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RYUUN REID POV:

I peered into the onslaught of the abyss. The countless curses that went through the warp were that of thousands.

No matter how many we are, no matter how strong we are, we cannot stand up against such an army with overwhelming numerical superiority.

Worst-case scenario, our souls would be "corrupted."

"Ryuun...are you tired?" spoke Kaysilia, her face covered in blood and bruises, her body drenched in sweat. Her left arm was nowhere to be seen, and her clothes and armor were torn apart.

With a disgruntled look on my face, I responded, "Well, there's a never-ending horde of Tyranicus after all."

As if to bring a little humor to our dire situation, she said, "You're getting tired against a few hordes of Tyranicus? Someone's getting weak."

"Ha...ha, well, you look way worse than me."

"I have to disagree," she replied with a rather disingenuous face.

"How stubborn," I uttered with a rather spent look.

Kaysilia was exhausted, and I too was at my wit's end. Even a child could see how futile our attempt to hold this gate was.

The Prima Knights that guarded the Southern Gate had fallen. The Western Gate had been overrun, and the Eastern Gate was barely holding the line.

Several lines were created to compensate for the two gates that collapsed. The remaining reserves were hastily called upon and equipped with our last remaining armaments.

It would only be a matter of time before our great Dynasty fell. Once this gate, the Northern Gate which guarded the capital, fell, all of humanity would perish.

Numbering up the remaining forces who had not perished or succumbed to the forces of curses, only a few of us Dragon Knights were still breathing and fighting. The high elven units supporting the rear had been in disarray since the fifth wave of the invasion. The Aurous Dragon Knight Veronica and his legion were annihilated during their encounter with the King of Anarchy, Karelesca, thus many cursed Tyranicus were able to breach through the line and fight against the elven units.

It was a one-sided numerical battle with the Tyranicus having the upper hand. It was a miracle that the high elven unit was able to withstand the attack and repel the Tyranicus.

Numbering the high elven range unit, the remaining unified infantry forces, me, and Kaysilia. Only about five thousand soldiers remained.

Holding this gate until the last of our people escaped towards the underground labyrinth was our goal.

"Hold the line at all costs!

"If this gate falls, the entire human race will perish!" shouted the lieutenant who took command of the surviving forces.

The surviving forces, who had endured repeated waves of invasionary forces, were now exhausted.

Ammunition and other medical spells were depleted.

Only our wits and swords remained.

"To die in the heat of battle, to give our life for a greater cause. No honor can surpass this!

"We shall fight until the last sword drops! Give your heart and soul to the greater cause! For our people! For the Fatherland!" the lieutenant shouted.

The demoralized units quickly rose from their positions, swayed by the bravery of their commander. They unsheathed their war-torn swords and unloaded the last remaining ammunition from their rifles.

Ready to face the next horde of curses, Kaysilia raised her rapier towards the sky, shouting, "For the Fatherland!"

FOR THE FATHERLAND!

The soldiers shouted.

To put a little hope in our situation was the best decision at this moment. Even if it didn't change the outcome of the fight, at least our men would die with bravery at hand.

Kaysilia and I were both anxious about our current situation. Failure at this point was inevitable. It was better to die here than to be captured by the enemy, as getting captured by the curses was a fate worse than death itself.

Even if we had asked for reinforcement, none would arrive. The dynasty's forces were already stretched far too thin. Several preemptive strikes throughout the regions, and several warp gates had appeared on all of the region's gates.

The warp gate is a dimensional gate that connects the material world to the abyssal realm of curses, the very product of evil and destruction.

It is where all desires of evil reside.

Kaysilia glanced towards the remaining units and then to me.

Kaysilia's wound had not been patched or healed and had been leaking blood since our last conversation.

Looking at her, even if the curses didn't kill her, blood loss would.

Kaysilia's eyes glanced towards me. She saw my bodily armor torn apart, my left leg and torso bleeding, my clothes torn, my body full of bruises, and multiple abdominal injuries rendering me unable to stand completely straight.

I used my great sword as support to keep my body from falling to the ground. The immense physical and mental pain that I had endured was indescribable.

"It is a shame to be rendered to this state. I'm better off as dead weight."

The lieutenant gathered the remaining men, placing them into a circular formation. The High Elven Range units were at the epicenter, providing support from all sides, gunning down the enemy who bypassed the formation.

The infantry units, whose swords were still functional, formed the main defense, crashing through the Tyranicus' sharp claws that could slice a normal human body as if it were butter.

Truly, a desperate attempt at survival. No honor can surpass that of laying down your life for your nation and countrymen.

I looked at Kaysilia and the lieutenant, whose name I neither knew nor bothered to know. I looked at the men, their bodies full of bruises and injuries, several parts shattered, broken, and torn apart.

Their dull armaments showed how much terror and horror they had witnessed. Their faces were full of hope, longing that maybe... just maybe they could survive and see their beloved families again.

Optimism flooded their minds that even if our current predicament was at its most dire, perhaps some divine miracle would happen.

I looked around, towards the soldiers, and then at Kaysilia.

With a frazzled look on my face, I said, "Kaysilia..."

"I... know," said Kaysilia, whose face had become quite jaded.

"I am not going to die," she said.

I nodded at her, signaling that we would see each other through the end of this.

The warp, which had been quiet, suddenly flared out with multiple abyssal flames, signaling the next wave of curses that would pass through the dimensional gate.

The soldiers readied their swords, the High Elven range units armed their rifles, Kaysilia assumed a stance befitting a knight, and I lifted my great sword off the ground, preparing for the upcoming onslaught.

Kaysilia raised her rapier, shouting, "For her Majesty's grace, we shall not fail!"

"For her Majesty!" a soldier shouted.

"Let's show them tyrannical hell!" a ranger commented.

"For our people! Our nation!" shouted the lieutenant, and the soldiers responded.

"May we die for the Fatherland!"

The warp, which had connected the material world to the abyssal realm of curses, unsealed its pathways.

The Tyranicus, which had waited for its opening, suddenly jumped out of the warp and into the battlefield.

As they leaped, the High Elven units, who saw them passing through, shot their rifles in unison, gunning down the Tyranicus as they emerged.

The Tyranicus that managed to land on the battlefield were gunned down by the High Elven range unit rear guard.

As the Tyranicus met their doom, the soldiers were in ecstasy, seeing their enemies mercilessly slaughtered by gunfire brought a sense of triumph to the wounded soldiers.

A Tyranicus, who had not been gunned down, suddenly ran as fast as it could into our formation. The infantry soldiers, who held their swords, readied their bodies to receive the Tyranicus that dared threaten our arrangement.

The Tyranicus, moving at the speed of sound and several kilometers away at the warp, was getting closer to the formation.

An elven ranger tried to shoot down the Tyranicus, but much to his surprise, the Tyranicus, known as a beast with no intelligence, was quickly evading his bullets.

The Tyranicus ran as quickly as it could towards its enemy, sensing its prey's fear. It unsheathed its sharp claws from its hands, covered by thick layers of brawny skin.

The ranger fired again, with his comrades assisting him, shooting a barrage of Aether bullets toward the enemy.

The Tyranicus quickly evaded their attacks, and red light-like patterns became visible on its rigid body. The patterns grew lighter and lighter, then, in a mere second, as an elven ranger's Aether bullet was about to hit it, the Tyranicus disappeared from their sight.

"What?" a ranger questioned.

"Where did it go?" another one followed.

"Did you guys see that?" a ranger asked.

"Yeah, it just disappeared all of a sudden," another one answered.

A ranger who had assumed command of this troop said, "Keep your guard up! There are still enemies heading towards us!"

"Yes, sir!" one of the rangers responded.

Suddenly, a deafening scream was heard.

The Tyranicus, which the rangers had assumed had disappeared, was now on the other side of their position.

The Tyranicus was a beast with jet-black skin, a brute-like appearance, and multiple layers of muscle-bound skin as tough as adamantine.

It had no face, just a large mouth with several spiky, sharp teeth. It had a humanoid appearance yet ran as if it were a four-legged animal. It had multiple tentacle-like arms on its back, which it could retract at will, and these arms had claws as sharp as blades made of adamantine.

A beast with no intelligence whatsoever, designed to hunt and kill its prey.

A terrifying creature created by the curses to overwhelm their enemies with numerical superiority.

Naturally, a beast such as this did not possess intelligence.

"Hiekkk!"

A soldier screamed as he dropped his sword and fell to the ground. Seeing his comrade severed in two must have brought him an unrelenting feeling of fear. Tears soon flowed from his eyes as he cried out, "SPARE ME! SPARE ME! SPAR-!"

In just a second, before the soldier could utter his last words, the Tyranicus severed the soldier's head from his body.

His head flew through the sky and landed near one of the ranger's positions, where the troop commander had earlier ordered the barrage of attacks.

Seeing this, the troop commander pointed his rifle towards the Tyranicus and shouted, "FIRE! FIRE!!"

Hearing this command, the elven ranger troop shot a barrage of unrelenting attacks at the Tyranicus.

The troop commander shouted, "FIRE!! KEEP FIRING!!"

The Elven Rangers, under his command, kept firing at the Tyranicus, not caring how hot their rifles were becoming.

A look of trepidation was evident on the faces of both the troop commander and his troops. Seeing their comrade's head severed from his body must have driven them to madness. Instead of ordering the soldiers with swords to attack, they continued their barrage of attacks.

In a situation where ammunition was limited, what they did was utter foolishness.

Though one could argue using soldiers with swords as meat shields against the Tyranicus was even more foolish.

An ear-splitting sound was heard as one of the rifle magazines was emptied, bringing the panicked soldiers back to sanity.

The troop commander yelled, "HALT! HALT YOUR FIRE!"

The troop commander, whose sanity had finally returned, ordered his men to stop their attack.

"Haa...haa..." a ranger exhaled.

"Did we... get him?" one of the troops asked.

"Is it... dead?" another followed.

"Ready your rifles," the troop commander said as he held onto one of the ranger's shoulders.

The exhausted Rangers armed their rifles again, but this time, due to the repeated outburst of Aether bullets connecting and igniting on the Tyranicus' brawny body, a thick cloud of ashy toxic fumes soon emitted from the area.

When the smoke finally settled down, the troop commander peered through the haze. A humanoid jet-black figure rose from the smoke, seemingly unscathed.

"Mo-mo-monster!!"

A petrified soldier cowered in fear upon seeing the unscathed Tyranicus, sending a chain reaction of fright throughout the other rangers.

All of the rangers felt horror and despair, reminded of the horrors they had witnessed before, realizing that this fight was nothing more than a futile attempt at survival.

"Do-don't falter! Again! Fire!" the troop commander yelled. He soon gripped his rifle, put his finger on the trigger, and pointed it at the Tyranicus. However, before he could pull the trigger, in a matter of seconds, his head was severed from his body. His body soon fell to the ground.

The other rangers, seeing this, ran as quickly as they could, leaving behind their rifles. The Tyranicus saw the fleeing rangers and a soldier soon came running towards it.

A soldier, holding a retractable aether sword, tried to harm the Tyranicus as his fleeing comrades desperately ran away.

"Die, hellspawn!" he shouted. However, before the soldier could gain significant distance, the Tyranicus used its tentacle-like arms to unsheathe its sharp knife-like claws and stab the soldier in the chest.

The soldier screamed in utter agony. "ARGHHH!"

The Tyranicus pulled the soldier close to its face. "He-hell spawn!" the soldier struggled.

The Tyranicus, unfazed, opened its gargantuan mouth, revealing its jagged teeth. The soldier desperately tried to strike the Tyranicus' head with his sword.

Alas, his resistance was futile. The Tyranicus, savoring the blood from the soldier's face, brought unrelenting feelings of joy.

Using its tongue, it savored the blood flowing from the bruises on the soldier's face. In his last efforts of struggle, the soldier felt utter despair, thinking, "What... hell and country... it wasn't worth it after all."

As he recalled his sorrowful memories in the capital—his sister raped, his mother tortured, his father beaten to a pulp—he realized that fighting for a country plagued by wickedness wasn't worth it.

Accepting his fate, the Tyranicus, satisfied with the blood, devoured his head, severing it from his body. It then threw the body towards the corpses of armed men it had slaughtered prior.

Glancing towards the fleeing soldiers, it felt the thirst for blood once again. Red light-like patterns soon appeared throughout its body, marking its prey.

In another area of the battle....

I held my greatsword up high, pointing at the incoming hordes of Tyranicus, ready to receive them.

With blood clogging my eyesight, I saw a Tyranicus running toward our formation. The rangers fired barrages at it, yet this beast, known to possess no intelligence, was now dodging bullets. The rangers fired again and again, but not a single round made contact. Then red light patterns soon appeared on its brawny skin, and in an instant, it disappeared.

A deafening scream was heard in the background. I did not know what it was or where it came from, but one thing was certain—something had gotten in.

I turned my head to my left and then to my right. To my left, I saw rangers unanimously firing at the incoming Tyranicus. To my right, I saw men driven by fear, fleeing for their lives.

The chaos of battle intensified around me. The Tyranicus moved with a brutal efficiency, their claws slicing through flesh and bone. I swung my greatsword with all my remaining strength, cutting down any that came within reach, but the sheer number of enemies was overwhelming.

Kaysilia fought valiantly beside me, her rapier a blur of motion. Despite her wounds, she held her ground, her determination unyielding. But the tide was against us. One by one, our comrades fell, their screams echoing in the night.

Suddenly, the Tyranicus broke through our formation. The rangers were overwhelmed, and the infantry was pushed back. In the chaos, Kaysilia was separated from me, her form swallowed by the mass of enemies.

I fought desperately, my body growing weaker with each passing moment. Then, a sharp pain exploded in my side. I looked down to see a Tyranicus claw embedded in my chest. With a roar, I swung my sword, severing the creature's arm and pulling the claw from my body, but the damage was done.

As I staggered back, shadowy figures emerged from the darkness, surrounding me. They were cloaked in shadows, their faces obscured, but their presence radiated malice.

One of the figures stepped forward, holding something in its hand. My heart sank as I recognized what it was: Kaysilia's severed head, her eyes still open, staring lifelessly ahead.

Rage and despair surged through me. With a roar, I charged at the figures, swinging my greatsword with reckless abandon. The shadows seemed to dance around me, their movements fluid and otherworldly.

I fought with every ounce of strength I had left, but it was a losing battle. The figures were too many, and my injuries were too severe. A blade slashed across my chest, and I fell to my knees, blood pouring from the wound.

As darkness closed in around me, I reached out for Kaysilia's head, my vision blurring. I had failed her, failed our comrades, failed our mission.

With a final, gasping breath, I collapsed to the ground, the world fading into darkness.

As his consciousness faded, memories of his past life began to flood his mind. He remembered his family, the crushing weight of debt that had shattered their lives. His father, a once proud man, was driven to an early grave by relentless overwork, his health deteriorating day by day until he finally succumbed. His mother, unable to bear the grief and pressure, lost her sanity, her once gentle eyes turning vacant and hollow. His older sister, who had tried so hard to hold the family together, eventually died from overwork and exhaustion, her body giving out under the immense strain.

He was left alone in a world that had shown him nothing but cruelty. With no one to turn to, he found solace in the kindness of his relatives—Ryazania's family. They took him in, offering him a glimmer of hope in his darkest days. Determined to repay their kindness, he devoted himself to them, doing everything in his power to make their lives better. He worked tirelessly, driven by a desire to honor the compassion they had shown him.

In his new life, he made it a point to offer kindness to others, just as Ryazania's family had done for him. One memory stood out vividly in his fading mind. He had been helping an old lady cross the street, a simple act of kindness that brought a smile to her weathered face. As he guided her across, he felt a strange sensation, as if the world around him was shifting.

Before he could comprehend what was happening, he was suddenly transported to this world—a world of chaos and darkness, where he was forced to fight for survival against monstrous beings like the Tyranicus. He had no time to question how or why he was brought here. His days became a relentless struggle, his past life seeming like a distant dream.

In this harsh new reality, he found himself fighting alongside others who were equally desperate, forging bonds in the heat of battle. Among them was Kaysilia, a fierce warrior whose courage and determination mirrored his own. Together, they faced insurmountable odds, fighting to protect what little remained of their world.

But now, as he lay dying on the battlefield, surrounded by the shadows of his enemies, he felt a profound sense of failure. He had not been able to save those he cared about, had not been able to protect the world he had come to call home. The faces of his family, of Ryazania's family, and of Kaysilia flashed before his eyes, their smiles and laughter haunting him.

With his final breath, he whispered a silent apology to them all. He had tried his best, had fought with everything he had, but it had not been enough. As the darkness closed in, he clung to the hope that somehow, in some way, his efforts had not been in vain.

And then, he was gone, his body lying still on the blood-soaked ground, the shadows closing in around him.

"If only I could alter everything and go back," he thought, a desperate plea echoing in his fading consciousness.

Suddenly, a sensation of warmth enveloped him, pulling him from the abyss. He awoke with a gasp, his body jerking upright. The familiar weight of despair and exhaustion was gone, replaced by the softness of a bed beneath him. His eyes slowly adjusted to the dim light filtering through the curtains of the room.

He looked around, bewildered. This place felt familiar, yet impossibly distant. He noticed a figure sitting by his side. Kaysilia, alive and uninjured, her face serene and free of the bruises and blood he had last seen her with. She was dozing off in a chair, her head resting on her folded arms beside his bed.

Heart pounding, he gently shook her shoulder. "Kaysilia?" he whispered, his voice filled with disbelief.

She stirred, slowly opening her eyes. When she saw him awake, her face lit up with relief and joy. "Ryuun! You're awake!" she exclaimed, sitting up and reaching out to touch his arm as if to assure herself that he was real.

"Where... where are we?" Ryuun asked, his voice trembling. "What happened?"

"We're in Nortumbria," Kaysilia replied, her expression puzzled. "You collapsed during training, and you've been unconscious for a few days. The healers said you were exhausted, but you're going to be okay."

"Nortumbria?" Ryuun repeated, his mind racing. He glanced out the window, recognizing the skyline of the city. It was the same place he and Kaysilia had visited years ago, before the horrors of the Great War had begun.

"But... how?" he stammered, struggling to comprehend. "The war, the Tyranicus... it all felt so real."

Kaysilia frowned, concern etched on her face. "What are you talking about, Ryuun? There hasn't been any war. You're safe. We're all safe."

Ryuun's heart raced as he realized the truth. Somehow, impossibly, he had been given a second chance. The memories of his past life, the horrors he had faced, and the desperate battles he had fought all came flooding back. But now, he was here, years before the Great War had begun.

"Kaysilia," he said, gripping her hand tightly, "I don't know how to explain this, but I think I've been given a chance to change everything. To prevent the war, to save everyone."

Kaysilia looked at him, confusion and worry in her eyes, but she squeezed his hand reassuringly. "Whatever it is, Ryuun, I think Exvuvia hit your head too hard."

Kaysilia stood up and reminded him to take his medication. "I'll call the nurse," she said gently, "and then I'll head back to my dorm. Make sure you rest, okay?"

Ryuun nodded, watching as she left the room. A few minutes later, the nurse arrived, followed by the doctor.

Ryuun, still trying to piece everything together, asked, "What time and date is it?"

The doctor checked his watch and replied, "It's the year 536."

Ryuun's heart skipped a beat. Ryuun realized that four years had passed since he had been mysteriously transported to this world and three years remained before the Great War would begin.

He thought that maybe this was a fleeting dream, so he slapped his face, his hand imbued with aether. The sharp sting confirmed his reality.

The nurse and doctor, startled by his action, quickly scolded him. "You shouldn't be doing that!" the nurse exclaimed. "You need to rest and recover."

Nevertheless, Ryuun's mind was racing. If he had really traveled back in time, how and why had it happened? These questions swirled in his mind, but one thing became clear: he had been given a chance to change everything.

The nurse and doctor completed their final checks and left, reminding him to take it easy. As the door closed behind them, Ryuun lay back on the bed. Exhaustion mingled with hope as he began to plan. T

here was so much to do, so many lives to save. But with Kaysilia by his side and the knowledge of what was to come, he felt a glimmer of optimism.

Together, they would forge a new path, one where the shadows of the past could be banished forever.