Chapter 1

30 years after the end of the Dragon-Horse War.

The Empress Hella Roze was preparing for a new war.

“Treason! Eliminate the traitors! Slaughter every vassal, burn their lands to the ground!”

The Empress personally named three noble houses:

Duke Zak

Duke Rolmandy

Count Fobian

These were prestigious bloodlines of the Kail Empire.

House Zak was known for producing swordmasters,

Rolmandy for spear wielders,

and Fobian for magicians of unmatched brilliance.

Of the twelve major wars in the empire’s 500-year history, eight had been led by champions from these very houses.

That’s how mighty they were.

And yet, within just three days…

All three families were annihilated.

The Imperial Guard and elite Arch Mages descended without warning.

The noble houses barely had time to raise their swords.

They weren’t traitors.

Only one man raised his voice against the Empress:

Malon Zak — the adopted son of House Zak,

a man hailed across the land as the Divine Sword.

He broke into the Imperial Palace alone,

stood before the Empress herself,

and said one thing before taking his own life:

“What is it that you fear?”

The task of burning the estates and castles was left to the Dragon Riders—of whom only five existed in the entire empire.

As they carried out the destruction, the Empress spoke:

“I will interrogate Eunuch Yuma myself.”

Yuma was once Malon’s oldest and closest friend.

They had grown up together in the remote fishing village at the empire’s edge,

both survivors of war, both raised from nothing.

Yuma became a eunuch,

Malon a knight.

Together, they helped usher in the golden age of Empress Hella Roze.

Now, in his private chamber, Yuma sat quietly, staring out the window.

He touched the deepening wrinkles on his forehead—

faint marks carved by time.

Outside, the formation of the Imperial Guard Knights moved with perfect discipline.

Sensing the end, Yuma pulled a small apple from within his robes… and ate it.

He was known as Wise Eunuch Yuma.

Whenever the Empress spoke of him, she added that title with pride.

From palace gossip to matters of state,

Yuma’s judgment had always satisfied her.

There were even whispers that the Empress harbored affection for him.

At least… until the end of the Dragon-Horse War.

The sound of armored boots echoed outside.

And then—crash—the wooden doors of the eunuch chamber were smashed open.

Yuma stood to greet the Empress.

“I trusted you.”

Two knights seized him by the shoulders.

Under their rough grip, the elderly Yuma fell to his knees.

“What is it you came to hear from me, Your Majesty?” he asked.

“Why did you seduce Malon Zak into treason?”

Yuma closed his eyes. Lowered his head.

“Your voice is trembling. Do you regret killing them?”

“Answer Her Majesty’s question, traitor!”

That voice belonged to Varis, captain of the Imperial Guard.

“I am but a lowly eunuch. Unlike Sir Malon or the others, I have no strength. No family.

So go ahead. Kill me, too. But Your Majesty… you came to see me personally.”

Varis was about to snap back, but the Empress raised her hand.

“You always made that face whenever giving me difficult orders,” Yuma said, looking straight into her eyes.

Then, he swallowed the last piece of the apple.

“I will return.”

The apple was no ordinary fruit.

It was a sacred relic obtained by Malon during the Dragon-Horse War—

a Relic of Regression.

The Empress opened her mouth to reply.

But before a word could leave her lips,

Yuma coughed up a mouthful of thick black blood—

and collapsed.

The Empress bit her lower lip and issued her final order.

“Stake his corpse in the center of Kail Square. Let it rot in the sun.”

As his consciousness faded, Yuma gazed up at her one last time.

Not at the tyrant standing before him—

but at the young and radiant Hella Roze of years long past.

That night, after her purge was complete,

the Empress didn’t touch a single bite of food.

Just before losing consciousness,

Yuma’s life flashed before his eyes—

like lanterns passing in the dark.

The first memory:

His hometown turned into a warzone.

His parents had been killed by magical bombardment during one of the many campaigns.

Yuma was only seven at the time.

He became a war orphan,

begging for food in the remote fishing village of Perol at the edge of the empire.

Day after day, he endured beatings.

No one spared the rod—not children, not adults.

“We don’t have food for ourselves! Get lost!”

The war had ended.

But for the common people, the fight to survive never did.

The people who beat and cursed Yuma weren’t evil.

They were simply souls worn thin by the cruelty of life.

It was Haka—Malon’s biological father—who took in the ragged boy Yuma, dressed in tatters.

In his younger days, Haka had been a famed wandering swordsman.

Yuma and Malon grew up like brothers, raised under Haka’s quiet protection.

From time to time, Haka would teach them swordsmanship.

Not formally, just enough so they wouldn’t get beat up by thugs in the streets.

But their growth was terrifying.

It didn’t take long before both boys had far surpassed their master.

Then one day, a knight visiting on leave passed through their village.

Yuma and Malon, both just sixteen, eagerly challenged him to a friendly match.

The result?

A shocking defeat for the knight.

When Haka heard what happened, he rushed to apologize in person.

“Forgive them, Sir Knight. I’m truly sorry…”

“Hahaha, no, no. They’re prodigies! Absolute geniuses. I’ll make sure they get letters of recommendation.”

“Please… I beg you…”

Yuma remembered that moment vividly.

Because that was when his life… was taken from him.

The knight, a commoner-turned-noble for his battlefield merits, had just returned home in glory.

Now armed with power, he had no intention of letting the humiliation slide.

Though he played it off with laughter, the moment he returned to the capital, he submitted those letters:

Yuma was forcibly castrated and turned into a eunuch.

Malon was taken in as the knight’s vassal.

What Yuma had swallowed…

was the Fruit of Regression—a relic once held by the Dragon Lord Mahatrisha.

When Yuma opened his eyes…

he found himself back in his sixteen-year-old body.

“Hoo…”

He’d heard tales of the legendary archmage Rezol achieving time travel once…

But never had he imagined experiencing it himself.

He remembered Malon’s words as he handed him the fruit:

“Mahatrisha said eating this might even bring your junk back, you know?

…You’ll die though.”

“Sir Malon, what nonsense is that? If I die, who cares if it grows back?”

“Drop the formal speech. It might grow back… or not. Depends on your luck.”

“You bastard! Are you seriously mocking me over that right now?”

“Kidding! The real deal is that it’ll send you back at least ten years in time.

But the exact point? No one knows. It’s up to fate.”

And now, he was back.

Forty years earlier.

Before he’d lost his manhood.

Before he’d weathered decades of storms.

He felt it—the strength of his youthful body once again.

And with a heart pounding in anticipation… he peeked into his pants.

“Oh…!”

It was there.

The precious thing he’d never once had a chance to use.

Firm, whole, in its rightful place.

Just the sight of it nearly brought him to tears.

What had life been like, living as a eunuch?

Even with the Empress’s favor, he’d been incomplete.

Even among commoners, there had been sneers and subtle scorn.

But all of that… was behind him now.

Still, the joy didn’t last.

A shadow passed over Yuma’s face.

The purge of the noble families…

Malon’s death…

The rising storm over the Kail Empire…

And above all, the coming Dragon-Horse War that nearly wiped out humanity.

Getting his manhood back was nice.

But the weight on his shoulders…

was much heavier.

“Still… I’d be lying if I said it didn’t feel good.”

Yuma looked around.

Perol—the quiet fishing village.

Familiar and yet distant.

The war had only just ended.

The village was still recovering.

A cool breeze brushed his forehead.

Everything was just as he remembered—

like it had happened only yesterday.

But it wasn’t just memories.

He remembered what he had been doing just before the regression.

He was on his way to find Haka, who was likely passed out drunk somewhere.

Yuma touched the wooden sword hanging at his waist and walked.

Sure enough, Haka was snoring loudly on the beach, just like in his memories.

This was the spot where Haka used to train Yuma and Malon.

“Hey, old man. Wake up. Malon’s done it again.”

“Nngh…!”

Yuma nudged him gently. Haka groaned, brushing the hair out of his face as he sat up.

“What now…? Who’d he hit this time?”

“Apparently he smacked the fat guy at the fish shop. With a wooden sword.”

“What?”

“Sounds like the fat guy insulted you. Malon lost it. They fought.

The other guy pulled a butcher knife first.”

“That little bastard…”

Funny enough, the “bastard” Haka cursed wasn’t the fishmonger.

It was Malon.

When their swordsmanship had reached a certain level, Haka had warned them repeatedly:

You’re no longer on the same level as ordinary folk. Always hold back.

But hot-blooded Malon… rarely listened.

“And what happened to the fishmonger?”

“Doesn’t look like anything broke.”

By the time Haka and Yuma returned home, Malon was grumbling as he dusted off his dirty clothes.

“How many times do I have to tell you not to hit people, huh!?”

Malon said nothing.

Haka clicked his tongue and sat down at the table, tearing open a new bottle of liquor.

“Right… Tomorrow’s the day that damned knight shows up again.”

If things played out like before, Malon and Yuma would soon seek out the visiting knight to request a sparring match.

But now… who knew how the future would unfold after getting involved with that man again?

Yuma had only just regained his manhood today—he wasn’t about to lose it again so pointlessly.

He was no longer a eunuch.

No longer an old man with no future.

There was so much to do.

He had to prepare for the Dragon-Horse War… and beyond that…

“And… what else?”

That question hit Yuma like a bolt of lightning.

What was this strange feeling that returned with his body?

A word long buried deep inside him.

Ambition.

That night, Yuma racked his brain, trying to come up with a way to stop Malon from challenging the knight.

“Why do I always have to hold back?”

Malon grumbled again, still fuming over the earlier fight.

Yuma remembered all too well how even in the future—after Malon had become the strongest—his hot-headed nature had never changed.

He wasn’t the kind of man who risked everything for justice.

He was just… impulsive.

Still, hearing his one and only friend—whose funeral he never got to attend—rant like this made Yuma feel strangely comforted.

“We’re not nobles,” Yuma said quietly.

“One little mistake, and people like us get crushed.”

With 40 years in the imperial court, Yuma knew better than anyone the pain of being a commoner.

Back then, before the war, Empress Hella Roze would sometimes allow commoners to petition her directly.

And every time, they’d weep, pouring out years of injustice.

And every time she sympathized, the noble families would grumble behind her back.

“If Dad had been a knight, at least life wouldn’t be this crappy.

He’s got the skill—why’s he rotting in a backwater village like this?

Sure, he’s a bit old, but someone would’ve taken him in somewhere.”

If Malon had said that in front of Haka, he would’ve gotten a three-day beating.

After his wife was stolen by a noble, Haka gave up on ambition.

He stopped seeking a future.

There had been countless nobles who tried to recruit him.

Even Baron Louis—the lord who ruled over Perol—had offered twice to make Haka his vassal.

But he rejected them all.

In the original timeline, even on his deathbed, Malon never found out which noble had taken Haka’s wife.

“You really want to be a knight?”

For commoners, becoming a knight or a mage was the only real way up.

And comparatively, becoming a knight was easier.

Magic required not just talent, but astronomical tuition at a mage academy—something no commoner could afford.

If a child was absurdly talented, some noble families might adopt them into the household.

But not to raise them properly—

just to keep them out of the hands of rival factions.

Martial skills, on the other hand, could be learned from wandering swordsmen like Haka or mercenary bands.

“Of course I do. That way I won’t have to live like garbage anymore.”

“You saw way more garbage after becoming a knight, you idiot…”

The humiliation Malon endured as an adopted son of House Zak couldn’t even be put into words.

A commoner adopted not into any noble house, but a ducal family—and to make it worse, one that hailed him as the greatest genius in the history of House Zak… maybe even the entire Empire.

The jealousy from Zak’s real sons and daughters was endless.

Malon faced over a hundred assassination attempts.

He could barely sleep.

Every time he closed his eyes, another assassin would come.

“Knighthood’s not all glory, you know. Especially for commoners like us.

Nobles will do everything to push you out if you’re even slightly better than them.

Half your pay gets eaten up by equipment costs.

And you’re always being dragged to war.

Honestly, being in a mercenary band’s probably better.”

“You talk like you’ve actually been a knight.”

“Well… not exactly. But you sure told me all about it when we were younger.”

Yuma swallowed the words and smiled faintly.

“By the way, that knight from the capital? He’s arriving tomorrow.”

“What!? How do you know that?”

“Heard it at the fish shop earlier.”

And in that moment… Yuma realized.

The past… had already changed.