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The never-ending great war of the past.

The heroes continued to bring the war to an end.

Though their methods were rough and improvised, once united in purpose, the heroes proved to be a far stronger force than anyone had imagined.

A strength that the kingdoms, having already exhausted vast resources and manpower in the war, could no longer contend with.

Peace is maintained through overwhelming power.

The heroes proved that truth clearly.

Amid their dazzling achievements,

they encountered many figures, some of whom joined their cause and marched forward together.

Among them was someone even I, from the modern era, knew well.

Midra Fenin.

A boy born with innate magical talent, taken as a disciple by Zerion.

‘To think he was actually Zerion’s disciple.’

Midra had always been a suspicious figure — that wasn’t anything new.

I’d suspected he might be connected to Zerion.

But that he had been Zerion’s disciple — that, I hadn’t expected.

‘No wonder he knew so much.’

My eyes turned toward Midra.

He followed the heroes closely, and yet, he wasn’t mentioned at all in the historical records.

Was it because history had eroded and forgotten him, or was it an intentional omission?

And why, now, am I witnessing all of this?

It feels as though this world is trying to tell me something —

a strange, almost fateful feeling.

Some clue to resolving the situation outside...

I felt a vague sense that the answer might be found here.

Time continued to flow.

Even the war that seemed like it would never end was finally approaching its conclusion, thanks to the efforts of the heroes.

Of course, it also helped that the kingdoms had reached the limit of what they could invest in the war.

“Can’t believe it actually worked.”

So said Ordo, Lord of the Spear, with his weapon slung over his shoulder and a dumbfounded look.

The monarchs of each kingdom had begun proposing a peace summit.

“It’s thanks to our hard work.”

Rosli, the Mercenary King, who had even married the woman he loved amidst the chaos of war, smiled.

The sharp edge he once had had long softened.

“Hmm. Maybe it’s time this great one founded a nation.”

Parazon, the Sky Sword Master, seriously considered starting a country of his own.

“I can return to God’s grace again.”

“Man… it’s been a long road. I think I’ll just go home and train a few disciples.”

Saint Narea and Aquiline, the Watcher of Souls, each added a comment.

“And you two?”

Aquiline grinned and looked back.

“Planning to run off and live alone together?”

It was a teasing remark aimed at Wolfram and Zerion.

The fact that the two were a couple had long since become common knowledge.

In the past, such teasing would’ve embarrassed them —

but they were now old enough to handle it with ease.

“You’re right.”

Zerion leaned lightly against Wolfram.

“Fram, should we start a family?”

He smiled gently.

Though petite, Zerion carried the charm of a mature woman — she was formidable.

Wolfram gave a small laugh.

His laughter, however, had become worn and faded over time.

I, standing before him, looked at him with a complicated expression.

How many times has Wolfram repeated regression?

I had never seen him regress with my own eyes.

Yet, I was certain he had.

Wolfram couldn’t see me.

But I had seen him alone many times.

In the cycles of regression, he had watched comrades die, faced countless crises.

And yet, he kept moving forward, driven by sheer will.

Over and over, Wolfram had worn himself down in this process.

A regressor is not an infinite being.

A regressor is someone who is endlessly eroded away.

I didn’t know how Wolfram had acquired the power to regress.

But one thing was clear —

regression was not bringing him happiness.

Is this world, the one we see now, truly the best outcome?

Whenever Wolfram was alone, he would always ponder this question.

He was nothing like the great hero who advised comrades, pulled unexpected tricks, and acted boldly.

“Guess our kid will be short.”

Then — Wolfram was struck by a flying blow.

All the heroes laughed, dreaming of a bright future.

And that future —

was shattered all too quickly.

On the day of the global peace summit,

all the kings attending the meeting were killed.

By an unknown being who suddenly descended from the sky.

People would come to call him Demon Sovereign — the Evil One.

Peace, which had finally seemed within reach, collapsed in an instant.

Wolfram could do nothing in the face of it.

On that very day, Wolfram had been delayed by a separate engagement and was still en route to the summit.

A regressor is not all-powerful.

They cannot stop every event unfolding across the world.

Even Zerion had not yet mastered celestial magic.

From what I had observed, Wolfram’s regressions always anchored him to some unknown point in time.

And this time —

the fixed point had been after Demon Sovereign reached the summit.

In the end, Wolfram failed to stop Demon Sovereign.

At that time, Wolfram had no idea that this failure would become a lifelong regret.

As all the monarchs were slain, each kingdom was shaken to its core.

Some suspected that Demon Sovereign had been planted by one of the warring kingdoms.

Others shouted in disbelief, asking who in their right mind would unleash such a madman, especially when all monarchs had died at once.

But the suspicion and unease spreading among the people could not be contained.

The fuse was reignited.

After a war that had lasted far too long, those who were more familiar with the sword than diplomacy were on the verge of drawing their swords again.

BOOM!

Wolfram personally destroyed the royal palace of one kingdom.

Standing before the newly crowned king, who was in shock, Wolfram declared,

“We will take down Demon Sovereign. But if you all insist on fighting amongst yourselves again, then know this — Demon Sovereign won’t be your only enemy. I will be, too.”

It was an outrageous statement.

Since that day, Demon Sovereign had not appeared anywhere.

No one knew where he came from or why he had emerged.

Wolfram’s actions drew harsh criticism.

To claim he would become an enemy alongside Demon Sovereign — a line no hero should cross.

He had once been hailed as the hero who ended the war.

But public opinion shifted in an instant.

Soon, more and more voices turned against Wolfram.

This was due to the terrifying and evil nature of Demon Sovereign.

If Wolfram had even the slightest hint of malice, he too could have caused such devastation.

That fear turned public opinion toward ousting Wolfram alongside Demon Sovereign.

Some shouted, asking if it made any sense to condemn the one person capable of stopping Demon Sovereign.

But the new rulers of the kingdoms, who feared Wolfram as much as they feared Demon Sovereign, used this opportunity to incite the people and remove him.

They were certain of one thing:

Wolfram always kept his word.

That meant he would surely defeat Demon Sovereign.

And once he did, Wolfram would become an uncontrollable global hero.

So before that happened, they had to act and begin undermining him now.

“Crazy bastards,”

Rosli muttered in disbelief as he looked at the new rulers stirring up the people.

They had worked so hard, from every direction, just to bring about peace.

And this was the reward they got?

It was unbearable.

“Wolfram, are you seriously taking this all at face value? Even if you defeat Demon Sovereign, these people will just keep tearing you apart.”

Rosli questioned whether it was even worth moving for these people anymore.

Not just the rulers manipulating public opinion, but also the masses who were swayed so easily.

They had worshipped them just recently, but now they flipped like the turn of a hand.

It was unacceptable.

“They’re weak,”

Wolfram replied, surprisingly understanding.

“They’re just weak. They have nothing to hold onto, no way to protect themselves, so they’re simply afraid.”

“And do you think people that weak are worth protecting?”

“I have the strength. So I will.”

Wolfram gave a short laugh.

It was a laugh even more worn down than before.

No matter how many best efforts he made, the world never changed.

No matter how many rulers he persuaded or how many perspectives he tried to shift — nothing changed.

All he learned through the process was that it was a waste of time.

“They're crying out, begging someone to save them — how could I ignore that?”

Rosli looked at Wolfram for a moment.

Then he shook her head.

“We’ve been together for ten years, and I still can’t agree with your approach to life.”

“We don’t have to share the same ideals to move forward together, right? We never did.”

“Yeah… Maybe that’s why I followed you. Because I’m someone who’ll do anything to protect my family.”

Some rise for a cause; others rise to protect their loved ones.

Not all heroes live with grand ideals.

Even small heroes are enough.

Amid the rising criticism from the kingdoms, Wolfram unwaveringly continued his search for Demon Sovereign.

And for those who crossed the line — he dealt with them directly.

Each time, harsher criticism followed, but he crushed it with sheer force.

Naturally, the criticisms faded back into the mouths they came from.

There’s no point provoking an angry bull — you’ll only get gored.

They realized that Wolfram’s power couldn’t be diminished.

“Now there’s a ruckus going on in the back again. It’s driving me nuts.”

Aquiline, who constantly heard whispers from the underworld through her soul, complained about the noise.

They were people who just couldn’t stand not dragging someone down.

But the kingdoms didn’t know.

Demon Sovereign was far more dangerous than they realized.

The Demon Sovereign who had vanished in the past —

Now he returned, leading an outrageous army of heretics.

The kingdoms, facing an oncoming siege from all directions, quickly deployed their stockpiled troops and resources.

Thanks to that, they were just barely able to maintain a balance and fight against Demon Sovereign’s forces.

The royal court felt a chill.

What if — truly, what if —

They had started another war?

Of course, the consumed supplies and troops would’ve never been replenished, and they would’ve been instantly swept away by Demon Sovereign’s army.

If Wolfram hadn’t stopped them, the world would have truly ended.

Perhaps that’s why, before long, each kingdom began crying out Wolfram’s name again.

They praised his great cause and prayed he would stop Demon Sovereign.

But they didn’t know.

How light the name of a hero becomes when it’s only cried out in the face of crisis.

They had no idea how ugly a hand looks when it’s flipped over twice.

Because they weren’t the ones living it.