The morning light was as delicate as a needle's thread, weaving gold through the curtains of a quiet room. Sunlight poured in, warm and gentle, spilling across pale skin wrapped in white sheets. The air was still, the silence broken only by the soft stir of blankets.
On the bed lay a man—motionless, breath steady, brow faintly furrowed.
Automata.
His eyes fluttered open, slow and uncertain, as if waking from a century-long slumber. He blinked against the brightness, his mind fogged with something more than sleep.
"Huh… What… What was that?"
"Was it… just a dream?"
A dream?
But it had been too vivid, too painful—more memory than illusion. A mountain peak. Wine laced with betrayal. Nine familiar faces contorted with malice. A body crushed beneath rods of iron. And the sky, blooming with lies as the world mourned a man still breathing.
He clutched at his head. No pain. No wounds. Just his room—neat, unchanged.
Then—
DING.
A soft chime echoed, crystalline and clear.
A translucent screen appeared midair, suspended before his gaze like an ancient decree inscribed upon glass.
[System Activated: Will of the Destined]
Initialization complete.
His eyes widened.
"A system?"
"Wait… Will of the Destined? What even is this?"
His thoughts raced.
Sevensky. Nisenstin. The mountain. The betrayal. My death…
"They were all… connected?"
Another chime.
[Reward Unlocked: Restoration of True Memory]
Brace yourself.
Before he could react, pain ripped through his skull like lightning tearing the sky. His back arched. His fists clenched the sheets. His scream tore through the quiet morning.
"AAAAAARRRGHHHH—!!"
Memories surged—violent, unstoppable. Every wound. Every voice. Every heartbeat of betrayal. The rod crushing his ribs. The taste of blood. The look in her eyes as she laughed.
"What is this?! Someone help me—I'm dying—!"
His world spun. Vision blurred. Then, darkness swept over him once more. His body went limp, consciousness slipping into the void.
Time passed.
Night arrived in silence.
It was cold, sharp as glass and fine as hair—like the breath of winter threading through an open window. Outside, the city buzzed with life, unaware that in a modest room, a god once broken had been reborn.
Automata stirred.
Eyes opened once again—this time not in confusion, but in haunted clarity.
He remembered everything.
The betrayal.
The funeral.
The mockery.
And now... this. A second chance. A system. A date.
He turned to check the device beside his bed.
6th of May, 2025.
He muttered, voice hoarse but steady:
"So… I've gone back."
"This destiny, it was not glory but death? is that right, then what is will of the destined , i have to find out ."
His fingers curled into fists.