After that first battle, Nolan continued fighting in several more. With each confrontation, his name spread like an echo through the camps, among soldiers and officers, as a prodigy in both combat and strategy.

What had initially been a mix of skepticism and awe soon transformed into genuine respect.

It wasn't just his physical prowess or his strange but effective magic that caught attention; it was the decisions he made on the battlefield, the way he seemed to foresee enemy movements, and his precise choices that secured victory in each fight.

It didn't take long for the higher-ups to notice his skills. The kingdom needed more leaders to guide its troops in such dark times, and Nolan seemed to be the perfect candidate.

Because of his performance in the field and the victories he had helped achieve, he was assigned as general of a small troop.

No one suspected that part of his success was not solely due to his natural talent for strategy. Every time he made a mistake in negotiation or planning, Nolan rewound time.

He didn't need to go back far—just a few seconds, enough to correct his course and make better decisions. Thus, little by little, he ascended the military ranks, making perfect decisions, guiding his men with a precision that only he could understand.

That's how the long and exhausting war finally came to an end. The kingdom's victory was celebrated in every corner of the territory, and Nolan's merits did not go unnoticed. He had been key in many of the final battles, and now his name resonated throughout the kingdom. So great was his recognition that the king himself, impressed by his achievements, summoned him to the palace.

The great hall was filled with nobles, advisors, and military personnel, all watching closely as Nolan entered. Before him, on his throne, the king smiled and, with a solemn voice, offered him a position of great importance in the court—a position of power that many would envy.

But Nolan rejected it.

"I deeply appreciate your generosity, Your Majesty," Nolan said with a bow. "But what I desire most is a private place, a space where I can continue my studies in magic."

The king, surprised by his response, considered his words for a moment, but seeing the determination in Nolan's eyes, he granted his request. He provided a large mansion in a secluded area, along with a substantial sum of money to fund his research.

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Nolan had gained fame, influence, and wealth, but none of those achievements mattered to him.

His goal was clear: he wanted to go back to the day when his family had been destroyed.

However, no matter how much he perfected his magic, no matter how much he refined his technique, he couldn't overcome a barrier.

No matter how many times he tried, he couldn't rewind time beyond one minute.

That seemingly unbreakable barrier became his greatest frustration.

At 29, after more than 16 years dedicated to research, he found himself stuck, unable to progress.

The memories of those who had told him that rewind magic was useless echoed in his mind.

They had been wrong, for he had achieved much more than anyone had imagined. He had far surpassed the initial 5 seconds, discovering variations and ways to control the flow of time. But now, after all that progress, he was faced with an insurmountable wall.

Nolan remembered the words of one of his most loyal soldiers, a man who had followed his orders to the letter during the war.

That man had been straightforward with him, warning him that if he continued to obsess over his research, he might end up dying alone, regretting not having made the most of his life.

Those words struck him hard now, because that man had been one of the few he could consider a friend.

Yet his determination remained intact.

He had to keep going.

He had to return to the moment the dragon destroyed his family. He couldn't stop.

Not now.

But then, one day, his own body betrayed him.

While conducting one of his experiments, he felt a sharp pain in his chest, something he had never experienced before.

He tried to rewind time over and over, seeking to avoid the pain, but no matter how many times he did it, the attack on his chest repeated incessantly.

His body, worn out from years of effort and constant use of magic, had finally reached its limit.

Desperate, after five failed attempts at rewinding, Nolan did something he had never thought he would have to do.

He asked for help.

With the last of his strength, he opened the window of his study and shouted for assistance.

His voice echoed through the halls of his mansion, and, fortunately, some servants heard his cries and ran in his direction.

Nolan, who usually didn't lock his doors, allowed them to enter. When he finally lost consciousness, he was quickly taken to a sanatorium.

He woke up in a bed, bandaged and weak. He could barely move when a young priestess entered the room, her face kind and serene.

"What happened?" Nolan asked, his voice hoarse.

"You fainted," the priestess replied. "But fortunately, since you called for help, they brought you here in time, and we managed to stabilize you."

"What… do I have?" Nolan asked, feeling the weight of uncertainty in his chest.

The priestess looked at him with compassion, but her words were like a blow.

"Your mana core is having issues. It's unstable."

Nolan's world seemed to come to a halt.

The mana core, the source of all his magic, was failing.

If he lost it, he could no longer perform magic, and everything he had worked for, all his efforts to return to the past, would be meaningless.

"What… what does that mean?" Nolan whispered, almost breathless.

The priestess looked at him seriously, knowing that her response could shatter him.