he awoke with a gasp, cold sweat clinging to his skin. The scent of sulfur was gone, replaced by the faint aroma of old wood and mold.

  His heart thundered in his chest as he shot upright from the bed, hands trembling.

  What the hell happened? Where the hell am I? he thought, scanning his surroundings. Years of training and battle-hardened instinct kicked in as he took stock of his body, searching for wounds—his scars.

  "Huh?" he muttered, confusion settling in.

  There were no injuries. No fresh wounds. But that wasn’t the strangest part.

  The scars he had collected over the years—the marks of every battle, every fight for survival—were gone.

  Not a single trace of his struggle remained.

  Even those Quacks that High Command hoards couldn’t undo the damage that was done to my body...

  Yet he was here. Whole. Unscathed.

  His breath hitched as his gaze swept the room. The cracked ceiling, the threadbare blanket, the half-broken lamp on the nightstand—familiar.

  And then, he heard it.

  The sounds of the city outside—cars honking, construction humming in the distance, a couple arguing across the hall..

  He never thought he’d hear these sounds again.

  The sounds of peace. The sounds of people. The sounds of life.

  It had been so long.

  This is my old apartment... back when I started med school.

  He’d recognize this ratty apartment anywhere. It was the last place he’d felt any sense of normalcy, before everything spiraled into hell.

  How am I here? Did Beelzebub have me trapped in an illusion or is this Heaven

  No. That wasn’t possible. The mana in the air felt thin—far weaker than he remembered. Like he had stepped into a different time.

  And Heaven? Heaven definitely wasn’t this ratty old apartment.

  His mind raced, trying to piece together his memories. He had been stabbed through the heart. His right lung had collapsed. Half of his organs had shut down. He remembered dying—he remembered the darkness swallowing him whole.

  He shouldn’t be here. Not now. Not like this.

  A sudden urgency gripped him. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed, feet hitting the cold wooden floor. His movements were hesitant at first, expecting pain that never came. Slowly, he made his way to the bathroom, his breath shallow, pulse unsteady.

  Flicking on the dim, flickering light, he stepped in front of the mirror.

  And froze.

  The reflection staring back at him wasn’t the man he had become. It was him—years younger.

  His brown hazel eyes, flecked with green and gold, lacked the quiet fury that had burned in them for years. They were sharp, alert, clearer. His almond-colored skin was smooth, unblemished—untouched by war. He lifted a hand, fingers brushing gently across his clean-shaven jawline, tracing the familiar contours of a face now devoid of a beard

  His wavy jet-black hair was shorter than he remembered. He had kept it long in the later years, letting it grow up to to his shoulders—less for style and more because grooming had been the least of his worries when the world was ending. But now? It was slightly grown out styled into a messy fringe, the way he had worn it during med school.

  His physique, though fit, wasn’t nearly as battle-worn.

  He touched his chest, his arms, his stomach—searching for the scars that should be there.

  Nothing.

  This wasn’t just a dream. It wasn’t some twisted afterlife.

  Somehow, impossibly... he had gone back.

  How is this possible

  Before the gates broke.

  Before everything was lost.

  Dev exhaled sharply, gripping the edges of the sink as his mind reeled. If this was real—if he really had another chance—then when exactly had he landed?

  His gaze snapped to the bathroom door, and he rushed back into the bedroom, scanning for anything that could give him a clue. His eyes landed on his desk—cluttered with loose papers and an old, half-broken laptop.

  A phone. His phone.

  He lunged for it, nearly knocking over a stack of textbooks. His fingers fumbled to press the power button. The screen flickered on, and his stomach tightened as he read the date.

  September 24, 2025

  His breath caught in his throat.

  This is... 5 years after the gates started manifesting.

  Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.

  He clenched his jaw as memories flooded his mind.

  The Gates.

  They first appeared in 2020. At first, they were anomalies—strange rifts in space that defied scientific understanding. Physicists and governments alike scrambled to study them, intrigued by their seemingly impossible existence. For months, researchers poked and prodded at them, trying to determine their origin.

  And then—the first creatures came through.

  Not in overwhelming hordes. Not yet. But enough to cause panic.

  Strange, otherworldly beasts stumbled into reality, creatures that should not have existed. Some were small—twisted, grotesque things that lurked in alleyways and sewers. Others were far worse—towering monstrosities that crushed cars beneath their feet and shrugged off bullets like raindrops.

  At first, governments tried to contain them. The military was deployed, weapons were tested, and for a time, it looked like humanity might be able to hold them back. But modern firearms were only effective against the weakest of these creatures.

  For Category Four and Category Five monsters, conventional firearms were as effective as throwing rocks at a tank.

  And for Category Six and Category Seven?

  Nothing short of heavy artillery or complete destruction could even slow them down.

  Then, a year and a half after the first Gates appeared, humanity’s salvation was born.

  The Awakened.

  Or, as they would later be known, Hunters.

  Ordinary people began exhibiting strange, supernatural abilities all brought about by a mysterious floating screen displaying they’re capabilities like a video game. At first, it was written off as delusions, mass hysteria. But soon, there was no denying the truth.

  Something about the Gates had changed them. Mutated them.

  Some Awakened could conjure fire from thin air. Others could lift cars with a flick of their wrist. A select few could even manipulate the elements, heal the deadliest wounds, and transform their bodies in ways that defied all logic.

  Scientists theorized that these powers came from the Gates themselves. That the strange energy leaking from them had bonded with certain individuals, rewriting their very biology. Years later, they would name this energy:

  Multidimensional Alpha Nexus Aether.

  Or, as the Status Screen would come to call it—Mana.

  With the rise of the Awakened, humanity had its first real line of defense. Superhumans trained to combat monsters—became the backbone of society’s survival and the world’s economy.

  Mana Stones.

  Within certain slain monsters, people discovered glowing, crystalline stones—brimming with pure energy. They were unlike anything mankind had ever seen. Fossil fuels became obsolete overnight. The world’s energy crisis ended, and climate change was paused as nations rushed to harness Mana as a new, stable power source.

  But that wasn’t all.

  The bodies of slain monsters—once regarded as grotesque remnants of battle—became invaluable resources. Their bones, hides, and even organs were stronger and more versatile than any man-made material.

  Despite the lingering dangers, humanity flourished.

  With the world forever changed, a new order had to be established.

  The World Hunter’s Coalition, WHC, colloquially known as Pantheon, was formed—an international organization created in conjunction with the United Nations, ensuring that the Awakened operated within laws, ethics, and global governance.

  Pantheon dictated the rules of hunting, ranking Hunters based on power and efficiency. Governments worked alongside them as well as private Hunter paramilitary orgs know as Guilds, maintaining peace between Hunters, non-Awakened civilians, and the ever-growing threats that lurked beyond the Gates.

  For a time, humanity stood at the peak of its new golden age.

  But Dev knew better.

  Because he had lived through what came next.

  The illusion of peace. The complacency. The arrogance.

  The world was not prepared for what was coming.

  Dev ran a hand through his hair, his pulse steadying.

  He had lived through all of it.

  And now, he was back—before everything spiraled out of control.

  He looked down at his phone again, the date staring back at him like a challenge.

  September 24, 2025.

  The world was still standing. The Hunters had been fighting for years now, keeping humanity from collapsing under the weight of the Gates. But Dev knew the truth.

  The worst had yet to come.

  The Demons invaded three years from now

  He had three years to prepare himself

  Three years to prepare humanity

  Three years to prepare them

  Suddenly he heard a crash from across the hall at first, muffled shouting. A woman’s voice, frantic, distressed. A man’s voice, angry, slurred.

  Then the sharp, rattling sound of a blade

  Oh, hell no.

  Dev moved.

  he ran across his apartment as he crossed the hall. Without hesitation, he raised his leg and kicked the door open with a bone-rattling crack.

  A man loomed over a woman, one hand tangled in her hair, the other clutching a kitchen knife. His bloodshot eyes snapped toward Dev, fury and drunken confusion warring in his expression.

  He shouted his words slurred

  “Who tHE FUCK are you. you FOOkin my WifE”

  Dev raised his hands in a calm, placating gesture. “Hey, hey. Just put the knife down.”

  “FOOK yOU ima put it in thiS WHOre —she deserves it!”

  Dev lunged.

  Before the man could react, Dev closed the distance in an instant, stepping into his space and seizing his wrist in a tight grip.

  The man thrashed against him, fueled by rage and desperation. Dev gritted his teeth. He should have already put him down, but his body felt heavy, like moving through water.

  Annoyance flared in his chest. Fine. If he wasn’t strong enough, he’d just have to use technique.

  Dev shifted his grip, using the man's own momentum against him, flipping him over his shoulder and onto the hard wooden floor. The impact sent a shudder through the apartment.

  The man coughed, dazed but still moving. Dev stepped forward and drove his foot into his wrist, pinning it down. The knife clattered from his grip.

  The man gasped, struggling, but Dev only pressed down harder. His hazel eyes burned.

  "You were about to stab her." His voice was calm, but there was an edge of something cold beneath it. Something dangerous.

  The woman was shaking, eyes wide with shock.

  Dev turned to her, his gaze softer. "Are you hurt?"

  She shook her head quickly.

  “Thank you! Thank you!” she cried frantically

  Dev turned his attention back to the man beneath his boot. “You should probably leave call the cops”

  She hesitated—then bolted for the door while whipping out her phone.

  Dev exhaled, turning his attention back to the man beneath him.

  Welcome back to the past Dev

  …..

  he sat on the worn-out couch in his apartment, arms folded as the distant wail of sirens faded into the night. The cops had come and gone. Statements were given. The drunk next door was in handcuffs.

  Now, he was alone.

  His fingers tightened into a fist.

  If that little skirmish had taught him anything, it was this—his body couldn’t keep up with him. Not yet, anyway.

  To an observer, his movements had been precise, almost effortless. The way he had dodged the attack, locked the man’s wrist, flipped him—it looked like second nature.

  But to him, it felt slow.

  His mind, his instinct knew exactly what to do. He could see the attack patterns, anticipate movements before they happened. But his body lagged behind. Sluggish. Weak.

  I haven’t Awakened yet. That’s the problem.

  In his past life, he had Awakened roughly six months from now. It had been surreal—his first taste of true power. But even then, his growth had been slow. He had been strong, but never one of the strongest.

  That wasn’t going to cut it this time.

  He had five years before the Demons arrived—five years to accomplish what humanity had failed to do before. He would dismantle Diabolos, prevent the Holy Knights' civil war, stop the Collapse of Pantheon and the rise of Legion, and kill the Damned King the one who betrayed humanity’s heroes when victory was within reach.

  I need to form my core first

  He needed to get stronger. Faster. no wasted opportunity

  And for that, he needed to find him.

  Xyros

  The Builder, The Iron General, The Bio-Forge.

  The Unawakened who took the Demon Kings eye