1 Prologue: The Soldier

Caw!

Crows.

The so-called symbol of bad omen.

Little did many know, however, only finding one crow would signify bad luck.

Caw! Caw!

If you found two crows, then it was expected to have good luck.

Caw! Caw! Caw!

Three crows meant having good health.

Caw! Caw! Caw! Caw!

And four crows meant having good wealth.

Caw! Caw! Caw! Caw! Caw!

Spotting five crows together meant that sickness was coming,

Caw! Caw! Caw! Caw! Caw! Caw!

And witnessing six meant…

Shing!

Death.

-

The cold blade swung forward. A man collapsed to the ground, crying out in pain. Scarlet blood splattered everywhere like a water fountain.

The man grabbed onto his mangled shoulder where his arm used to be. Adrenaline rushed through his body, trying its best to cope with his wounds.

He couldn't breathe.

Cough! Just seeing the blood come out of his mouth told the man everything he needed to know. His internal organs were a mess.

His lungs were a dust storm, his throat was a desert, and his muscles were in agony.

"Where is it?"

A deep, cold voice rang out. The man trembled as he looked up. In front of him was a figure clad in a violent red aura.

"I'll ask again. Where is it?"

What emotions did he have as he faced that figure?

Fear? Hatred? Rage?

Even the man himself couldn't describe what he was feeling.

Painted in blood and ash, the figure seemed like the embodiment of war, as if they were born to be on the battlefield. Thousands of bodies laid behind them, not a single living soul could be seen.

With crimson eyes that shine like stars, the figure reminded the man of a demon.

No.

It was a demon.

With each step the figure took, the skies wailed, the ground shook, and the clouds fled as if the world feared it.

Just how could one person have this much power?

The figure chuckled.

"Not going to answer?"

Wham! Before the man could realize what had happened, he felt the air inside of him get knocked out. He looked down to see a fist planted deep into his abdomen. The figure had reached the man so fast that he couldn't even tell that they moved.

The man retched. There was a mix of blood and vomit in his mouth. Just from the singular punch alone, he felt as if he was going to pass out.

The ground beneath him swayed. It took every bit of strength he had to keep himself standing.

But the figure wasn't done.

It struck him.

Wham!

"Where!?"

Again.

Wham!

"Is!"

And again.

Wham! Wham! Wham!

"It!?"

Never-ending.

After what felt like hundreds of punches, none of which were weak, the figure finally paused. He grabbed the man's hair and looked at him.

The man looked nothing like he had before.

Not only was he beaten to a bloody pulp with an arm missing, but various wounds and holes covered the soldier's body from previous battles.

From cuts, bruises, holes, and burns, the man looked as if he had suffered from every possible weapon there was. Some of which would be lethal to the average person.

In fact, most of the wounds on the soldier's body weren't caused by the figure. These were caused by the hundreds, no thousands of battles that the soldier had experienced before this.

As the figure clutched the man's hair and lifted him, its eyes focused on him, almost as if it was waiting for some kind of response. After a few moments of silence, the figure clicked its tongue in disappointment. It threw the man's body towards the ground and began walking away.

Although it was fine even if the man died, it was still troublesome since the figure wasn't able to get any information out of him. The figure wasn't too bothered by it though, maintaining its indifferent attitude as it began to ponder,

'Just where did that artifact go-'

Just as the figure was about to leave, it suddenly froze in its tracks. The hairs on its back were sticking up. A cold sweat ran down the figure's spine.

The normal yet unnatural response made by any organism when faced with something overwhelming. The instinct of prey when in the vicinity of a beast. The figure was shocking.

This feeling of fear...

When had it last felt like this?

It looked over its shoulder.

The man who was before laying on the ground in a puddle of blood was standing up. He was practically broken to the point where he would fall with a single breath. His remaining arm hung onto his sword.

"Is that the best you can do?"

Although the man's lips didn't move, his bloodshot eyes filled with burning hatred seemed to convey everything. As the figure met his gaze, it flinched. If looks could kill then the figure would have already passed into the afterlife in the worst ways imaginable.

The figure scowled.

"You..."

How are you still alive?

Most people would be...

No...

Nobody would be able to survive what that man has gone through.

Not even the figure itself.

The figure's expression changed. For the first time in a long time, the figure actually thought about getting serious. But the mere thought of having to try against a broken dog made the figure's face contort.

The ferocious aura that the man gave off didn't last long though. And soon the man had returned to being an injured soldier who was about to die.

The figure almost felt like breathing a sigh of relief. It once again flashed before the man, wrapping one of its hands around his neck and lifted him off the ground.

It asked again, this time it's cold voice replaced with harshness.

"Where did they hide the artifact?"

The man chuckled weakly.

Ptui!

Blood covered spit landed on the figure's face. The man wasn't even bothered by the fact that he had been beaten to death and back.

"F*CK you."

The figure's face quickly twisted in anger.

"How dare a measly ant-like yourself-"

It's cold and stoic look had completely disappeared. It only needed one hand to snap the man's neck. It closed tighter and tighter, The cold, yet the hard feeling was like that of a noose.

Slowly,

Ever so slowly,

The man began to lose his breath, his face turned pale.

'This is it.'

'This is where I die.'

He closed his eyes. His life faded before him.

'Finally.'

He thought of the names of numerous friends and loved ones that had died before him.

'Everything can finally be over.'

As the man accepted death, he stopped fighting against the figure, and slowly waited until he died.

One second.

Two seconds.

The soldier lifted his eyes in surprise to see that he hadn't died yet, and the figure had abruptly stopped pressing on his neck. It released the man. Its expression had returned to that of a cold and indifferent attitude.

The figure leisurely stood up while wiping its face, its bloodied hands smeared against it. It let out a sigh as it looked at him.

The figure shook its head before turning its back to the man.

"What a disappointment."

With that line, the figure kicked off the ground. It's shadow soon disappeared into the fog of dust and blood as it rushed out into the empty battlefield.

The man watched as the figure left. He was still trying to process what had happened.

'Why did he keep me alive?'

After trying to think of the endless reasons, the man soon gave up. He snickered. When he wanted to live the figure had beat him to a pulp, yet when he wanted to die the figure gently let him go. It was as if he wanted the man to suffer.

He truly was a devil.

The man gently leaned his body against a broken wall. Left alone to bleed out, he was finally able to have a good chance to look around him.

It wasn't pretty.

The so-called City of Life had been turned into a battlefield of death. Buildings were broken and dusted, almost as if they had been abandoned for hundreds of years.

Bodies of all shapes and sizes littered the barren field. Some were burnt, some were slashed, and some didn't even look like corpses anymore.

The man glanced up at the distinct sky. The clouds gathered together and darkened. Their tears fell lightly on him. Small puddles started to form on the ground.

The man wondered to himself, 'How exactly did this happen?'

The War of Desolation.

The final war that occurred between the calamities and the races within the United Realms Alliance. It would be a moment of glory and battle that would decide the fate of every single being throughout The Grand Haven.

Thousands of races and species would team up to stop the calamities, all of them willing to fight in the war. They would win this war without a single hint of doubt. That's what the higher-ups claimed that it would be.

But they were wrong.

'Those bastards...'

It wasn't a war.

It was a massacre.

What looked like a strong alliance was actually no more than a group of scheming foxes.

'How could they betray us?'

Despite the happy atmosphere around the alliance, behind the scenes laid betrayals and schemes that would make even the calamities seem like good guys. Still, The man was oblivious to all of it, carrying out his duties like the good dog he was.

"How..."

How naïve.

Despite being the final battle, only 40% of the actual alliance participated in the war, and most of them were too busy fighting among themselves to join together against the calamities.

With the group of sheep fighting amongst each other, the pack of wolves known as the calamites was able to easily swoop in and decimate their armies.

They had managed to defeat the main forces of the leftover alliance within a mere few days. Leaving nothing more than destruction in their path.

The man looked down at himself.

He knew. His time was gradually running out.

Pitter-Patter. The rain tapped onto the ground, the puddles expanding into tiny lakes. The man stared at his reflection in the water. His eyes blurred, the memories of his past flowed out like a river.

Fifteen long years.

He came to this new world as nothing more than a regular teenager. Forcefully summoned to a world beyond his comprehension.

Confusion, distraught, despair, and hundreds of other emotions swirled up when he first arrived. There, he was supposedly put to the test with other participants to see if they had the ability to be able to survive in this new world.

He battled in life and death situations, some of which he only escaped because he was extremely lucky. After he passed those so-called "trials," he made his way through this unknown place, working and fighting day by day to make a living in this world.

There he realized he wasn't the only one transported to this place. This world was actually a center for different dimensions or realms as the residents called it. Within these realms lied different people and species.

Cultivators from the martial artist age, mages from a mythical era, scientists from an advanced period. And at the center of all these realms, existed The Grand Haven.

The man had worked his way up and soon joined the battlefield to defend this new world which he had recognized as home. During his travels, he met friends, enemies, and also…

"...promise me…"

His heart clutched. The faint whisper rang inside his mind. Slowly, with his remaining arm, the man reached into his inner shirt, a small pocket hidden underneath. He pulled out a small item and looked at it.

[The Star of Destiny]

The small, shining orb rested on his palm, the lights within dancing about as if oblivious to the destruction all around it. This is what caused the downfall of the Alliance. They had battled and betrayed their comrades for this singular artifact.

Some say it could grant you immortality, others say it would give you infinite power. Even so, the exact ability of the artifact was never known. All everyone knew was, once they had their hands on it, they would be unstoppable.

The man nonetheless, didn't know the answer.

"All for this goddamn star!"

He chucked the orb as hard as he could. With his weak arm though it only traveled a couple of feet.

How many friends had he lost during this war? How many sacrifices were there just so that he could obtain this star?

And for what?

He had barely been able to obtain this artifact, but what did it give him? Nothing. No matter how hard the man tried, the artifact still wouldn't obey his will.

But it didn't end there. The man had to battle thousands of people whose greed got the better of them, forcing them to betray the group and sell out their comrades.

"This stupid-"

[Ding!]

The sudden sound startled the man. He looked around wondering if the figure had returned, but no trace of them could be found. Just as he thought it was an illusion...

[Initializing...Activation completed. System Unlocked.]

[Welcome to the Fate System]

The sounds of buzzing entered his brain.

"Huh?"

The man looked over with widening eyes. A blue window had popped up in front of him.

[Status Window]

[Basic Information]

[Name: Zoltan Bradley]

[Title: The Lone Soldier (The one who fights alone and serves for nothing)]

[Affiliation: United Realms Alliance]

[Clan: None]

[Origins: Earth 13]

[Gender: Male]

[Age: 34]

Date of Birth: December 21, 2020]

[Species: Human]

[Height/Weight: 185.4 cm/77.4 kg]

[Condition of Health: Fatal]

[Grand Haven Merit: 1,894,456]

His status window had popped up, which was strange because Zoltan didn't remember calling on it. Just what the hell happened?

Suddenly, his status screen seemed to distort, almost as if it had experienced a technical glitch. It lasted only a split second, however, before returning to normal, albeit a little different.

Unlike before, the screen in front of him was now outlined with gold lines, and the text was also in gold as well. The background changed as well. From a dark blue to a glowing azure that was as bright as the sky before the war.

Zoltan blinked his eyes. He stared at the screen with undivided attention. He thought he was imaging things because he was bleeding out, but after a few seconds he mumbled,

"Doesn't seem like an illusion..."

[Congratulations User! You have been chosen by the Fate System]

Zoltan jumped at the cheery voice of the system. It sounded as if he had won a lottery.

[For thousands of years since the dawn of The Grand Haven, the Fate System has been searching for someone worthy of its power! After reviewing your actions during your time here, the Fate System has deemed that you can possess its capabilities!]

Zoltan chuckled as he heard the system's words.

'Me? Worthy?'

His excited eyes instantly turned cold.

"That's a lie."

[...excuse me, User?]

The system seemed confused by Zoltan's sudden statement.

"I said that's a lie. There were hundreds of people who first obtained this star who are more worthy than me. Do you really believe that I would be that naïve to believe in such bullshit?"

'Yeah.'

Zoltan thought to himself.

'I'm done being treated as a fool.'

He shook his head.

[...]

After a few moments of silence, the system spoke again. This time its cheery voice had changed into something more serious.

[...Alright then, since the User has figured it out, then the system will tell the User the real reason why you were chosen.]

Zoltan cut in.

"I don't care. It doesn't matter whether you're God or The Grand Haven itself, I'm done with people trying to use me as if I'm some sort of tool."

Zoltan scoffed.

After everything that Zoltan had experienced, did it really think that it could trick him again? Just as he was about to tell the system to piss off, it spoke.

[...Even if that means changing the past?]

'What?'

Zoltan froze. Those simple words spoken by the system were like bolts from the blue.

"...What did you just say?"

[I'm fairly certain that you were able to correctly hear what I stated but perhaps can not process the information. I will state once again. The System needs the User to travel 15 years back in time to change this desolate future.]

Still trying to process what the system was saying, Zoltan didn't respond to it, nor did the system encourage him to answer. After thinking things through, he slowly opened his mouth.

"...What's the catch?"

[Once the User has successfully changed the future and replaced fate, the System needs the User to do a certain task]

"And what task is that?"

[I cannot state it at this moment because it is not the right time. However, I can assure you that the task that I will give you will not go against your morals and will not be something completely impossible.]

'Do you really think I can trust your words?'

That was what Zoltan was going to say to the system but he paused. He looked around himself, the empty battlefield covered with despair surrounded him. He began to wonder, 'Even if the system was fake, did I really want to risk keeping this future?'

Zoltan closed his eyes.

"...promise me you won't give up."

Zoltan frowned. Her last words continued to ring in his head.

[Well then? What will the User's decision be?]

Zoltan finally decided. His eyes opened.

"...Do it."

[Ding! User has accepted. Fate System Activating: Dimensional Travel]

[Transporting User in 10...9...8...]

As the system counted down, Zoltan looked up towards the bleak sky one last time.

"I swear!"

With his sore throat, Zoltan roared towards the heavens. His voice traveled across the desolate battlefield.

"I'll change everything!"

His bloodshot eyes glared out into the crimson abyss. The figure had long vanished from his vision.

"And you'll be the first one I kill!"

"Matthew Long!"

[1...Dimensional Travel Occurring.]

As the space around him warped, the desolate battlefield covered in rain vanished. His wounds soon disappeared as well. His body felt like it was changing as if he was getting skinnier and shorter.

Once everything was finished, Zoltan lifted his eyes to see something had appeared before him.

Something that he hadn't seen in a long time.

[Initiating Soul Transportation...]