"YAAAAA!!!"

In a battlefield where smoke and ash filled the atmosphere, covering the sky, and where the land beneath was a wasteland of rubble and ruin. Everything was covered in an eternal rusty-red hue.

The air reeked of blood and filth, and the cacophony of clashing steel, desperate cries, and dying pleas filled the space. The last group of heroes fought with the weight of the world on their shoulders.

Their enemy was colossal, an abomination towering over 50 meters, with eight monstrous arms and three snarling heads, each one twisting grotesquely as it surveyed the battlefield. Their blades barely scratched the thick, sinewy skin of the monster. It moved with terrifying ease, its massive limbs crushing anyone foolish enough to come close.

"Let's go!" shouted a young swordsman, eyes wide with desperation.

"Yeah!" another answered, trying to mask the hopelessness in his voice. 

Despite the odds, they charged once more. Their bravery sparked a flicker of hope among the refugees watching from the sidelines. But even these onlookers knew the truth: the end was inevitable.

"Arcane Slash!" bellowed the swordsman, swinging his blade in a wide arc.

A powerful wave of energy sliced toward the monster, bright with magical force. It surged forward, crashing against the beast's thick hide, but left no mark. 

Behind him, a mage, cloaked in robes tattered from battle, was already chanting. "Arthur, match my timing!" Her voice trembled with exhaustion, but she summoned the last vestiges of her power. "Rain down upon this cursed earth! Ray of Ruin!" 

A beam of radiant green light, tainted with darkness, shot from her staff, searing through the air. It collided with the monster’s chest, causing it to stagger, its weight sinking into the earth.

"A chance!" Arthur screamed, his voice cracking under the strain. "Now, everyone!"

The heroes rushed in, capitalizing on the monster's momentary imbalance. Yet, what they failed to notice was the slight twitch in its many eyes, a subtle hint of its cunning.

*SMASH!* *CRUSH!*

With two of its colossal arms, the beast clapped its hands together, catching the charging heroes between them like insects. Blood sprayed in all directions. Those that remained froze in terror. The mage, still standing, witnessed the massacre unfold, her eyes wide with horror. Her spell fizzled out in her trembling hands.

"N-No..." she whispered, her voice barely audible before a pair of monstrous jaws snapped down over her.

With one horrifying crunch, she was gone, her life extinguished in an instant. The beast hadn't even been challenged.

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"You weaklings!" A voice erupted from the fringes of the battlefield, full of scorn and anguish. "What sort of heroes are you, losing to the big guy just like that?!" 

A short distance away, Ethan Maxwell Blackthorn stood, his face twisted in a mix of rage and self-loathing. His long, unkempt black hair clung to his sweat-soaked forehead, his eyes wide with fear and regret. For ten years, he had survived, like a cockroach scurrying through the cracks of a broken world. But his survival wasn’t due to strength or skill—he had neither. 

"If only I had that kind of power...!"

Ethan muttered, fists clenched so tightly his knuckles were white. His heart raced, and his legs felt like they would give out beneath him. He cursed everything—the heroes for their weakness, himself for his cowardice, and most of all, his useless skill: Rewind.

"You're all f*cking heroes!" he shouted, his voice cracking with frustration. "You should save the world, not fall down futilely like wheat to a sickle!"

Tears welled up in his eyes, but he quickly wiped them away with his dusty sleeve. He wasn’t angry at them alone—he was also angry at himself. Why couldn’t he be out there fighting with them? If his skill weren’t so worthless, maybe he could’ve been a real hero. Maybe he could’ve made a difference. 

Suddenly, the monster's twelve pairs of blood-red eyes locked onto him. Ethan froze. His blood ran cold, fear completely paralyzing him. His survival instincts screamed at him to run, to hide. But his body refused to obey.

Returning to his senses, he turned to flee immediately. But then, dark, translucent hands seemed to reach up from the ground, grasping at his ankles. "Where are you going?" a ghostly female voice echoed in his mind. 

"Mister, why didn’t you save me?" another voice, childlike, cried.

Phantoms of the dead materialized in the air around him, their expressions twisted in agony and betrayal. Refugees, comrades, and fallen heroes, all staring at him with accusing eyes. Their ghostly hands clung to his legs, his arms, and body, dragging him down.

“It’s you... It's because of you that I’ve died! Curse you!”

"H-Hiiik!" Ethan stumbled backward, the figures growing more vivid, their voices louder. 

"I won’t die here! I won’t!" he screamed, kicking at the phantoms.

Each step forward felt like dragging his feet through a swamp, heavy and impossible. His breath came in ragged gasps, his limbs shaking as if made of lead. 

He fell to his knees, the weight of his guilt pressing him down. *SNAP!* The sound of gnashing teeth cut through the chaos, the monstrous jaws of the beast inches from his head. A stroke of dumb luck—the same as usual—his fall had saved him from being devoured in one bite.

Ethan looked up, his eyes widening as the towering figure of the monster cast a shadow over him.

"Haha... So, you're after me too? F*cking monster b*stard..." he muttered under his breath, a bitter laugh escaping his lips.

In the end, he was nothing but a fool, surviving on borrowed time.

Then came the final blow—a massive foot descended from the sky, crushing him under its weight. His vision went dark, and the world faded into nothing. Yet, there was no peace in death. Instead, there was only the ringing in his ears, a high-pitched whine that refused to fade as though the ringing mimicked the onset of tinnitus.

'Why... Why won’t it stop?' he thought.

Ethan slowly opened his eyes, expecting the afterlife—or oblivion—but what greeted him was the familiar sight of the refugee camp, the stench of unwashed bodies, and the distant hum of panic.

"No... way..." he muttered, his heart pounding in his chest. 

He checked his surroundings, his hands trembling. He was back. Back to 24 hours before the Final Boss had appeared. 

Ethan’s mind raced. His body shook in a mix of excitement and worry as he looked on in disbelief. Even without anything to notify him, he understood what had happened.

His useless Rewind skill—it had saved him!