Chapter 1

[Translator – Night][Proofreader – Gun]

Chapter 1

Rifenhardt opened his eyes.

Five pairs of eyes, tense yet unwavering, fixed on me with a determined gleam.

Truly, it was an upright gaze.

To others, it might have seemed like a gaze full of conviction.

But to Rifenhardt, it was a gaze of stubborn arrogance and unyielding self-righteousness.

The blond youth, Alex, drew his sword, aiming the ornate royal sword of the kingdom towards me as he shouted.

“With this sword, I will appease the spirits of those who died because of you!”

Rifenhardt responded with a somber voice.

“Then who will appease the souls of the elves and orcs who died? Who?”

Alex shouted in frustration.

“You’re despicable, Rifenhardt! If it weren’t for your wicked power, they wouldn’t have fallen into corruption! They could have lived peacefully according to their own kind! You’re the one who killed them!”

It was futile.

There was no room for dialogue.

In their eyes, Rifenhardt was nothing but a wicked Demon King.

To dare liberate the races from the yoke of slavery was to be steeped in the corruption of dark forces.

A glimmer of anger rose in Rifenhardt’s black eyes.

“If that’s the case…”

A violet aura began to emanate slowly from his blood-red robes.

“…Then so be it. I shall become the Demon King you desire.”

Rifenhardt gathered his mana throughout his body.

A formidable aura swirled around him like a vortex, and pillars of violet mana pierced through the sky.

Simultaneously, Alex and his companions assumed combat stances.

Aura of blue and golden radiance emanated from the Martial King and the Sword Saint.

Jade also channeled his magic, and Elin emitted a divine aura to envelop the group.

With a battle cry, Alex charged towards the Demon King, brandishing his sword.

“Taaah!”

The fate of the continent hung in the balance as the decisive battle began.

The onslaught of powerful magic shattered the surroundings, as blue and golden flashes clashed like a storm.

The aftermath alone caused the ceiling to collapse, the sturdy granite walls to crumble like sand, and flames erupted from the magical aftermath, spreading scorching heat.

After what seemed like half an hour, Alex, unable to evade an attack, was the first to fall, coughing up blood.

It might seem odd for a renowned warrior like him to fall first, but upon closer inspection, it wasn’t so strange.

People admired Alex for his prowess with the sword, his proficiency in magic, and even his possession of holy power, bestowing upon him the title of a Hero.

But in truth, it wasn’t necessarily a good thing.

To put it plainly, he was a jack of all trades but a master of none.

In tales of heroes, knights often stand till the end, defeating the Demon King in the final breath, but in reality, it’s the one who honed their craft who prevails.

Even with Alex fallen, the remaining fighters continued the battle.

As expected of those who dabbled in various fields, Rifenhardt found it challenging to defeat them.

The battle dragged on, with the sun setting and the moon rising. sᴇaʀᴄh thᴇ ɴovᴇlꜰirᴇ.nᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of nøvels early and in the highest quality.

Each of them showcased their utmost skills, relentlessly attacking Rifenhardt.

But Rifenhardt did not falter.

Shielded by infinite mana, he calmly endured all attacks and delivered fatal blows in return.

Eventually, the saint Elin fell, the light mage Jade fell into unconsciousness, and even the Sword Saint Cyrus’ sword broke, leaving only two standing.

Martial King Tesron, with his robust physique and stamina, stood alone but refused to give up, continuing the battle against Rifenhardt.

His body was indeed a marvel, and his will was terrifying.

He tirelessly dodged endless ultimate magics, evaded blows, occasionally taking hits and shedding blood but never faltering.

Eventually, as the first light of dawn broke, Rifenhardt’s endless mana reached its limit.

And with that, the fate of the continent was decided in the battle to end all battles.

No longer protected by mana, Rifenhardt was just like any ordinary person, while Tesron, though near death, still had the strength for one final blow.

*Cough, cough…*

Rifenhardt coughed, his lungs burning with pain as he coughed up a mixture of blood and phlegm.

He was dying.

Tesron’s fist was enough to incapacitate most of his bodily functions.

Though he delayed death with magic, it was clear he wouldn’t last long.

Leaning against the crumbling wall, gasping for breath, Rifenhardt looked up at the dawn sky with regretful eyes.

‘Am I going to die like this…?’

It wasn’t regret for aiding the other races; that fact still didn’t bother him.

The regret was for his own foolishness.

He had been too passive, reacting only to invasions without ever making proactive moves.

Because of that, he inadvertently created enemies out of other nations and allowed them to prepare for his downfall.

He had optimistically believed that they would eventually understand, but the price he paid for that was this.

If he had wanted to help, he should have done it properly.

He should have anticipated the backlash from humans and the hostility of the entire continent.

Instead of founding a nation, he should have planned from the beginning to establish a strong country to protect the other races.

If he was called a Demon King, then he should have acted like one!

‘Well, it’s useless to regret now…’

In Rifenhardt’s eyes, tinted with a faint smile, he saw Tesron leaning against a pillar, his body covered in wounds and blood.

Yet, he was alive.

He wasn’t dying away like himself.

Tesron spoke solemnly, wiping his bloodied lips.

“It’s our victory, Demon King Rifenhardt.”

Yeah, you won.

Good for you.

Victorious.

Rifenhardt had no energy to scoff.

He simply closed his eyes, wanting to find comfort in this state.

Then Tesron spoke again.

“…Now, the others will also break free from the demonic influence and return to their true selves.”

“Ugh!”

He had been ready to give up everything, but upon hearing those words, he just couldn’t.

Demonic influence?

True selves?

Was living as slaves their true selves?

Snap.

Rifenhardt snapped.

From his eyes, once filled with resignation, now flickered an indescribable fervor, igniting with intensity.

His thoughts changed.

He couldn’t die.

It was unfair, and he was too angry to die like this!

Gathering the last of his strength, Rifenhardt reached into his cloak and retrieved a small gem.

This was an artifact containing powerful magic discovered in a forgotten ancient ruin, so potent that even he hadn’t fully deciphered its abilities.

Space Time Regression Spell.

A magic that twisted time, sending the caster back to the past against the laws of fate, a magic not even sanctioned by the gods, disturbing the very origins of the world.

Because it transcended the concept of circles, there was no certainty it would activate properly.

If it failed, there was a possibility that the fabric of space-time would rupture, potentially destroying the entire continent.

So, even as he was dying, he hadn’t dared to use it.

But…

‘Well, might as well go all in…’

Sharpening his resolve, Rifenhardt slowly began to chant the incantation.

“La Ferte dem Isted Saffia…. I shall twist the sacred laws to deceive the eyes of fate…”

Tesron’s expression contorted.

He hadn’t expected Rifenhardt to pull off a stunt like this in the midst of everything.

“…And linger under the auspices of reverse destiny…”

“It’s impossible, you bastard!”

Tesron, desperate, launched himself forward, pounding the ground and propelling his body.

Rifenhardt grew frantic.

A blow from that brute force would surely be the end of him.

Rushing to conclude the spell, Rifenhardt muttered urgently.

“…I shall become the one who warps time itself!”

A brilliant light erupted from the gem.

Simultaneously, Tesron’s might pierced through the light, tearing through Rifenhardt’s magical barrier.

“Taaah!”

The immense mana and the golden aura merged, creating a colossal shockwave.

The magic, which should have flowed smoothly, erupted uncontrollably due to the interference of the aura.

Enveloped in mana, slowly losing consciousness, Rifenhardt repeated to himself.

“I won’t die.”

“I can’t die. I absolutely can’t die like this!”

The dormant consciousness gradually rises to the surface of sleep.

Disconnected senses awaken once again.

Rifenhardt opened his eyes.

The dark vision brightened, and faintly, the outlines of objects came into view.

Chirping birds faintly tickled his ears.

The warm morning sunlight gently brushed his face.

The sensation of the warm cloth enveloping his body felt vivid.

This sound, this warmth, this coziness…

‘Am I still alive?’

Rifenhardt blinked.

He felt peculiar.

It felt like he had just slept deeply and awakened normally.

But moments later, as his mind cleared, everything became apparent.

He was supposed to be dying, drained by the power of the Fist King Tesron.

There was no way he should be brimming with vitality like this.

It was certain.

He was alive.

‘Oh my god, did I really succeed?’

It was the time reversal spell that he hadn’t fully deciphered.

He had cast it recklessly, knowing that nothing ventured, nothing gained, but even Rifenhardt himself hadn’t expected such magic.

Yet, considering the situation, it seemed quite successful!

“Wow, even though I’m a genius, I really didn’t expect to succeed….”

Uttering an ambiguous line between arrogance and humility, Rifenhardt rose from the bed.

And he looked around.

He needed to confirm how far back he had gone.

But…

“Where on earth is this?”

Rifenhardt’s expression hardened as he looked around.

Everything around him seemed excessively unfamiliar.

In a spacious room built of logs, there was nothing but a wardrobe, a desk, and the large bed Rifenhardt was lying on.

It might have seemed like just a simple bedroom, but what was peculiar was that the furniture brought in was all luxurious.

Both the wardrobe and the desk were luxurious items suitable for nobles, and the bed, made of sturdy oak with finely woven linen and splendidly gilded, was a luxury item.

Even the glass mirror, which was so expensive that only nobles used it, was hanging on one side of the wall.

‘What is this?’

Rifenhardt was perplexed.

No matter how much he thought about it, he had no memory of this place.

If the time reversal spell had succeeded, he should have returned to some point in the past.

Whether it was in his childhood or youth, if he had returned, that place should have been in his memory.

It was certain that he had never lived in such an unbalanced interior.

“Ugh…”

Rifenhardt rubbed his temples.

His head was spinning.

Amidst the confusion, he got up and walked towards the mirror.

At any rate, it seemed that the spell had worked…

Then the problem was how many years he had regressed, and what age he was now.

And the moment he stood in front of the mirror.

“Keuk!”

Rifenhardt’s mouth dropped open.

“Wh-what, who is that?”

[Translator – Night]

[Proofreader – Gun]