The Tyrant's Infinite Rebirth System

Chapter 4

The Family’s Coming Doom

Riel sat on the edge of his cot, massaging his aching legs. Every fiber of his body still throbbed from yesterday’s effort, but he welcomed the pain—it was proof of progress. His fingers clenched involuntarily as he glanced around the dimly lit room, mind sprinting. He had taken his first steps. The System had acknowledged his effort.

Now, he needed information.

He inhaled slowly, steadying himself. The question burning in his mind was simple: What year is it?

The System had claimed he had been sent back fifteen years. But confirming that fact was crucial. Time was an enemy that could not be fought with fists alone.

He reached for the small brass bell beside his cot and rang it once. The chime was faint, but within moments, the door creaked open.

A frail, elderly servant stepped inside, bowing his head. “Young Master Riel,” he murmured.

Riel took in the man’s appearance — aged but disciplined. The slight hunch in his shoulders suggested years of servitude, but his eyes were sharp.

“Your name?” he asked, his voice even.

The servant hesitated briefly, clearly taken aback. “It is Rolf, my lord.”

Riel nodded. He had no memory of this man. Which meant that in his past life, this Rolf had either fled or perished when House Varelis was destroyed.

A sobering thought. He leaned forward. “What year is it?”

Rolf hesitated again, but when Kael’s piercing gaze didn’t waver, he answered.

“The Year of the Crimson Sun, 1312.”

A slow exhale escaped Riel’s lips. Fifteen years, indeed. His past self had died in 1327. And that meant he was precisely three months away from the downfall of House Varelis. His grip tightened against the sheets. The noble purge. His family’s destruction.

Riel had been far removed from it in his past life, leading wars on distant battlefields, unaware that his bloodline was being systematically erased. But now, he was staring straight into that abyss. He would not let history repeat itself.

But first — he needed details.

He turned back to Rolf. “What do you know of House Varelis’s standing?”

Rolf’s face twisted into something between sorrow and unease. “My lord…” He shifted uncomfortably. “Our house has… declined.”

Riel let the silence stretch.

Rolf hesitated before continuing. “Once, we commanded armies. Now, we struggle to maintain our lands. The Duke — your father — has refused to kneel to the Emperor’s growing authority. And because of this…” His voice grew quieter. “Enemies gather, young master.”

Riel’s expression remained blank.

Enemies.

It wasn’t just misfortune. This wasn’t a simple fall from grace — it was a coordinated attack. Someone wanted House Varelis gone.

Riel leaned back, digesting the information. He needed to uncover the key players in this purge. If he could identify the masterminds behind his family’s downfall, he could—

A loud knock shattered his thoughts.

The door swung open before Rolf could react.

A boy stepped inside, flanked by two sneering attendants. He didn’t need an introduction. He knew that face.

Alek Varelis. His cousin.

In his past life, Alek had amounted to nothing — just another pathetic noble with more pride than talent. But here and now, he was still an arrogant brat with enough strength to torment a cripple.

Alek’s smirk widened as he looked Riel up and down. “Look at you,” he scoffed, folding his arms. “I heard you were trying to stand. Walking now, are we? Should I start calling you ‘warrior’?”

Laughter echoed behind him. His attendants snickered, clearly emboldened.

Riel exhaled through his nose. This was a test.

And he would not play the weakling. His silence seemed to amuse Alek. The boy stepped closer, eyes glittering with cruelty. “Tell me, cousin,” he murmured. “What does it feel like? Being useless?”

Riel remained motionless. His mind sharpened, instincts honed from decades of battle whispering calculations in his ear. Alek’s stance was sloppy. Overconfident. He expected Riel to shrink away like he always did.

Instead, Riel’s gaze hardened.

And at that moment—

The System activated.

[New Mission Unlocked: Defy the Weakling’s Fate.]

[Objective: Strike Your Opponent Once.]

[Reward: +1 Dexterity]

Riel’s pulse steadied. His eyes flicked to Alek’s posture — lazy, open, and careless.

He had his target.

Riel moved.

It wasn’t an explosive attack. Not a wild swing. Just a sharp, precise motion.

His knuckles met Alek’s jaw.

Alek stumbled back, stunned.

His attendants froze. The laughter died.

And then—

[Mission Completed.]

[Dexterity +1]

Riel straightened, his expression cold. The room was silent.

For the first time, Alek looked afraid. But only for a moment.

Then, his expression twisted into rage. He lunged forward, shoving Riel backward with force. Riel’s still-weak legs buckled, and he barely managed to catch himself against the cot.

Alek’s face was twisted with fury. “You — dare?” His voice trembled with rage. “You dare strike me?”

Kael exhaled, unfazed. The mission was complete. The strike had landed. And Alek — who had never once considered Riel a threat — was humiliated. The boy turned on his heel. “You’ll regret that,” he spat, storming toward the door. His attendants scrambled after him, but not before throwing fearful glances at Riel.

The door slammed shut.

Riel remained motionless, his breathing steady.

His arms burned. His legs trembled. But despite it all, he could feel it. The change. He had shattered the first expectation. He had taken control of the first confrontation. And the System had rewarded him. He smiled.

For the first time since waking up in this body— He felt alive.