[WORLDLINE: SECOND ATTEMPT]
[Time Until Great Erasure: 365 Days]
[Primary Objective: Prevent the extinction of all Non-Human races.]
[Secondary Objective: Undermine Human Dominion control.]
[Rollbacks Remaining: 0]
[Class: Void Sovereign (Lv. 1)]
[Title: Enemy of Humanity (Hidden)]
The window floated in front of my eyes, translucent against the morning light pouring through my bedroom window.
A year.
In the old timeline, it had felt like an eternity. Campaign after campaign, speech after speech, victory after victory.
From here, it suddenly looked short.
Too short.
I dismissed the panel with a thought and flexed my fingers, feeling the unfamiliar absence of scars. The body was nineteen again, but the mind sitting behind it wasn’t.
Same world.
Same house.
Different creature.
A knock sounded at the door. Three small, precise taps.
I didn’t need to ask who it was.
“Enter,” I said.
The door opened just wide enough for a servant to slip through. Miren—thin, middle-aged, eyes permanently lowered. She had served House Ardyn since before I was born.
“Good morning, Young Master Rael,” she murmured, bowing. “The Lord and Lady request your presence in the main dining hall.”
Request.
Interesting choice of word. In the old timeline, it would’ve been summon.
“I’ll be there,” I said.
“Yes, Young Master.” She hesitated. “And… congratulations, my lord, on your upcoming audience with His Majesty. Everyone in the manor is very proud.”
Of course they were.
“The Hero of Humanity” being paraded in the capital — that was today’s script.
“Is that so,” I said calmly.
Her shoulders stiffened, like she was waiting for a smile that never came.
“I’ll inform them you’re on your way,” she said quickly, and retreated.
The door clicked shut.
A small chime flickered at the edge of my vision.
[New Reminder – Timeline Anchor]
[Date: 3rd Day of Silverfall, Year 712]
[Event (Original Worldline): Rael Ardyn departs for the capital as “Hero of Humanity.”]
[Result: Increased Human Dominion Influence, Decreased Non-Human Autonomy.]
[Note: Deviation potential detected.]
So the System wanted me to remember the rails it had watched me die on.
Fine.
I stood and crossed to the wardrobe.
The polished oak doors swung open silently, revealing rows of neatly arranged uniforms. House colors. Training gear. Formal wear.
My hand paused on a familiar black-and-silver coat — the one I’d worn to the king’s throne room, to receive the Hero’s title.
I let it hang.
Instead, I chose a simpler dark tunic and fitted trousers, the kind of clothing I’d used for travel before they turned me into a symbol.
Armor would come later.
Power would come later.
Right now, I needed to see the people who’d helped shape the world I’d destroyed.
As I fastened the last button, another window slid quietly into view.
[Status – Rael Ardyn]
[Race: Human (?)]
[Age: 19]
[Class: Void Sovereign (Lv. 1)]
[Registered Class: — ]
[HP: 100 / 100]
[MP: 50 / 50]
[STR: 12] [AGI: 11] [VIT: 10]
[INT: 13] [WIS: 14] [CHA: 10]
[Unique Skill: Void Echo (Lv. —)]
[Unique Skill: Genocide Timer (Bound)]
[Titles:]
– Enemy of Humanity (Hidden)
– Failed Hero (Hidden)
I focused on Void Echo.
The words sharpened.
[Void Echo]
[Type: Unique / Active]
[Current State: Locked]
[Effect (when unlocked): Allows the user to manifest echoes of slain beings, drawing on their residual presence in the Void.]
[Requirement to Unlock: Claim the first soul in this Worldline as Void Sovereign.]
So I needed to kill something.
Specifically, kill something as Void Sovereign, not as “Hero of Humanity.”
Fitting.
The Genocide Timer refused to expand when I pressed on it. Its only answer was the same cold countdown.
[Time Until Great Erasure: 365 Days]
“Impatient thing,” I muttered.
No response.
The System wasn’t here to talk.
It was here to watch.
I closed the panel and headed for the door.
This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
Time to play the dutiful son one last time.
The main dining hall of House Ardyn looked exactly as I remembered it: long table, polished to a mirror shine, high windows casting shards of light across dark stone, banners with twin silver falcons spread across the walls.
My father sat at the head of the table.
Lord Erald Ardyn. Broad-shouldered, iron-grey hair, eyes like polished stone. He wore his formal uniform even for breakfast, medals catching the light. At his right, my mother, Lady Yselle, spine straight, expression carved from ice.
To his left, Celine.
She wore House colors as well — black and silver, the falcon crest at her breast. Her golden hair was braided back, exposing a sharp, controlled profile.
Two empty seats down the table reminded me of my younger twin brothers, away for training at another estate.
“Rael,” my father said as I approached. “You’re late.”
I glanced at the ornate clock on the wall.
“I’m three minutes early,” I said. “My lord.”
His jaw tightened at the form of address, but he let it pass. Today he needed the symbol more than he needed the son.
“Sit,” he said.
I did, taking the place opposite Celine.
Servants moved quickly, setting plates of bread, fruit, and smoked meat. The smell of spiced tea drifted across the table, almost enough to drag me back to a smaller wooden table under trees, children laughing, beastkin ears twitching—
I shut the memory down.
Not here.
Not in front of them.
“We received the king’s messenger last night,” my father said, cutting through the clink of dishes. “You will depart for Valeron at midday. The Hero must be presented before the High Court and the Church before the campaign season begins.”
In the old worldline, I’d felt pride swell in my chest at those words.
This time, there was only a faint, distant disgust.
“Yes, Father,” I said evenly.
“Do you understand the significance?” Lady Yselle asked, voice cool.
I met her eyes.
“In this Dominion,” I said, “there is no higher honor than to be raised up as the sword of humanity. To stand above the beasts. To guard our blessed race against corruption and filth.”
The words came easily.
I’d spoken them a hundred times before.
But this time, there was no warmth wrapped around them—only irony sharp enough to cut.
My mother’s lips twitched in faint approval. “Good. At least you have some grasp of your duty.”
Across from me, Celine’s eyes narrowed the slightest bit.
She felt it.
Not the words themselves — the hollowness behind them.
“What about the border reports?” she asked, looking to our father. “There were rumors that the beastkin tribes in the Eastern Wilds requested another audience with the Church. Something about land rights.”
I watched Lord Erald’s expression harden.
“Rumors,” he said. “Nothing more.”
“That ‘nothing’ would not stop sending letters to the capital in the previous months,” Celine said calmly. “They keep invoking the old treaties. The ones signed before the last expansion of human territory.”
Lady Yselle scoffed. “They cling to papers like they’re equal. The king tolerates their presence for convenience, nothing more. Once the Dominion stabilizes the northern front, the Eastern Wilds will be… properly restructured.”
Properly restructured.
Interesting euphemism for ethnically cleansed.
My cup shook very slightly as I set it down.
In the old timeline, I’d sat here and swallowed these words like they were doctrine, too busy trying to be the perfect knight to see the noose tightening around seven races at once.
“Your role is simple,” my father said, turning his gaze back to me. “You fight who the king tells you to fight. You kill who the Church marks as enemies. You don’t question the design.”
Simple.
“I understand,” I said.
“Oh?” Celine asked softly. “Do you?”
Her voice wasn’t openly challenging. Nobody at this table would dare be that honest.
But her eyes searched my face like she was trying to solve a puzzle that hadn’t existed yesterday.
“In the capital,” she said, “they’re already calling you the Beacon of Mankind. The Church is preparing a special sermon in your honor. The people will look at you and see not Rael Ardyn, but the future of humanity.”
“Inaccurate,” I said.
My father frowned. “Explain.”
I met Celine’s gaze.
“I’m not humanity’s future,” I said. “Just its consequence.”
Silence pressed on the room for half a heartbeat.
Then my mother laughed.
It was a brittle, humorless sound.
“You’ve picked up the priests’ drama,” she said. “Save it for the capital. They adore theatrics there.”
The tension broke. Cutlery began clinking again. The moment passed.
Celine didn’t look away.
Her eyes lingered on me, thoughtful, as if weighing something.
In another life, I would have spent hours trying to decode that look. Wondering if she felt guilt, pride, resentment.
In this one, it didn’t matter.
Family or not, every human in this manor eventually stood on the wrong side of history.
I finished my plate without speaking further.
When I rose, my father inclined his head.
“Prepare yourself,” he said. “Your escort will be ready by noon. Do not keep the capital waiting.”
“I won’t,” I said. “Not this time.”
They assumed I meant I’d be more punctual.
Only I knew what I was really promising.
The corridor outside the dining hall was empty when I stepped out, the heavy doors closing with a muted thud behind me.
Sunlight slanted through tall windows, painting the marble floor with bars of gold. Servants moved in the distance, bows shallow and eyes averted, pretending they didn’t hear the echoes of that conversation.
I walked slowly down the hall, hands clasped behind my back, letting the familiarity of the place wrap around me like a costume.
At the second bend, beside a particular arched window, I stopped.
In the old timeline, this was where Celine had caught up with me, to give one last stiff-hearted, awkward blessing before I rode out as humanity’s proud little weapon.
No footsteps came this time.
Good.
A soft chime rang at the edge of my vision.
The Genocide Timer finally shifted.
[GENOCIDE TIMER – DETAIL UNLOCKED]
[Time Until Great Erasure: 365 Days]
[First Major Erasure Event:]
“Cleansing of the Eastern Wilds – Trial Operation”
[Scheduled Start: 13 Days]
[Location: Eastern Frontier – Beastkin Enclave “Greymaw Hollow”]
[Original Outcome:]
– Population: 312 non-human residents
– Survivors: 0
– Official Record: “Bandit Suppression Incident – No Non-Human Casualties Confirmed.”
[New World Quest Unlocked:]
The text expanded, lines stacking over each other like blades.
[WORLD QUEST: FIRST HOWL IN THE DARK]
[Objective:]
– Prevent the extermination of Greymaw Hollow.
– Ensure at least 1 beastkin inhabitant survives past the Erasure Event.
[Bonus Objectives:]
– Expose Human Dominion involvement.
– Reduce Church public approval by ≥ 5%.
[Failure:]
– Greymaw Hollow annihilated.
– Beastkin trust in Rael Ardyn: permanently reduced.
– Genocide Timer acceleration: +30 Days (Time Until Great Erasure becomes 335 Days).
[Reward (Success):]
– Void Echo: “Greymaw Guardian” (Rare)
– Skill Unlock: Void Echo (Lv. 1)
– Genocide Timer reduction: –10 Days (Time Until Great Erasure becomes 355 Days).
A map sketch flashed for a brief second in the corner — rough marks for hills, a river, a cluster of buildings in the shadow of dense forest.
Greymaw Hollow.
I remembered that name.
Not from reports.
From a little girl with tawny ears and a striped tail, arms crossed, face annoyed.
“You’re late again, Sir Rael.”
My fingers tightened against my palm.
Thirteen days.
Thirteen days until the first domino fell.
In the old timeline, I’d been nowhere near the Eastern Frontier when Greymaw Hollow was wiped off the map. I’d been standing in the capital, sword raised, basking in cheers as the “hero” of a different, manufactured victory.
The Dominion had called the Greymaw incident a minor bandit conflict. No casualties, they said.
The System was telling a different story.
Heavy footsteps echoed somewhere behind me. Knights moving through the manor, preparing the escort to drag me toward the same city that had butchered my so-called allies.
[Recommendation:]
[Worldline Stability: High.]
[Deviation Suggestion: Reject capital summons. Move toward Eastern Frontier.]
I exhaled slowly.
So that was it.
No more theory.
No more distant guilt.
The year had just turned real.
Thirteen days to reach a village marked for slaughter.
Thirteen days to break the first piece of the script that had already killed the world once.
Outside the window, the twin silver falcons of House Ardyn snapped in the wind, proud and sharp.
“I was supposed to ride to the capital today,” I murmured.
No one was there to hear me but the System.
“And pretend I didn’t know any of this.”
My reflection in the glass stared back — nineteen-year-old features, steady eyes, something cold and hollow sitting behind them.
“Too bad,” I said softly. “I’ve seen how that story ends.”
The text in front of me pulsed.
[WORLD QUEST: FIRST HOWL IN THE DARK]
[Accept Quest?]
[Yes] [No]
There was no real choice here.
If I refused, I was just a corpse waiting to remember the same ashes all over again.
My answer formed before the options finished drawing.
[Selection Detected.]
[Quest Accepted.]
The letters glowed once, sealing the decision.
Cold, mechanical, final.
Somewhere in the manor, a bell rang, calling me to meet the escort that would take me to the capital.
I turned away from the sound.
Thirteen days.
Greymaw Hollow.
This time, when the world reached for its first non-human throat—
My sword wouldn’t be in humanity’s hand.
It would be at its neck.
And if the Dominion wanted to call me a traitor again?
Good.
They hadn’t seen anything yet.
Thanks for reading Chapter 2!
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The real descent begins soon.