[Night had fallen.]
[The town slept.]
[Lanterns flickered.]
[Rain drizzled softly against wooden roofs.]
[Inside the inn, Abaksa sat near the window.]
[The note marked IX rested on the table.]
[His eyes lingered on it.]
Abaksa Einsro— "Nine..."
[The Ninth Regressor.]
[Someone who knew about him.]
[Someone who had saved him.]
[Someone who was watching.]
[Questions filled his mind.]
[But answers refused to come.]
[Several miles away.]
[In a forgotten valley.]
[Something ancient awakened.]
[Stone pillars surrounded a circle carved into the earth.]
[Runes glowed crimson.]
[Blood filled every groove.]
[Dozens of bodies lay around it.]
[Fresh.]
[Villagers.]
[Men.]
[Women.]
[Children.]
[Their eyes remained open.]
[Their blood fed the circle.]
[The ritual neared completion.]
CRACK.
[The earth split.]
[Red light erupted skyward.]
[The air screamed.]
[And from the center—]
[A hand emerged.]
[Young.]
[Human.]
[Then another.]
[Followed by a body.]
[A teenage boy climbed from the circle.]
[Black hair.]
[Pale skin.]
[Golden eyes.]
[He looked sixteen.]
[But the moment he opened his eyes—]
[The valley itself trembled.]
[The surviving cultists immediately fell to their knees.]
Cultist — "W-Welcome back..."
Cultist — "Lord of Ruin..."
[The boy looked around.]
[Expressionless.]
[Then at the corpses.]
Boy — "...Insufficient."
[The cultists froze.]
Cultist — "My Lord?"
[The boy stepped forward.]
[His gaze calm.]
[Almost bored.]
Boy — "The vessel is weak."
Boy — "The ritual quality was poor."
[His golden eyes settled on the nearest cultist.]
Cultist — "W-We followed the instructions exactly—"
[The boy raised one finger.]
[The cultist exploded.]
[Blood painted the trees.]
[Silence.]
[The others trembled.]
Boy — "Do not make excuses."
[Another cultist tried to run.]
[He didn't make it three steps.]
[His body folded inward.]
[Bone shattered.]
[Organs ruptured.]
[The corpse hit the ground.]
[The boy continued walking.]
[One by one.]
[Every cultist died.]
[No effort.]
[No anger.]
[Just disposal.]
[When it was over—]
[Only the teenage boy remained.]
[The reincarnation circle flickered weakly.]
Boy — "Pathetic."
[He looked at his hands.]
[Human.]
[Fragile.]
[Temporary.]
[Then—]
[He paused.]
[Something felt strange.]
[Very strange.]
[His eyes narrowed.]
"...Fate."
[The word escaped quietly.]
[Something nearby carried its scent.]
[Not the scent of mana.]
[Not the scent of blood.]
[Fate.]
[His gaze shifted toward the distant town.]
[The one where Abaksa rested.]
[Without another word—]
[He began walking.]
The Following Morning
[The town market bustled with life.]
[Merchants shouted.]
[Children ran through muddy streets.]
[Abaksa moved through the crowd.]
[Hood lowered.]
[Hand near his sword.]
[The mountain had changed him.]
[Not enough.]
[But noticeably.]
[He needed information.]
[Supplies.]
[A reason why the Ninth Regressor had intervened.]
[And maybe a lead.]
[Then—]
[Outcome Awareness Triggered]
[His body froze.]
[The world sharpened.]
[People moved normally.]
[But one figure stood out.]
[A black-haired teenager.]
[Walking calmly through the market.]
[Nothing remarkable.]
[Except—]
[Every instinct Abaksa possessed screamed.]
[Run.]
[His heart skipped.]
Abaksa Einsro— "...What?"
[The feeling intensified.]
[Danger.]
[Death.]
[The boy turned slightly.]
[Golden eyes met his.]
[For a single second.]
[Neither moved.]
[Neither spoke.]
[The crowd continued around them.]
[Completely unaware.]
[The teenager tilted his head.]
[Curious.]
Boy — "...Interesting."
[Abaksa's hand moved toward his sword.]
[Slowly.]
[The feeling was familiar.]
[Too familiar.]
[Like standing before a mountain.]
[Like staring into inevitable death.]
[Like—]
[The final battle.]
[His eyes widened.]
"No..."
[The teenager smiled.]
[Small.]
[Almost invisible.]
[Then turned away.]
[And kept walking.]
[The pressure vanished.]
[The market returned.]
[The sounds returned.]
[The world resumed.]
[But Abaksa remained frozen.]
[Breathing hard.]
[Because deep inside—]
[Past memory.]
[Past fear.]
[Past death.]
[Recognized him.]
[Even if the face was different.]
[Even if the body was new.]
[The soul was the same.]
Abaksa Einsro— "...Demon Lord."
[Far ahead, the black-haired teenager continued walking through the crowd.]
[Without looking back.]
[But a faint smile remained on his face.]
[Because he had recognized Abaksa too.]
[Neither knew it yet.]
[But fate had just placed them on the same board.]