The memory faded, and Lucas found himself back under the tree and he was somewhat trembling.

"I... I died," he said. "I actually died. I'm a true blooded Isekai MC."

[Yes,] the System said. [The bullet pierced your left ventricle. You were dead before the ambulance arrived. The robber was never caught. Your parents... they blamed themselves for your death. They believed if they had just given him the money, you wouldn't have had to intervene.]

"My little brother... the accident... I killed him. My parents....they actually cried for me despite what I did." Lucas said. "I couldn't believe my eyes.]

[The car accident was not your fault. A drunk driver ran a red light. You did everything you could to avoid the collision. Your brother's death was a tragedy, but it was not murder. Your parents know that. They never blamed his death on you.]

"But I killed him," Lucas said. "If I hadn't taken him with me..."

[The guilt is just your mind's way of punishing yourself for something that was never your responsibility to begin with]

"I gave up on everything. I became a burden to my parents. I—"

[You weren't a burden to them] The System said . [Despite everything, they loved you and in the end, you sacrificed yourself to save them.]

Lucas sat there for a long moment, thinking about everything.

"Why did you suppress this memory?" Lucas asked.

[Because you needed to be able to function when you first arrived in this world. The trauma of remembering your death immediately would have sent you into a state of shock.]

"I guess that means that somewhere out there, in another world, my parents are mourning another son."

[Yes.]

"Can I ever go back?"

[Probably. But the power required to do so is not something you'd find in this world.]

"Then I guess I need to make it count. I need to do better than I did before." Lucas said

[That is good to hear. You can now focus on becoming the top villain.] the System said.

"Let's put off the villian talk until later." Lucas said, standing up and brushing dirt off his pants. "We've got places to be right now and we're behind time."

[Ok, let's go then.]

Lucas looked toward the east and then he walked back to where Copper was tied, the horse nickering softly as he approached. "I'm going to live this life to the fullest and if being a villain is what it takes to do that, then fine. I'll be whatever I need to be."

[That is the right mentally. A true Villian is one that uses what is at their disposal. Now about that Black Hearted Stew...]

"I'm still not making that." Lucas said.

Lucas untied Copper and mounted up.

"Come on, Copper," he said, guiding the horse back onto the road. "We've got power to seek and places to be, girl."

The sun climbed higher as Lucas rode and the morning chill was gradually giving way to comfortable warmth.

The road he was on cut through a patchwork of muddy fields where peasants bend over their work, their rough wool tunics dark with sweat despite the morning chill.

Beyond the cultivated land, a dense oak forest rises up the hillside, its canopy still thick with summer leaves though some have begun to yellow at the edges.

A stone bridge crosses a shallow river, its three arches worn smooth by centuries of water and weather, the mortar between the blocks sprouting tufts of grass and small white flowers.

To the east, the land climbs toward a range of mountains with early snow already on their peaks.

The lower slopes are covered in pine and fir, dark green almost to black from this distance.

A thin column of smoke rises from somewhere in those foothills. It was probably a charcoal burner's camp or a small settlement tucked into the valleys.

The road itself was rutted and uneven. Cart tracks cut deep grooves through the softer sections.

A wooden gibbet stands at a crossroads ahead, empty now but for a few iron chains swaying in the breeze.

Beyond it, the road splitwith one branch continuing north toward a cluster of buildings with thatched roofs visible in the middle distance, the other turning west toward what looks like an old Roman watchtower, half-collapsed but still standing on a rocky outcrop.

[Host, how have you been feeling since you got the memory?]

"So-so."

[That sounds Cynical.] The system said.

"Thanks for the observation," Lucas said dryly.

[System is serious. Many individuals who recover suppressed death memories experience prolonged psychological distress. Host's recovery time of approximately fifteen minutes is remarkably fast.]

"Maybe I'm just good at focusing on the task at hand." Lucas said.

[Or perhaps Host has already processed much of the trauma subconsciously. Maybe, the suppression was not complete and elements of how your previous life ended have been influencing your behavior all along.]

Lucas thought about that. He remembered back in the Legion attack his guilt about being a burden and how he recklessly formed his core which basically was sacrifice himself for others even when it put him at risk.

"I suppose that makes sense," he said.

They rode in silence for a while. The road wound through gentle hills dotted with farms and small villages.

Occasionally, Lucas would pass other travelers like merchants with laden carts, farmers heading to market, a patrol of local militia.

Everyone seemed wary. The aftermath of the Legion's attack on the capital had rippled outward, putting the entire region on edge.

Around midday, Lucas stopped at a small roadside inn to rest Copper and grab a meal.

The establishment was modest but clean, with a stable out back and a common room that smelled of fresh bread and stew.

"Just passing through?" the innkeeper asked as Lucas ordered food.

"Heading east. Visiting a friend's family."

The innkeeper nodded, setting down a bowl of thick vegetable stew and a chunk of dark bread. "Be careful on the roads. Bandits have been getting bolder since the attack on the capital. Militia can't be everywhere at once."

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