Regression: Reclaiming the End-Chapter 39: Saving Lives

The conversation drifted after that. We didn’t talk about anything too serious—just the kind of banter two friends fall into when the weight of the world isn’t pressing too hard for a moment. Dumb jokes. Small memories. Some speculations about gear builds and Astral rumors. It was light, easy. For a while, we forgot the pressure hanging over everything.

Eventually, night crept in. The air outside my apartment cooled, and the hum of distant generators buzzed through the open window.

Noel stretched with a yawn, rubbing the back of his neck. "Guess I should head out. Still got a lot to process from today. That Lich fight was insane."

I nodded, standing to walk him to the door. "Take a day off tomorrow."

He paused. "Huh?"

I leaned against the doorframe. "Before you go into the Sixth Floor. Rest. Recover. Let the buzz cool down."

He squinted at me. "Why? We’re on a roll. You said we should build momentum."

"It’s part of the plan."

He frowned slightly, that familiar flicker of concern passing through his eyes. "The one to bait the PK King?"

I nodded once.

He hesitated—just for a moment—but then sighed and gave a tired, crooked grin. "Man, you’re really pulling the strings here, huh?"

I didn’t answer. Just met his gaze.

Then he nodded. "Alright. One day off. But if I get too soft, I’m blaming you."

I smirked. "I’ll live with that."

Noel gave me a lazy salute, stepped out into the hall, and disappeared down the stairs.

The moment the door shut behind him, my expression hardened again.

’There were things moving beneath the surface now. Shadows shifting just out of sight. And I needed everything to go exactly as planned.’

-

I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling as the soft hum of the city’s distant generators pulsed through the cracked window.

The room was dark, but I didn’t need light. My thoughts were loud enough.

’Tomorrow, I’d clear the Seventh Floor. That had always been the plan—but everything had changed the moment he appeared. CrownThorns. The PK King. The walking shadow of everything broken in this world.’

I had wanted to move silently—clear floors, gather strength, stay hidden in the margins. But with Noel stepping into the spotlight, I couldn’t afford to be in the background anymore. The plan shifted.

I had to get ahead. Even ahead of him. Not because of pride. Not for glory. But because I had to protect him. Protect the others.

’Protect her.’

My fingers gripped the sheets tightly, my jaw clenched.

In the last timeline, I had lost her before I could even understand what she meant to me. A flash of laughter. A memory of warmth. Gone—before I had a chance to stop it. CrownThorns wasn’t the only threat out there, but he was the beginning. The tipping domino.

’If I could stop him early... maybe everything else wouldn’t fall apart the same way.’

I had to find her again in this timeline. Before the spiral began. Before the Astral War twisted everything into ruin. No matter what floor she was on... or what kind of person she’d become now...

I would find her.

’I had to.’

-

Sleep came slowly. But when it did, it hit like a wave.

No dreams.

Just silence.

And when my eyes opened again, the pale morning light was already pouring through the half-closed blinds, cutting soft lines across the walls of my apartment. The city outside buzzed faintly—the usual murmur of Davao adapting to the new world.

I blinked the drowsiness away and sat up.

A new day.

Noel would rest today, as planned. And I... I had floors to clear.

I moved through my morning ritual with the calm precision of someone who had done this a thousand times. Because I had. Just not in this timeline.

The shower steamed gently, washing the fatigue from my limbs. The heat grounded me, woke up everything that still felt dulled by yesterday’s fight. When I stepped out, I towel-dried my hair, threw on a simple black shirt and tactical trousers, and moved into the kitchen.

Eggs. Rice. A bit of dried meat.

Quick. Efficient. Familiar.

The kettle hissed as I poured hot water into a chipped mug, letting the tea steep while I plated my food.

Noel always went for coffee.

I preferred the quiet strength of tea.

A few minutes later, I sat down, eating in silence. Every bite was methodical. Every sip measured. My mind wasn’t on the taste—it was already in the Labyrinth. Already on the Seventh Floor.

I was going to clear it today.

Seventh. Eighth. Ninth.

’If possible, all three.’

I needed that window. That head start. I’d leave just enough time for Astraia and Noel to catch up before we made my move on the Tenth. And when we did, it had to be clean. Flawless.

Because the Tenth Floor... was where things really began.

’After clearing it, the system would shift. The world stage would crack wider. And people—governments, factions, the hidden powers behind the Vassals—would start moving.’

I finished the last sip of tea and stood, walking over to the corner where my gear rested.

Gloves. Mask. Cloak.

Specter Fang Set, now tuned tighter to my mana flow. Quiet, precise, deadly.

I exhaled slowly, centering myself.

"Time to move," I muttered.

I stepped out of my apartment, the door shutting behind me with a soft click. The hallway was quiet, only the hum of distant conversations slipping through the cracks of other units. Third floor. Room 307. My temporary haven.

I took the stairs down and ince I hit the street, the humid Davao morning air greeted me like a weight pressing on my shoulders—familiar, heavy, but alive. The scent of grilled food, engine fumes, and salty breeze all mixed into something that could only be called normal, if this was still a normal world.

But normal died the moment the Crimson Rift split open along the Toril Coastal Highway.

I made my way down the narrow street, cutting through a crowd of early vendors. Some sold makeshift charms, "blessed" gear that will protect Vassals from harm. Others had water, snacks, anything they could market as Rift support gear. There were no official shops yet, not here, not this early. But where danger bloomed, profit always followed.