Prologue

Thick black smoke covered the sky, accompanied by the cacophony of pained screams and a strong stench of freshly-drawn blood.

Everywhere his eyes fell upon, a corpse would follow. No matter whether it was one of the Alliance's brave warriors or the Dark Lord's monstrous brutes, they ended up the same: cold, lifeless husk that could move no more.

The scene beyond him was simply a depiction of Hell.

A shrill cry descended as a huge monster in the shape of a featherless bird swooped in. In the blink of an eye, the soldier on his left was caught by those sharp talons, and then carried upward. Archers rained down arrows at the monster, but they knew that it was already too late for that soldier. The best that they could do was to avenge him.

As for Sasha Granberg, all he could do was to crouch on all four, trying to hide among the rising amount of corpses. The talons had missed him by mere inches. If that soldier didn't push him out of the way...

He had peed on his pants. The terror was too much, causing his cowardly heart to scream for him to run. Run. As far away as possible, as far away from this nightmare.

But how? And where?

This was the last stand. There was no going back. If the Alliance failed to defeat them here, then the Dark Lord and his monsters would finally conquer the entire world.

At this point, running away was merely delaying the inevitable.

Every person still standing here understood it, and that was why they kept on pushing forward, even at the cost of their own life, trading their last breath so that their leaders could advance. Even if it was just for a few millimeter more.

As he watched everything around him succumbing to the madness of slaughter, images flashed in front of him, showing him memories from the olden days.

He was the younger son of Baron Granberg, a low-ranked noble holding a small plot of land near the border of the kingdom. A prodigal son, he had neglected his studies to chase for superficial pleasure. His father had given up on him, putting his hope to the older son instead.

Back then, the only thing troubling him was his inferiority complex toward his grumpy older brother, as well as thinking on how to steal a few coins out of his father's coffer. It wasn't a fulfilling time, but it wasn't that bad either.

Until the catastrophe arrived.

The usually fractured monsters had rallied together under a leader, the Dark Lord, who had started a campaign to eradicate the five sentient races. They came like thunder, dealing devastating strikes one after another before the Alliance could react.

The Elves were struck first, their forests burnt whole until only ashes remained. The Dwarves were next on the chopping block, their mountains leveled in the span of a few weeks. By the time that the two Great Races had sought asylum with the Humans and Beastmen, another piece of bad news arrived.

The Dragonkin suffered betrayal from the inside, with majority of Dragonkin slaughtered by those who had defected to the Dark Lord's side.

Humans and Beastmen sent their army to reclaim the lands, yet they faced defeat one after another. It was at this moment that an old prophecy resurfaced: "at the age of twilight, a hero would pull the Holy Sword, defeat the surging darkness, and bring hope to the land."

That small ray of hope was the only thing that stopped the world from succumbing into despair, for a hero who could wield the Holy Sword had finally arrived.

Even so, it was still a hopeless battle. The hero was but a single man, while the Dark Lord's minion was like a crushing wave, coming and coming yet again regardless of how many the Alliance had slain.

With merely a few cities left, the Alliance made a last ditch effort to turn the tide of war. They had drafted every single person who could fight. Men, women, children, as long as they could wield a sword, they were brought to the frontline.

All to pave a path for the hero to stop this everlasting despair.

Sasha had been drinking his life away at that moment. After his home was ravaged by the monsters ten years ago, killing his friends and families, he had lost the will to live. When the military drafted the entire city, he was brought along regardless of his protest.

From then on was a mad scramble for survival.

Against all odds, Sasha survived his battles again and again out of sheer luck. He'd watched the comrades he had grown to love died one after another, yet he still stayed here. Slowly, he had accumulated skills and knowledge taught by his brothers and sisters of arm, every little bit aiding his chance of survival.

But in the end, that was all that he could do. Merely surviving. A single soldier like him could barely change the outcome of this war.

Just one less enemy to fight. One less monster for the leaders to deal with. If he thought like that, would this meager effort become more worthwhile?

"Incoming!"

A shout brought him out of his daydream. A wall of monsters the size of a mountain crouched down in the distance, opening their canine-like jaws wide, high-intensity mana gathered into shining orbs inside. A pretty sight, and yet it brought a sense of foreboding

"Shields!"

From the Alliance's side, the mages controlled their mana to burst forth, forming layers upon layers of thin, shimmering membranes that covered the entire frontline.

A loud explosion came from the distance. The high-intensity mana had transformed into deadly rays, pouring down onto the Alliance's magic shield. Upon contact, they created a thundering noise, causing the ground to shake violently.

Sasha felt as if a hammer had pounded on his head, his mind momentarily turned blank. There was a surge of heat for a short moment before everything had finally calmed down.

When he opened his eyes, the area was littered with more corpses. There were still a few soldiers around him before, but they had become charred remains. Sasha had managed to survive by hiding behind a large Savage Orc's corpse, which had turned into crumbling black mess as well.

Perhaps, his survival could also be attributed to the mages' shields. Although they couldn't withstand the blast entirely, the damage had been mitigated somewhat. Else, the entire area would've been leveled down instead of merely burnt to crisp.

"To me! Press on!"

A clear, bell-like voice rang through the battlefield. Sasha looked up to see the captain of his squadron rallying the survivors to keep moving forward.

Geared in full armor and wielding a towering shield, his captain had famously earned the moniker of "Stalwart Protector". Her defensive ability was second to none, even among the top brass. It was thanks to her that the frontline could maintain a semblance of order amidst the relentless bloodshed.

Slowly, soldiers gathered around her as they pushed the frontline further, allowing the elite troops to reach the generals from the Dark Lord's army.

A shining light rose in the far distance, a sign of the Holy Sword showing its prowess. The survivors had mounted a suicidal attack, spearheaded by the hero. At this moment, the entire Alliance gave their entire being, all for the hero to deal the finishing blow.

Did he succeed? Did he fail? Sasha couldn't tell, being this far in the rear. He forced his battered body to walk forward, inching closer toward the frontline.

A slight rejoicing was seen on the soldiers' face, and yet they were soon shrouded by dark clouds.

The light of the Holy Sword grew dimmer with each passing seconds. When it had finally died out, a strange silence washed over Sasha's body.

The hero had lost.

They had failed.

He fell on his knees. There was no longer any fear. It was over.

Their effort, his effort, had amounted to nothing. What was the point of surviving up until this point? If he knew that the feeling of despair could be this crushing, he would've just given up from the start.

So be it. He was worthless, after all. A worthless son, a worthless man. Even his toiling in the army was forced by the kingdom. If not for the sacrifice of the captain and his countless dead comrades, he wouldn't even be able to reach this far.

At that moment, he saw a hulking monster rushing toward his captain.

The usually alert knight was momentarily taken aback by the hero's defeat. She couldn't react on time against the sudden attack. The monster's claw swung toward her mercilessly.

At that moment, Sasha had jumped without thinking.

The next thing he remembered was a sudden jolt of pain, followed by a burning sensation on his left.

"Hey! Hang on! Don't give up yet!"

The captain was yelling at him, her face filled with worry. The soldiers around them was clamoring as well, asking for any medic still alive to come over.

Heh... as if there was still any medic left...

"Captain... did I... do well...?"

"Stop talking! You'll be fine! That's why, hang on!"

His left arm was gone, while his left side had been a bloodied mess. He knew that too much time had passed after he had blocked the monster's attack with his body. Even if a healer did come over, he would still die from blood loss.

A worthless man. A pointless effort. But in the end, he had finally managed to save someone. That would be enough, wouldn't it?

Sasha closed his eyes. He was feeling so cold right now. His comrades' voice had turned into quiet murmur.

Surely... this was enough, right...?

...

No. How could it be?

He hated it. He hated the monsters, hated the Dark Lord who had brought despair into this world. Hated those that had stolen his happiness.

His parents. His friends. His comrades.

How dare they!?

At death's door, his despair had flipped into rage.

If only he was given another chance. If only he could redo everything once again!

But alas, his anger was pointless. Like it or not, his consciousness was still dragged down into that murky darkness.

If only he could change everything for the better.

If only...

---

When he opened his eyes, it was a familiar room. He wouldn't have mistaken it.

It was his room back in the Granberg estate. Even the messy wardrobe and the dusty bookshelves were still the same, as if the catastrophe had never happened.

He quickly jumped out of the bed to open the window and leaned out slightly. His eyes came upon the sight of lush greeneries in the distance, as well as the bustling street of the village nearby.

How could it be? He had witnessed his estate crumbling down, the forest burnt to ash, and the village demolished. Why did it seem as if nothing had happened and life was just going as usual?

Was this what they called a dream before death? Just a mere figment of his memories before he walked the final journey?

If so, it was too depressing...

Sasha slumped down on the desk, suddenly not in the mood to revel in the scenery. He pinched his cheek just in case. Perhaps, it could bring him out of this cruel dream.

Suddenly, his eyes lit up.

He felt pain. He was sure that it was genuine pain.

Moreover, the fingers that had touched his cheek felt different than usual. The skin felt smoother, still clear of calluses. They were also thinner and shorter.

He quickly went toward his wardrobe, where a mirror was attached on its door. What he saw had shocked him silly.

What staring back was still him, yet it was his self when he was still six years old. Gone was his adult self, torn and broken from harsh training and countless deadly battles. In its place was a pampered, good-for-nothing young master of a noble family who had known no hardship.

Tumultuous. That was his feeling at the moment. Still feeling a bit giddy, he pinched his cheeks once more.

Still painful.

He dared himself to believe: it was not a dream. He really had returned once again!

"Hahaha!"

He couldn't help but laughed out loud. Aside from happiness, that rage from before had came back with a vengeance.

This time, he would prepare himself. This time, he wouldn't be that worthless piece of meat sack.

In order to save his family, his friends, his loved ones... he would train until he puked out blood. All for the sake of defeating the Dark Lord and his army.

This time... he will be a hero!