“Huuk!”

Aries jolted awake, cold sweat drenching him. He wiped his brow, taking in shaky breaths.

Whoo! Whoo!

A frown. Something was off. How am I breathing?

He remembered dying—his heart stopping after the massacre at the Forest of Death. He’d felt the end. Am I… alive?

The vividness hit him. No healer, not even one with heavenly powers, could have brought him back. Yet, here he was, heart pounding harder than ever. All his senses sharp—smell, hearing, touch, taste, sight.

And then he saw it—nearly fifty people surrounding him.

“Wh-where are we?”

“I was just at work! What’s going on?”

“Mommy, where’s Mommy?!”

People of all ages—children, the elderly—stood around him. Aries had seen this before. A vague, faded memory. The moment he was first summoned into the New World, forty years ago. And the hell that followed.

He glanced at his hands. No calluses. The roughness from decades of wielding weapons—gone. The scars, the wounds, erased. Everything felt… new.

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The past he had endured, wiped away like it never existed. Even Aries, once mighty, felt shaken. Did I return?

Time travel? Impossible. But if this was the past… I know where I am.

The Temple of Amon.

Half-destroyed. The place where the summoned first arrived. Survive for a month to move on. It’ll come up soon.

He gazed ahead, waiting. The expected phrase appeared.

“What?”

“It’s telling us to choose weapons?”

“Fuck! What’s that supposed to mean?”

While confusion spread, Aries moved forward. Among the hundred weapons scattered along the wall, he grabbed a gleaming blue scimitar.

A message appeared before him.

Name: Scimitar of Strength

Rank: E

Classification: Flange-mounted

Endurance: 300

Effect: Strength +1

Ha! Same as before. The only difference—he moved faster than the others. Eyes turned toward him as leather armor floated his way. He slipped it on without a word. Completing the missions quickly was key—extra rewards were at stake.

The New World teemed with monsters. Ordinary humans couldn’t survive here. That’s why the ‘Law of Solomon’ existed. The world was born from the 72 Demon Gods trapped within the Lemegeton, waiting to awaken. Baal, Agares, Amon—among the strongest.

Solomon, who imprisoned the demons, foresaw this. He created a system to give humanity a fighting chance. But the real enemies? Humans.

Aries’s mind drifted back to the arcane arts in the Key of Solomon. He’d mastered a few spells, learned many arts—but they were useless against absolute power. Like bringing party tricks to a gunfight.

What if I could harness that knowledge now? The Scimitar of Strength warmed in his grip. Maybe this time will be different. It has to be. By mastering the arcane forces, using the demons meant to destroy him as tools to reclaim his power—this would be his redemption.