---
The world watched in silence as the sun set over the Capital. At the highest floor of the World Government Tower, a man lay on a grand yet solitary bed. He was known by many names—The Unseen Emperor, The Phantom Strategist, The Tyrant in the Shadows—but history had recorded him simply as Zeth Tristian.
And he was dying.
"Sir… the Council awaits your final command," a trembling voice whispered.
Zeth's once-commanding golden eyes, dimmed by time and burden, flickered toward the young aide kneeling beside him. He didn't speak immediately. Instead, he gazed out the tall window, where the city lights flickered like distant stars—peaceful, blind to the horrors that kept them safe.
"…Tell them to disband," Zeth said finally, his voice low but firm. "Let the world choose its own course now. I'm tired… of choosing for it."
The aide gasped, but nodded, and left swiftly.
Alone again, Zeth closed his eyes.
He had ruled the world from the shadows for over four decades. Empires rose and fell at his word. He manipulated kings, erased threats, and forged a peace held together by fear. A peace he believed was necessary.
But in these final moments, Zeth did not remember the blood or the battles.
He remembered a photo. One he had long buried in his drawer. It showed a younger version of himself—before the world hardened him—smiling beside two adults and a girl with chestnut hair. His mother. His father. And the girl they adopted as his sister.
A life he never lived.
"I never went to school… never had friends. Never fell in love," he whispered, bitterness lacing his tone. "All I knew was duty. Was that truly… living?"
His body grew heavier.
As darkness began to envelop him, he heard a strange sound—like a heartbeat, but not his own. A cold, mechanical voice echoed in his fading consciousness:
> [System Reinitializing…]
[Host verified: Zeth Tristian]
[Mission: Redemption. Timeline shift commencing.]
His eyes widened—just for a second—before the world turned to black.
---
Somewhere Else…
"Zeth! Wake up! You'll be late for school!"
The voice was light, familiar, and utterly impossible.
Zeth jolted upright, gasping. The world around him was unfamiliar—warm sunlight pouring through a modest bedroom, the scent of toast in the air, and on the wall, a calendar marked Year 2025.
He looked down—his body was lean, youthful. His voice cracked as he whispered:
"…I'm seventeen again?"
A knock on the door. "You're hopeless! I'm coming in!"
A girl burst into the room—a stunning teenager with chestnut hair and fierce hazel eyes. She scowled at him like a sister would.
"Seriously, Zeth. At this rate, you'll never make friends."
Zeth blinked.
A new world.
A new chance.
And deep inside his mind, the mechanical voice returned:
> [System Activated: Shadow Monarch Rebirth]
[Objective: Rise Again]
His lips curled into a smirk.
So this was the second life he never asked for.
But this time… he'd live it on his own terms.
---