Not the Hero, Not the Villain — Just the One Who Wins

"Once you’re sent back, every being in this timeline will vanish. Everything will reset—except me. My soul won’t survive the transition. There can only be one Ashen Crimson, and the world has already suffered through mine."

Those words echoed long after he spoke them. My brain was trying to catch up, but the storm of thoughts wouldn’t stop. If I understood him correctly, he wanted me to rewrite the story that he had already ruined beyond recognition. The problem was—I wasn’t sure I even had a story worth saving.

"And just so you know," he continued, as if discussing the weather, "we don’t even know which timeline you’ll land in. Fate’s funny like that. But wherever you go, there’ll be time—enough time to change everything."

My head was pounding. Questions raced through my mind like bullets. I wanted to ask why me, what happens if I fail, how do I survive, what kind of world am I entering, will I still be me?

But all I managed to say was, "So... basically, you’re going to control my actions, right?"

He smiled. Not the evil kind, not the warm kind either. Just... tired. "Kind of. The life will be your own. I’ve embedded my familiar into your soul. Think of it as a system. It’ll guide you, assign you missions to protect people important to this timeline. But the rest? It’s yours to shape. Be a hero. Be a tyrant. Be a weirdo in a treehouse if that’s what you want. I won’t stop you."

I scowled. Great. A talking quest log in my head and a dead guy’s emotional trauma as luggage.

"Alright," I muttered, "Let’s get this over with."

Ashen didn’t respond. He just looked up toward the golden sky and whispered, "Begin."