A fire crackled to life in the hearth, pushing back the chill and damp of the militia room with a feeble, dancing warmth.
His saber planted in the earthen floor beside him, **Kaelan Rook** bandaged a gash on his arm, then leaned back against the rough stone wall with a weary sigh. The recruit—who'd introduced himself as **Leo**—brought over a dented iron pot, filled it from a water skin, and settled it on the fire before closing the lid.
Leo rummaged in a pouch at his belt and produced a small, lacquered box. He handed it to Kaelan, his expression a mixture of relief and lingering fear.
"Lucky you showed up," Leo said, his voice low. "I'd be demon-food by now if you hadn't."
"What's this?" Kaelan asked, accepting the box.
"The outpost's last two Healing Pills."
"Why not keep them for yourself?"
Leo shook his head. "I'm not a cultivator. Can't use them."
Kaelan opened the box. Inside, nestled on a bed of faded silk, were two jade-green pills. He picked one up, rolling it between his fingers with an expert's eye. The pill was in perfect condition, the thin sealant sap undamaged. A faint, calming herbal scent emanated from it.
*A standard low-tier Healing Pill.* In his past life, at the height of his power, he wouldn't have glanced at such a common item. Now, stranded in this regressed timeline with a broken body and his cultivation reduced to embers, these two pills were a treasure beyond price.
"The entire outpost… only has these left?" Kaelan asked, already suspecting the answer.
Leo sighed, the sound heavy with exhaustion. "Yes. After everyone died, the supply lines were cut. Medicine, rations, ammunition… everything's running out."
Kaelan fell silent for a moment, his strategist's mind working. "Are there any Spirit Stones left in the outpost?"
"None," Leo answered curtly.
"Then we're doomed," Kaelan stated flatly.
Leo's head snapped up. "What? Why?"
"The outpost's **Obfuscation Array** is barely holding. Without Spirit Stones to replenish its power, it will fail completely. Soon."
The color drained from Leo's face. He scrambled to his feet and bolted from the room without another word.
If the array failed, every demon and monster within miles would sense their presence. Survival would become impossible.
*No wonder the captains looked so hopeless before they left,* Kaelan thought, watching the empty doorway.
He waited, counting his breaths. Soon, a low, resonant *hum* vibrated through the stone beneath him—the sound of an array reactivating with a fresh power source.
*So, Leo was holding out. He had a private stash.*
In this world, every person was real—flesh, blood, fear, and self-preservation. To treat them as simple-minded NPCs was a fatal mistake. Kaelan had learned that lesson long ago.
Leo trudged back in, his shoulders slumped. He slid down the wall, buried his face in his hands, and began to weep quietly.
"What are you crying for?" Kaelan asked, his tone not unkind, merely analytical.
"This time… I really used them all," Leo choked out. "When the array's power runs out again… that's it. The things outside… they'll get us."
Kaelan said nothing. He carefully scraped the preservative sap from the Healing Pill, placed it on his tongue, and swallowed. Closing his eyes, he reached inward, seeking the spark of spirit energy within his **dantian**.
For a moment, he was nervous. What if his regression had stripped him of even this foundation?
But the response was immediate. A warm, familiar current stirred in his core, rising to meet and assimilate the pill's medicinal energy, circulating it through his battered meridians. A comforting heat spread through his limbs. The myriad cuts and bruises across his body began to itch faintly—the sign of accelerated healing.
By the time the pill was fully absorbed and Kaelan opened his eyes, it was deep into the night.
He stood, testing his body. It was markedly better. Most wounds had closed into thin, pink scars. The leaden weakness had receded to a manageable ache.
Leo was still sitting against the wall, head nodding with exhaustion. Seeing Kaelan move, he jolted awake, hope flickering in his eyes. "You're better? Can you… can you get us out of here now?"
The last question betrayed his true desperation. It was likely the only reason he'd parted with the pills.
"Better," Kaelan confirmed. "But a full recovery will take a few more days."
"Oh." The hope in Leo's eyes died. He stood dejectedly. "Then… get some more rest." He shuffled out, leaving Kaelan alone with the dying fire.
Alone, Kaelan sat back down, his mind turning to the past—his *original* past.
In his time, the demons from this "game" had broken into Reality, extinguishing human civilization. Humanity had fought a desperate, losing battle from the very first server-wide announcement. They'd been herded like cattle, told that even the weakest could serve as living shields in the final, decisive operation.
And they had lost. Spectacularly.
Only Kaelan, leading his nation's elite guild, had managed to thread the needle of impossible System quests, carving a path to the Final Demon Lord's throne. His comrades had fallen one by one until he stood alone, facing the entity atop a mountain of flesh and bone, victory within his grasp.
Then, the cosmic verdict had tolled.
**[Humanity's final Ascendant has fallen.]**
**[Humanity's final fortress has been breached.]**
**[Operation Final Verdict: Humanity has lost.]**
**[The game has ended. The protective barrier is broken. Reality's destruction begins.]**
A cataclysmic roar had echoed across existence. Every player was forcibly logged out, helpless spectators to the end of all things.
In the final split-second before the disconnect, Kaelan had poured every ounce of his remaining power into one last, desperate strike, driving his weapon toward the Demon Lord's heart.
He never saw the result. His vision went black, and he was ejected—not back to a doomed Reality, but into a void of senselessness.
Faintly, as if from a great distance, he heard the mechanical voice one last time.
**[Player Kaelan Rook has slain the Final Demon Lord.]**
**[For preserving a final spark of hope in a world fallen to the abyss, a Special Final Reward has been granted.]**
He had felt the weight of *something* solid form in his grasp before consciousness fled completely.
When he next awoke, he was in the rain-soaked burial pit, this broken body his own.
Remembering it now, Kaelan shook his head, a sigh of profound regret escaping his lips. It was bizarre. In ten years of the game's operation, no one had ever heard of a "Special Final Reward."
*What could it possibly—*
He froze.
A crucial detail, overlooked in the chaos of survival, slammed into his thoughts.
*When I woke up in that pit… I was already holding something.*
His gaze dropped.
**The saber.** It was still there, driven into the packed earth beside him.
A simple, unadorned weapon with a keen edge and a blade that held a faint, persistent golden sheen.
His heart began to hammer against his ribs.
He'd had this saber in hand *before* he killed the Commander. It had felt so perfectly balanced, so natural in his grip, that he hadn't even thought to search the pit for another weapon.
Did it come from the pit? Or… did it come *with him*?
Hesitating only for a moment, Kaelan wrapped his hand around the hilt. He focused, drawing a thin stream of spirit energy from his dantian and directing it into the blade.
The moment the energy made contact, the golden sheen erupted.
Brilliant, warm light flooded the room, pushing back the shadows. A profound, ancient aura radiated from the weapon—a sense of immense dignity layered over a deep, mournful weight.
**[Illegal entry successful. Beginning activation.]**
The cold, mechanical System voice echoed in the room. But for the first time ever, Kaelan thought he detected a subtle, almost… *eager* undercurrent in its tone.
The golden saber in his hand dissolved. It burst into a thousand shimmering, molten-gold sprites. They hung in the air for a heartbeat, swirling around him in two brilliant orbits before converging in a single, blinding stream that shot straight between his eyebrows.
***BOOM.***
An explosion of light and sound filled his skull. His **Thought Sea**—the internal realm of his consciousness—was scoured empty. His body locked, paralyzed.
An eternity seemed to pass.
Finally, the voice returned, sounding strangely weary.
**[Activation successful.]**
**[War God UI (User Interface) is now online.]**