Name: Tristan Von Astar

  Level: 0

  Class: ---

  Race: [G] Human

  Titles: Chrononaut

  Abnormal Status: Locked System Functions - Stats, Skills. Awaiting User Awakening.

  Authority: 1572

  Nexus Coins: 0

  He looked at the status window, a frown creasing his forehead. System Functions Locked... It seemed his entire system had been reset, wiped clean, and set to some kind of pre-awakening status.

  All his hard-earned levels, his skills, his stats, his upgrades – all gone, vanished like smoke.

  The only thing that remained was his Authority. 1572. A respectable number, even by his previous standards. He supposed it made sense, in a way.

  Authority was fundamentally tied to the very essence of a person's existence, the closest thing they had to a soul in the system. Perhaps that was why it had carried over, a remnant of his past life clinging to him in this new reality.

  It was the measure of your power, your influence, your very right to exist. The higher your Authority, the greater your potential, and the more you can achieve.

  It affected everything from the skills you could learn to the levels you could reach, even the very fabric of reality you could interact with. It determined your place in the hierarchy, and your standing in the world.

  And he, even in this reset state, still possessed a significant amount of it.

  Losing all his titles was not that heartbreaking as he lived quite mediocre in his past life. As he checked the new title, a new screen window popped up.

  Chrononaut - Time Traveller. Increases Dao of Time Affinity +1%. Dao of Space Affinity +1%.

  "Time and Space?" Tristan whispered, his eyes wide with astonishment. Two Dao affinities? At level zero? He couldn't believe it.

  He'd heard legends about such titles, but he'd never thought he'd actually see one, let alone possess it himself. He felt a surge of excitement, a thrill of anticipation.

  Titles were far more important than just sounding cool. While most titles granted nothing more than bragging rights, there were others that granted a fixed number of stat points, like strength or dexterity, providing a small but permanent boost.

  The most difficult titles to acquire even gave multiplier bonuses to stats. Those bonuses would only grow stronger as a person leveled up and accumulated more stats.

  Titles related to Luck and Fate were exceedingly rare, coveted by anyone who sought to bend fortune to their will. But Tristan had only ever heard whispers of the legendary titles, the ones that increased a person's overall affinity with the Dao, the fundamental forces that governed reality.

  And here he was, at level zero, with a title that granted him not one, but two Dao affinities. Time and Space. The possibilities were staggering.

  “Good, with this I have hope to gain a much better start," Tristan had already started to plan what he was going to do.

  The Awakening refers to a person gaining the System Interface. While there are many ways to gain a system, the common method used by the aristocratic family is using the Artifact left by their Ancestor.

  The beings who fought the System Integration gained enormous benefits, with many of them establishing clans and sects or going into seclusion.

  His ancestor was one of them, where he gained the Awakening Crystal which should help others gain access to the system.

  The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

  He knew he couldn't face his enemies head-on, not yet. First, he needed to build his own power base and settle some scores within his family. He'd already lost his position as heir, and even with a successful Awakening ceremony, his chances of regaining it were slim. More likely, he'd be sent away on family errands, or continue his glorified exile in all but name.

  With a sigh that seemed to carry the weight of his past life, he settled into the chair at his ornate desk. He picked up a heavy, embossed notepad, the silver pen gleaming in the dim light.

  He paused, the pen hovering above the page. A slight frown creased his brow as if a vital piece of information was eluding him. His fingers drummed a silent rhythm on the desk, his eyes momentarily closing as he tried to grasp the fleeting thought.

  But the whirlwind of plans and strategies quickly pushed it aside.

  This wasn't just about revenge, or even about saving his family. This time, he would forge his own path, build his own power, and live the life he deserved. But he knew better than anyone how treacherous this world could be, how easily even the best-laid plans could crumble.

  He would protect those he cared about, and he would live. His jaw tightened, a hint of steel entering his gaze.

  Methodically, he began to write. Name after name filled the first few pages. A list of those who had wronged him, those he wanted to protect, events he needed to prevent, secrets he needed to uncover. It wasn't that he feared forgetting; it was more about creating a roadmap, a checklist to keep him grounded, to prevent him from rushing headlong into danger.

  If someone were to come across this notebook, they would be baffled by the sheer number of scribbles it contained. A chaotic jumble of symbols, diagrams, and seemingly random words filled its pages, a testament to Tristan's knowledge of a forgotten language, a language that wouldn't be rediscovered for centuries.

  As the first rays of dawn kissed the horizon, Tristan paused his writing, his pen hovering over the pages. He rose from his desk and moved to the window, his gaze drawn to the breathtaking vista. The sky was ablaze with hues of gold and crimson, casting a warm glow over the mansion.

  A soft knock disturbed his drifting thoughts. "Young Master? It's time to wake up..." a soft voice drifted from the doorway. It was the maid again, her tone gentle and hesitant.

  "Don't disturb me for now," He had a lot to figure out – the cause of his unexpected journey through time, and the memories of the past. But for now, he allowed himself a moment of peace, basking in the beauty of the sunrise.

  An hour later, a sharp knock shattered the quiet, followed by a man's voice. "Young Master, are you awake?"

  "Enter," Tristan called out, his voice a little rough. Moving toward the center table, he poured himself a glass of water, savoring the cool, refreshing liquid as it slid down his throat.

  The door creaked open, and a middle-aged man with a lean, wiry frame stepped into the room. His face was etched with lines of age and weathered by countless sunrises and sunsets. His hair was peppered with silver, and his eyes, though dulled by time, still held a keen intelligence.

  A simple tunic and trousers, practical attire for a man who spent most of his time outdoors. Kael, one of the last trusted advisors of his father who stayed by his side.

  And, as Tristan's memories abruptly surfaced, he realized with a jolt that Kael was also one of his uncle's spies, planted here to keep him under surveillance.

  Looking at the humbling attitude put forward by the man, a surge of rage coursed through him, a near-uncontrollable urge to tear the man apart. But he fought it back, his face hardening. He could feel the heat drain from his expression, replaced by a chilling calm.

  "How is your health, Young Master?" Kael inquired, his voice a low rasp.

  "Terrible," Tristan replied flatly, his face devoid of emotion.

  Kael's eyebrows twitched in surprise.

  Tristan's mind was a whirlwind. He couldn't simply slip back into his childhood persona; years of hardship had reshaped him, and any attempt to feign his former self would raise suspicion.

  Instead, a new plan began to form. He would play the part of the arrogant, spoiled Young Master, a role that would grant him the freedom and cover he needed to navigate this treacherous situation.

  He would use their underestimated perception to his advantage. It was a risky gambit, but it was his best chance.

  Kael cleared his throat, clasping his hands and bowing low. "Young Master, my apologies, but we can't delay any longer." His tone was serious, urgent.

  Tristan had no idea what the issue was, but he suspected it was another one of his uncle's schemes. "If I don't want to rush, then I won't," he declared, his voice dripping with disdain. "Who dares to make me?" He was surprised by how easily he slipped into the role, the words flowing effortlessly from his lips.

  "I understand, Young Master," Kael said, his voice laced with a hint of desperation, "but it will greatly offend the Ellsworth family if we're late to the engagement."

  Tristan's head snapped up, his eyes narrowing. That's what he had forgotten.

  The engagement. Is it mine? He was confused about where this engagement came from in this remote wilderness province.

  "Just send them my congratulations," he said dismissively, waving a hand in the air. "I'm not feeling well." He didn't have time to play in his uncle's schemes and disturbing it might be quite good.

  It was probably a rude response, but he didn't care. The family name would smooth things over with a generous gift, as they always did even if it is his engagement.

  "But, Young Master," Kael sputtered, his face pale, "how will we explain that to your Young Lady Regina Ellsworth?"

  The name hit Tristan like a bucket of ice water. He’d just taken a sip, and it promptly went down the wrong way, resulting in a spluttering, coughing fit. He grabbed a napkin, dabbing at his chin, his eyes wide with something akin to panic.

  Regina Ellsworth? Regina…Ellsworth? His mind scrambled, trying to place the name. Wasn’t she… wasn’t she one of the… the Scions? What in the blazes was a Scion doing being engaged to him?

  Oh, bloody hell. He knew why he kept forgetting about this ridiculous engagement.