The Emperor's Regression

First Day Again

Ethan's eyes shot open. He sucked in a breath like a man pulled from deep water. "I'm... alive?" he whispered. He sat up fast. Too fast. His head spun. He looked down at his hands. No scars. No blood. Just smooth skin like he was young again.

"This isn't the dungeon," he said to himself. "Where am I?"

He was lying in his old bed. His old room. The one he lived in before the world ended. Sunlight came through a window that had been broken and boarded up for the last ten years. Now it was just... glass. Whole. Clean. "No way," Ethan said, standing up on shaky legs. "No way this is real." Then he heard it. A voice, cold and clear, ringing inside his own head.

[Welcome, Player. The System has chosen you.]

[Regression Successful. You have returned to Day One.]

[Conqueror System Activated.]

Ethan stared at the words floating in the air in front of him. "Day one," he said slowly. "The day the System came." He remembered this day. He would never forget this day. This was the day the gates opened. The day the monsters came pouring out. The day the whole world learned that levels and skills and stats were real. "I have ten years of memory," Ethan whispered. "Ten years no one else has."

A scream came from outside. Then another. Then a hundred more. Ethan ran to the window and looked down. The street below was full of people running. A creature with too many legs chased a man down the sidewalk. It was small. Weak. Ethan had killed monsters a thousand times stronger than that thing. "It's starting," Ethan said. "Right on time."

He grabbed an old kitchen knife from the counter. It was not much. But he remembered something important. Something no one else in this city knew yet. "There's a skill book two streets from here," he said. "In the old bookstore. I need to get there before anyone else finds it."

He ran outside into pure chaos. People screamed and pushed past him. Cars crashed into each other. A woman cried on her knees in the middle of the road, holding a child close to her chest.

Ethan kept moving. He turned the corner toward the bookstore.Then he saw them. A group of armed men blocking the road. At the front stood a tall man with a shaved head and cold eyes.

"Lord Vance," Ethan said under his breath. "Of course you're already here."

"Everybody stop!" Vance shouted at the crowd. "This road belongs to me now! Join my group or turn around!"

"Please," a man in the crowd begged. "My family just needs to get through." "Then hand over your weapons," Vance said. "And swear loyalty to me. That's the only way through."

Ethan clenched his jaw. He remembered this man. Years from now, Vance would burn down three settlements just to steal their supplies. He would sell children to slavers for extra rations. Ethan had killed him once already, back when Vance became too big a threat to ignore.

"Not today," Ethan muttered. "Not this time either." He tried to slip past the edge of the crowd. "You," Vance said, pointing right at him. "Stop where you are." Ethan froze. "Everyone hands over weapons," Vance said, walking closer. "No exceptions."

"I don't have anything you want," Ethan said calmly. "Then you have nothing to lose by handing it over," Vance said, smiling without warmth. "Move aside," Ethan said. "I need to get through." "Wrong answer," Vance said.

He snapped his fingers. Two of his men charged at Ethan with rusty swords raised high.

Ethan's body moved before his mind even caught up. Ten years of battle memory took over. He ducked the first swing, but his legs were slower than he remembered them being. He stumbled half a step, cursing under his breath, and barely got his elbow up in time to catch the man in the throat. His hands knew exactly what to do. His body just couldn't keep up with them yet.

"Come on," Ethan muttered to himself. "Move like you used to."

The second attacker swung down hard. Ethan grabbed his wrist, but his grip was weaker than it should have been, and it took two tries to twist the sword free instead of one. "Kill him!" Vance shouted.

More men rushed forward. Ethan spun and kicked one man into a parked car, though the kick landed clumsier than he wanted. He caught another's arm and threw him to the ground. His body felt strange, weaker than he remembered, every muscle a half second behind where his mind already was.

In the chaos, Ethan noticed a small family pinned against a wall. A mother. A father. A little girl crying into her father's shoulder. One of Vance's men raised a blade toward them.

"No!" Ethan shouted.

He threw himself forward and knocked the attacker off his feet before the blade could fall. The family scrambled away, running for safety.

"Go!" Ethan yelled at them. "Get inside somewhere! Hide!" The father grabbed his daughter and ran.

A faint notification flickered at the edge of Ethan's vision, there and gone so fast he almost missed it.

[Loyalty Rebate: Condition Undetected.]

Ethan blinked. "What was that?" He had no time to think about it. Vance's men were still coming.

Ethan turned back to face them, breathing hard. That was when he saw it. One of Vance's fighters stood frozen, staring at Ethan like he had seen a ghost. His sword hung loose in his hand. His face had gone pale white.

"You..." the man whispered.

"What?" Ethan said, stepping back.

"You..." the man said again, louder this time. His eyes were wide, but the shock in them was already sliding into something else. Something closer to satisfaction. "You were supposed to die years from now."

Ethan's blood turned to ice. "What did you say?" Ethan asked, his voice suddenly sharp.

The man's mouth curved into a slow smile, the kind of smile a hunter wears when the prey finally walks into the open. "Interesting," he said softly, almost to himself. "So it's true. More than one of us came back." He let out a breath, like a weight had just come off his shoulders. "I've been looking for you a long time, Ethan."

"Who are you?" Ethan demanded, his heart pounding hard against his ribs. Before the man could answer, Vance stepped forward, pushing through his own fighters. His eyes locked onto Ethan with pure fury.

"You hurt my men," Vance growled. "Big mistake."

He raised his arm. A strange black weapon glowed to life in his hand, humming with dangerous energy. He pointed it straight at Ethan's head. "Any last words?" Vance asked.

A red warning flashed across Ethan's vision, burning bright and urgent.

[Fatal threat detected. One wrong move ends the regression forever.]

Ethan's whole body went still. He had no weapon strong enough. No skill fast enough. Nothing but ten years of memories and a body too weak to use them. Behind Vance, the strange fighter kept smiling, watching Ethan like a man who already knew exactly how this would end.