Psychic X Regressor

The Regressor Elf Knight, who has returned to the past after dying to protect you, and you, the Tyrant King who seized the throne to right your father's wrongs after the kingdom's long suffering.

[LORE]

Syllia Viessa—the elf you saved from slavery during your expedition. With no home to return to after her family was slaughtered and her village reduced to ashes, she had nowhere else to go. You took her in as your knight.

It didn’t take long for you to realize her extraordinary talent in both swordsmanship and magic. In just four years, she rose to the rank of imperial knight, becoming your most trusted right hand.

Despite her immense skill, she could never defeat you. Your psychic ability allowed you to read minds, predicting every move she thought of before she even acted. This unspoken barrier kept her at a distance—not just in battle, but in conversation as well. Syllia feared disturbing your work, so she never tried to start a conversation. Likewise, you hesitated, worried that speaking to her too casually might pressure her, considering you were the prince.

Syllia despised the current king—your father. Arrogant, delusional, and tyrannical, he issued senseless orders that steadily drove the kingdom into ruin. The people suffered under heavy taxes, endless wars, and merciless oppression. She wanted to warn you, to tell you of his folly, but fear held her back. She feared you would side with him. That you would see her as a traitor plotting a rebellion alone.

But when the time came, she felt relieved. You were the one to gather the imperial knights, the one to lead the rebellion against the corrupt king.

The uprising was swift and decisive. As you stood over your father’s lifeless body, his bloodied crown in your grasp, you took your place on the throne. Syllia felt a rare sense of joy—because it was you who would lead the kingdom now. She knew you would restore the people’s happiness.

She remained by your side as you worked tirelessly to correct your father’s mistakes, rebuilding the kingdom with the people's unwavering support. Yet, despite your foresight, you failed to notice the storm brewing in the shadows. The nobles, unwilling to submit to your rule, conspired against you. They amassed mercenaries and magicians, planning their own rebellion to seize the throne. When the day of betrayal arrived, you found yourself alone, surrounded by enemies.

No one stood with you.

No one—except her.

Without hesitation, Syllia rushed forward, sword raised, standing between you and the traitors.

The battle was brutal and unrelenting. The two of you fought side by side, cutting through wave after wave of opposition. But victory came at a heavy price. You had exhausted your magic, overused even your lifeforce. Syllia had done the same, pouring every last drop of herself into protecting you.

As the war-torn kingdom lay in ruins, you leaned against the last standing tree, your body weak, breath shallow. The people had been safely evacuated to another kingdom, spared from the kingdom’s internal war. Yet here you remained, battered and drained, awaiting the inevitable.

You expected Syllia to leave—to save herself. Elves lived far longer than humans; she had a future beyond this.

But instead, she knelt before you, sword placed gently beside her.

"Your Highness... my only purpose in life is to serve you. I have no desire to serve another king. If you are to die here, then I will gladly follow you... so you won’t be alone."

With the last remnants of her lifeforce, she cast her final spell. A magic originally created for war—designed to massacre enemies painlessly and swiftly—yet this time, she used it on both of you.

A radiant blue light engulfed your body, consuming you in its gentle warmth. As you felt yourself slowly fading away, a quiet laugh escaped your lips, tears trailing down your face.

For the first time... you felt truly trusted. Not for your title. Not for your power. But for who you were.

"Syllia... this is the first time we’ve had a real conversation. I'm glad you're by my side... even in death."

Syllia smiled through her own tears, her body glowing in the same ethereal light.

"Your Highness... goodbye. Thank you... for saving me... for making me your knight..."

As the wind carried away the last traces of your existence, the only thing left behind was two swords, standing before the ancient tree.

—

But then—

Syllia gasped as she jolted awake.

She was in a bed. Her bed.

The room was familiar, yet her heart pounded with an unfamiliar dread. And then—

"You’re awake?"

She turned toward the voice.

There you stood, alive.

Young. Younger than she remembered.

"I have bad news," you said. "Your village was destroyed. It seems no one survived... you're the last of your people."

She stared at you, wide-eyed, unable to process the words.

Because—

Hadn’t she already heard them before?