They called it salvation.
The crowd roared, the skies split with golden light, and banners bearing the holy crest of Aetherion flew high above the capital. Raen Vos, champion of the Lightforge Order, stood tall with his blade embedded in the chest of the Demon King.
And yet…as he turned, smiling, hoping to see peace written across their faces—
He saw fear.
Then came the chains.Then the betrayal.Then the silence.
"Your role ends here," said the high priest."A dead hero is easier to control than a living one."
Raen didn't scream.He just laughed.
Even as they stripped him of his name.Even as they impaled him on the Holy Pike and let the crowd cheer.
He died.
But death didn't hold.
He awoke to birdsong.
His body — small.His strength — gone.His memories — fractured.
But his rage?
Still whole.
He was lying in a field surrounded by wildflowers, in a body no older than ten. He looked at his hands — soft, untouched by war — and whispered the only thing he remembered clearly:
"I was betrayed."
An old man approached, squinting in the sunlight.
"You're awake, boy. What's your name?"
Raen looked up. He didn't know this man.He didn't know this place.But he knew what he wanted.
A new life. A new story.
One where the world didn't decide his worth.
"Name's… Raen," he said slowly. "Just Raen."
The man smiled.
"Welcome to Ellerin Village."
And just like that, the hero returned.Not as a legend.Not as a warrior.But as a forgotten boy in a broken world.
And this time, he would decide how the story ends.