My body felt cold.
Not the chill of wind or winter—but the empty, creeping cold that seeps in when your soul finally realizes it's over.
I stood in the ruins of what was once mine.
The office was in shambles. Flickering neon screens. Shattered glass. Scattered documents drenched in blood. My blood.
I could still hear the hollow echo of my name trending in real-time—Kaito Ren, the so-called "Swordgod" of Glory.
Not the world-famous kind.
I was never one of the top hundred. Not even the top thousand.
But among billions of players, I had climbed high enough—Level 100, powerful gear, a top-10,000 PvP rank. And within my small circle—our studio—I was the one they followed. The strongest among them.
They gave me that name: Swordgod.
Not because I ruled the world...
But because to them, I was the world.
And then—
They destroyed me.
And when I tried to fight back—when I said I'd expose everything—they didn't just silence me.
They went after everything else.
My father's business—shut down by fabricated charges.
My mother's hospital—cut from state funding overnight.
My fiancée, Mei Rin—dragged through media storms until her family was forced to sever ties with mine.
...And then, she vanished.
I watched it all happen. Step by step. Like a man chained in place, screaming behind soundproof glass.
Until tonight.
The final night.
The rooftop wind cut against my bloodied shirt. City lights blinked far below like fading stars.
I could hear sirens somewhere in the distance. Or maybe that was my imagination.
I didn't care.
There was nothing left for me in this world.
I'd fought. I'd begged. I'd cursed fate, cursed the gods, cursed the system that turned everything I loved into ashes.
And in the end?
I was just... tired.
I collapsed onto the cold concrete, the steel railing digging into my spine.
"Is that it?" I whispered into the sky. "Is this really it, Ren?"
No answer.
Just silence.
My hands trembled—not in fear, but in grief. I could still see Mei Rin's face the last time we met. The quiet way she smiled, as if she knew it was goodbye.
I should have protected her.
I should've been stronger.
Tears welled in my eyes, but I didn't wipe them.
For the first time in years, I had no reason to.
My eyes closed.
And everything faded into darkness.
The first thing I noticed was the scent.
Not blood. Not smoke. But... ink?
And fabric softener?
My eyes shot open.
Fluorescent light blinked above me—an old ceiling bulb with a weak hum. I sat up sharply, my heart hammering.
My spine ached—but not from injury.
From... sleep?
I looked around in disbelief.
This was—no, it couldn't be.
My apartment?
Not the penthouse I had in the final years—but the old one. The one from when I was barely twenty.
Cracked wallpaper. Secondhand desk. Folded futon. A single rice cooker on a dusty counter.
I scrambled to my feet and scanned the wall panel.
Date: April 3rd.
Year: 2110.
"Ten years ago..." I muttered.
I spun to the window and ripped open the curtains.
The same rundown alley.
The same blinking vending machine.
The same sky, tinged with warm morning haze.
I stumbled back, knees hitting the floor.
"...I came back."
It wasn't a dream. Not a hallucination.
I tested everything.
I pulled out the drawer where I used to keep old notes from beta discussions. It was there—my messy handwriting scribbled across pages, theorizing potential builds, timing exploits, and NPC route predictions.
Next, I opened my aging holo-tab. The OS version? Ten years outdated—exactly what it should be.
Even the inbox contained a mail stamped with the date:
[Glory Pre-Launch]
"You've been accepted as a Closed Beta participant. Please log in on April 10th to begin your trial."
April 10th.
Seven days from now.
I stared at the screen, stunned.
This... was real.
The timeline hadn't changed. The collapse hadn't happened yet. The betrayals, the war, the loss—they were all still waiting in the future.
But I wasn't the same man I was ten years ago.
I was someone who had already seen the ending.
And now?
I could rewrite it.
I sat cross-legged on the floor for a long while, hands resting on my knees.
My breathing slowed.
My mind sharpened.
No panic. No excitement. Just... clarity.
I had seven days before Glory launched.
Thirty days before the investment bubble burst.
Seventy-eight days before the rising guild wars would begin absorbing independents.
One hundred and fifty days before the global economy shifted to the Unified Credit Standard.
I wasn't just reborn—I was reborn with knowledge that had once cost me everything.
This time, I'd make it count.
But first... I needed to preserve it.
I tore pages out of my old sketch pad and began writing.
Not typing. Not storing it in digital format. That would be too risky. I didn't know what forces might intervene or who might be watching.
Pen and paper.
That was safest.
I wrote down everything I could remember.
Key investment points for early credit surges
Names of influential figures—rising stars who would later shape both the real and virtual world
Secret techniques buried in obscure NPC side quests
Advanced martial arts sequences and nutrient protocols from future breakthroughs
Mei Rin's favorite flower... the one I never remembered to buy
Even as my hand cramped, I didn't stop.
Two hours.
Three.
Six.
Until the sun dipped and artificial lighting filled the room with a faint blue glow.
When the final note was written, I read it all again.
Then, without hesitation, I lit a match and set it aflame in the sink.
The paper curled, darkened, and turned to ash.
Everything was now stored where no one could take it—inside me.
I leaned back against the wall, eyes half-lidded as the flickering neon outside painted streaks across my floor.
A quiet chime echoed in the room as my holo-tab flickered to life.
Assistant [ARI-9] online.
"User status: elevated stress detected. Initiate mental recalibration playlist?"
I gave a faint smirk.
Still the same clingy AI from a decade ago.
"No," I muttered. "Disable auto-counsel for 24 hours."
"Confirmed."
The tab dimmed.
I looked around the apartment again—bare walls, worn furniture, dusty filters on the air purifier.
Everything felt... small.
Cramped.
Like a box I'd once outgrown and was now being forced to reinhabit.
But this box was my second chance.
I had nothing.
No allies. No funds. No power.
But I had knowledge.
And in this age—knowledge was leverage.
Knowledge was weaponry.
I hesitated before opening my contact list.
Her name was still there.
Mei Rin
Status: [Active]
Last Message: "Don't stay up all night again."
A message from a world that hadn't broken yet.
My fingers hovered over the call button.
But I didn't press it.
Not yet.
You're safe right now, I thought. You don't need to be dragged back into this... not until I'm strong enough to shield you.
I closed the tab and sighed.
The old me might've clung to her.
The new me knew better.
First, I would need power. Not just in the game.
But in reality.
I reopened the holo-tab—not to plan, but to observe.
News feeds flashed across the screen. Politics. Business. Tech. Sports.
I compared headlines with the ones etched in my memory.
Some were already aligning.
Others... were drifting.
That was fine.
The butterfly effect hadn't taken hold yet.
I had time.
Just enough to stay ahead of the curve—if I played carefully.
The city outside buzzed faintly.
Hover-bikes zipped past on elevated lanes. Drones glided through inspection rails. Neon reflected off rain-soaked synthstone pavements.
Ten years ago, I thought this world was too big for me.
Now?
It was too small.
I moved back to the bed and sat on its edge.
My heart had stopped racing.
My mind had stopped screaming.
There was only quiet resolve now.
Tomorrow, I'd begin with low-profile moves. A few credit shifts. Anonymous bids. Quiet returns.
And when Glory launches in seven days... I'll already be positioned to strike.
The Sword god isn't reborn just to fight in dungeons.
He's reborn to change the world.
"This time..." I whispered into the dark,
"...I'm not just playing the game. I'm writing the rules."