“Young Master, here you are.” “Thank you. You may go. And please, make sure no one enters this room today.” “Why do you make me repeat myself?” “Oh, no, forgive me! It’s just… strange to be thanked.” A sigh escaped Ethan. “Haah… It’s all my fault, isn’t it?” He knew the servants’ opinions would shift if he changed his ways, but every time he was confronted with a mistake, his conscience pricked him like a thorn. “Young Master, are you quite alright? Your headache isn’t bothering you still?” The pen in his hand groaned, and he nearly snapped it from his unwitting death grip. “Ah! I’m fine! Now leave!” He shouted, yet Simon’s expression seemed to brighten. “Yes, yes, of course. Please get some rest.” Muffled voices drifted from beyond the door, making his head throb once more. “Judging by the shouting, he seems back to normal. Come on, let’s get back to our duties.” He couldn’t afford to worry about such trivialities. What mattered right now was putting everything he could remember to paper before it faded. He had to change the future. I have to save them! I have to, no matter the cost! And to save his family, he needed to organize the key events of the future while the memories were still sharp. Of them all, the most crucial was clear. A war that would break out in ten years. It was a disaster that brought ruin not only to his family and younger brother but to the entire nation. The trigger had been the emergence of Caleb Ashford, the youngest Aura user to come from the faltering Ashford household. He had to prevent it. At the very least, he thought, I need to amass enough power to influence the fate of this country by then. And to do that, he had to turn every trial his family would face into an opportunity. The Territory War. One year from now. It was a war that would erupt suddenly, at the worst possible time. That was the first trial he had to face. In the original timeline, the conflict had cut his family’s strength in half, plunging them into dark times that would only end when Caleb finally became an Aura user. It was an imminent crisis, just one year away. But knowledge of the future was an unparalleled advantage. Hope blazed within him, and Ethan’s pen flew across the page. “Hoo… That should do it.” Ethan rose from his seat with a sigh of relief. He had recorded everything in a cipher known only to him in this time. It was the code used by the Valois Liberation Front thirty years in the future. Even if someone else saw it, they would be clueless. The pages contained, in a very literal sense, the history of the future. If the document were discovered today, no one could possibly guess what had happened to him overnight, but in time, suspicions about the source of his information would inevitably grow. And if word ever got out that he had returned from the future, the Synod of Nine—the continent’s most powerful force, a power distinct from the Empire—would turn against him. He had seen more than once how the dogmatic Order dealt with heretics and blasphemers. The moment he was entangled with them, not just he, but his entire family would be doomed. This was a secret he could never reveal, not even to his closest allies. He scanned the papers one last time, checking for any errors or chance of discovery. Only then did he begin his second task. In its own way, this was just as vital as his knowledge of the future. The Manual of the God’s Sword. He pictured the tome embroidered with a golden hawk, the very one he had burned to ash before his return. The grand manual, titled ‘God’s Swordsmanship,’ was a treasure of immense worth. It was the swordsmanship of the hero who had conquered the dragons of old and ushered in the ‘Age of Men.’ On a continent where personal might determined one’s status and authority, a manual from this ancient hero—a man later worshipped as the Blade Saint—was a treasure beyond price. The imperial high command had celebrated its retrieval from the ruins, and the Valois Liberation Front had been willing to sacrifice most of its elite forces to secure it. He had been its last owner, entrusted with the tome only because he could read the ancient tongue. It was a charge that had led to him being hunted to his death. I have to write it down before I forget. He had memorized the manual to train the resistance’s future talents. If its contents were true, mastering it would grant him an ultimate technique, one that could stand against the Empire’s mightiest Aura Masters and Grand Magicians. It’s possible. It has to be. In his previous life, he had been far too old to start something new, and he had lacked the talent besides. But now, things were different. He was young, not yet a man grown. At his command, a golden energy rose and flowed through his body. The power of life itself: ‘Force.’ It was a power he couldn’t have dreamed of at this age in his past life, and its presence amplified his hope. A youthful physique and a veteran’s experience with Force. If he could merge the two, then even with his meager talent, he might just be able to master the ancient swordsmanship. No, he would master it. Caleb, this time you won’t have to struggle alone. I swear it. The prospect of a new, better future sent his heart hammering against his ribs. After organizing all the critical matters he could not afford to forget, his path became clear. What I need to focus on now is obvious. The Territory War, one year away. He had to overcome that crisis first. I can do this. So, the first thing I need to do is… Ethan began brainstorming frantically, as if the war were set to begin at any moment. Ten hours later. After endless deliberation and a throbbing headache, Ethan reached his final, inescapable conclusion. “There’s nothing I can do.” His face pale from a sleepless night, Ethan slumped over his desk and buried his face in his hands. To win the Territory War, the solution was simple: strengthen the territory’s military might. And what was needed for that was also painfully clear. “Strengthen the knights, train more soldiers, or develop better weapons.” He had a few ideas, but they all hinged on one thing. “Money. I need money.” This wasn’t a simple problem like his current, abysmal reputation. Even if he’d been a model heir with a sterling reputation, nothing would have changed. “We were a notoriously cash-strapped noble house. Damn it.” He needed a way to earn a great deal of money, and quickly. But such a convenient method… “It’s impossible.” No matter how many times he banged his head against the desk, nothing came to him. Just last night, he’d been so full of hope. He wanted to punch the man he’d been only yesterday. If only I had come back five years earlier… no, even just three… Desperation clawed at him, tempting him to wish for an even greater miracle. But he couldn’t hide from reality forever. There’s no other way. I have to prepare with what I have, even if it means wringing it dry. Focusing on preserving their forces and surviving the war, rather than winning it, seemed more feasible. Yes, that has to be it. First, I’ll recover my old skills, then start working on my reputation. I can deal with my personal issues after that incident three months from now… Wait. A thought sparked in his mind. That’s right… at that time… A way to potentially make a fortune had just occurred to him. But to execute his newfound plan, there was something he had to do first. “You wish to see the Patriarch? Willingly?” He had expected it, but Simon’s stunned expression was a stark reminder of the relationship he’d had with his father at this point in time. But it was unavoidable. Stepping out of his room, Ethan steadied his breath and focused on memories of his past life. His father had been caring when he was a boy, strict as he grew into a man, and when Ethan had become a waste of space, he had been nothing but cold. From now on, you are not my son. His father had given up on him long before those words were ever spoken. When Ethan had been found unconscious with a head injury from the recent duel, his father hadn’t even come to see him. A profligate son and a cold father. The vicious cycle of their shared resentment had spiraled until the day he was cast out. Of course, in his past life, he had spent years blaming his father for it. It was only after realizing his own faults, after hearing of his father’s death, that he was consumed with regret for not begging for forgiveness sooner. Those years of regret had spanned two decades. How much pain must a parent feel, to cast out their own child? The words of an old mercenary had stuck with him ever since, compounding the guilt that kept him from returning to his family. The prospect of facing that father again sent a tremor through his hands. Even Ethan couldn’t have precisely described the emotions swirling inside him. He took a deep breath, forced a smile onto his face, and moved forward with resolve. “Oh! My apologies, Young Master!” He had to keep smiling. “Please, spare me, Young Master!” “I’m sorry, I made a mistake! Please, calm your anger!” …His hands began to tremble again, but for a different reason. The servants’ skittish reactions only made him more tense. But this was the result of his own actions. The cruelty and violence he’d shown them had led to this. Guilt pricked at him, but he knew this was a wound that only time could heal. Hopefully, his smile didn’t look too strained. He took a calming breath and walked on, his father’s office soon coming into view. “Father, it’s Ethan.” “……Ethan? Hmm, come in.” He opened the door and entered. A burly redhead sat at the desk by the window, examining documents. His father looked up. Red hair, red eyes. The fierce gaze and firmly set lips on the stalwart figure were an undeniable mirror of Ethan’s own. As their eyes met, a storm raged in Ethan’s heart. How much had he resented that face? How much regret had it caused him? It was all my fault. It really was… A thousand questions weighed on his soul. Did you love me, even when I was worthless? Did it hurt you to cast me out? And… did you miss me? All the unsaid words and tangled emotions of his past life surged within him. But he forcefully suppressed the tightness in his chest. Unlike when he had poured his heart out to his brother in what felt like a dream, this was his chance to prove he had changed. Steeling his wavering gaze, Ethan strode into the room. “You look well enough. So, what brings you here?” His father’s first words were as cold as the winter stone, a stark contrast to the longing and regret churning inside Ethan. He had expected as much. What mattered was what came next. “I wish to undergo secluded training in the ancestral lands. I’ve come to ask your permission.” Ethan’s voice was firm, his mind made up. Before the incident three months from now, the first thing he had to do was regain his former skill. In an age where personal might could decide one’s status and power, it was the basic requirement for reversing his reputation and lending weight to his words in the events to come. Of course, the response he received was anything but encouraging. “Secluded training? You?” Disbelief colored his father’s face, his eyes wide with astonishment. “Hmph. Are you trying to run away because you lost to your brother?” “I’ve realized my efforts have been severely lacking. Although it is late, I intend to find my spirit again.” “Effort was all that was lacking?” his father shot back. “It seems you still haven’t woken up.” Despite Ethan’s prepared, resolute speech, his father’s tone held no warmth, no belief. “I also realize my behavior has been… problematic.” “I’ve heard that many times before.” “Until now, I failed to see my own faults and took my anger out on others. I was foolish and immature. I intend to come to terms with that during my training.” Perhaps the sincere words had finally reached him, because his father’s expression shifted slightly. “This time, it doesn’t sound like your usual excuses.” “I won’t disappoint you again.” “So you admit you’ve been a disappointment until now.” His father’s eyes narrowed. “And yet, you speak of repentance with the look of a wronged man.” Ethan had nothing to say to that. He simply bowed his head in silence. “How long do you plan to stay?” “About three months.” “Is that so? Do you think that will be enough for you to catch up to Caleb?” “This isn’t about beating Caleb. I’ll do my best, even if it’s only for a short time. If it’s not enough, I will humbly accept that.” Surprised by the swift reply, his father studied him for a long moment before giving a slow nod. “You do seem a bit different. Very well. It’s good to change. I grant you permission.” Ethan bowed politely and turned to leave when a hesitant voice stopped him. “It’s still spring. The ancestral crypt is a cold place to sleep. Make sure you keep warm.” Stunned by the unexpected flicker of warmth, Ethan could only nod. As he exited the room, however, he found his footsteps were unconsciously lighter.

Chapter 2: He Remembers The War