The air hung heavy with the acrid scent of blood and scorched magic. Dungeon walls pulsed faintly with an eerie glow, the obsidian floor slick beneath me—slick with sweat, blood, and shattered dreams. My breath came ragged and shallow, but I refused to collapse.
I am Kael Draven—the world's only SSS-rank hunter. The strongest man alive. Or at least, that's what I thought.
One more room. One final step to conquer the Hellfire Abyss—the deadliest dungeon ever unearthed. One more step to carve my name into history.
Behind me, my comrades had fallen. Friends. Brothers-in-arms. Slaughtered by monsters—or worse. Now, I was the last survivor.
"Kael." A familiar voice sliced through the silence like a dagger. Guild Master Aric's shadow stretched over me, cold and unforgiving. "You've done well."
I forced a grin despite the pain tearing through my ribs. "We're not finished yet."
My gaze locked on the glowing portal ahead—the gateway to the final chamber. The Infernal Wyrm awaited beyond.
Then, everything shattered.
The portal shimmered—and snapped shut with a cruel finality.
A cold dread froze my blood.
The rest were gone.
Only Aric remained, standing in flickering torchlight, his sword dripping bright red—human blood.
"Where are they?" I whispered, voice cracking.
Aric's smile twisted into something venomous, serpentine. "Dead. Every last one."
A chill surged through me. "Why?"
"Because you climbed too high." His voice was low, venom lacing every word. "The world can't have gods walking among mortals."
Behind him, a low growl rumbled, shaking the dungeon's core.
The Infernal Wyrm emerged from shadow—massive, scaly, radiating deadly power. Its molten eyes locked onto me, hunger burning inside.
"Goodbye, Kael." Aric stepped into a teleport rune and vanished.
My last ally had betrayed me.
The beast lunged.
I barely dodged its crushing jaws. I retaliated with every shred of strength—blades flashing, lightning coursing through my veins—but my battered body faltered. Its tail slammed me against the wall, pain exploding through my ribs.
Blood spilled from my mouth, vision dimming.
I clawed to stay conscious, to keep fighting—but darkness crept in.
Then, a voice echoed inside my mind.
𝐷
𝑖
𝑛
𝑔
!
Ding!
Fatal condition detected.
Activating Regression Protocol...
Warning: Rank reset to F−.
A blinding white light swallowed me. The pain vanished.
I gasped, eyes snapping open.
The dungeon was gone.
I was back in my cramped apartment.
The cracked ceiling loomed overhead, the flickering lightbulb cast lazy shadows, the stale scent of instant noodles filled the air.
My heart thundered.
A glance at the calendar froze me.
April 12th… ten years ago.
My hands—young, unscarred, soft—trembled.
All the memories—the betrayal, the pain, the death—blazed fresh inside my mind.
I touched my face, disbelief curling at the edges of my soul. This was no dream. The taste of blood, the weight of loss—they were real.
A second chance.
This time, I wouldn't be weak. I wouldn't be betrayed.
"This time," I whispered, fists clenched so tight my nails bit into my palms, "I will kill them first."
My whole body trembled—not with fear, but with a storm of rage and resolve.
I thought of the Guild Hall, of Aric's cold smile as he plunged his sword into my back—both literally and figuratively.
I would make him regret every moment.
But first… I had to start over.
I sank onto the worn couch, the familiar fabric grounding me in reality.
The system—the gift earned through years of brutal battles—still hummed faintly in my mind.
A new path to power. From F− rank, the lowest of the low, I would claw my way to the summit.
No shortcuts. No mercy.
I had to become a god.
But first—I was trash.
I closed my eyes, letting memories wash over me—the moments of power, the enemies crushed, and the final seconds before death.
If I failed again, there would be no more chances.
I opened my eyes, a fierce fire blazing within.
This time, the world would bow before me.
The clock ticked.
The dawn of my new life had come.