Using My Regressor Status To Become A Sovereign

Breath came slow, shallow, and ragged. The sky above me was a canvas of madness—fractured and streaked with fire, ash, and blood. The gods were screaming. The dragons roared their defiance. The demons, for once, weren't tearing into each other, but instead stood unified in a chaotic tide.

Together, the bastards were throwing everything they had at one target: Him.

I hated that I couldn't look away. Even now, as my body lay broken in the dirt, ribs crushed beneath a slab of stone from what used to be a fortress wall, I couldn't stop watching. He towered over the battlefield, his presence consuming everything. An interdimensional being—some sick, godlike parasite that had absorbed the Devil himself. The thing was perfect, and it knew it.

Perfect in that terrifying, broken, impossible-to-win-against kind of way.

The Millennium War wasn't supposed to end like this. It was meant to be a story of heroes, of light overcoming darkness. Of the Seven Major Deities and the Seven Sovereigns working in harmony to preserve this damned world. Instead, it had devolved into desperation. Their combined powers carved through reality itself as they hurled everything they had at Him.

And me? I was just the cannon fodder caught in the crossfire.

Funny, really. When I'd been summoned from Earth by the Valterran Kingdom—me and a dozen others—they hadn't told us the truth. They didn't mention we'd arrived too late. That we were soldiers, not saviors. They didn't mention that the Millennium War wasn't some grand tale of valor, but a blood-soaked, millennia-long cycle to chain the Devil. Except this time, the Devil had gotten clever. Clever enough to merge with something that could think, plan, manipulate.

I coughed, and the taste of iron filled my mouth. Warm, sticky blood spilled down my chin. My vision blurred as the ground quaked beneath another colossal impact. A Sovereign fell from the sky like a meteor, his once-gleaming golden armor now scorched black. He didn't get back up.

The gods screamed louder.

I closed my eyes, waiting for the end. It was inevitable. My strength was gone. My body was broken. My sword—ha, not that it ever made a difference—lay somewhere in the rubble. I couldn't even lift my hand to wipe the blood from my lips. All I had left were regrets. A lifetime of them, stuffed into a few months of fighting in a world that wasn't even mine.

If only.

If I'd known this was how it ended, I would've done everything differently. I wouldn't have hesitated. I wouldn't have been weak. If I'd been stronger, faster, smarter—if I'd just been more, maybe I could've changed something. Saved someone.

But the world didn't work on if only. It worked on reality, and reality was—

A glint of light caught my eye. A crystal—perfectly smooth, perfectly round—rolled to a stop inches from my mangled fingers. I blinked, wondering if I was already hallucinating. It pulsed with an ethereal glow, the same way the gods' weapons had before they'd been shattered. A World Item.

My breath hitched. My chest seized, and it took every ounce of my willpower to reach for it. My fingers trembled as I brushed against the surface. The stories about these artifacts were half-forgotten whispers, but even I knew what this one was.

[Wish Upon A Star.]

How it got here, I didn't care. Maybe it fell from one of the Deities during the fight. Maybe it was fate, or maybe the universe was playing one final cruel joke. Whatever the reason, it was here now. And I wasn't about to waste it.

"I…wish," I rasped, my voice barely a whisper. Blood dripped down my chin, pooling beneath me. "I wish…for time reversal. Let me go back. Let me change it all."

The crystal flared, brighter than anything I'd ever seen. The air hummed with power, thick and suffocating. In the distance, I heard something—no, someone—scream in rage. The Deities and Sovereigns had noticed. Too late.

I lifted my middle finger toward them with what little strength I had left. "Screw you," I croaked. "This is mine."

The crystal cracked. Splintered. The light enveloped me, so bright it burned, and I welcomed it.

Then everything went dark.

I didn't see the end of the Millennium War. Didn't see the gods fall, the dragons crumble, or the demons scatter. All I saw was the flash of a star—falling, fading—and the faintest echo of laughter as the world slipped away.

But I wasn't dead.

Not yet.

And when I opened my eyes again, I wouldn't be lying in the dirt. I'd be standing at the beginning, with every mistake, every failure, waiting for me to fix.

This time, I wouldn't lose.