The first rays of dawn stretched across the sky, painting the vast horizon in brilliant hues of orange and pink. It was an incredibly peaceful morning in the quaint frontier village that had become my home—a sharp, staggering contrast to the burning ash and suffocating violet skies that had haunted my thoughts just an hour prior. As the ordinary world slowly awoke around me, I decided to leave the quiet confines of my cottage and start my day with a hearty breakfast.
I pushed open the heavy wooden door of my cottage and stepped outside. Walking down the dirt pathways of the Ashen Frontier, the sheer biological reality of being an unawakened civilian hit me with every step. My body felt light, yet dangerously fragile. In my mind, I possessed the hyper-vigilant combat instincts and the tactical perception of a veteran vanguard captain. My eyes automatically scanned the rooftops for high-tier demonic gargoyles, and my ears listened for the low hum of an approaching Rift tear. But my physical frame lacked the dense cellular structure that only an ignition could grant. My muscles were soft, my lungs were tiny, and my calcified mana channels were completely silent, frozen solid like dry clay beneath my skin. If a basic vanguard grunt were to ambush me right now, my current frame wouldn't have the raw attribute volume to absorb a direct impact. I was a lethal weapon trapped inside a brittle glass shell.
My boots crunched against the damp earth, each stride forcing me to consciously adjust my balance. Having my mind tightly calibrated to a high-tier combat frame made moving in this unconditioned body feel incredibly jarring, like a master craftsman forcing a clunky, unrefined tool to execute a delicate cut. The lingering disorientation from my regression tried to claw its way back into my thoughts, tempting me to waste valuable resources wondering about the temporal physics of the cosmic pool. I closed my eyes, let out a cold, sharp breath, and suppressed it immediately.
I am back in my teenage body. It is weak, it is unawakened, and it is a reality I simply have to get over. Standing here analysing the past won't increase my attributes.
With that single thought, the lingering mental fog evaporated, replaced by the calculating, ice-cold focus of a survivor. I didn't care how the universe had thrown me back; I only cared about how to use it to slaughter the five families who had harvested me.
The village inn was a cosy, familiar establishment. Massive wooden beams crossed overhead, and the thick, mouth-watering aroma of freshly baked bread hung heavy in the crisp morning air. It was a place where travellers often find respite from the long trails of the frontier, and its hearty, simple meals were known far and wide among the border folk. To the ordinary people inside, this inn was just a sanctuary from the cold wind. But to my trained eyes, the lack of runic security was terrifying. There were no defensive barrier arrays etched into the oak frames, and no automated alarm grids to detect a localized monster saturation spike. It was the ultimate civilian vulnerability, a fragile peace built on the hope that the United Vanguard Government's outer defensive walls would hold for one more day.
I took a quiet seat near the large glass window, allowing the soft, natural sunlight to warm my face. The sheer sensation of safety here was overwhelming, vibrating against my raw, battle-weary nerves.
The innkeeper, Martha, a kindly woman with a warm, genuine smile, approached my rustic wooden table. "Good morning, Astraeus," she greeted me, her voice grounding me entirely in the present reality. "What can I get for you today?"
I returned her smile, keeping my posture relaxed, hiding the intense, analytical calculations of a veteran vanguard captain beneath a calm civilian mask. To anyone outside of my tight circle, I was an absolute wall—cold, distant, and completely unreadable. "Just a simple breakfast, please," I replied smoothly. "Some scrambled eggs, toast, and a steaming cup of coffee would be perfect."
As she bustled about the stone hearth to prepare my order, I leaned back against the wooden chair, completely unable to help reflecting on the impossible puzzle of my regression. My mind kept looping back to the sensory landscape of that endless forest, the blinding pain of the pool, and the majestic telepathic presence of the guardian beast.
Was any of it real? Or had my consciousness simply hallucinated a serene afterlife purgatory while the pool's unrefined cosmic energy was violently dragging my soul backward through the space-time continuum?
A deep, unsettling question turned over and over in my thoughts. I knew my own limitations. In the previous life, I had spent ten agonizing years cultivating a standard, public A-Rank core optimized for Heavy Blade Resonance. I had allowed the noble houses to force me into heavy iron plate, grinding my physical endurance down to act as a disposable vanguard meat-shield while I swung a brutal, crushing two-handed greatsword. I had spent a decade running straight into the maw of the Rifts, surviving on the scraps of what they allowed commoners to have. Tomorrow, the Altar would unseal those exact same pathways, and I would have to use that heavy style to carve my way forward.
But what would happen when I stood before the Altar tomorrow? The global Interface was an unyielding, clinical engine governed by absolute physical laws. At my current age, my body was supposed to be a blank slate. If the Altar scanned my soul and detected the advanced law comprehension of a ten-year veteran hidden inside an unawakened civilian frame, would the system glitch under the sheer weight of the paradox, or worse, broadcast my anomalies to the public boards? I had to find a way to manipulate the initialization sequence, to force a public illusion that would clear the academy minimums without revealing my hand.
When my breakfast finally arrived, I savoured each individual bite, finding a profound, almost emotional comfort in the simple pleasures of life. To a soldier who had spent a decade eating cold, stale military rations and surviving on muddy water in the trenches, this food was an absolute revelation. The eggs were cooked to perfection, fluffy and warm, and the toast was perfectly crispy. The coffee, with its rich aroma and robust flavour, washed over my throat, instantly helping to ease the lingering tension coiled within my chest.
Every civilian around me was chatting casually about mundane trade routes and the price of grain, using basic First Echelon White Stone coins to settle their tabs. They were entirely blind to the grand economic deception taking place over their heads. They drank their morning tea and worked their farms using the government-regulated "Starlight" fuel, completely unaware that the Sovereign Syndicates were strip-mining the continent of raw Fourth and Fifth Echelon mana stones to fuel their own dying bloodlines. They were content to be Tier 0 consumers, trading their lives for artificial public utilities.
I felt a quiet, protective respect for my commoner roots, but I had no intention of playing a moral saviour to the masses. My path in this life was entirely a solo one—focused strictly on absolute strength, mastery, and reclaiming what was mine.
I mentally pre-mapped the upcoming initialization sequence. Tomorrow at the Altar, the system would ignite my channels, kick-starting the standard five-day transition phase while we traveled toward the capital. From my knowledge of the future, I knew every fresh Awakener experienced a mild fever or muscle tightening as their bodies adjusted to hosting raw energy. I fully expected to feel that minor discomfort while my old heavy blade pathways slowly unsealed inside the carriage, and I was entirely prepared to endure it.
I looked down at the smooth skin of my hands, watching the sunlight glint off my unscarred knuckles. In twenty-four hours, the countdown would hit zero. I had a veteran's mind trapped inside a fragile, unawakened body, and the entire timeline was wide open before me.
I stood up and paid my tab, sliding a couple of common White Stone coins across the counter to Martha. I braced my facial features, intentionally locking them into an unreadable, cold military wall to prepare for the immediate road ahead. I decided to dedicate the remainder of the morning to physical conditioning and muscle testing at the garrison grounds, intending to see exactly what limits this young body held before I ran into the one person I actually trusted in this wretched world. The inn's quiet ambiance had provided the perfect backdrop for my internal contemplation, clearing the fog from my brain.