Arthur awoke.
His breath hitched.
The ceiling above him was unfamiliar — yet somewhere deep in his bones, he knew it.
The pattern was simple, old, and slightly cracked. Not the marble-finished luxury of his highrise suite, nor the reinforced mana plating of the post-war bunkers.
No. This… this was before.
He sat up slowly, his limbs feeling lighter — smaller.
His heart sank as he looked at his hands.
They were thin, pale and looked weak.
The vast ocean of mana that once coursed through him like a roaring tide was gone, replaced by the fragile pulse of an ordinary sixteen-year-old.
Arthur rubbed his eyes, but the ceiling didn't change.
"I remember this," he muttered. "This room… before the Academy... before the war."
Just then, a soft knock came at the door.
His brows furrowed. "Do I live with anyone?"
He reached over the edge of the bed, feeling around for the flip-flops he used to hate losing.
Cold floors in the morning had always annoyed him. Slipping them on, he cleared his throat.
"Come in."
The door creaked open, and in stepped a young woman in a classic black-and-white maid uniform.
Her chestnut-brown hair was tied neatly behind her head, and her warm brown eyes lit up the moment they met his.
"…Mayla?"
She paused, then smiled. "You're finally awake, sleepyhead."
Arthur blinked.
It had been years — but how could he forget her face? Mayla had been his personal maid since childhood, adopted by his sister Elise and taken in like family.
She'd insisted on working to earn her keep.
But Mayla had died.
She died the day Elise did.
'Am I… dreaming? Is this that cliché "life flashing before your eyes" moment? Because if it is, it's not funny.'
Arthur clenched his jaw.
Just minutes ago — no, seconds — he had been fighting something not of this world.
The Outer God.
The final battle to decide humanity.
His body burned, torn to pieces, and yet…
Now he was here?
This was insane.
"Arthurrrrr, are you listening to me?"
His gaze refocused. Mayla had moved closer, hands on her hips and puffing her cheeks like she always did when annoyed.
"Yes, Mayla. Loud and clear," he replied, forcing a calm smile as he stood and stretched.
His muscles ached like he hadn't exercised in months.
What a joke.
"Happy 16th Birthday!" she beamed. "I hope you awaken a great Talent!"
Sixteen.
He froze.
Today was the day.
"…Mayla," he said carefully. "What year is it?"
"Huh?" she blinked, confused. "It's the 1st of Greywake. Year 327 IR."
Arthur's breath caught, the world still used the Imperial Calender?
After the Old World fell and the Megacities rose, Earth adopted a new calendar system. A year is divided into 12 months. The current month, Greywake, was marked in the Calender as the first month of the whole 12 months.
Arthur sat back down slowly, his eyes softening as memories rushed in — before the Swordfell Wars, before the Dungeon Collapse, before the Outer God.
This was real. He was truly back.
'If I'm really here again… then I'll prepare. I'll prepare for everything.'
A smile crept onto his lips.
"I hope you've prepared some cake."
Mayla tilted her head, surprised by his sudden warmth. "Y-Yes! I'll bring it right now!" she said, scampering out of the room.
Arthur exhaled deeply.
He was sixteen again. Back before it all began. Back when humanity still had time.
Just then —
A faint chime echoed in his ears.
A blue screen shimmered into existence before his eyes.
[Initializing System Interface…]
Arthur chuckled. "About time, Old friend."
In his previous life, he had awakened a Berserker-class Talent, which he had grinded and evolved — over years of bloodshed — into a Mythic-class Titan Warlord using a secret, ancient method he'd nearly died mastering.
This time? He had a head start. And he wasn't going to waste a second.
[Congratulations, Host Arthur Evermont.]
[You have successfully synced with the Awakener System.]
[Happy 16th Birthday. Welcome to adulthood.]
[System Features Loaded…]
[Commencing Talent Awakening.]
A crimson aura surged from his chest, spiraling around him in a slow cyclone. The mana in the air began to stir.
Unnoticed, Mayla had returned — with a small cake on a silver tray. She paused in the doorway, eyes wide, staring at the light enveloping Arthur.
Then something changed.
The crimson light began to fade, twisting… distorting… until it became colorless.
To the untrained eye, it looked like the aura had vanished. But to anyone with battle experience — it was obvious.
The air was resonating with his presence.
[Impurities Detected. Initiating Discharge.]
Arthur's eyes widened. 'Wait — discharge?!'
Impurity discharge only happened during Mythic awakenings, he only had one when he had become a Titan Warlord.
From his pores, black sludge oozed out, tainting the bed, dripping onto the floor.
His body convulsed slightly, bones cracking, muscles stretching and reshaping under divine pressure.
Yet for Arthur — this was nothing. Compared to what he had survived in the last timeline… this pain was a kiss on the cheek.
When it finally subsided, Arthur stood.
His physique had transformed.
His once-boyish features had sharpened into something regal, mature.
His hair, longer now, draped down past his shoulders — raven black.
His eyes… glowed crimson like twin burning coals.
Then the screen pulsed again.
[Talent Awakening Complete.]
[Accessing Status Interface…]
A new window opened before him.
[Name: Arthur Evermont]
[Age: 16]
[Talent Grade: Legendary]
[Talent Name: [Mirrorkeeper]
[Talent Type: Adaptive Replication]
[Details: Allows the user to record and equip up to five Combat Talents of Mythic grade or lower by observing them in combat, the limits for talents can improve the more mana you have. Legendary talents cannot be copied. One Talent may be equipped at a time. Full storage and discard system active.]
Arthur stared at the screen.
'…Legendary Rank?!'
The words echoed in his mind.
He had once spent years clawing his way to Mythic.
Now — on the very first day — he had surpassed even that.
What the hell was going on in this world?