The coachman's knuckles turned white as he gripped the reins tighter, a nervous sweat trailing down the side of his face. I sat across from him, still reeling from the earlier conversation.
"Take me to the start of the Bamboo Forest," I said flatly.
His eyes widened. "No… no, sir. I can't. That forest is cursed. Dangerous beyond reason. I—I won't risk my life."
That irritated me more than it should have.
"Then don't," I muttered, stepping out of the carriage. My boots struck the ground with a thud, my patience fraying. I turned back, eyes sharp. "Just hand over the carriage. I'll go myself."
"I-I can't just give it away like that! The horses—" he stammered.
"You'll get paid. Mention my name to that old man of yours." I leaned in, voice colder than ice. "He'll know."
He hesitated, face frozen in a mix of fear and confusion. "But…"
I didn't let him finish.
In a flash, my blade was out—its cold edge pressed gently against the side of his neck. "Off. Now."
He jumped back, hands raised, stumbling from the driver's bench with trembling legs—not out of fear for himself, but for me.
I ignored him.
With a flick of my fingers, I cast a command spell on the horses, imbuing them with direction and calm. They reared slightly, then stilled, eyes glowing faintly as they accepted the magic. I climbed into the driver's seat, took a breath, and gave the mental order.
The carriage lurched forward, heading unerringly toward the Bamboo Forest.
From behind, I could still see the coachman standing there in shock, eyes wide as he watched the magically guided horses obey a master they'd just met.
Inside the carriage, I felt it again—my body trembling, energy pulsing violently beneath my skin. The flow of mana… it was too much. My core throbbed. Explosions of power sparked deep inside my veins, clashing with one another like storms. This wasn't just me. Not the me from before the regression. No. This was the aftermath of something greater—this was leftover energy from the time rewind.
A dangerous thought crossed my mind.
If I had remnants of that power… was my master back too?
Before I could grasp the answer, the pain in my core surged. My vision blurred. Consciousness slipped.
Darkness.
Dreams.
Again, that damn nightmare.
My sister. Hanging from the ceiling. Her body—cold, lifeless. Her skin ruined, her spirit shattered. I stood there, helpless, screaming her name. Crying until my voice gave out.
Tuf… tuf… tuffff… TADDD!
A jolt. My eyes flew open. I was on the ground.
What the—?
The carriage was half destroyed. Debris strewn about like a broken toy. A boy—barely ten, skinny and scrappy—was dragging me. That wasn't right. He wasn't strong enough.
Then I saw it—the artifact on his wrist, glowing faintly. It was a weight-reduction tool. Clever brat.
But the moment I realized, I pushed him off with a snarl.
He yelped, tumbling back. I climbed to my feet. This kid… he wasn't strong, but he'd used that artifact smartly. Still, who was he? And why was I here?
Then I saw it. The boy wasn't done. He lifted the artifact again, and with its aid, flung me toward a nearby boulder. My body smashed through it like paper. The impact knocked the air from my lungs. Darkness nipped at my vision.
When I awoke again, I felt something. No—someone.
It was me. A younger version of me. Or maybe a memory? This forest… it played tricks.
I stood slowly, my head pounding, trying to gather my thoughts. Then the boy lunged again, but this time I was ready. The traps hidden throughout the forest began to spring. Blades from the underbrush. Poison darts. Crushing vines.
I extended one hand—mana threads shot from my fingers, weaving into a shimmering net. The traps struck the barrier and fizzled out. I had power, more than enough… but this body wasn't strong enough to contain it. Not yet.
With my other hand, I wove another thread—this one binding the boy, suspending him midair like a caught bird.
"What are you doing here, brat?" I demanded.
The boy started crying, his little hands tugging at the threads.
"W-Why are you here?! My mother's strong, she'll kill you! She's a great swordswoman! Mama! Mamaaaaa!"
I sighed, annoyed and curious. "Where is this mama of yours, huh?" I said, twisting his ear.
Still crying, he pointed in a direction deeper into the forest.
With a groan, I grabbed him and dragged him along.
We pushed through the dense thickets until I saw it—a makeshift cottage, built from thick branches and bark, hidden like a wartime shelter. As we neared, the child's cries grew louder.
A shadow moved. Leaves rustled.
From the cottage emerged a woman.
No—not a woman. A warrior.
She was massive. Towering over me at nearly eleven feet tall, her broad frame wrapped in crude leathers. Her arms were thick as tree trunks, every inch of them marked with battle scars. The mana pressure around her felt like a mountain pressing on my chest.
I recognized her instantly.
Kalanka.
The Barbarian. The Tamed Beast. The woman who painted rivers red during the War of Revgarde. A living legend… and a nightmare.
Her eyes locked onto mine—wild and animalistic. Then they flicked to the crying child in my grip.
I let him go.
He ran to her, weeping into her side.
And me?
I raised both hands, cracked my neck, and smirked.
"Well, shit," I muttered under my breath. "This is gonna be fun."