The moment Yun Jin and Merlin stepped into the guild hall, heads turned.

  By now, most adventurers in the town knew who he was.

  The man who had cleared the Red Rift gate that even seasoned parties rarely made it out.

  The same man who had openly challenged one of the wealthiest groups in the city and walked away.

  And, recently, the rumored wielder of a replica of the Hero Sword itself.

  “What did you do?” Merlin whispered, shifting closer to Yun Jin as a fresh wave of stares followed them across the floor.

  “I went shopping while you were asleep,” Yun Jin replied with a small, amused chuckle. “Nothing major.”

  He led the way to the mission board, brushing off the attention like it was nothing.

  Since Merlin had just recently recovered, they decided on a rank D mission—challenging enough for training, but not overwhelming.

  To maximize the learning experience, Yun Jin insisted on going as a duo.

  “No extra teammates,” he said. “Just us.”

  Merlin agreed. They had grown stronger and now it was time to test it.

  “A demon lair, huh?” Yun Jin studied the listing for their chosen gate.

  It had already been partially scouted. The environment was described as an ancient altar site, guarded by demonic creatures. Strangely, the demons inside had shown little aggression so far. No attacks. No signs of ritual activity. The area was quiet.

  Which made it the perfect training ground.

  According to the scout report, the demons included imps, gargoyles, and a few banshees. However, the gate’s boss or even the true purpose of the dimension had yet to be located.

  “I remember reading in Ardent’s library that light magic is naturally strong against demons,” Yun Jin said. “So, to make our bet fair, I’ll stick to ice.”

  Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  Lately, he had been experimenting more with his Ice Affinity. It looked elegant, and while he already had techniques like [Aura Surge] and [Sword Wave] tied to light, his control over ice was more rudimentary—mostly conjuring shapes like swords or spikes.

  “It’s okay,” Merlin said firmly. “Use light if you need to. I want to fight at full strength too.”

  Yun Jin tilted his head, smiling. “If you insist. I’ve already chosen my favor anyway.”

  The grin on his face made Merlin shudder involuntarily.

  “You’ll see. I’ve prepared a favor for you too,” Merlin countered, smirking with confidence. He hadn’t shown much progress during their training in Ardent’s garden, but he’d been holding something back.

  A plan.

  One that could let him overcome Yun Jin’s speed.

  “We’ll see,” Yun Jin replied.

  As the two of them departed from the guild, unaware of the figures watching from afar, a quiet tension began to stir behind them.

  Dressed in humble robes, a group of individuals stood clustered near the stairwell—nuns, by appearance, blending seamlessly with the locals. But there was a coldness to them, an unnatural stillness that hinted at something darker beneath the surface.

  At their center stood a girl whose face was all too familiar.

  Seraphine.

  Her hair had grown long. Her once-innocent eyes now gleamed faint crimson in the low light.

  “The little boy is one of Mother’s favorites,” she murmured, voice gentle. “As for the other… Mother wishes to invite him before anything else.”

  A tall figure beside her—clad in black, face lined with calm—smiled at her words.

  “Have you tried persuading them, little sister?” Pastor Yomu asked, his tone soft but laced with something colder.

  “I… no, Brother Yomu,” Seraphine replied, voice faltering. “I’ve been trying to blend in.”

  Another figure stepped forward—a short woman with a porcelain smile and a voice like honey. “Since our last offering failed, we need either quantity… or quality. We know you’re new, but it’s time to repay our Lord and Savior.”

  Seraphine stiffened.

  “I hope you do your part well, sister,” the woman said with a bow of her head.

  “Because you know what price we must pay for failure.”

  The words were soft, but they lingered in the air like a curse.

  And then, without a sound, they vanished.

  Seraphine remained, alone in the stairwell, her face pale, her breath caught in her throat. The air felt heavier now. Her heart thudded painfully beneath her ribs.

  Then, with trembling hands, she straightened her robes and began to follow the two.

  Her payment was already overdue.

  And failure was no longer an option.

  Kaiser Dios didn’t just reject weakness — he declared war on it.

  To him, mediocrity wasn’t failure. It was betrayal. The world worshiped comfort; Kaiser brought fire.

  He didn’t rise above the weak — he erased them.

  And behind him: fallen kingdoms, silenced legends, and the ashes of those who once dared to call themselves kings.

  Sabel Stoorm.

  More than a rival — he was a reflection. They trained together, bled together, believed in the same dream.

  But while Kaiser built his strength on conviction, Sabel built his on control. When his mask slipped, it wasn’t a man beneath — it was ambition sharpened into cruelty.

  He stabbed Kaiser in the heart — not for justice, but to prove he’d outgrown the dream they once shared.

  Now Kaiser walks a world far crueler than the one he left behind.

  A world where the skies scream with unnatural life. Where the seas drown themselves in corpses. Where the gods no longer rule with wisdom, but with appetite—carving their names into the bones of creation.

  They will summon their horrors.

  They will cast him down a thousand times.

  And a thousand times, he will rise.

  “FATE CRACKED. HISTORY WEPT. AND I WALKED THROUGH BOTH.”