Chapter 1: Regression.

The stars shimmered coldly in the vast abyss above, distant constellations forming silent witnesses to the lone figure perched atop the floating ruins. Kael sat motionless, his jet-black hair matted with blood, his dark, lifeless eyes fixed on the carnage around him.

The battlefield was littered with corpses—some human, others twisted monstrosities from beyond comprehension. Their bodies lay strewn across the remnants of shattered platforms, a grotesque testament to the battle that had unfolded.

And yet, he was the only one left breathing.

If he could even call this living.

The entire right side of his body was simply... gone. Not wounded, not severed—erased. Blood poured from what remained, pooling beneath him, but he had long since stopped feeling the pain. His body remained upright out of sheer will alone, a final act of defiance against the inevitable.

Because he had to see it—the end.

And there, at the center of it all, lay the towering husk of his enemy. The Void Monarch—the last trial of the Tower, the final obstacle between Kael and freedom—now reduced to a lifeless corpse, its once-terrifying form riddled with spears, swords, and, most notably, his own greatsword embedded deep into its chest.

He had done it. He had won.

Ding!

[Floor Panel.]

Congratulations, Challenger.

You have reached the end of the Tower.

Ascension Commencing.

Kael narrowed his eyes. Ascension? That wasn't what he had expected. No victory message, no triumphant exit, no return to Earth. Just two words that set his instincts on edge.

Before he could react, the space around him began to warp. The broken battlefield twisted, shifting like puzzle pieces rearranging themselves. The corpses, the ruins, even the corpse of the Void Monarch—all of it melted away.

And then, it stopped.

What replaced it sent a shudder through his battered frame. Before him, countless staircases spiraled into the unknown, stretching beyond sight, into an abyss of endless possibilities.

His breath caught.

It wasn't a prison. It wasn't a test to free humanity.

The Tower was a threshold.

A door to something else entirely.

And he was the only one who had reached it.

Kael tried to move, to take a single step forward. He had to see what lay beyond. But his body refused him. His vision blurred. The cold of death crept into his bones, numbing what little sensation remained. He was slipping. Fading.

No… after everything I've endured… I can't die here… I won't.

Final reward processing… failed.

Retrying process… failed.

Unable to process final reward.

Alternative reward will now be applied.

Restart Initiated.

Kael's consciousness shattered into darkness.

***

Click! Clack! Click!

A soft, rhythmic tapping pulled him from the void.

His eyelids fluttered open to the glow of a screen. A monitor sat before him, casting pale light over a cluttered desk. Around him, the sound of keyboards clicking filled the air, the hum of office life blending into a distant backdrop.

His fingers twitched against the desk's polished surface. A desk.

Confusion gripped him. He blinked, rubbing his temples. The stark normalcy of his surroundings clashed violently with his last memories.

Slowly, he stood, his legs nearly giving out beneath him. His breathing quickened as he took in his surroundings. The rows of office desks, the flickering fluorescent lights, the sterile white walls—

He knew this place.

He had worked here.

But that was impossible. This office had been destroyed years ago, wiped from existence when the Tower first descended upon the world.

Wait… what?

His pulse thundered in his ears as he staggered into the hallway. His feet carried him toward a large mirror by sheer instinct. And when he saw his reflection, his breath caught in his throat.

A younger face stared back at him.

His body—leaner, shorter—untouched by scars. His black curls hung messily over his forehead. His right cheek, which had once borne a deep scar from an old battle, was smooth.

It was him—but not as he was.

As he had been before it all began.

The pieces snapped together in his mind, an impossible puzzle forming into terrifying clarity.

No… this can't be real…

His heart pounded as he reached into his suit pocket, a faint vibration confirming his worst fear. He pulled out a slim phone—a device he hadn't seen in years.

The screen blinked with an email notification. Work-related.

But his eyes weren't on the message.

They were on the date.

March 25th, 2025.

14:27 PM.

His fingers clenched around the phone. His chest tightened, nausea churning in his gut. He had fought. He had suffered. He had died.

So how…?

"System," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "Show me my status."

He waited. Nothing happened.

"System," he repeated, louder this time. Still nothing.

A chill ran down his spine. The omnipresent interface—the one thing that had governed his very existence inside the Tower—was gone.

The realization slammed into him like a sledgehammer.

I've gone back in time.

A voice interrupted his spiraling thoughts. "Oh, it's Kael! Hey, are you okay?"

He turned sharply.

Salia.

Long blonde hair, striking blue eyes. She was a familiar face, someone he had worked with but never been close to. And yet, the sight of her sent a wave of nausea crashing over him.

Because he remembered how she died.

His stomach twisted. The room suddenly felt suffocating. "...I feel sick," he muttered, turning on his heel and bolting for the restroom.

The moment he reached the stall, his body convulsed. He vomited, his stomach twisting violently as he braced himself against the cold porcelain.

When it was over, he slumped against the sink, staring into the mirror with hollow eyes. Water dripped from his fingers as he washed his face, the reality of his situation settling in.

His body had changed. His scars were gone. His system was gone.

And yet, the memories remained.

This wasn't an illusion.

This wasn't a dream.

He had really gone back in time.