The Reborn Soldier's Revenge

Two Months Before The End

Ethan Vance did not sleep. Not that night, not even for a minute.

He sat in the darkness of his bedroom, staring at the empty space where the blue system screen had appeared.

[PLAYER ETHAN VANCE HAS BEEN SELECTED FOR EXPERIMENTAL OBSERVATION.][OBSERVATION PERIOD: 60 DAYS.][THE EXPERIMENT WILL BEGIN EARLY.]

The words had disappeared, but Ethan couldn't forget them. He had spent his previous life believing the war was a sudden disaster, a global catastrophe nobody had expected. The system appeared, the monsters appeared, the weapons appeared, and humanity got dragged into a fight nobody signed up for. At least that's what everyone believed.

Now Ethan wasn't so sure.

"Experimental observation," he whispered.

Someone had been watching him. But who, and why?

He stood and walked to the window. The city outside was still asleep, streetlights burning over empty roads, a few cars passing in the distance. Everything looked normal. Too normal.

Ethan remembered this day. March 12. Sixty days before the war. In his previous life it had been ordinary: work, Chloe complaining about breakfast, his father calling to discuss family business, Eleanor criticizing his clothes at dinner. Nothing unusual. Then, on May 11, the sky turned red and everything changed.

"Not this time."

He had sixty days. Maybe less, since the experiment was starting early, which meant he couldn't waste a second.

He walked to his closet, pulled a black jacket off the hanger, and reached behind the clothes for a small metal box. His emergency savings, years of money he'd quietly set aside without telling Arthur, Eleanor, or Chloe. He had understood, even before the war, that his family loved what he could provide more than they loved him. Julian got the education, the cars, the connections. Ethan got nothing, so he'd learned to depend on himself. That habit had saved his life once. It would save him again.

Inside the box: bank cards, a notebook full of account numbers, investment records, property information. More money than any of them knew about. Enough to prepare.

But money alone wouldn't save him. He needed a fortress. Food, water, weapons, medicine, technology, people he could trust, and information most of all.

His phone buzzed.

CHLOE: Where are you?CHLOE: You didn't come home last night.

Ethan almost laughed. She was worried, not because she loved him, but because she didn't know where he was, and in his previous life he'd told her everything, every dollar, every meeting, every hour of his day. His whole life had been an open book.

No more.

ETHAN: I'm home.

CHLOE: What? I thought you were at the military base.

Interesting. In his old life she'd always known his schedule. Today's training assignment had been cancelled, and he'd never known why. Now he wondered if it hadn't been cancelled at all. Maybe someone had wanted him away from home.

ETHAN: I'm taking a few days off.

She called three times before he answered.

"Hello?"

"Why didn't you answer?"

"Good morning to you too."

"Where were you?"

"Home. Since last night."

Silence, and Ethan could picture her confusion, unused to this version of him.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Was I supposed to?"

"You're my husband."

The word landed strangely. In his old life it had meant everything. Now it sounded like a joke.

"Right," he said. "Your husband."

"What does that mean?"

"Nothing."

"We need to talk," she said finally.

"About what?"

"About us."

He almost laughed. He knew exactly what that meant, had heard this conversation before, though not from her, from himself, lying awake wondering why his wife had grown distant, why she'd stopped touching him, started hiding her phone. He'd blamed himself. Now he knew the truth.

"Okay. Let's talk."

"Now. Come home."

He looked around his bedroom, at the calendar on the wall, and smiled.

"I am home."

Footsteps. The door opened, and Chloe stood there in a white silk robe, hair messy, face tired. For a second the past and present collided, the woman on the battlefield and the woman in the doorway occupying the same space in his mind.

"You're here," she said. "Why are you acting strange?"

He studied her instead of answering. Her eyes, her hands, the tension in her shoulders, the way her fingers kept drifting to her phone. In his old life he'd missed all of it. Now he saw too much.

"How long have you been lying to me?"

Her eyes widened. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Of course you don't." He stepped closer. "Do you love me?"

"Why are you asking me that?"

"Just answer."

"Of course I love you."

A lie. The same lie she'd told him for years.

"Okay," he said, and walked past her.

"Where are you going?"

"Out."

"Where?"

There it was. The question, always the question, and in his old life he'd mistaken it for concern. Now he recognized it as control.

"Personal business."

She stepped in front of him. "We need to talk."

"We just did."

"No, we didn't."

"You're right," he said, leaning close. "We didn't."

He walked past her, out the bedroom, down the stairs, Chloe trailing behind demanding to know where he was going. She grabbed at his sleeve once, and he let her, just long enough to watch her realize he wasn't going to stop for it, then kept walking. He picked up his keys.

"You're being ridiculous," she said as he opened the door.

He turned back once. "Chloe. You should enjoy today."

Her face went pale. "What does that mean?"

"Nothing. Just enjoy it."

He walked out and let the door close behind him.

Outside, the air was cool and fresh, and Ethan let himself breathe. Not free yet. But close.

Bank first, then a lawyer, then the desert.

He drove almost an hour, the city falling away behind him until the land turned dry and empty. Nevada. He remembered this stretch from his previous life, though he'd never known what he knew now: an abandoned military research facility sat beneath the sand here, shut down years ago, the land above it considered worthless.

Exactly why he wanted it.

The real estate office was small, and the man who greeted him wore a friendly, practiced smile.

"Mr. Vance? I'm Richard Hale."

Ethan went still. He remembered the name from his old life, a minor figure, a land salesman who'd sold plots to survivors after the war began. But Ethan also remembered something else. Richard had been connected to Arthur, and Arthur had used him to find Ethan's base.

Now he understood how.

"Is everything alright?" Richard asked.

"Perfectly." Ethan forced a smile.

Richard handed him a folder. Remote location, no residents, no roads, low value, exactly as he remembered, and beneath the surface details, a satellite image showing the underground structure Richard had no idea existed.

"How much?"

"Given the location, I can offer a very reasonable price."

"I'll take it."

Richard blinked. "You haven't even inspected it."

"I don't need to. But I have one condition. I want it completely cleared, every structure, every worker, every piece of equipment."

"That's going to cost."

"I'll pay. Send the paperwork." Ethan turned to leave, then stopped. "One more thing. If anyone asks about this property, tell them you never met me."

Richard laughed, a little nervous. "Of course."

Outside, Ethan's smile disappeared. Richard looked exactly the same as he remembered, same friendly face, same easy handshake, and Ethan knew now exactly how dangerous an ordinary man could become once someone with money and a grudge came asking questions.

He was halfway to his car when his phone buzzed.

Unknown number.

DON'T BUY THE DESERT PROPERTY.

His heart kicked into a faster rhythm. He looked back toward the office, half expecting to see someone watching from a window, but the glass only reflected the empty parking lot back at him.

THEY ARE WATCHING YOU

He scanned the lot again, slower this time. No cars, no people, nothing but heat shimmering off the asphalt.

YOU HAVE SIXTY DAYS.

Then, a moment later:

IF YOU WANT TO SURVIVE, GO TO THE OLD WAREHOUSE AT MIDNIGHT. COME ALONE.

He stared at the screen. He didn't recognize the number or the writing style, but one thing about the message made his blood run cold: the sender knew about the sixty days. Possibly about the system itself.

He wasn't the only one who had come back.

AND ETHAN? THIS TIME, DON'T TRUST YOUR FAMILY.

The screen went dark. Ethan's fingers tightened around the phone, and a cold, thin smile crossed his face. He'd already decided that much on his own. But now he had a new question worth losing sleep over.

Who else remembered?

He started the engine, looked toward the road ahead, and said quietly, "Let's see who's waiting for me."

The countdown had begun. Sixty days, maybe fewer now, and somewhere out there a stranger who knew things no stranger should know was waiting for him at midnight in a building he'd never once set foot in during his first life. Ethan pulled out of the lot and pointed the car back toward the city, running through everything he still had to do before dark: the bank, the lawyer, and now a warehouse full of unknowns he hadn't planned for.

And Ethan Vance had no idea that whoever sent that message had been waiting for him long

before he ever opened his eyes this morning.