Chapter 2: War God System
Ethan remained frozen before the mirror. His reflection stared back at him with the same confusion that currently filled his heart. The face looking back was unmistakably his own, yet it belonged to a version of himself that should have ceased to exist twenty years ago.
Ten years old.
Before the wars.
Before the conspiracies.
Before the countless graves.
Before House Ravencrest began its long decline toward destruction.
His trembling hand slowly rose toward his face.
The skin felt real.
Warm.
Alive.
Not the scar-covered hands of a veteran commander. Not the broken body that had died upon the walls of Frostfall Fortress. The hand of a child. A child who had been given an impossible opportunity.
...Was this real?
"Ethan?"
The voice sounded again from outside the room.
Gentle.
Familiar.
Concerned.
For a brief moment, Ethan stopped breathing.
That voice.
He had heard it thousands of times throughout his life. He had taken it for granted. Then one day it vanished forever. And now it had returned. A painful lump formed within his throat. His eyes burned in a way no battlefield ever managed to make them burn.
"Ethan, are you alright?"
The concern in Elena’s voice increased noticeably.
Normally, Ethan would have responded immediately.
Today, he couldn’t.
Because he was afraid.
Afraid that if he opened the door, everything would disappear. Afraid that this was merely a final dream granted to a dying man. Afraid that if he blinked, he would awaken once more upon the battlefield.
Don’t blink. Whatever you do... don’t blink.
Slowly, Ethan turned toward the bedroom door.
His heartbeat echoed loudly within his ears.
One step.
Then another.
The distance was only a few meters.
Yet it felt longer than every battlefield he had ever crossed combined.
Eventually, his hand reached the doorknob.
For several seconds, he simply stood there.
Open it. Just open it.
Then he opened the door.
The world seemed to stop.
Elena Ravencrest stood in the hallway wearing a simple blue dress, a stack of documents resting comfortably within her arms. Her chestnut hair fell neatly across her shoulders, and her familiar silver earrings caught the morning sunlight streaming through the nearby windows.
She looked exactly as Ethan remembered.
No.
That wasn’t true.
She looked younger.
Healthier.
The dark circles that had plagued her final years were gone. The exhaustion that had slowly accumulated over countless responsibilities had not yet appeared. The particular set of her shoulders — that weight she had carried during the long years of managing a frontier in crisis — had not yet settled into her posture. She looked like herself before the world had gotten to her.
Most importantly...
She was alive.
A warm smile immediately appeared on her face.
"There you are. I was beginning to worry."
Ethan couldn’t move.
His eyes remained fixed upon her.
Every logical part of his mind already knew this was real. Yet his heart still struggled to accept it. His chest ached in a way that had nothing to do with wounds.
How many times had he imagined this moment?
How many times had he wished for one more conversation?
One more meal. One more opportunity to tell her everything he never managed to say. And now she stood before him as though none of those tragedies had ever happened.
"Ethan?"
The smile faded slightly.
Elena set the documents aside.
A trace of concern appeared within her eyes.
"Did you have a nightmare?"
That simple question shattered whatever restraint remained. Without warning, Ethan stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her. The movement was so sudden that Elena nearly lost her balance — documents scattering dramatically across the floor.
He could not bring himself to care.
For several moments, silence filled the hallway.
Ethan held on tightly.
As though letting go would cause her to disappear. As though years of loss and regret had suddenly become too heavy to carry alone.
He could feel her warmth.
Hear her heartbeat.
Smell the faint scent of lavender she always carried.
She had worn the same fragrance for as long as Ethan could remember. After her death, he had searched for it once in the capital. He had visited ten different places that afternoon. None of them had it. He left the last shop without speaking and never mentioned the errand to anyone. He never found it.
Every sensation confirmed the same impossible truth.
She was real.
She was alive.
And for the first time in many, many years... Ethan felt something he had long forgotten how to feel.
Relief.
Pure, overwhelming relief.
She’s real. She’s actually real...!!
Confusion appeared on Elena’s face.
"Ethan?"
Slowly, she placed a hand upon his head.
The gesture was familiar.
Comforting.
The same gesture she had used countless times throughout his childhood — back when his problems involved scraped knees rather than fallen kingdoms.
Her voice softened.
"That must have been quite a nightmare."
Ethan closed his eyes.
If only she knew.
If only she knew how much he had lost. How much he had regretted. How much he had wished for precisely this moment. Eventually, he forced himself to loosen his grip. When he finally stepped back, Elena immediately noticed the moisture gathering around his eyes.
Her expression softened further.
"My poor son."
A gentle smile appeared on her lips.
"Whatever happened in that dream, it’s over now."
Ethan stared at her.
For a moment, he almost told her everything.
The wars.
The deaths.
The collapse of the North.
The impossible second chance he had been given.
Yeah. That conversation would go wonderfully.
But reason quickly returned.
No one would believe such a story. And even if they did—what would it cost her, to carry a knowledge of the future she hadn’t lived? He had carried that weight for years. He would not give it to her.
Instead, he simply nodded.
"Yeah."
His voice sounded rough.
"I think... it is."
Elena smiled once more.
Then she reached forward and straightened his slightly wrinkled shirt.
A simple gesture.
An ordinary gesture.
Yet Ethan nearly laughed out loud at how desperately he had missed it.
"Come downstairs," she said. "Breakfast is almost ready."
Elena paused for a moment.
"Sarah would normally be the one waking you at this hour, but I sent her south on an errand several weeks ago."
A faint smile appeared on her face.
"Knowing her, she’s probably worrying more about this household than I am."
Ethan blinked.
Sarah Azureviel.
The name stirred old memories.
Not by blood.
Yet for as long as Ethan could remember, Sarah had always been there. Somewhere between attendant, older sister, and family. When Ethan had been younger, he had once cried after losing a wooden sword. Sarah had spent an entire afternoon helping him search for it, only for Elena to eventually find it beneath his own bed.
Sarah had laughed so hard she nearly fell over.
At the time, Ethan had sworn never to speak of it again.
---
Breakfast.
Such an ordinary word.
Such an ordinary moment.
And yet Ethan suddenly realized he had not shared a peaceful family breakfast in what felt like an entire lifetime — possibly longer. As Elena turned and began walking toward the staircase, Ethan remained standing in the hallway.
His eyes followed her retreating figure.
A silent promise formed within his heart.
This time would be different.
This time he would not fail.
This time he would protect them.
No matter the cost.
And for the first time since awakening, Ethan felt genuine hope.
For several moments after Elena disappeared down the staircase, Ethan remained standing exactly where he was.
The corridor felt strangely quiet.
Sunlight streamed through the tall windows lining the eastern side of Ravenhold Estate, illuminating the polished wooden floors and the numerous portraits decorating the walls. Everything appeared exactly as he remembered from his childhood, yet after living through two decades of war and loss, the familiar surroundings felt almost unreal.
A part of him still expected to wake up.
A part of him still believed he would open his eyes and find himself once again lying among the ruins of Frostfall Fortress.
Any moment now...
Yet the warmth of the morning sun felt real. The faint scent of freshly baked bread drifting through the manor felt real. Most importantly, Elena felt real. Slowly exhaling, Ethan forced himself to calm down. His emotions threatened to overwhelm him every time he remembered that his mother was alive. If he allowed himself to remain trapped within those feelings, he would accomplish nothing.
Get it together. You’re a grown ass man trapped inside a child’s body. Act like it.
This was not a dream.
This was not an illusion.
This was an opportunity.
Second chances meant nothing if he failed again.
Gathering his thoughts, Ethan began making his way toward the main staircase.
The familiar halls of Ravenhold Manor stretched before him — the ancestral seat of House Ravencrest. For generations, every Lord of Ravencrest had walked these very halls before marching north to defend Frostfall and the frontier. To outsiders, Ravenhold was merely a noble estate. To the North, it was home to the family that had guarded them for centuries.
Decorative suits of armor stood proudly beside the walls, representing generations of Ravencrest knights who had defended the Northern Frontier. Family portraits occupied positions of honor throughout, silently watching over the descendants who continued carrying their legacy.
His gaze eventually settled upon one particular painting.
It depicted Adrian Ravencrest during his younger years.
Even before becoming the Sword of the North, Adrian had been one of the most respected warriors of his generation. Clad in black armor and holding a sword stained with monster blood, the future Sword of the North stood before Frostfall Fortress with a confident smile upon his face.
That smile...
Ethan suddenly remembered being six years old and sitting on Adrian’s shoulders during the Winter Festival. Back then, the world had seemed small because his father had seemed impossibly large. At the time, he had believed his father could defeat anything. Looking back now, he realized children deserved to keep such illusions for as long as possible.
Ethan slowed his pace.
For a moment, he simply stared at the portrait.
In his previous life, he had walked past this painting thousands of times without paying much attention to it.
Now it felt different.
Painfully different.
Because he knew how that story ended.
He knew the battles Adrian would fight.
He knew the sacrifices he would make.
He knew the lonely battlefield where he would eventually fall.
A complicated expression settled across Ethan’s face.
"This time..."
His voice barely rose above a whisper.
"This time, you’ll live."
The promise hung quietly within the corridor before disappearing into silence.
Continuing downstairs, Ethan soon reached the first floor of the manor. Several servants moved about carrying trays, documents, and various supplies required to manage a noble estate. Upon noticing him, many offered respectful bows.
"Good morning, Young Master."
"Good morning, Young Master Ethan."
The greetings felt strangely nostalgic.
Young Master... He hadn’t heard that in a very long time.
Many of these people had remained loyal to House Ravencrest until the very end. Some had died protecting civilians during monster attacks. Others had remained within Ravenhold until the city itself fell. At the time, Ethan had been too busy fighting wars to properly appreciate their loyalty. Now he found himself recognizing faces he had not seen in years.
Old Thomas — the elderly gardener who complained endlessly about northern weather as though the North itself had personally offended him. The old man used to sneak extra apples to the younger servants and then loudly complain when they thanked him. Ethan had once thought him annoying. Now he found the memory strangely precious.
Old Thomas froze when he noticed Ethan looking at him.
Then, awkwardly, the old gardener offered a bow so deep it nearly looked painful.
Ethan almost told him to stop. In another life, the old man had died defending civilians with nothing more than a shovel.
Sofia — one of the maids who had worked within the manor for decades with a quiet, steady dedication that most soldiers couldn’t match.
Even several guards stationed near the dining hall were familiar. Each face represented someone who had once been part of his home. Each face represented someone he intended to save.
The North remembered its debts.
And Ravencrest remembered its people.
As Ethan entered the dining hall, a wave of warmth immediately greeted him.
Unlike the cold corridors outside, the room felt lively and welcoming. Sunlight poured through the large windows while a massive wooden table occupied the center of the room. The table had been carved from a single frost oak centuries ago, large enough to seat dozens during winter gatherings.
As a child, Ethan had once believed it impossible for a tree to grow so large. Breakfast had already been prepared, filling the air with the aroma of freshly baked bread, roasted meat, soup, and tea. A sight so ordinary. A sight so insignificant.
Yet Ethan nearly found himself laughing until his eyes watered. When had he last eaten breakfast without reviewing casualty reports...?
Five years?
Ten?
The years following Adrian’s death had transformed every meal into either a political discussion or a military briefing. By the time the Northern Crisis reached its peak, Ethan often ate while reading reports on monster movements and troop losses.
Some days he barely remembered eating at all.
Now, standing within the dining hall of his childhood home... he suddenly realized how completely, devastatingly much he had missed this.
"Brother!!!!"
The cheerful voice struck him like lightning.
Ethan froze.
A small figure rushed into the room at absolutely unreasonable speed. Before he could so much as blink, a pair of arms wrapped around his waist with the force of a charging bull.
The world seemed to stop.
Slowly looking downward, Ethan found himself staring into a pair of bright blue eyes overflowing with energy and happiness.
Amelia Ravencrest.
Eight years old.
Alive.
The brightest light of House Ravencrest.
The person whose death haunted him most.
For several seconds, he couldn’t speak.
His heart felt strangely, terribly heavy.
The countless memories he had desperately tried to suppress throughout the years surged forward all at once.
Amelia laughing within the gardens.
Amelia decorating the manor during festivals.
Amelia proudly presenting him with poorly made gifts she had spent weeks preparing — beaming as though she’d handed him a national treasure.
Amelia smiling despite difficult circumstances.
And then—
Blood.
Snow.
Fear.
A trembling hand reaching toward him.
The memory struck so suddenly that Ethan nearly stopped breathing.
"Brother?"
Amelia tilted her head slightly.
"Why are you looking at me like that?"
The innocent question shattered the painful memory immediately.
Ethan stared at her.
Really stared at her.
Not the memory of Amelia.
Not the version of her that existed within his regrets.
The real Amelia.
Alive.
Healthy.
Safe — and apparently completely unbothered by the fact that her brother looked like he’d seen a ghost.
A warmth spread through his chest unlike anything he had felt in years. Without warning, he gently placed a hand on her head. Ethan’s hand trembled slightly where it rested on her head. He quickly steadied it before anyone noticed.
Amelia blinked in surprise.
Then smiled brightly.
That smile...!!
It was exactly the same.
Exactly as he remembered.
The sight nearly broke him in the best possible way.
"You really are here."
The words escaped before he could stop them.
Amelia looked even more confused.
"Of course I’m here."
She puffed out her cheeks dramatically.
"Did you hit your head or something?"
Despite everything — the grief, the years, the impossible weight of everything he carried — Ethan found himself laughing.
A genuine laugh.
The first genuine laugh he had experienced in years.
𝗳𝚛𝚎𝚎𝘄𝕖𝕓𝕟𝕠𝚟𝚎𝕝.𝗰𝕠𝐦
Years.
For a brief moment, the burdens of the future seemed far away.
The conspiracies.
The wars.
The monster tides.
The deaths waiting beyond the horizon.
None of them mattered right now.
Because Amelia was alive.
And this time...
He would make absolutely sure she stayed that way.
The remainder of breakfast passed far more peacefully than Ethan had expected.
For the first time in what felt like an entire lifetime, he sat at a dining table without discussing military deployments, border reports, food shortages, or casualty figures. Instead, the conversation revolved around matters so ordinary that they almost felt foreign to him.
Amelia enthusiastically spoke about a book she had recently finished — interrupting herself every thirty seconds to add details she had "almost forgotten."
"And Sarah said the hero was being foolish!" Amelia protested. "He should have retreated!"
Elena smiled faintly. "Sarah is currently away on an errand. I’m sure she’ll be delighted to hear you quoting her tactical advice."
Amelia puffed her cheeks. "It wasn’t tactical advice. It was obvious."
And Sarah promised she’d bring me gifts when she comes back," Amelia declared proudly.
Elena chuckled softly.
"Only because you demanded them before she left."
Amelia looked entirely unapologetic.
"She’s my big sister. That’s what big sisters do."
Elena occasionally corrected her more dramatic exaggerations with the patient smile of someone who had done this approximately one thousand times.
Several servants entered and exited carrying dishes and tea.
The atmosphere was warm.
Comfortable.
Normal...!!
Two seats remained empty.
His father’s seat.
And his uncle’s.
If Ethan remembered correctly, Adrian and Marcus should currently be leading a monster suppression operation somewhere along the Eternal Forest frontier. Such deployments were common within the North. Monsters did not wait for convenient times to attack. Neither did the men responsible for stopping them.
The realization caused Ethan’s gaze to linger on the empty chairs for a moment. Adrian was alive.
Marcus was alive. Both men were still out there. Still fighting. Still protecting the North. This time, they’d come home. He’d make sure of it.
Every detail mattered. Every memory mattered. Every piece of information could potentially alter the future.
As Amelia continued talking about some adventure story she had become completely, unreasonably obsessed with, Ethan quietly observed his surroundings.
The dining hall.
The servants.
His mother.
Everything matched his memories.
Nothing seemed unusual.
Which only made his situation feel all the more extraordinary.
He had truly returned.
There was no longer any room for doubt. This wasn’t a dream. This wasn’t a hallucination created by a dying mind. He had genuinely, impossibly, inexplicably traveled back to the age of ten.
...Ten.
The implications were enormous.
Countless disasters had yet to occur.
His father was still alive.
His mother was still alive.
Amelia was still alive.
The Northern Frontier had not yet entered its decline.
The conspiracies hidden within the shadows had not yet revealed themselves.
Most importantly...
He still had time.
For the first time in decades, Ethan possessed something he had once believed completely beyond reach.
Time.
Enough time to prepare.
Enough time to grow stronger.
Enough time to prevent the tragedies that had destroyed everything.
A quiet, steely determination gradually settled within his eyes.
The future was no longer fixed.
He would make absolutely sure of that.
"Ethan."
Elena’s voice interrupted his thoughts.
He looked up.
She had been watching him for some time.
A faint, knowing smile rested upon her face.
"You’ve been unusually quiet this morning."
Amelia immediately nodded with great conviction.
"Very quiet."
Then she pointed accusingly at him.
"And strange."
Ethan raised an eyebrow.
"Strange?"
"Very strange."
Amelia crossed her arms with the gravity of someone delivering a formal verdict.
"You hugged Mother."
Amelia narrowed her eyes like a tiny investigator who had just uncovered a national conspiracy.
Elena nearly choked on her tea.
Ethan blinked.
Amelia continued, mercilessly.
"You never hug Mother."
A dangerous silence filled the room.
The servants wisely pretended to be completely absorbed in their duties.
Elena suddenly found the contents of her teacup extremely, urgently fascinating. Meanwhile, Ethan felt the distinct urge to sigh. Apparently some things never changed. Amelia’s ability to create maximally awkward situations out of thin air remained, as ever, utterly unparalleled. The young girl stared at both of them with deep suspicion before eventually nodding to herself with great satisfaction.
"Definitely strange."
Despite himself, Ethan smiled.
Perhaps because the conversation felt so wonderfully, achingly normal. Perhaps because seeing Amelia alive made even her relentless teasing feel like a gift. Or perhaps simply because, after years of carrying responsibilities far beyond his years, he finally had a chance to just... be part of a family again. The feeling was strangely, quietly comforting.
After breakfast concluded, Elena departed to handle administrative matters while Amelia rushed outside in search of new adventures — loudly, at full speed, knocking a cushion off a chair on her way out. Before disappearing entirely, however, the young girl suddenly stopped.
Turning around, she pointed directly at Ethan.
"You’re coming with me later."
Ethan blinked.
"Am I?"
"Yes."
No hesitation whatsoever.
"You promised."
A faint frown appeared on his face.
Promised...?
Then a distant memory surfaced.
The western gardens.
A picnic.
She had spent the entire afternoon trying to name flowers. Half the names had been wrong. She’d defended every single one with complete confidence. An entire afternoon spent listening to Amelia complain about flowers with remarkable passion and zero botanical knowledge.
The memory was so insignificant that he had completely forgotten it existed.
Yet Amelia clearly had not forgotten a single detail.
Of course she hadn’t.
A complicated emotion rose quietly within his heart. How many small promises had he broken throughout the years because of war and responsibility?
How many simple moments had he sacrificed for duties that ultimately failed to save anyone?
"I’ll be there."
The answer caused Amelia’s face to brighten instantly — like someone had lit a lamp behind her eyes.
Then she ran away.
Just like that.
Watching her disappear through the doorway, Ethan found himself smiling once more.
The estate eventually grew quieter.
Servants returned to their duties. The morning bustle gradually faded.
For the first time since awakening, Ethan found himself alone.
The silence felt different now.
Not lonely.
Not painful.
Simply... quiet.
Slowly making his way back toward his room, Ethan allowed himself to organize his thoughts.
Regression. A second chance. Knowledge of the future.
None of it should have been possible.
Yet reality continued proving otherwise, rather rudely, without asking his permission.
Eventually, he reached his room and closed the door behind him.
The familiar surroundings greeted him once again.
His desk.
His bookshelf.
His training equipment — small, suited for a child, utterly inadequate for what he intended to accomplish.
That would need to change.
For several moments, Ethan simply stood there.
Then his expression gradually became serious.
There was still one unanswered question.
The voice.
The one he had heard after death.
The one that had spoken about regression.
The one that had called itself—
Before the thought could finish forming, a sudden pain erupted behind his eyes.
Ethan staggered slightly.
The air around him seemed to distort.
Then a brilliant golden light appeared before him.
His pupils contracted instantly.
Countless lines of information materialized within the empty space.
Not written on paper.
Not projected onto a wall.
Floating directly before his eyes.
...What.
A mechanical voice echoed within his mind.
[War God System Successfully Initialized.]
[Host: Ethan Ravencrest]
[Age: 10]
[Synchronization Complete.]
Ethan’s heartbeat accelerated.
The impossible display remained suspended before him.
Neither fading nor changing.
He stared at it for a very long moment.
The voice spoke again.
[Welcome, Host.]
[The War God System is now active.]
For several seconds, Ethan simply stared at the floating screen.
Regression.
A second life.
And now this.
Any one of those things should have been impossible.
Slowly, Ethan exhaled.
Whatever the War God System truly was, it had granted him something beyond value.
A chance.
The golden screen flickered.
Another notification appeared.
[First-Time Reward Detected.]
[SSS-Rank Physique Available.]
[Heavenly Sovereign Physique.]
[Integration Available.]
Ethan’s eyes widened slightly.
...SSS-Rank?
A true physique.
Ethan’s expression slowly became serious.
Unlike talents or cultivation cores, physiques were extraordinarily rare among humanity. Most people would never encounter a true physique bearer in their entire lives. Even in his previous life, Ethan had only obtained an S-Rank physique through a fortuitous encounter years after his Awakening Ceremony. Yet now, the system was offering him an SSS-Rank physique from the very beginning. Even within the Solaris Empire, individuals possessing SSS-rank physiques could be counted on one hand. And every one of them had left their names upon history.
He read the words again.
Then a third time, just to be certain.
Even during his previous life, such physiques were rare enough that even great noble houses treated them as treasures worthy of recording in their histories. Countless had spent their entire lives chasing opportunities that might improve their potential — and here the system was, simply offering him a physique that should not exist within the reach of ordinary people.
Just offering it. Casually. Like it was nothing.
Slowly, Ethan’s expression became serious. This wasn’t a joke. This wasn’t some illusion created by an exhausted, desperate mind. Whatever the War God System was... it possessed abilities far beyond his understanding. Before he could gather his thoughts, the screen changed once more.
[Main Mission Generated.]
Several new lines appeared.
Objective:
Alter the Fate of House Ravencrest
The moment Ethan read those words, his body froze.
His eyes remained fixed upon the screen.
For several seconds, he said nothing.
The room fell completely silent.
Alter the Fate of House Ravencrest.
Not become stronger.
Not conquer kingdoms.
Not dominate the world.
House Ravencrest.
His family.
The people he had lost.
The people he had sworn to protect.
A deeply complicated emotion rose within his chest.
Because the objective was not random.
The system knew.
Somehow, impossibly, it knew exactly what had happened in his previous life. It knew about the fall of the North. It knew about the deaths of Adrian, Elena, and Amelia. It knew about the destruction awaiting House Ravencrest. Most importantly... It knew what Ethan desired more than anything else in any world, in any life.
A second chance.
Slowly, Ethan looked toward the window. Beyond the glass, the morning sun illuminated the lands of Ravenhold. The territory was peaceful. The people were safe. His family was alive.
For now.
Yet Ethan knew better than anyone that beneath this peaceful surface lay the seeds of future tragedy.
Beneath that peace lay a future only he remembered. A future no one else had the luxury of fearing.
Countless disasters waited beyond the horizon — patient, inevitable, utterly indifferent to hope. In his previous life, he had failed to stop them. This time would be different. His gaze returned to the floating screen. A faint smile appeared upon his face. Then, for the first time since returning to the past, Ethan spoke with complete and absolute certainty.
"I’ll change it."
The golden screen shimmered softly.
The words remained unchanged.
Objective:
Alter the Fate of House Ravencrest
And for the first time in many, many years...Ethan felt as though fate itself had finally given him permission to fight back.