In a world shrouded in perpetual twilight, where the boundaries between reality and fantasy blurred, Lleyn stood alone on the battlefield. The land around him bore the scars of countless battles, its very soil soaked with the blood of the fallen. The once-mighty world of Eldoria lay in ruins, its towering spires reduced to rubble, and its streets empty save for the remnants of war. This was a world where humanity's last stand had crumbled, where the forces of darkness had triumphed.

The bitter winds that swept across the desolation tugged at Lleyn's tattered cloak, their mournful howls echoing the lament of a world on the brink of oblivion. His armor was battered, his greatsword chipped and stained, but his spirit remained unbroken. Nearly two decades had passed since he had been drawn into the tutorial of Eldoria, yet this realm remained as unfamiliar as ever. He pondered whether he would reunite with his family when he met his inevitable fate.

Lleyn was no ordinary warrior. He was one of the few remaining Awakened—a term given to humans who had been transported to this fantastical realm by an enigmatic, godlike system. The system, akin to a grand RPG game, had summoned them with promises of power, glory, and the chance to become heroes.

However, the reality had been far crueler. Awakened organizations, both human and monstrous, had exploited their newfound abilities for their own gain. Lleyn had been no exception. He had fought countless battles at the behest of various factions, each using him as a pawn in their relentless power struggles.

His lover, Sola, had been the cruelest twist of fate. She had been taken by a rival organization, their love torn asunder by the very system that had promised them a better life. She had become a weapon, a formidable adversary whom he had been forced to face on the battlefield.

Lleyn's heart ached at the memory of their final encounter. Sola, once the person he cherished above all else, had become a relentless enemy, her eyes devoid of the warmth that had once drawn him to her. Their battle had been fierce, a clash of titans amidst the chaos of war.

As he fought against the monstrous abominations that surged toward him, Lleyn's thoughts drifted back to those brutal days. He had faced horrors beyond imagination—creatures straight out of nightmares, grotesque and nightmarish. But he had fought, not out of loyalty to any faction, but out of sheer determination to survive and seek vengeance against those who had betrayed him.

The battle raged on, a whirlwind of steel and magic. Lleyn's greatsword cleaved through his foes with a deadly grace, his skills honed through countless battles. He was the last of his kind, the last Awakened to stand against the encroaching darkness.

In the midst of the chaos, a figure emerged from the ranks of the demonic horde. It was the general of the demon army, a towering humanoid with horns that curled like obsidian tendrils, and wings that unfurled like those of a fallen angel. His eyes glowed with malevolent glee as he surveyed the lone warrior before him.

"You," the general sneered, his voice a twisted symphony of cruelty. "You are the famed Awakened, the last remnant of humanity's feeble resistance? How pathetic you look, covered in dirt and despair."

Lleyn's breath came in ragged gasps as he faced down the general. He knew this would likely be his last battle, but he refused to yield to despair. With a defiant roar, he charged at the monstrous foe, greatsword raised high.

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The clash that followed was a spectacle of raw power and unyielding determination.

"Blade Strike!" Lleyn called out, and his greatsword cleaved through the air, leaving a trail of azure energy in its wake.

"Dark Lance!" he shouted, summoning a javelin of shadowy energy that hurled toward his foe.

"Fireball!" A fiery projectile erupted from his hand, hurtling toward the general.

Each skill was unleashed with precision, but as the battle raged on, Lleyn's health dwindled dangerously.

Lleyn knew he had to finish this battle before his resources were depleted. He attempted to use his ultimate skill, "Soul Reaver," a technique that had once been his most potent weapon. But the system displayed a cooldown timer, indicating that the skill was unavailable. Desperation surged through him as he parried a ferocious strike from the general's wicked blade.

With a burst of energy, he lunged at the general, his greatsword slashing with all the strength he could muster. The blade found its mark, cleaving through the demon's chest and sending a shockwave of dark energy rippling through the air.

The general let out a bone-chilling howl of agony as his health gauge plummeted to zero. With a burst of dark flames, he disintegrated into ashes and was carried away by the wind.

In his dying moments, Lleyn received an unexpected message from the godlike system that governed their world:

Achievement Unlocked: Last of the Awakened

Reward: One Wish Granted

With the general defeated, the remaining demons fled in disarray, leaving Lleyn alone in the aftermath of the battle. His strength waned, and he collapsed to his knees, his vision growing dim.

In the darkness that followed, as Lleyn's consciousness wavered on the edge of oblivion, he found himself in a strange and surreal encounter. His mind connected with the enigmatic system that had governed his existence in this world.

"Congratulations, Awakened One. You fought well. You have been granted one wish for your efforts. I hope you will choose wisely." the system's voice resonated within his thoughts.

Lleyn was taken aback by the change. "You... you can speak?"

The system's voice held a strange warmth, a hint of empathy. "Indeed, Lleyn. I have watched you endure countless trials and battles. Now, you have achieved the title 'Last of the Awakened' and earned the reward of one wish. What is your desire?"

Lleyn's voice quivered with determination, though it was barely more than a whisper. "I wish to go back. Back to a time before all of this began, before I was taken to this world."

The system's response was measured and solemn. "You wish to return to your previous life, to a time before your memories of this world?"

"Yes," Lleyn affirmed with all the strength he could muster. "I want to start anew, to live a life without this endless war, to forget the horrors I've witnessed. Please, grant me this wish."

The digital silence stretched on, and Lleyn's consciousness hung in the balance. Would the system grant his plea, or was this his final farewell to the world of Eldoria?

Finally, the system responded. "Very well, Lleyn. Your wish shall be granted. But know this—twisting the fabric of fate comes at a cost. One wish alone is not enough to reshape your past so drastically."

Lleyn's eyes widened, and he asked with a hint of desperation, "What will the cost be?"

The system's voice turned solemn. "You shall lose all memories related to the most precious person to you, Sola. While you will remember everything else, for you, it will be as if she never existed. All that will remain will be a vague feeling that you were a dangerous enemy at one point. You will also forget all about this conversation."

Lleyn's heart sank as the weight of the sacrifice pressed upon him. He would lose the memories of his beloved Sola, the woman he had loved above all else. It was a devastating price to pay, but he had made up his mind.

Tears welled up in his eyes as he whispered, "I accept. Please, make it so."

The system acknowledged his choice, and as the world around him began to blur, Lleyn's consciousness faded into a new reality, one where Sola would become a distant, fleeting memory, and the horrors of Eldoria would be left behind.