¡°All Elcanas, command lightning wielders to target the golems¡¯¡ª¡± ¡°STOP!¡± Garth¡¯s shouted, his voice cutting through the air. Harold whirled, staff crackling. ¡°What madness¡ª¡± ¡°Their chests are rigged with explosives,¡± Garth gasped, memories sharpening. ¡°Lightning will detonate them. You need a nature summoning.¡± Harold¡¯s hood trembled. ¡°Do you know what you¡¯re asking?¡± Garth did. A nature summoning required at least seven Elcanas channeling their lifeforce across the battlefield¡ªeach separated by hundreds of paces¡ªto bend the natural order. It was sacrilege, punishable by exile, and would leave them bedridden for weeks. ¡°Elcana Harold!¡± A voice crackled through the bracelet. ¡°The front line is collapsing!¡± Harold¡¯s grip tightened on his staff. Garth¡¯s plea hung in the air, wrapped in an inexplicable aura of certainty. Against every instinct, Harold relented. ¡°All Elcanas,¡± he declared through the bond, ¡°I invoke a nature summoning.¡± Silence fell. No protests, no questions¡ªonly the weight of the forbidden act thickening the air. One by one, the distant Elcanas acknowledged, their acceptance humming through the psychic bond. ¡°Hold the line for five minutes,¡± Harold ordered. ¡°No fire or lightning strikes on the golems.¡± He sank into a meditative stance, staff across his lap. ¡°What force do we summon?¡± he asked Garth. ¡°Rain.¡± Harold closed his eyes. Across the battlefield, the other Elcanas mirrored his posture in their scattered positions, their staves glowing faintly as they channeled their collective power. The earth itself seemed to pulse beneath them, a slow, rhythmic heartbeat. *What-do-you-seek?* The voice¡ªancient, resonant¡ªechoed in Harold¡¯s mind, its syllables vibrating like tectonic plates shifting. ¡°Rain,¡± he whispered. Garth watched, his chest tight. In his past life, he¡¯d learned the truth: Elcanas didn¡¯t command nature. They bargained with it. The earth¡¯s voice spoke first, and only those deemed worthy received its aid. Above, the sky darkened. Clouds churned, heavy with unshed rain. Garth¡¯s stomach dropped. The water wielders¡ªthey¡¯re still in the rear. Lightning wielders, suited for close combat, languished behind them. Without orders, the Venators wouldn¡¯t adjust¡ªprotocol forbade it. The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation. He snatched Harold¡¯s Mind Bracelet, its silver coils cold against his skin. The moment he clasped it, the Raid Leader¡¯s roar exploded in his skull. ¡°HAROLD! Why are the lines breaking? Where are the Elcanas?!¡± Agony lanced through Garth¡¯s temples. The bracelet¡¯s psychic link¡ªuntempered by training¡ªfelt like nails driven into his mind. He severed the connection, then scoured the bond for any Venator reckless enough to wear an Elcana¡¯s bracelet. A shrill voice pierced the static: ¡°Raid Leader! What¡¯s happening?!¡± Garth winced. ¡°Listen!¡± he barked, fighting the pain. ¡°Pull everyone back. Send lightning wielders forward. Now!¡± The Venator hesitated. ¡°But protocol¡ª¡± ¡°DO IT!¡± Garth roared. "Y-yes, sir." the Venator responded, assuming it was an Elcana giving him the command. Never having used a Mind Bracelet before, he assumed all voices through it would sound muffled. As soon as he spoke, a searing headache surged through his skull. Garth was abruptly reminded of his weakness, a realization that filled him with self-loathing. Clutching his head in frustration, he tore the bracelet off and tossed it aside, completely ignoring the fact that it wasn''t his¡ªnor was it cheap. He hunched over, his breath coming in ragged gasps. As he fought to regain control, he suddenly felt several cold pats against his back. Straightening up, he tilted his gaze toward the sky. A blanket of raindrops stretched across the heavens, their descent growing heavier by the second. "It... is done." A weak voice reached Garth''s ears from behind. He turned to find the Elcana barely standing, swaying with exhaustion. "Now what, boy?" the Elcana asked, his tone condescending despite the strain in his voice. He was clearly irritated by what he had just been forced to do. Following Garth''s strategy, Elcana Harold had commanded the Venators, ensuring they followed through with his plan. While the demons relentlessly slaughtered and pushed back the Venators, they were caught off guard when the Water Wielders surged back onto the battlefield. In the blink of an eye, the Wind Wielders followed, positioning themselves strategically behind their allies. With precision, they unleashed a controlled gust of wind, sweeping across the drenched battlefield. The rainfall, which had soaked everything in sight, turned to ice upon contact, freezing the demons in place. With their enemies immobilized, the Water Wielders then manipulated the frozen water that encased the golems, pulling it in opposite directions. They tore in opposite directions, splitting the demons cleanly in two. Just like that, the battle was over. The Venators scanned the field, ensuring no demons remained standing. As the realization set in, victorious cheers erupted across the battlefield. Beside Garth, the Elcana stood in stunned silence. Despite his frailty, he forced himself to remain upright, as though bearing witness to this moment was worth enduring the pain. "This... is incredible." Slowly, he reached up and pulled back his hood. Garth''s breath caught in his throat. For an Elcana to reveal his face to a non-Elcana¡ªor anyone outside his family¡ªwas a gesture of immense trust. More than that, in most cases, it signified that the Elcana owed a great debt to the person before him. Beneath the hood was a man whose face bore the weight of time. Though his features were strong and chiseled, deep wrinkles lined his brow and eyelids. His hair, once likely dark, had faded to a brilliant white, and his sharp blue eyes shimmered with wisdom beyond his years. Garth averted his gaze. He didn¡¯t deserve this honor¡ªnot yet. In his past life, as he grew in strength and reputation, he had witnessed this gesture many times. Dozens of Elcanas had revealed their faces to him, a sign of deep respect for his incredible feats. But here, in this moment, he had done nothing to warrant such a display. "You saved everyone here today," Harold rasped, his voice once the very essence of authority, now reduced to the frailty of an old man. "I just did what was necessary," Garth muttered. "Who... are you?" Garth stiffened. Only now did he realize the sheer extent of his knowledge¡ªknowledge far beyond what someone of his supposed status should possess. Explaining himself was impossible. If he spoke the truth, he would fall under intense scrutiny, possibly even endangering himself. His silence and the flicker of confusion on his face made Harold reconsider his question. "I mean... what is your name?" the Elcana clarified. "I¡ª" Before he could formulate an answer, a voice boomed through Harold¡¯s Mind Bracelet. "Elcana Harold! What is going on?!" Harold winced, squinting in pain from the sudden intrusion. Perhaps activating the bracelet in his weakened state had been a mistake. "Please, Raid Leader... I need you to calm down," a weak voice responded, barely registering through the bracelet¡¯s connection. The Raid Leader inhaled sharply, remembering just how fragile Harold¡¯s condition was. Garth seized the opportunity. Harold could sense the presence beside him shift, but by the time he turned, Garth was gone. The moment Harold had asked for his name, Garth had known he had to leave. He couldn¡¯t afford to reveal his identity¡ªnot yet. His instincts screamed at him to disappear, and he obeyed without hesitation. Merging seamlessly into the foray of Venators, he moved unnoticed among them. Even after the battle, there was no time to rest. Every available Venator assisted in gathering the remains of fallen demons¡ªspecifically, their cores. Demon cores were immensely valuable. Leaving them behind would be nothing short of foolish. Typically, designated personnel known as Valets were responsible for retrieving cores. However, Valets only operated in Raids and nearby Clearings, where their safety was assured. This was neither a Raid nor a Hunt. It had been an all-out battle. No Valets had been permitted to follow. One might assume that, after such a grueling fight, the Venators would be reluctant to gather the cores. Yet, the opposite was true. They moved with enthusiasm, their spirits high, grateful simply to be alive. Adding to their excitement, the upper echelons had ordered a generous distribution of the collected cores among the Venators. It was a day of triumph. If only they knew to whom they truly owed it. The last time this battle had occurred, less than a quarter of the Venators had survived. But now? Nearly the entire army would return home to their families. Garth worked alongside them, collecting cores, but his mind was elsewhere. While the others eagerly pondered how they would spend their rewards, Garth focused on something far mo re dire. A catastrophe loomed over his homeland, inevitable and inescapable. In three months, the capital of the Eastern Kingdom would be annihilated¡ªby a cosmic golem. My Beautiful Rescuer This impending catastrophe would not only claim thousands of lives but also serve as the catalyst for a devastating war among the remaining seven kingdoms. Garth kept thinking about how to acquire enough power to stop it. At his current stage, he was only a Pigeon, not even up to Moon Three. And the creature that would bring ruin to the entire kingdom... a Falcon, Star Three. While that rank wasn¡¯t extraordinary, its sheer size made it a force of destruction. Fortunately, in his past life, Garth had encountered several of these creatures. They had even been used as war assets during the demon invasion. He knew how to take one down¡ªbut to do so, he would need to raise his rank to at least a One Moon Falcon. As his thoughts consumed him, he failed to notice where he was going and bumped straight into someone. The demon cores he had been collecting slipped from his grasp, scattering across the ground. Looking up, Garth found himself staring at a seven-foot-tall Venator who slowly turned to face him. "Who was that?" The man¡¯s deep voice rumbled. The Venator fully turned, revealing his lean frame. Despite his build, Garth immediately identified him as a Sparrow, and not just any Sparrow¡ªone surpassing Two Moons. His instincts told him this guy was a troublemaker. And at his current rank, picking a fight was out of the question. Garth put on his best apologetic smile. "So sorry, Mister. That was my mistake. Sometimes I have trouble seeing where I¡¯m going." The Venator narrowed his eyes, waiting for any sign of defiance. When he found none, he scoffed. "Whatever." He turned his back on Garth and walked away. Garth let out a quiet sigh of relief. That could have gone a lot worse. As he crouched to gather his fallen cores, something caught his eye¡ªa Sparrow-ranked demon core. If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. Up until now, all the cores they had been picking were Pigeon-ranked, distinguished by their pale white color. Pigeon cores weren¡¯t particularly valuable, though collecting enough of them could still bring in decent money. However, a Sparrow core, marked by its pale blue glow, was worth at least five times as much. It wasn¡¯t massive wealth, but it was substantial. Just as he reached for it, another hand swooped in and snatched it away. "Thanks for that," a familiar voice said. Garth slowly raised his head. Of course... it was the giraffe. The tall Venator smirked down at him with a condescending grin, knowing full well that he was stronger. If Garth had any sense, he wouldn¡¯t dare to protest. Frustration boiled within him. In his former life, no one would have dared pull this on him¡ªnot an Epic. But right now... he was powerless. He clenched his fist but forced himself to remain calm. Then, with another smile, he said, "It¡¯s no problem. You can keep it." "I wasn¡¯t asking for permission." "Right... my mistake. I¡¯ll just be on my way, then." "Not so fast." Garth barely concealed his irritation as a firm hand clamped down on his shoulder. "I saw that look in your eyes earlier," the giraffe sneered. "I didn¡¯t like it." Garth forced out a laugh. "It¡¯s nothing like that. I was just upset I couldn¡¯t find more Sparrow cores for you... since you seemed to really like the other one." "Do you take me for a fool?" "Why would you think that? I never said anything of the sort." The Venator¡¯s grip tightened. "If there¡¯s one thing I hate, it¡¯s disrespect." Garth barely had time to react before the man grabbed his collar, pulling back his fist to punch him. Instinctively, Garth shut his eyes, bracing for impact. But the blow never came. When he opened his eyes, he saw another hand stopping the giraffe¡¯s punch. A woman¡¯s hand. Garth blinked in surprise. In his past life, he had never met these people. Most of them likely died in the ambush... or three months later, when the capital fell. The giraffe scowled. "What do you think you¡¯re doing?" "You don¡¯t have to be such a jerk," the woman said coolly. "You already took his core. Just let him go." "Like hell I will." He yanked his arm free and swung at Garth again¡ªonly for the woman to stop his fist once more. "I won¡¯t ask again." A surge of energy pulsed from her. Garth could feel it, and so could the giraffe. She was stronger than him... much stronger. Judging by her presence, she was at least an Eight Sun Sparrow. Garth glanced around, expecting someone to intervene. But the other Venators were too preoccupied with collecting cores, either unaware or uninterested in getting involved. The giraffe hesitated. His expression twisted with anger, but he could clearly sense that he was outmatched. With a sneer, he shoved Garth to the ground and spat, "Hmph. Jerk? You two can go to hell for all I care." Then he turned and stalked off. The woman ignored him and crouched beside Garth. "Are you hurt?" Garth groaned as he sat up, brushing dirt off himself. "I am now... thanks to you." He glanced at her fully for the first time, and for a moment, he forgot how to breathe. She was... stunning. Her sharp red eyes bore into his, framed by long blonde hair that cascaded over her shoulders. A single strand fell across her face, only adding to her allure. Her rosy lips stood in contrast to her pale skin, and despite her fierce presence, there was an undeniable elegance about her. Garth swallowed. Who the hell was this woman? Heading Home Contrary to what he had assumed earlier, Garth felt an odd sense of familiarity with the woman, though he couldn¡¯t quite place why. As he found himself captivated by her angelic features, he quickly turned away, heat rising to his cheeks. It was ridiculous¡ªhe was technically twenty years old at this moment¡ªyet he was blushing like a boy half that age. Frustration swelled within him. He had no business admiring another woman, not when his heart belonged to someone he would meet in just three days. That woman had become his wife in his past life. And right now, he felt as though he were betraying her simply by standing here. He needed to put an end to this encounter before it led to anything more. Erecting himself, he bowed hastily. Though this wasn¡¯t a common gesture of gratitude in the Eastern Kingdom, it allowed him to avoid looking directly at her. "Thank you for your help, miss, but I am completely fine!" His voice came out far louder than he had intended. ¡®Idiot,¡¯ he scolded himself. The woman raised an eyebrow at his odd behavior. "Are you sure?" "Yes, absolutely." "...Alright then. My na¡ª" She had barely begun to introduce herself before Garth cut her off. He could already tell she was about to give her name, and he wanted no part of it. The sooner he severed any ties with her, the better. His mind drifted back to the woman he truly loved, and a shiver ran down his spine. He had no doubt she would be furious if she caught him even speaking to another woman. "We should get back to gathering before all the cores are gone, don¡¯t you think?!" He blurted out. ¡®Idiot,¡¯ he berated himself again. "I¡ª" "You should head over there," he interrupted, pointing toward a random spot in the distance. "There are plenty of cores left to collect. Meanwhile, I¡¯ll be all the way over there." He gestured in the opposite direction. Before she could respond, he spun on his heel and rushed off. The woman remained in place, staring after him, utterly baffled. Once Garth had put some distance between them, he wiped the sweat from his brow and exhaled in relief. Thankfully, his abrupt departure had worked. With his mind now clear, he refocused on gathering cores. By sunrise, the Venators had finished collecting what they could. Each clutched their bags tightly, eager to return home with their spoils.Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author. Garth¡¯s excitement grew with each passing moment. He would finally see his family again¡ªthe people he had lost so long ago. And, of course, her. The woman he loved more than anything. The amount of cores he had gathered paled in comparison to the others, but he didn¡¯t care. He had knowledge of far more effective ways to gain wealth. The army packed their belongings onto massive carriages, each flanked by several caravans. Leading the convoy were enormous golem horses, their enchanted bodies built for endurance rather than speed. Once everything was secured, the golems pulled the carriages forward at a steady pace, allowing the Venators to keep up on foot. Three long days passed before they finally reached their destination. As the setting sun bathed the land in gold, the capital of the Eastern Kingdom came into view. Kalikon. The army gathered at the city¡¯s entrance, a massive tunnel-like structure that jutted out from the capital¡¯s outer walls. The tunnel, infused with magic, served as both an architectural marvel and a defensive measure, designed to scan those entering the city to prevent infiltration. The Venators trudged through the passageway, its walls humming with arcane energy. After a long, twenty-five-meter walk, they emerged on the other side, where the evening sun greeted them once more. Garth wanted nothing more than to rush straight home, but before he could, he had to endure a series of customs procedures. By the time everything was settled¡ªincluding the distribution of pay¡ªthe sun had fully set. Despite the cheerful atmosphere, frustration simmered among the Venators. As expected, the capital had seized the majority of the cores they had gathered, leaving them with mere scraps. Many grumbled about the unfairness of it all, but deep down, they had known better than to expect anything else from their rulers. Garth clenched his jaw. He had forgotten about this¡ªhow selfish and corrupt the world had been before the great war. In his past life, humanity had banded together against a common enemy, sharing knowledge, resources, and strength in ways that had once been unthinkable. That unity was what had allowed him to grow so powerful, to learn cultivation techniques and alchemy secrets that would have otherwise remained hidden. But now? Now, greed and self-interest ran rampant once again. Annoyance flickered through him, but he shoved it aside. Dwelling on the past¡ªor rather, the future¡ªwould accomplish nothing. He grabbed his small pouch of three cores and turned toward the one place that mattered. Home. As he walked through the city¡¯s Quasar rock streets, he took in his surroundings. The peace, the ignorance¡ªthe people had no idea what was coming. He forced himself to focus. The world would crumble in a decade, but before that, several key events would unfold. He had to be prepared. Every step he took now would determine his chances of success. His thoughts were momentarily interrupted by the synchronized flicker of the street lamps as they ignited with soft bursts of energy. The distinct aroma of Star stone filled the air¡ªa mixture of sparks, mango, and salt. Most found the scent unpleasant, but to Garth, it was the smell of home. Part of him wanted to slow down and take it all in, to appreciate this moment before everything changed. But the urge to see his loved ones was far greater. So he pressed on. As he ventured deeper into the city, his heart sank. The disparity between social classes was even worse than he remembered. The high-class districts¡ªhome to nobles and aristocrats¡ªstood tall and pristine. The middle-class neighborhoods, housing merchants and skilled laborers, were well-kept and welcoming. Then there were the slums. Garth had been born into this last category, and now, he had returned to it once more. If the city were divided by percentage, the middle class would make up thirty percent, the high class fifteen percent, and the lower class a staggering fifty-five percent. The capital had been designed so that visitors would first encounter the pleasant fa?ade of the middle-class districts, while the true horrors of poverty remained hidden from view. Garth slowed his pace as he observed his surroundings. The slums looked as though a storm had torn through them. Broken Quasar stones littered the streets, barely any lamps remained functional, and homes stood in various states of disrepair. People huddled outside, their bodies thin and weak, while swarms of flies and mosquitoes buzzed through the air. Rage simmered within him. Had he really forgotten how terrible life had been here? Or had he simply chosen to forget? It didn¡¯t matter. He would change it all. With renewed determination, he navigated the slums by memory alone until he reached his destination. His house stood before him, its structure battered and worn, yet still standing. And then he saw her. His heart pulsated. Standing at the front of the house, carrying two buckets of water, was the woman he had loved more than anything¡ªthe woman he had married at twenty-seven. He took in every detail. Her disheveled black hair which barely reached her neck, had a few strands of white stylistically peeking through. Her simple, soaked gown clung to her lean frame, accentuating her delicate features. She had never been particularly curvaceous, but her beauty had always been undeniable. "Rachael..." he whispered. As if she had heard him, she turned. Her gaze landed on him. And for the first time in what felt like a hundred lifetimes, he saw her again. Loved Ones Garth surged toward her. Rachael¡¯s eyes lit up in excitement. He was back. He had survived the war against the demons. And he¡¯d returned earlier than expected. She set her buckets down carefully and straightened, expecting him to slow as he approached. But he didn¡¯t. His pace remained unyielding. Her pulse quickened. When he reached her, he seized her in a fierce embrace, nearly knocking her over before catching her mid-fall. Their eyes met¡ªher golden irises wide with surprise¡ªand before she could utter a word, Garth pressed his lips to hers. Instead of melting into the kiss, she stiffened. Her hands pushed against his chest, shoving with all her might. When she managed to break free, she reared back and drove her fist straight into his face. The impact was brutal. A sickening crack split the air as his nose broke. She stood there, breath ragged, hair disheveled beyond reason, her whole body trembling. That single blow had drained her strength. ¡°Have you lost your mind?¡± she panted. ¡°Do you think you can have your way with me like some street rat from the slums? Pervert!¡± That last word felt like a hammer to Garth¡¯s skull. He clutched his face in mortification. The memories came flooding back¡ªwho he had been in his past life. Back then, he had been a pervert. Not in the way others had assumed¡ªhe had never actually slept with anyone¡ªbut his antics had given everyone reason to believe he had. The peak of his disgraceful behavior had been grabbing at women¡¯s chests or backsides and bolting away before they could pummel him. Now, the weight of that shame made him want to punch himself in the face¡ªhard enough to match the one she had just given him. His past self¡¯s lack of respect for women was appalling. And worst of all... He and Rachael hadn¡¯t even fallen in love yet. How could he have forgotten that? The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. ¡°Get up.¡± Rachael¡¯s voice was softer now. Garth lowered his hand from his face, finding her still standing before him. She kept her gaze fixed elsewhere, refusing to meet his eyes. ¡°I said, get up.¡± He obeyed, and without another word, she turned and walked off. He followed, trailing behind as she led him home¡ªhis old home. Except now, in this lifetime, it was simply his current home. Stepping inside, he felt a wave of nostalgia crash over him. The house was even worse than he remembered. The roof barely existed, riddled with holes where the rain had long since left its stains. The walls were darkened, the wooden windows barely clinging to their rusted hinges. Yet, despite its dilapidated state, it was clear that someone had done their best to maintain it. The place was as clean as it could be, though its ruined exterior made that hard to notice. There wasn¡¯t much to see. Just a small, battered parlor¡ªif one could even call it that¡ªand a single bedroom behind the only sturdy-looking door in the house. No kitchen. No bathroom. Cooking and bathing were done outside, in the backyard. And that was exactly where she led him. A small open space greeted them, mostly barren save for two large drums¡ªone filled with water, the other only half full. A wooden table, a bench, and a Star Stone-powered cooker completed the setting. Rachael gestured for him to sit, and he did. Without a word, she walked to the water drum and poured half the contents of her second bucket inside. Then, retrieving a cloth, she returned to his side, took a seat beside him, and dipped the cloth into the remaining water. Carefully, she began dabbing at the blood that had run from his nose down to his lips and jaw. Garth sat still, unmoving beneath her touch. The punch she had given him was stronger than her demeanor suggested she was capable of. But that wasn¡¯t what occupied his thoughts. All he could focus on was the warmth of her fingers as she dabbed at his lips. He found himself staring¡ªdrawn into those golden eyes, just like before. They had always been his anchor. Whenever despair threatened to consume him, whenever all hope seemed lost, those eyes had pulled him back. Their warmth had given him the strength to push forward. And then¡ª They turned white. Cold. Lifeless. And suddenly, she was gone. Garth jolted violently. "Are you okay?" Rachael''s voice cut through the haze of panic gripping Garth¡¯s chest. Sweat beaded along his brow, despite the cool water still lingering on his skin. "I... I''m fine," he forced out. But inside, he was anything but. He clenched his fists without realizing it. What kind of man was he? He had failed to protect the only woman he had ever loved. He had failed to protect his family. And now, reliving this moment, knowing what awaited them in the future¡­ "Never again." The words left his lips in a whisper, but they were heavy enough to catch Rachael¡¯s attention. She almost asked him what he meant. But the look on his face¡ªlike he was carrying something far beyond her understanding¡ªmade her hesitate. Instead, she decided to break the silence another way. "You made it back," she said. "I did." "Good. Because if you hadn''t, I¡¯d have killed you myself." She wrung out the cloth in her hands a little too aggressively. Garth smiled. "I know." She ignored the satchel hanging from his chest, even though she knew exactly what was inside. "How much were you paid?" Garth unfastened the satchel, pulling out a small pouch. He opened it, revealing three low-grade demon cores. At most, they would sell for thirty to thirty-six shakles. Just enough to pay off a few debts he remembered his family owing at this point in time. After that, it would cover four days'' worth of three meals a day for a family of three. Or six days, if they skipped lunch. Barely enough. But he knew Rachael had been expecting more¡ªprobably enough for her family as well. The upper echelons had robbed them of that, handing out scraps after sending Venators to risk their lives. Without realizing it, Garth squeezed the pouch tightly. Then, catching himself, he loosened his grip and smiled. "This is just a small payout while they sort things out," he said. "I¡¯ll be receiving a lot more by the end of the week." Rachael¡¯s eyes widened as she turned to meet his gaze. "You will?" Her voice carried the slightest hint of hope. And just like that, his resolve hardened. No matter what, he would make sure this time was different.