Chapter One: Ashes of Betrayal
The crimson glow of the burning city painted the sky like blood. Smoke twisted upward in thick, choking plumes, carrying with it the acrid scent of burning timber and iron. Thousands had gathered in the central square.soldiers, nobles, peasants
once trembling at the mention of his name. Now, they watched not with fear, but with something far colder: relief.
Trex Lorven, the Conqueror of Vhaldrath, knelt in the center, chains of obsidian steel biting into his wrists, runes etched along their length suppressing the raw, godlike power that had made him invincible. His once mighty armor, black as a starless night, hung in tatters, caked in blood and ash.
Every inch of his body throbbed
cuts, bruises, gaping wounds
a tapestry of betrayal.
Before him, triumphant, stood those he had once called brothers:
Commander Malvek, the strategist who had pledged unwavering loyalty, now clad in the polished armor of the Vhaldrath Empire. Sir Kaelith, his unyielding shield, raised his blade, its edge still dark with Trex's blood. And worst of all Lord Dareth, his childhood companion, once inseparable, now gazed at him with icy, detached disdain.
Trex's chest heaved, pain and fury warring inside him.
"Cowards," he rasped, voice cracking yet cutting through the square like steel. "You needed the empire to chain me? You think your treachery will earn you glory? You think they will honor traitors?"
Malvek's lips curled into a smirk. "Honor? That was never the concern, Conqueror. You were a storm no man could tame. The empire does not need warlords—it needs obedience."
Trex let out a bitter laugh. "Obedience? You call slaughtering the only force that held the northern clans in check 'peace'? You think your masters will remember loyalty when they fear nothing but power?"
Dareth said nothing. Silence, heavier than any blade, fell between them.
A drum rolled. From the shadows, a figure emerged the executioner. His face was obscured, his greatsword gleaming under the firelight, a single strike designed to erase a man from existence. The crowd held its breath.
Trex straightened. Even in chains, even at the edge of death, he would not bow. He would die defiant, staring his betrayers in the eye.
The greatsword descended.
Time fractured. A lifetime of conquests, victories, and loyal men flashed through his mind. The mountains he had claimed. The empires he had bent to his will. And now… all for nothing. Betrayal had won.
The blade fell—
Darkness.
Then a gasp. Air filled his lungs, ragged and desperate. Trex bolted upright, drenched in cold sweat, expecting the searing pain of steel. Instead, there was only silence, only the faint scent of damp wood and candle smoke
He was not in the execution square.
The room was small, dim, and decaying. Dust lay thick on every surface, broken furniture scattered, a single candle flickering against cracked walls. His limbs trembled thin, weak, unfamiliar.
A mirror leaned crookedly against the far wall. He approached, hands shaking.
The reflection that stared back was not his own. Hollow cheeks, sunken eyes, a frail body—barely more than a boy. His hair, silver and unkempt, shimmered faintly in the candlelight.
Memories not his own surged into him.
Trex Lorven—no, not yet. He was now Trevan Veyris, the third son of House Veyris. A sickly, forgotten noble, mocked by his own family. The past stretched before him, fifteen years younger.
He sank to his knees. This was not mercy. This was not chance. This was a trial.
A whisper echoed in the depths of his mind:
[Evolution System Activated]
A pulse of power coursed through him. Words burned themselves into his consciousness:
[Mission: Rewrite Fate or Be Erased]
Trex's breath caught. The weight of destiny pressed down on him not as a choice, but a command.
He had not returned to relive the past. He had returned to rewrite it.
And this time, nothing
no betrayal
no empire
no god
No demon would stand in his way.