:: Kekeke… didn't expect that woman to scream so hard she'd tear her own throat… ::
The voice rang inside his mind—gleeful, mocking.
Outside the modest house, a young man stood still on the road. Purple hair fell carelessly over his brow, matching the cold glint in his eyes. One hand rested in his pocket, the other holding a slung college bag. He looked composed, utterly unaffected by the twisted voice whispering in his head.
Without a word, he stepped through the black metal gates. The colony was peaceful, the kind that tried to mask quiet rot beneath its calm. A car sat neatly in the driveway, untouched.
:: Tch, tch… time reversal drained most of my the despair energy I'd stockpiled from those ants. What a waste. ::
"Two more days…" Satteus muttered under his breath.
As he walked past the car, his arm extended behind him, fingers brushing the vehicle's surface. A thin ripple of black energy pulsed out from his body and disappeared into the metal.
:: Growwwlll~ Master, don't use energy so recklessly! My stomach hurts! ::
'Stop buzzing in my ear.'
His eyes paused on something—inside the car, on the dashboard, a small, cartoonish doll.
A Pikachu. Faded. Familiar.
A gift.
His gift.
Given to the girl who once—
"Ah, Satteus! You're early today! Just watering the plants."
A warm voice cut through the haze. An older man stood by the garden with a hose in hand, smiling. Water flowed steadily from the pipe, dampening the soil beneath blooming flowers.
"Hello, Uncle," Satteus replied, eyes flicking toward the man. He noted the man's smile, his routine gestures. He hadn't noticed—the brakes of his car were no longer functional.
"You've been working out, haven't you?" the man asked, pausing. "You look bulkier than I remember. Veins in your arms… jawline sharp. You were a lot leaner last time, or maybe I'm just getting old."
"I wore loose clothes before," Satteus replied flatly. "Wanted to surprise Arvia with the transformation."
He casually ruffled his hair, his expression unreadable—calm, but not blank. Something in his stillness made the man hesitate. Satteus had always been aloof, but today, his detachment felt deeper. Sharper. Not numb, but as if something within him had been... stripped away.
The older man shook it off with a chuckle, brushing the uneasy feeling aside.
"She might still be asleep," he said. "Had a rough night after that breakup. She was yelling over the phone, wanted to talk to you, but you didn't answer."
"My phone was dead," Satteus said simply.
He glanced at the man's clothes—office attire. Clearly, he was about to leave for work.
Without waiting for more small talk, Satteus stepped into the house.
His mind was quiet—but not in peace. There was always the whisper. The echo. The voice. Ever since that moment—the regression—his silence had deepened. It wasn't tranquility anymore. It was focus. Cold, calculated focus.
He was back.
He had returned.
And before going back again—before he would reclaim the world—there were debts to settle. One woman at a time.
:: Arvia? Oh, the one without limbs... is this her home? Give me eye access, Master. ::
'Granted.'
He climbed the staircase with slow, measured steps, arriving at a door he hadn't seen in years. Yet every crack in the wood, every scent that seeped through, came rushing back.
The aroma.
The same floral-vanilla blend she used to wear—the one he had crushed beneath his heel in his last life.
Now, again. It returned.
He closed his eyes.
Inhaled.
Exhaled.
Tamed the burn in his gut. That anger… It was supposed to be gone. Supposed to be soothed.
But it lingered.
Krieeeek—
The door creaked open.
She lay on the bed, curled beneath a thin white sheet. Her arms wrapped tightly around that same old Pikachu plushie. Hair tied in a messy ponytail. Morning sunlight poured through the window, catching on her pale skin, casting a soft glow over her sleeping face.
She looked divine.
Peaceful.
Innocent.
'…What was her name again…' He ignored her and went for the phone charging on the side table. Unlocking it—already familiar with her password—he scanned the call log. Searching.
Found it.
A woman's number.
He saved it to his own phone.
Then deleted it from Arvia's.
Only then did he approach the sleeping girl. His steps slow, deliberate. His face unreadable.
He extended his hand over her, his palm hovering mere inches from her forehead. There was no trace of hesitation. No emotion. Even as images flickered across his mind—memories of her screaming, begging, crying as her limbs were taken one by one—his face remained still.
As if none of it mattered.
The only thing that mattered was to break her and rebuild her into something that only belonged to him.
A faint pulse of black energy curled from his fingers. Weak. Barely formed.
The world resisted it.
No, it's more like fate itself tried to prevent the woman's soul memory from being rewritten by something fake and fabricated.
But the power, although it wasn't like before—limitless—was now like a dying spark in a storm: fragile and diminished.
Still was potent enough to manipulate reality.
:: MASTER! YOU'LL KILL ME! You already burned through all the healing energy to rebuild your body—AND NOW YOU WANT TO BLEED ME DRY!? ::
The voice trembled in panic.
It remembered.
After regression, Satteus had taken what little healing energy remained from the transition and used it to rebuild himself. Strengthened his bones. Reforged his muscles. Returned to his prime.
And now, starving for more, he dared to siphon the demonic spark left inside him.
A true devil. Even willing to drain the one entity that had made his return possible.
'I'll give you a goddess to feast on… just sleep until then.'
:: ! ::
:: Woah!? Now that's my host, I will sharpen my teeth until then.... Heukkkk....Bwahahahaha! ::
Even the spark knew that his master didn't lie. The goddess who selected heroes, who sent them to another world—she was coming. Soon.
And when she arrived, he would feed her to the spark.
But for now—
"Haaah…! Haaah…!"
Arvia jolted awake, gasping for air, body trembling. Confused. Eyes wide.
Satteus slowly pulled his hand back, watching her. No guilt. No warmth.
She looked around frantically, breath still uneven, clinging to the edge of a fading nightmare. Then, barely a whisper escaped her lips—a name from a memory that wasn't hers anymore.
"…Satan?"
The word hung in the air.
Confused. Broken.
But familiar.
A name echoing from the depths of some buried timeline—shards of another life.
Satteus leaned in, his voice a razor wrapped in silk, sharp and deliberate, not wanting to ruin this moment where he could give her heart a slight push.
"…Did you call me… Arvia?"