The air felt… different. Warmer. Lighter.
Those words from the shadowed figure still echoed in my mind.
"Welcome to your first dream, Elias Troum. May luck be with you."
My name. How did he know my name? Who even was he?
I blinked, trying to clear the haze clouding my thoughts, but before I could open my mouth to question him, to ask what he meant about my first dream, about my regression, about why I was here, he vanished.
Dissolved into the very shadows he seemed to be made of, leaving behind nothing but a lingering coldness in the room.
For a moment, I just stood there. Staring at the empty space where he'd stood.
Was this really happening?
Was I truly fifteen again?
And then,
A scream.
It tore through the quiet, sharp and shrill, like a blade slicing through fabric. It wasn't just any scream either. It was a voice I hadn't heard in… decades.
Mother.
My heart lurched. Without thinking, my legs carried me toward the kitchen, my chest tight with dread. I knew that scream. I knew this day. And somehow, despite knowing what I would find, a part of me prayed, begged that maybe this time it would be different.
But when I reached the doorway, my world caved in all over again.
There she lay.
My mother. Motionless. Her body sprawled on the kitchen floor. No blood. No wounds. No sign of struggle. Just… gone.
My throat closed. My stomach twisted into knots.
No. No. No.
This wasn't supposed to happen. Not now.
Not so soon.
I was so caught up in the insanity of my regression, of the shadowed figure, of what this all meant, that I'd forgotten today was the day she passed away in my original life. It hit me like a cruel slap across the face.
I dropped to my knees beside her, trembling fingers reaching out to touch her face. Cold.
"Why…?" I croaked. "Why can't I change anything?"
A feeling stung my eyes. The same helplessness from all those years ago came flooding back, washing over me like a suffocating tide.
WHY IS SOMETHING BEYOND HUMAN LOGIC ALWAYS AGAINST ME?!
I gritted my teeth, my hand tangling into my hair as I fought back a scream of frustration. The burning in my throat was unbearable, as if my very soul was trying to claw its way out.
I had always been the weakest one. Among the other children my age, among the other hopeful Reverents, the so-called chosen of the gods. But unlike them, the gods never favored me. No blessings. No divine interventions. Only silence.
They watched me stumble and fall. And they laughed.
I was a toy to them. A mere plaything to be discarded when they grew bored.
Why?
Why couldn't I have one moment of peace?
Why couldn't I live an easy, uneventful life like the others?
The favored ones. The chosen. The golden children of fate.
Maybe… maybe this was their idea of a joke. Maybe the gods themselves chose to regress me, not out of mercy, but to see me suffer again.
To watch me dance like a puppet, pulling the same strings they'd used in my previous life.
Is that it, you bastards?
You think this is funny?
I clenched my fists so hard my nails dug into my palms.
If you're watching me right now… keep watching.
In my past life, I made a vow. A desperate, foolish promise whispered into the void:
To reach the gods above, and kill them with my own hands.
It was a ridiculous thought then. A mortal man, nothing but a speck of dust to beings of eternity.
But now?
Now I was back.
Knowing my intentions, why would they regress me? Were they mocking me? Were they that confident I would still fail, even with a second chance?
Well, you're wrong.
A bitter grin tugged at my lips.
Dead wrong.
I would kill every single one of them.
Tear down their sanctuaries. Burn their temples.
Rip them from the heavens and make them bleed.
This wasn't a blessing. It was an opportunity. A cursed one, sure, but mine nonetheless.
I glanced down at my mother's lifeless body. The grief was still there, but dulled. Not because I didn't love her. God, I did. But I had seen this before. Felt this before.
Maybe that would anger them, seeing me dry-eyed at her death.
Good.
If it does, then screw you.
I lifted my middle finger toward the ceiling like an idiot. "You hear me? Screw you!"
The room remained still. Silent. As if the gods themselves were too shocked by my defiance to respond.
Back then or rather, right now I lived alone with my mother after my parents divorced. My father, a man who always believed I was a walking misfortune, took custody of my younger sister, Lily. Thought he was protecting her from the bad luck I supposedly brought to our family.
And honestly?
Maybe he wasn't wrong.
After all, here I was. Standing over my mother's corpse on the very day she was fated to die. A fixed point in history, it seemed.
A fate I couldn't alter.
I let out a hollow laugh. "What a joyous occasion," I muttered, voice laced with sarcasm. "My mother's dead again, courtesy of my misfortune-bringing superpowers."
I hated how numb I felt.
How this didn't break me like it should have.
Maybe it was the regression. Maybe knowing what was coming dulled the pain. Or maybe… maybe I was too broken to feel it the same way anymore.
Still, one thing was certain.
This world had a fate written by the damned gods. And it was strong. Too strong for a deadbeat like me to budge.
But even so… I wasn't about to roll over and let it crush me.
I knew the fate of this world in my previous life.
The people who lived. The ones who died. The calamities that struck.
The powers that would awaken. The traitors. The gods hiding behind their masks.
And maybe, just maybe not experiencing my mother's death the exact same way as before could shake the strong, unyielding destiny they had planned for me.
I doubted it.
But hell, I'd try anyway.
For the sake of my dear Mathilda.
She was still out there. Alive. Waiting.
I could see her again.
This time, I wouldn't be too weak to protect her.
This time, the system wouldn't be able to kill her and laugh while I crumbled.
I swore it on my mother's death. On this bloodless corpse before me.
"I'll change this world," I whispered, standing. "And if fate itself stands in my way, I'll tear it down too."
Somewhere in the back of my mind, I could still hear that shadow's voice.
"Welcome to your first dream, Elias Troum. May luck be with you."
Luck, huh?
I gave a hollow grin.
I'll make my own luck.
And with that, I turned my back on my mother's corpse and stepped out of the house. Into a world that didn't know it yet, but was about to be turned upside down.