I couldn't stop laughing.
My body was barely hanging together, blood soaking through my torn armor as the final battle drew to a close. My vision was blurry, and I could barely feel my legs beneath me, but I couldn't help myself. I had been a fool.
"Pathetic," I muttered to myself, choking on a laugh. "All this, for nothing."
The Warden of the Abyss, Ignil towered over me, his massive black claws gleaming in the dim, flickering light of the chamber. He looked down at me like an insect caught beneath his boot, and for a fleeting moment, I thought I could see a flicker of amusement in his fiery red eyes.
"You thought you could defeat me, human? The one who rules the dark expanse?" The Warden's voice rumbled like thunder, sending chills down my spine. "What a pitiful attempt."
I had failed. The power I'd been granted, the promises made to me — it all led to this. A miserable death. My allies, those who had stood by me through countless battles, were already dead, their bodies scattered like broken toys across the chamber.
I could feel my last breath creeping in. The Abyssal Spear — a weapon capable of erasing existence itself — had pierced through my chest. There would be no coming back from this. But in my final moments, a single thought burned in my mind.
What the hell was the point?
I had reached the final floor of the tower, had gotten so close to victory. And yet, here I was , a broken shell of the hero I once believed I could be. The three gods who had guided me, had told me I was the one to save the world — had given me nothing but tools for failure.
For all the sacrifices, for all the blood spilled, the Warden was still standing. His laugh echoed in my ears as I slipped into unconsciousness.
I didn't even get to use the damn relic.
And then, everything went black.
-
When I woke up, I didn't expect to be alive.
My chest, where the spear had been lodged, was whole again. There was no blood, no pain, just an unsettling sense of disorientation. I sat up quickly, trying to grasp the situation, and found myself in a strange, unfamiliar realm.
A soft glow illuminated the space around me, and before I could fully process what was happening, three figures materialized before me. Each one exuded a power that made my skin prickle, their presences undeniable.
"You're awake," a deep voice said.
I blinked, staring up at the trio. Three gods, each as imposing as the last.
The first god was a towering figure, wrapped in robes that shimmered like the night sky, his silver eyes reflecting the stars. His voice was calm, but there was an unmistakable authority in it. He was the God of Time, Vareos.
The second god, smaller in stature but no less powerful, had a fiery gaze and long, flowing red hair. Her presence burned like the sun itself. She was the Goddess of Destruction, Korrina.
The third god, the most serene and composed of them all, had an ethereal beauty. Her skin glowed with a soft, golden light, and her eyes were pools of infinite wisdom. She was the Goddess of Fate, Liraen.
"You're the one we chose," Vareos said, his voice measured. "The one who could stop the impending disaster."
I struggled to my feet, still dizzy. "What the hell is going on? Why am I alive? I remember... dying. The spear. The Warden."
Korrina smirked, her fiery eyes flashing with amusement. "You're not dead. Not yet, anyway."
"You used us," I growled. "You made me your tool, just another pawn to do your bidding!"
Liraen stepped forward, her voice calm and soothing. "We didn't choose you out of kindness. We chose you because you had the potential to be more than a pawn. We gave you power. But you squandered it."
Korrina chuckled darkly. "And now, you've failed."
I glared at them, fists clenched. "What do you want from me? I've already given everything. I followed your orders, did everything you asked, and this is what I get?"
"Not everything," Vareos said, his eyes narrowing. "You still have a chance to make things right."
"What are you talking about?"
"You've failed once," Liraen said, her voice tinged with sadness. "But we're willing to give you another chance. A second life. A new beginning."
I laughed bitterly, disbelief spreading across my face. "A second chance? To do what? To fail again?"
Korrina stepped forward, her eyes burning with intensity. "This time, you'll do it on your own terms. You won't be our pawn. You'll use the knowledge you have from your previous life. We will send you back to the past, before the disaster begins. But you must decide now — will you accept the responsibility of saving the world, or will you let it fall?"
I clenched my jaw, my mind racing as I think of the past, the crimson rift, the war and the disaster. I had been there, seen it all unfold.
This time, I wouldn't be their puppet. I wouldn't sacrifice myself. I wouldn't let others take the best of everything while I fought their battles.
I would change everything.
"And if I refuse?" I asked, voice cold.
Vareos's expression hardened. "Then you will die again, and the world will fall with you."
I looked at the gods, one by one. I knew this was my only shot. If I wanted to live differently, to be the one who controlled my fate, this was it. No more self-sacrifice. No more following orders.
I turned my gaze back to Liraen, Korrina, and Vareos. "Fine," I said. "I'll do it. But not for you. Not for the world. For me. This time, I'll be the one to decide what happens."
Liraen smiled softly. "Good. That's the answer we wanted to hear."
Vareos nodded. "We'll send you back, but know this: you may struggle, but keep pushing. We will be watching you."
Korrina gave a sharp laugh. "Enjoy the second chance, human. But don't think it'll be easy. You're on your own now."
The three gods extended their hands, their powers swirling together, forming a brilliant light that engulfed me.
***
When I opened my eyes again, the scent hit me first — sour garbage, damp concrete, and stale smoke. My back ached from the cold, uneven ground. As my vision adjusted, I recognized the narrow alleyway walls, stained with graffiti and lit only by the flicker of a dying streetlamp.
"…I'm back."
My voice came out rough, hoarse. But it wasn't just the alley that was familiar — I remembered this place.
This is where it all started… where the Rift tore open.
A slow grin spread across my face.
"I actually came back."
I looked down at my hands. Younger. Lighter. No scars. No blood-soaked calluses from wielding ethersteel weapons or clawing through monster nests.
I stood, rolling my shoulders and stretching out my legs. Everything felt… real. Solid. New.
"So this is what it feels like before the fall…"
I glanced around the alley and spotted the rusty dumpster I'd hidden behind the first time the Crimson Rift emerged. It was surreal. I remembered it all — the sky splitting like glass, the world trembling, and the devourers pouring out.
The gods — Elaron, Nyessa, and Kaelith — had sent me back.
Not out of mercy. Not because I was special.
They wanted a second attempt at salvation, but I wasn't their sacrificial pawn anymore.
No. This time, I wasn't playing by their rules.
"You want me to gather allies? Stop the Collapse? Save the world again?"
I laughed to myself, low and cold. "Screw that. I'm not here to be a hero."
The first time around, I obeyed. I fought. I bled. I lost. Everything.
"I will monopolize everything."
And if the gods wanted to protest? Let them come.
My thoughts were interrupted by a gravelly voice nearby.
"Well, well. If it ain't the little rat crawling out of the trash again."
I turned.
Three men stepped into the alley — shaved heads, torn jackets, heavy boots. I recognized their faces instantly.
"Deral, Klen, and Moff," I muttered.
They were the ones who'd beaten me half to death on the night of the Rift's awakening. Took my wallet. Broke my ribs. Left me bleeding just as the world cracked open.
"What's with the smug look, freak?" Deral spat, cracking his knuckles. "Forget your place?"
Looking at them, I didn't freeze, cower or beg. Because this time, I remembered every technique, every counter, every weakness.
Deral lunged, fist flying.
I slipped under it and slammed my elbow into his gut.
Crack!
He crumpled, wheezing.
Klen swung a pipe. I caught it mid-swing, twisted, and drove my knee into his nose. Blood sprayed.
Moff backed away, wide-eyed. "Wh-what the fuck—!?"
I strode over, grabbed him by the collar, and slammed him into the wall.
"Answer me something," I said calmly. "What's today's date?"
"H-huh?! F-February 17th!"
"And the year?"
"2025! It's 2025, man!"
I smiled. Right on time.
"And the hour?"
He pulled a cracked cellphone from his jacket. "11:59…"
Just then, the wind shifted.
The night went still.
Buzz…
The streetlights flickered and died. Powerlines sparked.
I let go of Moff, turned toward the mouth of the alley, and stared at the sky.
"Right about now…"
RUMMMMBLLLE—!
The earth groaned, deep and ancient, like something waking from an endless sleep.
Then the clouds parted, but not like before. Not with rain.
They ripped open, exposing a dark red gash in the sky, like someone had sliced through reality itself.
A towering moon, larger than I remembered, pulsed overhead — crimson, like blood diluted with fire.
The Rift had opened.
KRRAAAAAAGH—!!
The screams began. I turned to see the alley floor cracking.
Moff and the others barely had time to scream before the pavement shattered, and a violet void swallowed them whole.
This was the day called The Crimson Rift appeared. The day when monsters known as Ruinborn would come out from the rift when there is no one to complete the quest in the given time. When every major city would fall.
And no one would be ready except for me.
I looked up, bathed in crimson light, and grinned.
"Let the world burn again."
"I'll be the one holding the match this time."