[Tirvan Godran=Abaksa Einsro]
[Footsteps echoed through the hollow corridors. Unsteady. Dragging.]
Abaksa Einsro-"Haa… haa…"
[His lungs burned.]
[His legs trembled with every step.]
[This body It Is too weak.]
"…Damn it…"
[He clutched the wall for support.]
[Cold stone against shaking hands.]
"…This isn't me…"
[His heartbeat pounded in his ears.]
Ding.
[The world froze.]
[Time itself seemed to pause.]
[And in front of him]
A translucent blue screen appeared.
[System Initialized]
Abaksa Einsro-"…What is this…?"
[The screen flickered.]
[Welcome, Tirvan Godran][You asked the Goddess for a second chance.][It has been granted.]
[His breath stopped.]
"…Goddess…?"
[You are the 11th Regressor.][Access to your world's past: Granted.][Make the best of it.]
[Tirvan's eyes narrowed.]
"…Eleventh…?"
[So he wasn't the first.]
[Others had tried.]
[Others had failed.]
[The screen shifted.]
[Unique Ability Detected: Plot Armour][Status: LOCKED]
"…Locked?"
[His expression darkened.]
[Reason: Physical requirements not met]
"…You're kidding me…"
[Warning][Host body critically weak][Immediate action required]
Abaksa Einsro- "…What kind of action—"
[Instruction: Continue movement][Objective: Reach physical limit][Failure Condition: Death]
"…Run…?"
[His body already screamed in pain.]
[Kindly run to pass out… or die.]
"…You've got to be—"
[The system vanished.]
[Time resumed.]
[His legs buckled.]
Abaksa Einsro- "…Tch…!"
[No choice.]
[If this was real]
[If death was real]
"…Then move."
[He pushed himself forward.]
[Again.]
[And again.]
[Each step heavier than the last.]
[His vision blurred.]
[His breathing shattered.]
"…I won't…"
[He staggered.]
"…die like that again…"
[Memories flashed.]
[The battlefield.]
[The Demon Lord.]
[The message]
[No Plot Armour Detected]
"…Not again…"
[His legs gave out—]
[He forced them forward.]
[One more step.]
[One more.]
[Then]
[Darkness.]
[His body collapsed in the middle of the castle corridor.]
"…Where…"
[Ceiling.]
[Wooden beams.]
[Dim candlelight.]
[His room.]
"…I survived…"
[His body felt lighter.]
[Still weak.But alive.]
[ThenSomething on his chest.]
[A letter.He picked it up.Unfolded it.]
[The handwriting was sharp. Aggressive.]
Abaksa Einsro- "…Vaelric…"
[He read.]
"Cowardice shows no bounds."
"Running away like a rat suits you well, little brother."
"Fight me in a duel in 10 days."
"If you lose"
"You will be banished."
"Your sword. Your title. Your belongings."
"All will be mine."
[Silence.]
[The letter trembled slightly in his hand.]
"…10 days…"
[His grip tightened.]
"…In this body…?"
[Weak.]
[Untrained.]
[Near death just from running.]
[A Novice?]
[Against a superior warrior.]
[Impossible.]
[Then]
[A faint flicker.]
[The system appeared again.]
[Condition Partially Met]
[His eyes sharpened.]
[Physical threshold: Initiated]
[The words lingered.]
[Hope.]
[Danger.]
[Possibility.]
[All at once.]
[Abaksa slowly looked at his hands.]
"…Fine."
[His voice steadied.]
"…If this is what it takes…"
[His eyes darkened.]
"…then I'll break this body and rebuild it."
[The rain outside had stopped.]
I WILL MAKE THIS WORLD MINE!!