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“Ughh…” A loud groan escaped Belial as he stirred awake. Grogginess clouded his vision, and he blinked against the murky haze, finding himself on the dirt ground in a shadowy alley. Buildings loomed around him, their silhouettes oppressive in the dim light.

Turning his head, he noticed Mirias lying nearby, also beginning to stir. Her horns were visible, a sharp reminder of their shared demonic nature.

Without hesitation, he concentrated, masking his demonic features as he scanned the surroundings cautiously.

His eyes landed on Van, seated against the alley wall.

“Y-YOU!” Belial shouted, jolting upright. The sudden movement sent him stumbling as disorientation gripped him. He tripped and fell, cursing under his breath.

“F-FUCK. YOU BASTARD!!” he spat, struggling to his feet, swaying slightly as he regained his balance.

“Oh, you’re awake? I’m relieved,” Van said, his expression utterly deadpan, though he forced a semblance of concern onto his face.

“DON’T FUCK WITH ME! WHAT WAS THAT ALL ABOUT?!” Belial snarled, his voice a growl as Mirias began to wake, groaning softly.

“I’ve been wondering the same thing,” Van replied, his tone flat as iron, his face unreadable. “It took everything I had to drag you two out of there before I passed out myself.”

“W-what the…?” Belial muttered, his confusion deepening as fragmented memories clawed their way to the surface.

He vaguely recalled Van saying something, the world plunging into darkness—and then, nothing but fainting.

“NO, FUCK THAT,” he growled, pointing a trembling finger at Van. “I clearly remember YOU asking me something—something that made me faint!”

“Odd,” Van said, his voice calm, detached. “I remember the same about you. Then the vision faded, and I found you both on the ground.” His iron face betrayed no hint of emotion, his words carefully measured.

“M-mass…” Mirias murmured, her soft voice drawing both men’s attention. “H-hypnosis, maybe…? But… no hypnosis humans have could ever affect someone like Lord Belial…”

“MIRIAS!” Belial barked, causing her to stiffen. “Quick, what do you remember before fainting?! I ain’t buying this bullshit—I know what I saw!”

“I… I don’t remember much… except… maybe…”

Van tensed as Mirias began to recount her fragmented memory.

“I remember seeing your back, Lord Belial. And then… darkness. Like the whole world was consumed by a dark fire.”

“… Just me?” Belial asked, his voice quieter now, but still sharp with suspicion.

“Y-yes,” she nodded. “I suppose I saw what this man saw—just from a different perspective,” she added, gesturing toward Van.

A heavy silence fell between them, punctuated only by the faint sounds of the alley. Belial finally sighed deeply, dropping to the ground with a loud thud, his knees pulled up as he rested trembling fingers on them. A frown marred his face.

“Shit… scared the shit out of me,” he muttered. Van caught the tremor in his hands, his gaze narrowing.

‘Guess I really went overboard. Dumbass,’ Van berated himself, his thoughts bitter. ‘Only Magus could’ve had harem skills. Almost hurt your wife’s relative over some stupid fear.’

Belial’s voice broke the silence, trembling with something unreadable. “THIS… IS… SO…”

Van leaned forward slightly, curiosity flickering in his eyes.

“FUCKING AWESOME!” Belial roared, his head snapping up abruptly. His expression was alight with enthusiasm, a broad, almost childlike grin spreading across his face.

“What…?” Van blinked, tilting his head in disbelief at the sudden shift. Belial’s smile trembled with excitement, his energy almost infectious.

“The longer I stay in this place, the more I don’t wanna leave. This place FUCKING ROCKS! First, everyone actually spat at me and cussed me out, and now someone so strong they actually made me faint?! OH FUCK, I WANNA FIGHT HIM SO BAAAD!!!” Belial giggled, rocking back and forth with unrestrained enthusiasm.

‘Huh. To think demons sucking up to him hurt him this badly… Now he finds joy in all this?’ Van thought, observing him closely.

‘I guess he’s more of a demon than Alicia—itching for a fight, hungry for a challenge. Add that to being deprived of any real opposition because of his lineage, and you get someone like him, huh…?’

“AND YOU!” Belial suddenly yelled, snapping Van out of his thoughts. His finger shot out, pointing directly at him.

“Me?” Van asked, startled.

“YEAH, YOU FUCKER. DON’T THINK I DIDN’T NOTICE!” Belial growled as he shot to his feet, towering over Van with an intense, almost manic energy.

‘Damn it. Did he see through me after all?’ Van thought, feeling his chest tighten.

“THE FACT THAT YOU FAINTED AFTER ME AND MIRIAS… YOU BASTARD, YOU MUST BE HELLA STRONG, HUH?! ADD THAT TO THE DWARVEN SHIT YOU’VE GOT ON YOUR ASS, YOU MUST BE SOME HOTSHOT, HUH!?” Belial’s growling enthusiasm only seemed to escalate, his grin wide and unrelenting.

“A-ah…” Van stuttered, thrown off by Belial’s sudden burst of energy.

“Since ya know I’m a demon, I’mma tell you my real name. It’s BELIAL. What’s your name?!” Belial finally asked, his gaze drilling into Van.

‘Guess introductions are due.’ Van exhaled, allowing himself to relax.

“Van. Van Hellix,” he replied, offering a soft smile as he met Belial’s piercing gaze.

“Holy shit…” Belial blurted out without hesitation.

“N-no way… It… It’s him?!” Mirias stammered, her disbelief evident.

‘I guess they know she’s married to me. Is that why they came here, I wonder?’ Van thought, gauging their expressions carefully.

“DUDE!!!” Belial shouted enthusiastically as he darted to Van’s side. Without warning, he threw an arm around Van’s shoulders and pulled him close, aggressively ruffling his hair with his fist.

“YOU’RE MY BROTHER-IN-LAW! FUCKING SHIT!!! YOU ACTUALLY GOT THAT STUCK-UP-BUT-CUTE COUSIN OF MINE TO MARRY YOU?! DUDDDEEE!!!” Belial cried out, his manic laughter echoing through the alley.

“Ah, haha…” Van chuckled awkwardly, deliberately leaning into Belial’s rough treatment to avoid revealing anything about his strength.

‘He and Alicia are polar opposites. One gets enraged easily, the other gets excited just as quickly… Cousins, huh?’

“So you’re Alicia’s cousin?” Van asked casually, enduring the hair-ruffling.

‘ALICIA!? T-To call the Demon Lord by her first name…! Such audacity… even if they’re married…!!’ Mirias thought, alarmed. ‘Such informality should be reserved for family only! This… this ought to anger Lord Belial…!!’

“YEAH, BROTHER—I’M A-L-I-C-I-A-‘S COUSIN!!! YOU HEAR THAT, MIRIAS?!” Belial shouted gleefully, his horns gleaming as they appeared in his excitement.

‘Ah?’

“THAT BASTARD HAS THE GUTS TO CALL THAT SCARY DEMONESS BY HER NAME! AHAHAHAHAHA! I GUESS WE’RE BROTHERS NOW, HUH?! SORRY ABOUT MY BEHAVIOR EARLIER—YOU’RE GONNA GET A FUCKTON OF THAT IN THE FUTURE, LITTLE BITCH!” Belial cackled, his enthusiasm infectious.

Mirias sighed deeply. ‘I guess it doesn’t bother Lord Belial…’

“Oh, and since we’re gonna be so close…” Belial said suddenly, his tone shifting as he locked eyes with Van. His face was alight with excitement, but there was an edge to his expression.

“Fight me. I wanna see the color of yer blood, bitch. While you’re my brother now, you called my cousin so casually… I wanna see if you’re worthy of that.” His voice dropped to a low growl, his excitement brimming with challenge.

“You can’t refuse.”

A chuckle tugged at Van’s lips, though he managed to stifle it, leaving only an amused smirk as he met Belial’s gaze evenly.

‘… He’s just adorable, isn’t he?’ Van thought, his eyes briefly flickering with amusement.

“Sure,” he said, standing and squaring up to face Belial.

‘What…?! NOW?!’ Mirias thought, her worry evident as she glanced between them.

“But later,” Van continued, his tone calm. Mirias exhaled in relief.

“… What…?” Belial growled, his smirk shifting into a grimace, his eyes narrowing in frustration.

“I ain’t taking that shit. Come and fight me. I don’t care if we have to walk five days to a secret location—we’re fighting fucking now.“

“No,” Van replied firmly, turning slightly. “I’ve got things to do first.”

‘I need to let Ami know I’m alive. And talk to the girls—tell them everything. I won’t run from it anymore. I already decided,’ Van thought as he stepped toward the alley’s exit.

“You weakling FUCK. Then I ain’t accepting you as my brother,” Belial spat, his voice sharp and cutting as Van’s back remained turned.

Van paused mid-step but didn’t look back.

“You’re stepping on tradition now,” Belial snapped, his tone growing harsher. “Walking away from a fight offer from a demon? That’s my fucking limit here.”

‘Tradition? Since when did Lord Belial care about that—?’ Mirias wondered, confusion and unease swirling in her mind.

“If you walk away now,” Belial interrupted her thoughts, his tone venomous, “I ain’t ever seeing you as someone worthy of her. Even if you come crawling later. You hear me, you little shit?!”

Van let out a deep sigh, his head turning briefly to meet Belial’s gaze. His eyes burned with intensity.

“Luckily,” Van said, his voice steady but sharp, “I only care a little bit about what you think.” He squared his shoulders, locking eyes with Belial.

“I will be with her. She will be my woman—whether you approve or not. I’ve got things to do before I satisfy your curiosity, things that are just as important to me as fighting me is to you.” His words carried a quiet strength.

“What’s that…?” Belial growled, his expression unreadable, his tone a low rumble.

“If you can’t accept that,” Van continued, his voice unwavering,

“then I won’t accept you either.”

With that, he turned forward again, walking out of the alley without another glance.

A heavy silence settled between Mirias and Belial, who remained rooted in place, his eyes still fixed on the alley’s exit.

“Such… audacity!” Mirias hissed, her fist trembling with rage. “Lord Belial, if you wish, I could contact everyone—this… this act of insolence shall not go unpuni—”

“Shut up, Mirias,” Belial muttered, his voice low but commanding.

“… My Lord?” Mirias asked, dumbfounded, her voice tinged with confusion as she stared at his back, seeking an answer.

“That fucker passed my test,” Belial said, his tone brimming with satisfaction. Mirias tilted her head in confusion, stepping around to face him.

What she saw made her pause—a broad smile spread across his face.

“My cousin’s worth more than just some shitty customs and our religion. She needs someone who can defy even me. If he couldn’t even do that, then he’s just another tool, like the rest of you fucks,” he spat, his words laced with conviction.

“..!” Mirias’s eyes widened as understanding dawned on her.

‘I see. That’s why Lord Belial brought up the demons’ fighting tradition, despite never caring about it in the slightest. It was a test of his resolve,’ she thought, her gaze shifting to Van’s retreating figure.

‘Van Hellix, huh?’

“HEYYY!!! YOU CRAZY FUCKWAD!” Belial suddenly roared, striding after Van with his usual brashness. “WAIT THE FUCK UP! WHERE WE GOIN’, THEN?!”

He called out, his voice booming, while Mirias sighed yet again, reluctantly following after him.

———————————————-

Author here! Hope you all had a great holiday season!

“So, it has to be fast. We don’t want her to scream,” Michael said, frowning at his own words as he addressed Anne.

‘What am I even saying?’ he thought, his gaze dropping to the ground as if searching for his reflection, trying to decipher what kind of expression he wore.

‘I don’t want Lizzy to scream while I use this on her? Is that what I’m saying right now?’ His eyes shifted to the mark on his palm as he held it up, studying it.

‘Just…’ His focus flicked to Anne, who was watching him intently. In that brief moment, he noticed the faint bags under her eyes.

‘What have I done to her? Were they really in danger? Such danger that warranted something like this…?’ The question gnawed at him as he took in her weary face.

‘She’s so stressed she can’t even sleep… I should stop this.’ He lowered his hand, the mark disappearing from view, but a memory surfaced, unbidden and sharp.

———————-

“This feels wrong, Bernard,” Michael murmured, standing in the opulent room of Bernard’s mansion, the seal heavy in his hands. “To mark them as slaves…?”

“Mikey, Mikey…” Bernard clicked his tongue three times, pacing back and forth with a confidence that radiated from his every step. His back was straight, his movements deliberate.

“You know, I remember how much we fought as kids. Even now. But the older I got, the more I understood something about you—and about us. We’re not so different, you and I. But there’s one big difference: you’re too pure, Mikey.” He stopped to face Michael, his sharp gaze unwavering, while his entourage lingered silently in the corners of the room.

“The more I observed the enemies my father dealt with, and people in general, I realized something—you can’t beat evil with good.” He paused mid-step, turning toward Michael and leaning closer, lowering his voice as he whispered into his ear.

“Take… you, for example,” Bernard murmured as his groupies exchanged knowing looks.

Michael flinched, his eyes darting back to the seal in his hands.

“You were so virtuous, so righteous. And what did your mother and sister do? They left you and your father to the dogs—all because some bastard was more cunning than you—”

“YOU DON’T TALK ABOUT THEM!” Michael roared, shoving Bernard back. His fists clenched, his teeth grinding as fury erupted within him. Bernard’s two followers stiffened, ready to intervene, but he calmly raised a hand to stop them.

“Am I wrong, Mikey?” Bernard asked softly, his gaze piercing as he studied Michael’s torn expression.

“….” Michael didn’t respond, processing Bernard’s words.

Before long, Bernard extended his palm toward Michael.

“Give it back,” he said abruptly.

“W-What?” Michael stammered, jolted from his thoughts.

“This was a mistake. You’re too pure,” Bernard said, his tone uncharacteristically soft.

“But maybe that’s not such a bad thing. Maybe this Van Hellix isn’t as terrible as we think. Perhaps Anne and Lizzy are just… more interested in him. That happens sometimes—it’s no one’s fault.”

Michael stood frozen, replaying Bernard’s words in his mind. Memories surfaced; the way Van shooed him from her house and how he allowed himself to drape his arm over her neck. The way Anne decided to date Van after only days of knowing him. How they both left the guild after just 1 hour of work – not nearly enough time to actually get any work done. And then there was Lizzy’s expression—the way she looked at Van, as though he occupied every corner of her mind. Bothered. Consumed.

None of it made sense to Michael.

… Just like it didn’t make sense why his mother and sister had left one day without warning, running off to some unknown man.

Michael’s jaw clenched. His grip on the seal tightened.

“No,” he said firmly.

“No?” Bernard echoed, tilting his head with a mocking curiosity.

“I’ll do it. Thanks for the seal.” Michael’s expression darkened as he turned away. His voice was low, resolute. “You can’t keep anyone safe if you keep playing nice.”

Without another word, he walked out, leaving Bernard and his smirk behind.

———————

‘No,’ Michael echoed in his mind as he stood with the branded Anne, planning to brand Lizzy next; as he replayed his mother and sister leaving him and his father for a stranger.

‘This is right. This is what I need to do. To push… Van Hellix away from these girls. I won’t let anyone harm them! I won’t let anyone take them away from me!’ he resolved in his mind. ‘It… I WON’T LET IT HAPPEN AGAIN..!!’

“Uh, Mom?” Marcy said as the two finally emerged from the storage house.

“What’s up, Anne?” Marcy asked, turning to her and Michael.

“We’re taking our break at the inn nearby. That’s fine?” Anne said quietly.

“Sure, I don’t mind,” Marcy muttered, her gaze lingering on Anne. Michael froze as Marcy noticed the bags under Anne’s eyes.

“… You lot take an extra hour. On me,” Marcy said softly, her concern evident as she turned back to the counter. “I’ll let it slide even if you’re late.”

‘Aunt… she’s really worried about Anne,’ Michael thought, his heart twisting in his chest.

‘I’ll order her to get some sleep later. I wonder if it works like that…’

“Me, Amoria, and Misa will handle things while you’re gone,” Marcy continued firmly.

“M-Mom, there’s no need for that! We can manage—”

“I said. Take. An extra. Hour,” she interrupted, her tone leaving no room for argument.

“… Soon, we’ll have to do all this work by ourselves anyway. This gets us into rhythm, right, Misa?” Marcy added, casting a glance at the guild’s maid.

“Correct,” she nodded cheerfully. “You have the academy the day after tomorrow. Taking it easy isn’t a bad thing to do, especially for you lot.”

Soon enough, Lizzy, Michael, and Anne left the guild, walking together.

Lizzy glanced at Anne and Michael as they walked together, their steps oddly synchronized despite the tension she used to sense between them. She couldn’t help but wonder.

‘I was curious about them getting along out of the blue. I wonder how that happened? Anne is many things, but she’s not indecisive; she doesn’t change her opinion about someone quickly. Especially not someone she outwardly showed disdain for, like Michael. Is this… sentiment? Could it be because of how we grew up together?’ Lizzy pondered, her gaze lingering on them.

“So,” she began, breaking the silence, “which inn are we heading toward?”

“It’s just around the corner,” Michael replied, gesturing toward a nearby alleyway shrouded in shadows.

Lizzy blinked, momentarily surprised. ‘He’s even picking the place out, too? He’s really changed, huh?’ The thought stirred a flicker of almost-pride as she studied him.

Her eyes shifted to Anne, whose face betrayed nothing but calm acceptance. ‘And Anne seems okay with him now. He’s… odd, though. We’ve barely talked the past two days,’ Lizzy realized.

‘He doesn’t seem that eager to talk to me, either. I know we’re friends and all, but… it feels different. It feels… kind of refreshing.’

She let out a soft breath, her lips curving slightly. ‘I guess anyone can change,’ she mused, feeling unexpectedly lighthearted.

Lizzy followed without much worry, her steps light as she walked behind Michael. His hand, however, gripped the seal tightly.

“Odd,” she murmured, glancing around the narrow, dark alleyway.

“Is there a new inn or something? I don’t remember this road leading anywhere—”

“Anne, grab her. That’s an order,” Michael said grimly, his voice cold and resolute, his back still turned to her.

Lizzy froze. “W-what?” she stammered, her eyes snapping wide in surprise. Her stomach dropped at the tone in his voice—a tone she’d never heard from him before.

“And keep her quiet, please.”

Without hesitation, Anne moved. Her expression unreadable, she swiftly closed the gap between them, grabbing Lizzy’s arms with precision and locking them behind her back. Before Lizzy could react, Anne clamped her palm firmly over her mouth, muffling her cries.

“HMM!?” Lizzy let out a muffled, confused cry as she struggled in Anne’s unyielding grasp. The grip was tight—unyielding. Panic surged through her chest like wildfire.

“I’m sorry, Lizzy. I have to do this,” Michael said, his voice quieter now but no less firm. He turned to face her, though his eyes avoiding hers as he pulled out the slave brand.

Lizzy’s heart pounded, her breaths quick and shallow.

‘W-what?! TO DO WHAT?! What is this?! Michael, ANNE?! Why is he ordering you like that!!?’ Her mind screamed as she writhed and squirmed in Anne’s hold, but it was useless. Anne was far stronger than her, and Lizzy couldn’t break free.

Michael stepped closer, the brand held tightly in his hand. His movements were slow, deliberate, as though trying to steady himself.

‘WHAT IS THIS?! This is a prank, right?!’ Lizzy’s thoughts spiraled as she watched him kneel. Her face paled as her gaze locked onto the brand, recognition dawning.

The brand. She knew it—everyone did. Its use was forbidden, punishable by death, yet its existence was no secret. Teachers and parents in the capital warned their children about it, ensuring they’d know to avoid it at all costs.

An object of absolute control. A tool that turned anyone it touched into a slave, bound to obey the commands of the one who wielded it, without question, without resistance.

‘No… this can’t be real. This isn’t happening!’ she thought, her struggles growing frantic as Michael knelt before her, lowering the brand toward her abdomen.

“No… YOU’RE JOKING!!! NO!!! NO!!!” Lizzy struggled violently in Anne’s grasp, her eyes wide with alarm as panic surged through her.

“MOM!!! MOM!!! HELP ME!!! HELP ME!!!” she screamed internally, tears streaming down her face as Michael silently lifted her shirt, exposing her lower abdomen just enough to press the brand to her skin.

“No—”

And then, it burned.

“Sifuruah, Malovus, Elizabeth Veil re Michael Evenbrown,” Michael murmured as the seal seared into her skin.

“HMM…!!!” Lizzy groaned, her muffled cries trembling against Anne’s palm. Her eyes clenched shut, her body trembling under the unyielding grip that pinned her in place.

The pain of the seal surged through her, like a spreading fire in a forest; all the way from her abdomen, where she was branded. As the brand seared her flesh, Anne gently leaned her head against Lizzy’s nape.

‘..!!’ Lizzy’s eyes snapped open, her breath hitching as she felt it—the dampness of tears trailing down her neck.

Anne was crying.

‘No… No way… You… He did that to you too…?’ Lizzy’s thoughts spiraled, disbelief and horror overtaking the physical pain.

The moment hung heavy, and then it passed. Michael pulled the brand away.

The mark faded almost instantly, vanishing into invisibility as though it had never been there.

Without hesitation, Michael spoke, his tone cold and precise. “You are not to scream for help. You are not to tell anyone what just happened or that you are a slave. You are not to blame me or raise suspicion in the eyes of anyone. You are to act as if this didn’t happen.”

He hesitated for only a moment before adding, “And… you are to push away everyone who tries to hit on you. You are also to push away Van Hellix.” He said finally.

—- ELSEWHERE ——

“Holy shit,” Bernard muttered, staring at the extra mark appearing on the back of his palm.

“That crazy limp actually did it. Elizabeth Veil and Anne are both slaves now. Color me shocked… though not that shocked,” he added with a chuckle. “I knew exactly which buttons to press.”

“Bernard,” one of his friends asked as they walked, “what you told him that day—about you two being the same—was that true?”

“Dumbass, of course not. I’d kill myself if I were anything like that slug,” Bernard scoffed, his voice dripping with disdain.

“He’s just one of those easy-to-control types. I learned it from my dad: people who think they’re naive and pure are the easiest to push around. Whatever happened to his mommy and sister? That’s been my best weapon in a while.”

He smirked, his tone turning smug. “Say a few words of praise, and he’s all over you. Did you see him back then? He actually believed I was the same kid I used to be. He really thinks I’m doing this for him. Not once did it occur to him to ask why—or what I stand to gain. That’s the beauty of selfish fools like him. They make everything so… easy.”

“What if he gets caught?” one of his friends asked.

“So what?” Bernard shrugged. “Did you not hear me? He’s practically on my side. He’ll claim he found it somewhere else. He’ll never rat me out—I’m just the guy who ‘wanted to help’. I even suggested to take the seal away from him, so I’m definitely in the clear… or at least that’s what he thinks.”

A sly grin spread across Bernard’s face. “Man, I can’t wait to see his reaction when those two walk away from him and come to my side. He won’t even be able to admit what he did to anyone because of the hole he’s dug himself into. And even if he does…”

Bernard stopped, glancing over his shoulder with a smirk. “My dad’s a duke. Who’s going to believe him? At worst, only he and that drunkard father of his will be thrown to prison, or hanged.”

Turning back, he clenched his fist, his voice low and venomous. “Next up is Mel. I will brand you,” he growled.

“And I’ll find out who that armored fucker was,” he muttered, his gaze sharp as he looked ahead.

— Somewhere hidden from view —

“We found it, Mika,” Rika whispered, her voice barely audible over the cavern’s echoing silence.

“Yes,” Mika replied, her tone steady, her gaze fixed below.

The two master assassins crouched in the shadows of a deep cavern. From its depths, a blinding glow illuminated the jagged walls, revealing the silhouette of a grand, imposing castle.

“This is where…” Rika began, her eyes narrowing.

“… Salem Dyke’s other slaves…” Mika continued, her voice cold as steel.

“… Are held,” Rika finished, the weight of the words settling between them.

Mika glanced at Rika, a flicker of determination passing between them.

“Let’s…” Mika started.

“… Free them,” Rika concluded, their voices resolute as they melted back into the shadows, ready to strike.

Deep within the castle, two guards stood at their post, their voices low but agitated.

“Tsk… How the hell did all the slaves snap out of the brand?” one guard muttered, frustration etched in his voice.

“I don’t know. And we haven’t heard a word from Lord Salem for days now,” the other replied, casting a wary glance down the dim corridor. “You think he’s dead?”

“Shit…” the first guard hissed back.

Behind them, in a dimly lit cell, a mother held her daughter close, their quiet murmurs lost in the gloom.

“Mom. Do you think Michael hates us…?” the girl whimpered, her tears soaking into her mother’s shirt.

“Sweetie,” her mother said softly, brushing back her daughter’s hair to meet her tearful gaze.

“Your brother is strong. Trust in him, and trust in your father.”

“I… I miss them so much…” the girl cried, clutching tightly to her mother’s arms.

“Don’t worry,” her mother whispered, her voice trembling with a fragile hope.

“We’ll go back. Someday, we will. And when we do, we’ll make up for all the lost time. We’ll be a happy family again… all of us.”

Her words hung in the quiet, both a promise and a prayer, as they clung to each other in the dark.

—————–

[Author here. Tried not to overthink this chapter. I hit a bit of a writing block here—it’s a bit tricky for me to focus too much on characters outside the main cast. Hope you enjoyed it nonetheless!]

“Tell me,” Belial said as they walked, pointing at Van’s armor and sword. “Who gave you that shit?”

Van considered for a moment. ‘He’s from the demon realm, so I guess there’s no harm in telling him. Alicia already knows about the wife hunt.’

“A dwarf who thought I was funny,” Van replied flatly.

“Must’ve been a drunk dwarf, then,” Belial shot back without missing a beat.

“Most dwarves are drunk half the time. What’s your point?” Van countered, his tone deadpan.

“I… Because…!” Belial sputtered, visibly annoyed. “He gave YOU that armor! That’s why he was drunk! Giving high-quality gear to you because he thought you, of all people, were funny. A dumb shit like you—funny! Imagine that.”

“Doesn’t that make you dumber?” Van asked, smirking. “For falling for this dumb shit’s ‘made-up words’?”

“YOU FUCK!” Belial barked, grinding his teeth. “I wasn’t talking about smart or not! I’m saying he was drunk because he thought you were FUNNY. YOU AIN’T FUNNY, dumbshit. And, the best part? Dumb shits can’t be funny. You need to be smart for that. That’s a double insult, you dumb bitch.”

“Stupid shits can’t be funny?” Van said, raising a brow. “Odd, since I find you hilarious.”

“YOU FUCK!!!” Belial roared. “YOU AIN’T SUPPOSED TO SAY THAT! AND I SAID THAT DUMB SHITS CAN’T BE FUNNY, SO I CAN’T BE DUMB IF I’M MAKING YOU LAUGH!”

Behind them, Mirias trailed silently, her thoughts spiraling. ‘What… what is this exchange? I’ve never seen Lord Belial this animated, not even in battle. Most who confront him either submit outright or lash out in anger. But this… this human… challenges him. And Belial—he’s not furious—he’s… enjoying this? How is that possible?’

Her gaze flicked to Van. ‘Who is this human? How did he know we were demons? Even among A-ranked sorcerers, none have seen through us. Why isn’t Lord Belial questioning this? Does he not understand the implications?’

She sighed deeply, her thoughts tangling further. ‘This is Lord Belial. Stay focused. You are here to serve him.’ Her cheeks warmed as her eyes lingered on him.

‘Well… he already has all of my heart.’

“Why are you here?” Van’s voice cut through the quiet. “Isn’t your home the demon realm? Are you exiled or something?”

Belial growled softly but didn’t answer right away. His gaze drifted ahead, watching the bustling crowd in the Capital, none of them sparing him a second glance.

“I exiled myself,” he said at last, his voice sharp. “See this bitch behind me?” He jabbed a thumb in Mirias’s direction. Van nodded casually.

‘I guess that’s just how he talks,’ Van mused, though he couldn’t help but notice the extra venom Belial seemed to put into the word when used on Mirias.

“Now imagine hundreds of these bitches. No, thousands. Doing what I say, when I say it, all day, every day. I got so fucking tired of it, I ran.” He sighed heavily. “But her, and others like her, stayed loyal. Even after I ditched them. They keep me informed about shit happening around the world. Didn’t kill them outright because they’re useful.” Belial’s lip curled in disdain. “I can spit on them, shit on them, even kill them, and they’d still be loyal. It’s fucking exhausting.”

“You’re royalty?” Van asked, his tone casual.

Belial stopped dead, narrowing his eyes at Van. “None of your business, dumb shit. All you need to know is I was fucking loaded—with coin and bitches all over me. So, I left when I was still a kid—give or take 30 years ago.” He spat the words like venom, his eyes scanning the crowd.

“But look at this,” he said, a wicked grin spreading across his face as a group of female adventurers walked past. Belial’s obscene expression made them stiffen before their faces twisted in disgust, and they hurried away.

“Not a single tool in sight,” he sneered, watching them retreat without care. “I’m gonna live here forever. FUCK the Demon Realm, the Archdevil, AND his vision. He can HONESTLY suck my cock.” His words made Mirias flinch visibly.

‘Hm, definitely some high royalty,’ Van thought, studying him. ‘Alicia gets that treatment on steroids, but she learned to live with it. I guess if he’d had someone like Varlog—honest and pragmatic—by his side, he wouldn’t be so hateful… Though, that’s just wishful thinking.’

Van’s gaze lingered thoughtfully on Belial. ‘And he kinda reminds me of someone.’ His thoughts turned to Magus and Amoria’s story about him. ‘I bet if we weren’t at war, Magus would’ve thrived—and been happy—living in the Demon Realm.’

Van’s eyes widened as realization struck, the pieces falling into place.

A female maid remaining loyal, even under the harshest treatment.

Thousands of servants doing the same, their devotion so absolute that he had to escape.

Van’s mind, unbidden, re-created Amoria’s love confession about Magus, but this time, the faces shifted—

this demon before him, and Alicia.

!%#*&$^(*NOT. AGAIN.’%@(*&#@!!%^

A SNAP.

Murderous intent poured from Van, raw and unrestrained, rippling through the air like a storm. The immediate radius fell silent as the weight of his aura crushed the life out of it.

Nearby, a child collapsed, clutching at his throat. “M-Mommy… I can’t… breathe…” he whimpered, his voice trailing off as his mother fell to her knees, trembling. Her only thought, primal and all-consuming, was to silence him—anything to shield them both from this oppressive force.

A battle-hardened adventurer froze mid-step, paralyzed with terror, his instincts screaming at him not to turn around. Others faltered, choking on the suffocating aura.

Mirias stood rooted to the spot, her pulse hammering in her chest as her legs buckled. ‘What is this…!? Who… What… Even when the previous Demon Lord revealed his aura, I— I never felt such an overwhelming need… to prostrate myself! To kneel, or… or die where I stand!’ Her pale face betrayed her terror as her demonic features unraveled; her horns flickered in and out of view on her head, but no one noticed—every onlooker was too preoccupied with surviving the storm of Van’s murderous intent.

“…What?” Belial finally managed, narrowing his eyes at Van, his instincts on high alert. He could feel the shift in the air, though even he hesitated to act.

Van’s hand rested on the hilt of his greatsword, his movements deliberate and unyielding.

Belial forced a grin, his voice tinged with bravado despite the tension. “Feel like fighting, huh? Fine—I’ve been itching for a good brawl since—”

“Be silent.”

Van’s low, firm mutter cut through the air like a blade, freezing Belial mid-sentence. The demon, for all his battle-hardened instincts and pride, felt his body betray him.

Even as a demon—born to live and die for battle—Belial’s essence screamed a warning:

Obey.

‘Who the fuck is he…?’ Belial thought, disbelief clawing at his mind as his body betrayed him, frozen in place.

Van’s posture shifted, his muscles coiling like a predator preparing to strike, his hand tightening on the hilt of the greatsword strapped to his back.

He was ready to kill.

To annihilate the one before him.

“Answer me this,” Van growled, his voice low and dripping with unrelenting menace.

Mirias collapsed to her knees, trembling as the oppressive pressure smothered her. ‘Lord… Belial… Run…!’ The thought clawed through her panicked mind, her vision blurred with despair.

“YOUR LIFE DEPENDS ON IT.”

Van’s eyes burned with an unnatural glow, piercing through the void of darkness his aura had conjured. Though the sun hung high in the sky, the world around them felt consumed by shadow. To Belial and the stunned onlookers, the only light came from Van’s murderous gaze, glowing like embers in an endless void.

“ONLY FEMALES?” Van demanded.

“W…What the..!?” Belial stammered, his throat tightening under the weight of the question, the air itself seeming to constrict.

“WERE IT ONLY FEMALES WHO LOOKED UP TO YOU!?” Van roared, his grip on his greatsword tightening like a vice. The sheer force of his words made the ground quake beneath them, the earth trembling in protest.

Around them, one by one, onlookers crumpled to the ground, fainting under the unbearable weight of Van’s aura; Mirias included. Buildings groaned ominously, cracks spreading like spiderwebs through their walls. The ground beneath their feet began to shift, as if the world itself were recoiling from the monstrous power Van unleashed.

Belial choked, forcing the words out as he struggled against the crushing pressure. “F-Females and… gr—B-Both. Females and males… some of those loyalists… who… sucked my ass… were also… males… since I was… Demon Lord… candidate…” His voice faltered, the last words slipping out before his body finally gave in, collapsing under the immense weight of Van’s aura.

As the words registered, Van’s expression shifted. The murderous aura dissipated as swiftly as it had appeared, lifting from the area like a receding storm. His glowing gaze dimmed, and the oppressive darkness around them gave way to the blinding brightness of the midday sun.

Van’s eyes lingered on the unconscious demon sprawled before him, his features fully exposed, unable to maintain their concealment.

Releasing his grip on the greatsword, Van scanned the devastation around him. Dozens of unconscious bodies lay scattered across the cracked ground, the fractured buildings groaning in protest.

‘…’ Van surveyed the scene calmly before his gaze returned to Belial and the maid, Mirias, slumped nearby.

‘Demon Lord candidate, huh? There’s only one demon who fits this description. Left the demon realm under mysterious circumstances, favored to be the next Demon Lord… He must be Alicia’s cousin, Belial.’

Van exhaled, his expression unreadable as he knelt to lift the unconscious pair. ‘I’ll take them somewhere out of sight. I’ll figure out what to say later.’

Resolute, Van hoisted both Belial and Mirias onto his back, his form fading into the shadows, leaving behind the chaos and devastation in his wake.

“I-I’m so sorry, sir!” the maid stammered as she hurried forward. “My Lord, Baron Bailey, isn’t feeling himself today! He’s been insulting everyone like this all day!” She pleaded desperately, casting a nervous glance at Van.

“Nah, but he’s special, Mirias,” Bailey interjected, a manic grin plastered across his face. “He really is the ugliest son of a bitch I’ve ever seen.”

“Baron, huh?” Van said, an amused smirk curling his lips as he ignored Bailey’s remarks, instantly drawing their attention. He folded his arms, his posture casual.

“What is your Skibiditoilet, then?”

The air shifted. Both Mirias and Bailey stiffened, a jolt of confusion flashing through them.

“I… I’m sorry?” Mirias managed, her voice faltering, while ‘Bailey’ froze mid-smirk.

“Skibiditoilet,” Van repeated flatly. “You called him a Baron, so surely, you can tell me. There isn’t a single human Baron who doesn’t take pride in his Skibiditoilet.” His tone was as deadpan as his expression.

Mirias’s mind scrambled in panic. ‘This is bad. What IS that term!?’ she thought, her heart racing.

‘We decided to pose as a Baron and his maid because Baron is one of the lowest ranks of human nobility—there are thousands of them, no one could single us out! But I had no idea there was some obscure term we needed to know!’

Her thoughts spiraled. ‘Just… what IS Skibiditoilet!?’

“Fuck you,” Bailey snarled suddenly, his voice sharp and venomous. “That’s my Skibiditoilet. I don’t have to explain it to the likes of you, lowly and ugly adventurer.” He jabbed a finger at Van’s armor, his lip curling as he scrutinized it.

‘Black metal, huh?’ Belial thought, his eyes flicking briefly to Van’s sword. ‘Nice shit he’s got on him.’

“Actually,” he continued, his voice dripping with mock authority, “you’ve offended me so deeply by asking about my Skibiditoilet that I, Baron Bailey, am confiscating your gear.”

Van’s lips pursed, a faint glimmer of amusement flickering across his face as his eyebrows arched. There was almost a hint of pride in his expression as he sized up the so-called Baron.

“Strip.” the order came.

‘Huh,’ Van mused to himself, his smirk widening slightly. ‘That’s the second demon that wants me to get naked.’

“And drop that sword of yours too; for that ugly mug of yours.” Bailey added, his tone unwavering, laced with the confidence of someone unaccustomed to being challenged.

‘I-impressive,’ Mirias thought, watching Belial’s sudden shift into a commanding presence. ‘Lord Belial may be taking this provocation too far, but… this attitude might actually help us avoid suspicion!’

“Hm,” Van hummed, holding back his laughter as he glanced thoughtfully at the sky. “Never heard of a Baron ordering a Count before,” he said lightly, his tone loose.

Mirias’s face paled. ‘We’re doomed.’

“F-…” Belial faltered momentarily, his eyes scanning Van’s face for any hint of weakness, yet finding none.

“Fuck you. You’re not a Count. I bet my Skibiditoilet on it,” Belial spat flatly.

Van chuckled, his gaze locking onto Belial, his eyes seeming to glow momentarily.

“And you’re not a human,” Van said, his voice low, though the lightness in his tone remained.

“…!!!”

Both Mirias and Belial flinched, instantly shifting into battle-ready stances. Their eyes darted around frantically.

‘Shit… He got me!’

‘If the moment demands it, we may have to fight!’ Mirias thought nervously, her gaze darting to Van. ‘But the contract… If we breach it, the Archdevil will unleash divine punishment on us!’

“If you tell anyone we’re demons, I swear to shit, I will fuck you up—” Belial snarled, his face mere inches from Van’s, but Van cut him off.

“It’s like this is your first time trying to fool people,” he said as he walked past them, casually tapping Belial’s shoulder.

“I never said you were demons. You could’ve still played coy,” Van added as he passed Mirias, whose eyes widened in sudden realization.

“Though it wouldn’t have worked on me either way.” He muttered in a low voice.

“Come on,” Van said, turning back to face them. “If you’ve managed to fool everyone here, let’s head into the Capital and talk,” he invited, yet his tone firm.

“Wait a fucking second, you fucker!” Belial roared, his voice booming as he stopped Van in his tracks. He stomped toward him.

“… What the fuck’s a Skibiditoilet?”

“A word I made up,” Van replied flatly.

“…”

Belial stared at him in silence, his expression unreadable.

“Alright, if that’s all,” Van said casually, turning around and resuming his walk into the Capital, unbothered.

Belial remained rooted in place, his expression inscrutable as Mirias approached him from behind, her gaze fixed on his broad, tense form.

‘Lord Belial may have enjoyed being spat on and slapped by humans and other races here—he’s not used to being rejected, so I can understand why he found it amusing until now. But this… this is different. That human DARED to make a fool out of him…!! He must be seething!’ Mirias thought, her steps faltering as she hesitantly drew closer.

“My lord, you need not take his provocation to heart,” she began cautiously. “We merely came too underprepared, and—”

She trailed off as she stepped in front of him, expecting to find frustration or rage in his gaze. Instead, she froze, her eyes widening at the sight of the wide, manic grin spreading across his face.

“My lord…!?”

“I’ve never experienced someone playing me like a fiddle like that,” Belial said, his voice tinged with awe as his eyes remained locked on Van’s retreating form.

“I don’t care who that fucker is, or what’s his deal; but he is my best friend from to-now onwards.”

“Haaah…” Mirias let out a long, weary sigh.

‘Of course,’ she resigned inwardly, her shoulders slumping as she fell in step with him. Together, they followed after Van into the Capital.

Elsewhere in the Capital….

“So, what did the Supreme Bishop say?” Marcy asked as she stood next to Amoria at the guild, side by side behind the counter during a rare moment of relaxation in a busy day.

But Amoria didn’t answer, her gaze distant. When Marcy noticed, she momentarily tried to follow her line of sight, but there was nothing of interest where Amoria was looking.

“Amoria?” Marcy called.

“Ah, yes, sorry! I was lost in thought,” Amoria said, shaking off her distant gaze. Her eyes now focused on Marcy.

“Is everything alright?” Marcy asked, tilting her head at Amoria’s unusual aloofness.

“Oh, yes, it’s just…” Amoria sighed deeply, though her expression remained light. “I-I guess it’s getting to me. Everything. And then there was that light in the sky not too long ago, which he immediately credited to the Goddess.”

“Oh, that. Yeah. I wonder what caused it. It even gave me a scare. I bet that old fart is flipping out,” Marcy chuckled lightly.

“Do not insult the Supreme Bishop like that, Marcy,” Amoria scolded sternly.

Marcy furrowed her brows, tilting her head slightly in confusion.

“I don’t understand. Why aren’t you the Supreme Bishop? You’re stronger than him, aren’t you? Why does he get to rule? And why isn’t his heir you, but his son? So stupid.”

“Enough, Marcy. I understand your rejection of him, but there’s no need to outright question his authority every time the conversation shifts to him,” Amoria said firmly, her gaze pressing into Marcy.

“….” Marcy held Amoria’s tense expression lightly before sighing deeply. “Fine, fine. Sorry.”

She looked away, glancing at the passing patrons and Lizzy tending the tables.

“So,” Marcy started again, “what did he say about the demons? The idea of them coming here to decipher the circle.”

“Let the demonic advisor and his assistant up there know that he refused it. He told us to drop the matter, as it is sacred ground,” Amoria finally said, looking down, seemingly lost in thought.

“Tsk… Of course. As irritated as I am, I guess I should’ve seen this coming. With the demons giving us that heart attack and our already tense relations despite the treaty, I suppose I knew it was coming. So, he wants us to drive them away?”

Amoria shook her head. “He said they can stay as guests, but forbade them—or us—from interacting with the circle.”

“Haaah… Remind me again why we didn’t just make the journey to kill the Dragon King 16 years ago?” Marcy asked lazily, leaning against the counter.

Amoria’s gaze shifted to her daughter, diligently cleaning tables and serving customers. Her expression softened as she spoke.

“You know exactly why. But look at them. They’re growing up, aren’t they?” A somber smile touched her lips.

“I guess that settles it, then,” Marcy sighed, turning away, her shoulders visibly tensing.

Amoria’s voice dropped, quiet but resolute.

“We have to make the journey to talk with the Dragon King, ask why and how they attacked us despite the treaty, and if necessary…”

“Kill him,” Marcy finished, her tone flat.

————–Meanwhile, in the Guild’s storage house…———————-

Anne’s hands shook as she hauled another crate onto the shelf.

‘I haven’t slept a wink,’ she thought, her body screaming for rest.

Michael’s voice broke through the air, his tone feigned with awkward cheer.

“A-ah, Anne, you’re so clumsy today! Don’t worry, I’ll handle this crate,” he said casually, as though she wasn’t being forced to move at his command, like a puppet on strings.

She bit her lip, swallowing the frustration threatening to rise, and gave a stiff nod.

‘Just a little longer,’ she told herself, her mother’s belief in her the only thing keeping her upright.

But Michael made everything harder.

“Don’t collapse,” he’d ordered her the other day as to not raise suspicion in Marcy’s eyes, and that was that.

She obeyed. She had no choice; but she accepted it eventually; thanks to her mother’s words of encouragement.

When yesterday’s grueling work finally ended, she dragged herself to Amoria and Lizzy’s house, leaning against the doorframe before stumbling inside. The vacant room offered a single hope: the bed.

Anne swayed as she reached the bed, her knees buckling under her. Her head throbbed, and every muscle screamed for relief.

‘Even if I have to work tomorrow,’ she thought, clinging to the fleeting promise of rest.

‘At least I can sleep…’

But just as her body gave in, just as she collapsed onto the bed—searing pain tore through her.

The mark on her body burned violently, yanking her upright as if an invisible force had seized her. Her breath hitched, and her limbs locked in place.

“No… no way…” Her heart pounded as the truth crashed down on her.

Michael’s command didn’t end. It didn’t fade. It didn’t allow for rest. Her body refused to collapse—even now, at her breaking point.

“I’m not collapsing,” she tried to reason silently, her entire body trembling, sweat pouring down her face.

“This is just going to sleep, not collapsing…” She shook harder, gripping at nothing. “So let me sleep,” she whispered, desperation bleeding into her voice.

“Please, this is just sleep. I’m not collapsing… Please…”

Her knees gave out again, but the mark flared, dragging her upright once more as it burnt her skin. She sobbed silently, tears streaking down her face, her shoulders heaving with each breath.

“I’ll do anything… anything you say. But please, let me sleep…”

Alone in the room, she begged the crest, begged the universe, her silent cries echoing only in her head – as the crest forbade her from drawing attention.

But the mark kept burning.

Anne stood there, trembling, her vision swimming. The bed—so close, so painfully close—remained forever out of reach. Despair surged through her, swallowing what little resolve she had left.

————-

“So, today,” Michael’s voice pierced through Anne’s haze as they worked.

“We must brand Lizzy too,” he said grimly, his eyes fixed on the seal as he swallowed hard.

‘…!!’

[Author here. Words cannot describe how happy I am as I write this. The Amazon version of this book has sold 23 copies—23 COPIES! That’s more than most authors sell in their entire lives. Even after writing over 500,000 words in my career, I cannot express how grateful I am to all of you who support me. Whether it’s through comments here, joining my Discord; which is now over 55 members strong, purchasing my book, upvotes, or even briefly reading a chapter—you’ve all made a difference.]

[And recently, something incredible happened: my first paid Patreon member, SparkyZinger, joined alongside my very first supporter, dfha993. Writing has always been my dream, and all of this allows me to indulge in it even more. I can’t thank you enough.]

[I originally planned to write more chapters before releasing the next season, but with all the incredible support I’ve received recently, I felt it would be unfair to keep you waiting any longer.]

[Thank you for your love, support, and encouragement. Stay tuned for updates on the second book—I’m actively working on it and refining it for Amazon.]

[With that said, I hope you enjoy this chapter, and thank you for reading this far!]

—————————————————————-|

“A god?” Van muttered, his voice barely audible as he walked through the plains. The air—cool yet warm—brushed against his face, grounding him in the present.

Yet his focus remained locked on the glowing words that floated in his status window.

[In this universe exist many gods. Countless planets, countless realms—with gods above those gods. And beyond even them: beings that exist outside their perception. An infinity.]

[The place you stand is a Void Anomaly. A universe born by chance within the Void—a ripple caused by a clash of forces beyond reason. Yet the Void itself—this boundless ‘space’—is but a fragment of a greater, incalculable being. And you are part of it.]

Van’s heart pounded harder. His steps faltered. ‘What is this? Infinity? Void? I never wanted to be a god. I just wanted to be happy. I just wanted—’

More words appeared, answering his unspoken doubts.

[You qualify not only because of your strength, but because of your will. Your curiosity. Have you not wondered what lies beyond your limits? How your strikes would feel if you pushed past them?]

Van gasped, the memory striking him like a blow. That day—the hard swing against Lilac, Alicia’s bone dragon. The force of it cleaving through the air, his power measuring 31,000 points of strength.

That day, he wondered. He wanted to know how hard he could swing.

He stopped, looked to the sky.

‘… I guess it would’ve been a sight to see…’ He thought as his gaze locked on the deep blue above as he then recalled his fight with Kota, ‘Just how big of an explosion I created with [Void Lancer].’

[You are human. You doubt, you question, you dream. But beyond those doubts—beyond your dreams—infinity awaits. Infinite growth. Infinite strength. An endless story, constantly contested by countless beings across countless universes.]

Van’s chest tightened, his pulse pounding in his ears.

[Join us. If you wish to follow this path, then…]

The words hung in the air, glowing ominously—inviting, insistent.

But Van tore his gaze away before he could read the rest.

Van swallowed hard. “I… I have Alicia here. I don’t need this.”

But as his gaze fell to his fist, he froze.

It was clenched—so tightly that space itself wavered around it. Gravity warped, light twisting unnaturally.

A thrill sparked deep inside him, primal and uncontrollable.

Startled, Van wrenched his hand open, shaking his palm as though to rid himself of the sensation.

He exhaled sharply, forcing the fire within him to settle.

“I’ll walk back to the capital,” he muttered to himself, steadying his steps. “I have things to do first.”

——————-

“Cheers,” Arnolt muttered, his voice low as the group settled inside Galdo’s dimly lit tavern. Vaelthir, Savathon, Sylva, Ami, and the two warriors accompanying Savathon all sat around a rectangular table.

“To that brat,” Arnolt grumbled, lifting his cup, “…bearing the finest gear and the finest strength.”

Vaelthir’s brow twitched as a splash of ale from Savathon’s cup landed on his face. He wiped it away quickly, brushing aside his irritation as he raised his own cup.

“To Hellix,” Vaelthir said flatly. “Though human, he showed wit and strength beyond my expectations.”

“YOU’RE SO DAMN DRY, YOU POINTY-EARED SNOB!” Savathon roared, startling nearby patrons. “TO VAN HELLIX, THE WARRIOR!” He lifted his cup higher than the rest, his towering frame making it seem almost ceremonial.

“TO UNYIELDING BRAVERY AND HONORABLE SACRIFICE!” His booming voice spurred the two warriors into hearty cheers.

“F-for V—” Sylva began, hesitantly raising her cup, only for Vaelthir to place a firm hand on hers, halting her.

“Not a chance,” Vaelthir said calmly. “You are not of age, My Lady.”

“I-I just want to say cheers too! I don’t have to drink it, do I?” she protested.

Arnolt grunted, lowering his cup with a small nod. “Uncustomary, but I’ll allow it.”

With that, Sylva lifted her wooden cup high, her voice soft but resolute. “To Van Hellix… A-and…” Her tone faltered, growing quieter.

“…To Unicus. For everything he did for us.”

Her words hung in the air, a cloud of sadness settling over the group. Sylva’s gaze dropped, her expression dimming.

Savathon nodded solemnly. “A mighty warrior, he was.”

“He had outstanding values and care,” Vaelthir added, though his voice carried a reluctant weight.

Arnolt finished softly, his voice like a final note in a somber song. “…A good friend.”

The table fell quiet, the jovial echoes of the tavern seeming distant now. Sylva glanced at Arnolt, his expression shadowed beneath his beard.

‘Arnolt… he must be in more pain than any of us over Unicus. They’d known each other for over fifteen years, hadn’t they?’ Sylva thought, the realization settling heavy in her chest as she watched the dwarf’s silent grief.

‘Am I… allowed to cry for him?’ The thought crept in, unbidden. ‘I never knew him too well—we only shared two years together… and he was married. But…’ She pressed her lips together, swallowing the knot in her throat. ‘I just wish I could cry.’

‘He was kind, accepting, and I always felt safe next to him. But… around this table, others deserve that privilege more. Hold yourself together.’

Her gaze shifted to Ami, slumped at the table with her face buried in her arms. The sharp, cat-like features that defined her were gone. Ami had explained her reasons for concealing her features loosely before they arrived.

“Brat,” Arnolt grumbled softly, turning his eyes away from her. “Drinking to his name would bring respect to him.”

“I don’t want to drink,” Ami murmured, her voice muffled by her arms. Her fingers gripped her hood tightly, knuckles white. “My mama told me… when you feel sad, you have to be sad. And when you feel angry…” She paused, her voice trembling, “…you have to be angry. Because if you don’t… you’ll just hurt yourself.”

Her shoulders shook as tears slipped silently, staining the wooden table beneath her. “Van—Van wouldn’t want that for me. My mother wouldn’t either.”

“So, I’m gonna be sad…” she sobbed. “I’m gonna keep being sad… until he comes back here.”

The air thickened around them, heavy and stifling.

“He promised he’d be back here…” Ami whispered, her voice breaking like fragile glass.

But they all knew—Van was never going to walk through that door again.

Sylva’s breath hitched. The knot she’d been holding back began to unravel. ‘Is… is it really fine…?’ Slowly, she lowered her head, pressing her palm to her mouth as if to stifle her cries.

‘I… I didn’t know Unicus that well,’ Sylva thought, her eyes closing as fresh tears welled up. ‘But I wish I had. I wish I knew him more before he died… to that monster.’

And like Ami, Sylva wept in silence.

The rest, observing the girls’ reactions, drank their ale in unison with a shared, heavy sigh.

“…Being in the Capital feels like shit now,” Savathon muttered, his gaze flicking around the tavern.

“Indeed,” Vaelthir agreed, his voice low. “Whatever being took over Unicus back in the cavern—it claimed the Goddess wanted Hellix dead; and would have claimed our lives had he not beaten him. Under other circumstances, I might have suspected Hellix was the true culprit.” Vaelthir paused, staring into the bottom of his empty cup.

“But no culprit would sacrifice their life in such a way. It appears…” He took a slow, deep breath, the tension thickening around the table.

“We must be on our guard in this place.”

The words stiffened everyone at the table. Even the girls’ sobs quieted, their gazes darting uneasily around the room.

Vaelthir turned his attention to Sylva’s slouched form, her soft weeping still audible. “My Lady,” he began gently, pausing to gather his words, “there is no need to stay in the Capital anymore. Something here is amiss. I will not point my finger at the Human Goddess, but caution is now a necessity.”

“Hey, ELF.”

The insult cut through the air, sharp and loud. A human warrior spat the words, snapping Vaelthir’s attention to him. “Watch your fucking mouth. That mage—he must’ve been rogue. Saying he represented the Goddess? Bullshit. The Goddess doesn’t waste her time targeting some nobody—”

“But what was Van Hellix?” Vaelthir interjected calmly, his tone deliberate. “Did none of you listen to him back in the cave?”

The room stilled. All eyes turned toward Vaelthir.

“My world,” he said, repeating Van’s words with quiet intensity. “That was the phrase he used to argue Unicus wasn’t himself.”

The table fell silent. Even Ami’s sobbing subsided as she lifted her head, listening.

“What do you think it means?” Vaelthir pressed on. “A different village? A distant continent? I have studied many races, for the sake of protecting my Lady; many customs, and yet not one refers to their tribe or land as a ‘world.’”

Ami blinked, her red-rimmed eyes fixed on Vaelthir as his words sank in.

“The only person I’d excuse for saying ‘my world’… is Magus Veil, who came from another dimension,” Vaelthir concluded.

The room seemed to shrink around them. Everyone’s eyes widened slightly at the name.

“In the stories,” Vaelthir continued, “Magus Veil was summoned alongside someone else—another hero. Their name, however, was never detailed.”

“You crazy elf,” Savathon growled, his booming voice breaking through the tension, “you’re not saying—”

“It is the only way it makes sense,” Vaelthir interrupted, unshaken.

He met their eyes, his expression resolute. “Van Hellix is… Was the other hero. I would assume a local here in the Capital could confirm it for us, given the story originated here.”

The group exchanged uneasy glances. Even Ami, weary and drained, looked at him with disbelief, unable to form words.

‘No way…’ Sylva thought, her eyes widening as she kept her head down, ‘Van Hellix… Was a HERO? Then… Maybe Mom spared him because of that? But… She mentioned she executed him… Was it to protect him? I don’t…’

Vaelthir’s gaze darkened slightly. “The only thing that doesn’t make sense…”

“…is why the humans’ fair Goddess would want him dead,” Arnolt finished, his gruff voice cutting through the silence like a blade. He clicked his tongue in irritation, the sound echoing between the group.

“…Correct.” Vaelthir nodded.

The air shifted from somber to tense. They had tried to honor Van’s sacrifice and Unicus’s tragic demise, but none could shake off the lingering suspicions gnawing at them.

Meanwhile, at the Capital walls, Van stumbled upon a peculiar sight….

“Hey!” a voice called out enthusiastically.

Van turned his head to see a man addressing a group of passing women, his smile wide and almost childlike.

“Let’s all fuck!” he declared with an absurd level of excitement.

The response was swift—shouts, spit, and slaps rained down on him as the women stormed off in disgust.

‘…Somebody’s a little too optimistic,’ Van thought with a soft chuckle, shaking his head as he prepared to walk past the bizarre scene.

But then the man turned to someone standing nearby—a young woman dressed in a maid’s uniform.

“DID YOU SEE THAT!?” he cried, his voice echoing off the stone walls. His frenzied smile only grew wider. “I WAS SPAT ON! SPAT ON, MIRIAS! THIS IS THE BEST PLACE EVER!”

Van stopped mid-step, his brow twitching. ‘Wait, what?’

His gaze flickered back to the troublemaker, now fully absorbed in his own chaotic euphoria.

‘Wait a second,’ Van thought, his eyes narrowing as he focused on the enthusiastic figure before him.

He noticed faint, transparent horns atop the man’s head. A red aura pulsed around him, radiating off both him and the human maid standing nervously at his side.

‘Huh,’ Van mused, his curiosity piqued. ‘That’s a demon, isn’t it? Never seen him around before. Good thing he’s disguised—it could’ve been a problem if someone recognized him. But…’

‘Who’s he?’

“Hey, you!” the man suddenly shouted, catching Van’s lingering gaze. Without hesitation, he almost sprinted toward him, his movements erratic.

“L-Lord Bailey, please stop this!!” the maid called out, scrambling to follow him, her face etched with worry.

The man—Bailey, apparently—came to a stop in front of Van, a manic grin spreading across his face as he jabbed a finger toward him.

“Fucking hate your hair. Looks so fucking stupid. Your face is fucking ass. Would’ve been preferable if you just walked on a headstand, displaying your ass around and hiding that shitshow you call a face.” His words tumbled out like a torrent, vicious yet oddly gleeful.

“You’re like a walking sexual assault. Just looking at your shitty face makes me feel violated. Bet you eat food through your ass and shit from your mouth, too.”

Van raised a brow, his expression calm and unbothered as the tirade ended.

“Oh?”

|His mental state appears to be elevated, My Goddess. Even if you proceed with your plans for the Demon Lord… it is unlikely Van Hellix will succumb.| Dauz reported, his voice steady as he knelt before her in the grand throne room of Arataxia, beneath the towering arches of her temple.

|It appears as though the battle with that wretch… Caused the [Seed Of Darkness] to evolve further.|

Her fingers dug into the armrest of her throne with a crack—splintering marble and stone beneath her grip.

[I am aware,] she replied through gritted teeth, a slow, measured breath hissing between her lips. Her voice dropped lower, colder. [You were right, Dauz. Kota was useless—worthless. His battle did nothing but fuel Van Hellix’s growth.]

A silence hung in the throne room, heavy and expectant. Then, her gaze shifted—cold, calculating—toward the sealed figure of Magus suspended before her.

[Desperate times…] she whispered, her voice carrying a twisted edge, [call for desperate measures.]

|My Goddess?| Dauz tilted his head, uncertainty flickering in his tone.

[Leave us.]

|…As you command.| He bowed low, retreating from the chamber. The doors closed behind him with a heavy thud.

The Goddess rose slowly, her steps echoing across the vast chamber. She circled Magus like a predator stalking prey, her expression unreadable—eyes glowing with a dangerous light.

[Your friend,] she began, her voice dripping with mock pity, [is proving to be difficult.]

Her gaze lingered on him, appraising, cold.

[It is unfortunate, truly. Having to classify him… as an existential threat to Arataxia.]

Magus’s eyes widened in silent disbelief, his body sealed, unable to protest or resist as she approached.

[That is why…] She raised a hand, and his suspended form lowered gently—onto her bed.

Magus struggled within his bindings, but it was futile.

[We shall create an offspring.] Her voice softened, a chilling juxtaposition to the madness building behind her eyes. [An offspring of Goddess and Heroic blood—born with one sole purpose.]

Her gaze bore into him, predatory and unrelenting.

[Stopping Van Hellix.]

Magus’s silent horror spoke louder than words, but the Goddess leaned closer, her tone laced with cruel reassurance.

[Worry not, my hero,] she whispered. [I do not expect stellar performance—] her hand ghosted his face, [not right now.]

[What matters… are results.]

Her expression twisted as she lowered herself onto him, her voice descending into a desperate, frenzied whisper.

[Our child… An Ascended Seraphim.]

Magus’s panic surged, his eyes widening with silent terror. But the Goddess’s voice only grew darker, her tone teetering between composed and frenzied.

[The elders of Arataxia would descend into hysteria if they knew about this…] She paused, [But those ancient fossils do not rule Arataxia.]

Her voice climbed, venomous and unrelenting.

[I do. They wield no power like mine—] her hand clenched into a fist, trembling with rage, [only I have that strength. Only I know what is best.]

She exhaled sharply, her expression softening into something far more dangerous—a smile devoid of warmth, of sanity as she moved relentlessly on top of him.

[And if that child fails…]

Her eyes burned as her voice dipped to a whisper, chilling and final.

[We’ll simply make another.]

[We will make another.]

[And another.]

[And another… and another… and another…]

Her fingers trembled as her nails dug into his sealed form. Her breathing grew erratic, and her face twisted with hatred—an unrelenting fire that burned with Van Hellix’s image.

[No one—] she snarled, [no one will ever lord over me. No one will ever defeat me. No one will ever take my place as ruler.]

Her voice rose to a crescendo as she spat out his name like poison.

[Not that meatshield of yours!]

Her teeth ground audibly as her fury erupted.

[Van Hellix… I will never lose to someone like you!!!]

—- ELSEWHERE…. —-

“Hrrn…” Van let out a groan as he awoke, the early noon breeze brushing softly against his helmet and armor. He lay sprawled on the soft grass of the forest floor, near the campfire he and Ami had set up beside the gently flowing river—right at the eye of the forest, under the warm sun.

There was no chatter, no lingering scent of people. Even the faint charcoal aroma of the campfire had long since dissipated.

The only sounds were the birds, their songs louder than ever, harmonizing with the rustling leaves and the rhythmic gush of the river.

‘…Damn,’ Van thought as he took it all in. For once, he went out of his way to remove his helmet—now spotless, pristine—and laid it carefully beside him on the grass. He stared up at the clear sky, limbs sprawled as he inhaled deeply.

‘I forget sometimes how perfect this world can be when it wants.’

He allowed himself to bask in the tranquility, his breaths steady and deep. And then—

“…And a big part of it is thanks to you, Van.”

A familiar voice broke through the silence, soft and clear. It startled him—not with fear, but with something gentler, something warmer.

Van turned his head toward the voice, his movements unhurried. Across the small river, where the sunlight danced on the water’s surface, he saw them.

A crowd stood there—hundreds, maybe thousands. Lined up in quiet rows.

Van didn’t know their names. Not truly. But he recognized them all the same.

At the front stood Unicus.

But this wasn’t the Unicus Van had fought. There was no anger, no malice. Only a peaceful warmth radiating from his smile. He stood hand in hand with a priestess, a ring gleaming on her finger that matched his own.

“Really,” Unicus added, his voice gentle, sincere. “Thank you.”

Van blinked, his thoughts slow to process the moment. He didn’t fully grasp the meaning of it all, the weight of the words. But it didn’t matter.

Because in that instant, he simply felt compelled to say:

“…Don’t mention it.”

Unicus nodded, his smile never fading. One by one, the crowd behind him bowed their heads in quiet gratitude.

Then, they turned.

Together, they began walking away, their figures slowly dissolving into soft, glittering light. It rose like fireflies into the air, vanishing into the sunlight that streamed through the canopy.

Van watched until the last light faded.

And the forest was silent once more.

“…” He looked to the sky again, letting the quiet settle over him. The trust his party had shown, the worry in Ami’s eyes… Alicia’s somewhat-playful acceptance yesterday.

“…Come out, Guardian of Wind,” Van called softly, his voice carried on the breeze.

She appeared beside him, her figure half-turned as if reluctant to face him.

[You are still alive. I am relieved,] she said, though her tone was distant, her words laced with the usual edge of contempt. [What is it that you need, Master?]

Van didn’t rise. He stayed where he was, his back against the grass, his gaze still on the sky.

“I’m sorry for what I said earlier today.”

The Guardian stiffened, a barely audible gasp catching in her throat.

“I was in a bad place,” Van admitted quietly. “Not that it excuses anything.”

His words hung in the gentle air.

“It was insensitive,” he continued, “rude… and undeserved. You’ve done more for me than I acknowledged—cleaning my place, showing me around when you didn’t have to; and I paid you back with an insult and insensitive remarks about you and your past.”

The Guardian’s hair shifted in the breeze as she turned away.

“…You don’t need to say anything,” Van said, breaking the stillness. “I just wanted to apologize. The rest is up to you.”

The Guardian flinched as if caught off guard, her head half-turning toward him. Her mouth opened slightly, but the words never came.

Before she could find them, her form wavered. She lingered for a moment longer, her figure outlined against the shifting light of the forest. And then, she was gone—fading back into the spirit world.

Van let out a quiet breath, staring at the sky as the leaves whispered overhead.

The forest was silent again, but it felt… lighter somehow.

‘I could sleep here all day,’ he thought, a small, fleeting temptation. But he shook it off, rising slowly to his feet. His movements were unhurried, as though savoring the calm, yet his gaze was resolute as it turned toward the distant Capital.

A memory flickered across his mind.

‘I promised Ami I’d meet her back at the tavern.’ His steps began to carry him forward, the soft grass brushing against his boots.

‘And Anne…’ he thought, the faintest shadow of hesitation crossing his face. ‘I promised I’d spend time with her.’ He dismissed the creeping notion that it might be easier if they didn’t meet.

‘I need to apologize to Marcy,’ Van continued, his jaw tightening faintly. ‘For what I said. And I need to set things straight with Amoria.’

The wind stirred the branches above, sunlight filtering through as he walked.

‘And lastly…’

His pace didn’t falter, even as his thoughts deepened.

‘I need to tell them everything.’ His grip on his sword tightened slightly as he steadied himself.

‘I won’t run anymore.’

He paused, leaving his helmet behind on the soft grass.

‘Right… and the day after tomorrow, the Academy starts,’ Van thought as he walked, his mind drifting. ‘I hope my stats didn’t change too much…’

“Status Window,” he murmured, the familiar screen materializing before him.

Name: Van Hellix
Age: 17 (42)
Sex: Male
Race: Unknown
Level: 500 (MAX LEVEL)

STATS:

VIG (Vigor): 999 (+99,999)

STR (Strength): 999 (+99,999)

RES (Resistance): 999 (+99,999)

DEX (Dexterity): 999

PER (Perception): 999

Mana: 10 (+400)

INT (Intelligence): 10 (+100)

Holy: [INACCESSIBLE]

Arcane: 0 (+50)

Van frowned, scanning the numbers. ‘Of course.’ A resigned sigh escaped him.

‘Arcane jumped from 25 to 50, Mana from 200 to 400, and INT from 50 to 100…’ He tilted his head slightly. ‘Guess my Seed of Darkness passive developed?’

But then his eyes caught something—another line of text flickering just below his stats.

[CONGRATULATIONS!]

[You qualify for an Ascension!]

Van blinked, his breath catching. ‘Ascension?’

The words shimmered, growing brighter.

[You are on the verge of becoming a God!]

Van’s breath stilled. The words burned into his vision.

‘A God…?’

———————————————–

THANK YOU ALL FOR YOUR INCREDIBLE SUPPORT FOR THIS NOVEL! I’ll be taking some time to upload the second season to Amazon (the first season is already available—check the link in my Discord’s #updates section!).

See you all soon for the next adventure!

[You have died.]

[Your consciousness shall fade to nothingness shortly.]

‘…So, this is it, then,’ Kota thought, his words swallowed by the oppressive void. He looked down, or at least he thought he did—there was no body, no ground, no light. Just an endless abyss, suffocating and silent. Even his thoughts felt muted, as if the void itself sought to extinguish every trace of his existence.

‘…’

‘Varolia probably won’t come to pull me out of this; I doubt she could even if she wanted to,’ he mused somberly, his thoughts drifting to the memory of his arrival in this world.

———————————–

Over a thousand years ago—Kota’s first day after transmigrating..

‘So, I have an immortality skill?’ he thought, staring at the status window floating before him.

Active Skill: [Undying Repossession]
Description:
You are able to possess a person you kill, taking over their body. Be warned, the cooldown for this skill is 50 years. Choose your targets wisely.

‘This skill sucks so much ass,’ he sighed inwardly. ‘Though, I guess it doesn’t matter. I have no one in this world anyway. No one… except Varolia.’

The thought of her brought a faint blush to his cheeks. ‘All I have to do is what she asks. To never fail. She despises failure. She’s warm… but only to the competent.’

His fists clenched. ‘My “original” mother could be warm to anyone—anyone but me. It didn’t matter if I was competent or not.’

A bitter memory resurfaced: his mother’s teary eyes watching him leave through the portal. He pushed it away; denying it ever happened.

‘Good riddance. That’s what you’re probably saying right now, huh, Mom?’ His gaze turned skyward, almost as if he could see her face in the drifting clouds.

‘Well, I’m saying it too.’ His jaw tightened. ‘I’m in a place now where I’m valued for who I am. Where I’m praised for doing what’s required. Where I’m loved. You’ll see, Mom. You’ll see how much I could’ve done for you—if only you’d broken that damn bottle and actually looked at me.’

His teeth clenched so hard his jaw ached. ‘I’m not worthless to her. So I’m not worthless.’

The sky above seemed to mock him, but Kota didn’t flinch. He glared at the clouds, defiant.

———————

Back in the darkness…

Kota stood still in the void, the memory fading. The battle against Van Hellix was hard-fought, yet he’d lost. Wrath and defiance had fueled him until the bitter end. He’d been competent. He’d been enough.

And yet… as the oppressive silence wrapped around him, Kota oddly understood what he was feeling now. It wasn’t rage. It wasn’t frustration.

It was something else.

Acceptance.

“So, I am worthless, after all,” Kota muttered, his voice empty, his expression hollow. The oppressive darkness crept closer, swallowing him bit by bit.

‘If I managed to fail Varolia, of all people, then I am worthless. Period,’ he thought bitterly, his gaze fixed on the void. The crushing silence pressed against him, drawing out a familiar image—a face he hadn’t seen clearly in centuries.

‘How strange,’ he mused, his tone detached even in his mind. ‘In this moment, just before I’m lost forever, I can see your face, Mother. I’d forgotten how you looked, you know? Time blurred the details, but now… now it’s clearer than ever.’ The face grew sharper in his mind’s eye, drawing closer as if reaching for him.

He took a deep breath, his chest tightening. ‘You were right, Mother,’ he admitted, his thoughts heavy. ‘I am worthless, just as you always said. Even after thousands of years, countless battles, and everything I’ve achieved… I lost my temper at the finish line. I threw it all away, even.’

The memories flooded back—the victories, the failures, the moments he believed he’d risen above her words, only for them to echo now, louder than ever.

‘Fits me like a glove, doesn’t it?’ Kota thought with a somber chuckle, lowering his head in resignation.

‘Go on. Say it,’ he thought bitterly as the image of his mother loomed closer, her presence almost tangible, just an inch away. ‘Tell me how worthless I—’

“Never,” her voice interrupted, soft yet firm, reverberating through the void.

‘…!!!’ Kota’s eyes widened, his breath hitching as he felt her warmth. Her arms wrapped around him, pulling him close, and her hand gently brushed through his hair. It was a sensation so foreign, yet so familiar, it left him trembling.

And then, something played in his mind; a memory that wasn’t his.

—————–

“Kota… Kota…” his mother sobbed, her body slumped over the dining table. Empty bottles surrounded her as tears streamed down her face.

“We’re sorry, miss,” an officer said two weeks later, his voice clipped yet filled with pity. “It’s as if… he vanished from the face of the Earth. But we will find him.”

“Come back, Kota…” she wept, clutching her face in her hands. “I’m sorry… I’ll stop drinking, I swear… just… don’t leave me…”

Months passed.

“Kota… Come back…”

A year.

She stood in Kota’s abandoned room, her gaunt face pale and lifeless. A bottle of pills dangled loosely in her hand as her empty gaze fixed on his old computer chair.

“Wherever you’ve taken my son… whoever, whatever you are…” she murmured into the suffocating silence of his room.

Tears streaked her hollow cheeks, her voice trembling as she whispered, “Please… please, take me to him…” She tipped her head back and swallowed the pills in a single motion.

She fell.

And ceased to be.

——————

‘No… no, NO!!!’ Kota screamed, shoving the memory away with all his might. ‘THAT’S NOT RIGHT!!! THAT’S NOT MY MOTHER!!!’ His thoughts roared in defiance.

‘She would’ve been HAPPY!!!’ His voice cracked, trembling with desperation. ‘Her life would’ve IMPROVED without me! She would’ve stopped drinking! She—she would’ve been free!’

‘YOU LIAR!!!’ Kota’s thoughts erupted, his anger filling the void. ‘IF SHE REALLY FELT ALL THAT, THEN WHERE WAS IT, HUH!? WHERE WAS IT!!!? YOU EXPECT ME TO BELIEVE SHE CARED!? ABOUT SOMEONE LIKE ME, SOMEONE WHO FAILED A GODDESS!?’

His words seared through the darkness, trembling with rage and anguish. The oppressive silence answered him.

‘I was the one…’ a voice cut through his storm, soft and steady.

‘… Who failed you.’

Kota’s eyes widened, disbelief freezing him in place.

‘And while I may not be a goddess…’ she continued, her tone carrying a quiet vulnerability, as she kneeled to meet his height.

‘Please, Kota…’ her voice cracked, weary and trembling.

‘Let me hold you, just one last time… and forever.’

Kota’s breath hitched as her face came into view—softer, gentler than he had ever remembered. Her eyes, full of sorrow and warmth, pierced straight through him.

‘Please, be my son again,’ she begged, her words laced with quiet desperation.

Kota’s thoughts fractured under the weight of her words, a single question reverberating in his mind: I am… worth something?

‘But…’ he murmured, his gaze dropping to the void beneath his feet. ‘I failed.’

He lifted his head, his expression a mix of confusion and disbelief.

‘I failed. Why… Why would you want to do anything for me? Let alone… hold… someone like me?’ His voice cracked, trembling as he searched her face. ‘What’s your reasoning…?’

Her answer came;

‘Because you exist.’

‘You’re here before my eyes, Kota. You finally exist. Please… please, just be with me. Even if it’s only for a short time… I swear to you, I’ll show you how much I love you.’

Kota stood frozen, her words echoing through his dying consciousness. His mind reeled, tangled in disbelief and yearning.

‘This… isn’t real,’ he thought, his feet refusing to move.

‘It can’t be real…’

Yet her gaze never wavered, her arms outstretched.

His knees buckled, trembling as he took one hesitant step forward, then another.

‘Why…?’ he whispered, his voice breaking as he closed the distance between them. His body moved on instinct.

And before he realized it, her arms were around him, her embrace steady, unyielding, pulling him in.

Before long, he felt it.

Her arms wrapped around him, warm and steady. She held him close, her hand gently patting his weary head.

In her embrace, the oppressive darkness faded. The pain, the anger, the weight of years of isolation—all of it melted away.

Kota’s trembling body gave in, his head resting against her shoulder.

‘… Mom…’ he whispered faintly, as her warmth guided him into peaceful sleep.

My name is Kota Kintaro.

“He’s drowning! Come on, let’s just make him faint!” The children laughed cruelly, their hands shoving my head into the river. Bystanders walked by—some glanced, most didn’t. None stopped to help.

By the time I got home, night had already fallen. Water dripped from my hair, my soaked clothes clinging to my skin. I trudged through the door, dragging myself inside.

“You piece of shit, you’re late again… Do you hate me that much?” my mother snapped, her bottle clutched tightly in one hand. She didn’t even look at me, didn’t notice the water pooling at my feet or the bruises swelling on my face.

I knew she didn’t actually worry about me. She’d say the same thing whether I was on time, early, or late—bullies or no bullies. And it never stopped there.

“You know what, I fucking hate you too, alright!?” she spat through gritted teeth. “I WAS the one who GOT STUCK raising you!!”

“I’m the ONE WHO HAS TO PAY FOR YOUR SCHOOL! And you live here for free, or I’d be labeled a bad mother! YOU THINK THAT’S FAIR!? You fucking leech… draining my life like some monster!”

“IT’S ALL YOUR FAULT!!!” she screamed, her words slurred but sharp.

She’d say things like this almost every day, drunk and seething.

She wasn’t wrong. She was a shitty mother, but she wasn’t wrong. I was getting beaten up daily, my grades were abysmal, and I had no friends. No reputation. Nothing.

Sometimes, I’d catch her watching Korean dramas—those perfect-looking teens caring for their mothers. She’d cry at those shows, tears streaming down her face as if mourning something she’d never have.

It was obvious—she hated me. Yearning and begging for a life that didn’t include me.

One day, my mother screamed that she disowned me as I walked through the door, her voice shaking with rage.

“You’re not my son anymore!” she shouted. “GET OUT, GET OUT, GET OUT, GET OUT!!!” She hurled utensils at me.

I silently went back to my room. She never followed through on her words, but it felt inevitable that her misery would push her to say something like that eventually. Maybe I felt something in that moment. Maybe I didn’t. I just shrugged it off as another one of her drunken tirades.

She was always working, and when she wasn’t, she was drinking. She clung to her bottle like a mother might cling to her child. It was as if she actively chose that bottle over me, pouring all her attention into it—the attention I wanted—

Never mind.

She used to be kinder—warm, I think. Sometimes, I’d dream about the way she was before, though those memories have blurred over time. Was it ever real? If it was, I think her kindness came from my father’s presence—at least, until he took his own life. His note blamed work, the crushing weight of expectations.

I understood him a few years later, after living with my mother. She expects the perfect son, someone I’m just unable to become. She expects a person that isn’t me—some good-looking actor who never gets angry, always smiles, and doesn’t burden her with anything. Someone who struggles for her, no matter what.

That’s why I understood her too. The love of her life was gone—the one who struggled every day to make ends meet, the one who made her smile. And all she was left with was… me. Someone who just didn’t want to struggle for her; or to maintain his image; or for anything that is outside of my computer.

I guess she wasn’t wrong about me being a bad son after all.

Either way—shitty kids, a shitty mother… and shitty me. That was my life.

But there was one thing I was good at.

I turned on my computer, the faint glow cutting through the darkness of my room. Minutes later, I was deep in the middle of a boss fight in an MMORPG—a brutal one that even seasoned players struggled with.

Video games.

The only thing that made sense. In there, I was everything my mother desired. I knew how to lead, how to stay calm under pressure, and how to encourage others. I never blamed anyone for mistakes. I was social, resourceful, and efficient—leading guilds and organizing raids like a well-oiled machine. Bosses and challenges were nothing but patterns to learn, weaknesses to exploit, strategies to execute.

It was easy.

At some point, I thought—if my mother existed in my game,

… she would love me.

And as if on cue, a portal shimmered into existence beside me—in the real world. I didn’t know what it was, what it meant, or what lay beyond it.

But as I looked at it, a feeling washed over me: if I walked through, I wouldn’t be able to return.

My mother’s voice replayed in my mind, her words echoing like a broken record: “You’re not my son anymore.” Wouldn’t this work out for her? She’d have the house all to herself. And if no one found me, that was another day she wouldn’t have to be burdened with a son like me.

But this portal—it appeared right here, in my room. That could only mean someone else needed me.

And if it was a choice between staying with a mother who hated me and walking into the unknown, it was no choice at all.

I stepped through without hesitation.

“Kota…!!”

The last thing I saw was my mother bursting into my room, tears streaking her face. The last thing I heard was her voice calling my name.

But that couldn’t have been real.

She never called for me. Not like that. Not even when Father died.

So, I couldn’t have heard her voice just now.

But Varolia…

Varolia needed me. She welcomed me with open arms, entrusting her world’s fate to me. I was her chosen one. She praised me, lifted me up in ways I’d never felt before.

I walked into a world of magic, game-like mechanics—where things made sense, just like my games. I felt it immediately: this was my calling. My mother had been counting the days until I graduated and left. She didn’t care where I went, as long as it wasn’t with her.

But here, in this world, with Varolia—I was important.

It hit me.

She was it.

The mother that existed in my video games. The one that accepts and praises me.

I never knew how good it felt to hear someone say, “I need you,” even if the next words were, “To do something for me.”

And a Goddess, no less. Someone that powerful and divine needed me.

So, I wanted to do more for her.

I stayed in the mortal realm, doing what she couldn’t. Fighting for her. Protecting her vision for hundreds of years.

And now… she’s given me the grand quest.

Kill Van Hellix.

Do that…

…And I’ll get to be with her for all eternity. Join her, in Arataxia.

————————–

[That’s why…!!!] Kota roared, his voice echoing violently through the cave. Flames erupted from his body, spiraling outward like a volcano about to blow. His eyes burned with madness, his glowing clones surrounding Van like circling vultures.

[I WILL KILL YOU!!!] he screamed, flames engulfing him entirely as he entered a frenzied state.

[Skill: UNDEAD ARMY!!]
Burning skeletons once more clawed their way out of the molten ground, their fiery eyes locking onto Van. They charged, weapons ablaze, their bony feet clattering against the cave floor.

Van’s glowing body shimmered, the light from using the skill Hard Swing: Perpetual audible in the oppressive heat. His focus wavered as the skeletal horde bore down on him.
‘Too many… They’re everywhere…’ Van thought, his breathing quickening.
But then he closed his eyes, forcing his body to calm. ‘Relax. You can do this.’

In a split second, Van vanished, leaving behind a deafening sonic boom that scattered the burning skeletons like brittle twigs. He reappeared behind the mob, his glowing body propelled by the micro-movements of [Hard Swing: Perpetual], each twitch of his armor triggering a burst of blinding speed.

The fiery skeletons swung wildly, their blazing weapons cleaving through empty air, unable to touch the streak of light that was Van. He steadied himself, his glowing greatsword humming with energy, before unleashing a furious cry:

“[HARD SWING: OVERDRIVE]!!!”

Van’s greatsword roared as it cut through the air in a single, devastating arc. The sheer force of the swing obliterated the entire skeletal horde in an instant, shattering them into a cascade of ash and dust that scattered across the cave like an infernal snowstorm.

The ground trembled beneath the weight of the strike, the walls groaning under the pressure. Van’s glowing figure remained steady, his arms reinforced by [Hard Swing: Perpetual], the perpetual force keeping his limbs intact despite the unimaginable strain of the attack.

His breathing was heavy, his limbs screaming in agony, but he held firm.

[THAT WAS NOTHING!] Kota yelled, as if in protest of Van’s resilience.

[Skill: DEMON SPEED!!] He shouted.

Kota and his clones blurred, their movements impossibly fast, their afterimages trailing with fire as they converged on Van from every angle.

Van’s glowing figure darted forward, backward, sideways—everywhere—outpacing Kota’s clones. His mind focused entirely on maintaining the rhythm of Hard Swing: Perpetual, using the skill to amplify his agility and dodge every flaming strike; this time, using Unicus’s sword.

“Grrchh…!!” Van grunted, his head pounding as if it were about to split open. The relentless G-forces from his rapid, high-speed dodges battered his senses, each evasive maneuver sending shockwaves through his skull.

‘Too bad I can’t Hard Swing my brain… It’s… getting blurry…!!’

His body flickered in and out of sight, glowing with the light of [Hard Swing: Perpetual], but his thoughts grew muddled. Every twitch, every microburst of speed to avoid Kota’s relentless clones pushed his body to its limit.

The strikes came faster, more coordinated. The clones moved like a pack of wolves, forcing Van to twist, dip, and vanish again in bursts of sonic booms. But his mind screamed for reprieve, the relentless acceleration threatening to knock him unconscious.

‘HOLD ON… You must hold on…!!’

Through the chaos, a memory forced its way into his mind—Ami’s face. The image cut through the fog of pain, grounding him.

‘HOLD ON…!!!!’ He thought, as if scolding himself in anger for showing weakness.

Kota growled in frustration, his rage boiling over.

[You can’t run forever, Hellix!!!]

[Skill: FLAME CRESCENDO!!]
A spiraling vortex of flames erupted from Kota, consuming the cave walls and sending molten embers raining down.

‘Shit. It’s getting even hotter…!! If I stop moving, the heat will melt me and my armor,’ Van thought, his breaths growing more ragged. ‘I need to take out his clones. NOW!!’ He gritted his teeth.

Van landed on a wall up high, and then propelled himself upward, narrowly avoiding the firestorm. He landed with a glowing skid, sending pebbles scattering as he reoriented himself.

Kota’s voice roared, raw with frustration, as he bellowed, [DAMN IT!!! FALL!! FALL!!!]

“[Skill: IMMOLATION BLADE!!]”

Kota’s arm ignited, transforming into a massive, flaming greatsword. He charged forward, each swing cutting through the air, sending waves of blistering heat toward Van. Behind him, his clones followed, each conjuring their own flaming blades; moving in synchronization.

Van moved like a ghost, weaving through the chaotic assault. He ducked under one blade, twisted past another, and lunged away from a sweeping strike. Every twitch of his armor triggered a micro-precise Hard Swing, propelling him in bursts of speed away from Kota’s strikes.

Kota’s eyes widened in disbelief. [How the hell are you—!!?]

Before Kota could finish, Van caught a glimpse of opportunity. In a fleeting instant, all of Kota’s clones aligned in a straight line, their flaming swords raised in unison.

He gripped his greatsword tightly, the blade glowing with the light of his skill.

“[Hard Swing: OVERDRIVE]!!”

He swung with devastating force, his body surging forward as if launched by a cannon. The sheer velocity of the attack created a deafening shockwave that obliterated the clones in a single, explosive strike. Fiery embers and ash scattered across the cave.

Kota stood alone.

Van didn’t hesitate. His glowing form blurred again as he surged forward, his greatsword poised for another devastating strike.

“[HARD SWING: OVERDRIVE]!!!”

Van roared, pouring everything into the swing. His muscles screamed in agony, fibers tearing with each impossible movement. Even with [Hard Swing: Perpetual] mitigating the strain, the sheer force of the attack pushed his body to its limits.

The blade connected.

Kota’s mana shield shattered like fragile glass, unable to withstand the impact. The greatsword cleaved through his flaming armor, the force flinging him across the cave like a broken doll. He crashed into the molten wall he had conjured earlier, the intense heat licking at his battered form.

[GAHHHh!!!!] Kota spat blood, his chest heaving with ragged breaths. A deep, gaping wound marred his chest where Van’s blade had struck. Though his mana shield had absorbed much of the attack, the damage was catastrophic.

Kota’s vision blurred, his knees trembling as he struggled to stay upright. He could feel his strength slipping away, his body betraying him.

‘I’m… slipping…!’

Through the haze, he saw Van bulleting toward him again. Van’s greatsword was raised high, ready to deliver the final blow.

And then, a memory flashed in Kota’s mind.

——————————————

“You’re not my son. I HATE YOU!!! GET OUT, GET OUT, GET OUT!!!” His mother’s shrill voice echoed in his mind, each word slicing through him like daggers.

Suddenly, a different voice broke through the darkness; another memory.

[Kota… Kintaro, right?]

Her voice was soft, gentle. It carried a warmth he hadn’t known in years.

[I can see your potential. Come. Be mine, and you will never be alone again.]

Kota’s lips quivered. “I… wasn’t alone…” he mumbled faintly.

She stepped closer, lifting his chin gently. Her gaze met his, radiating warmth.

[It must have been hard. Do not worry.] Her voice melted the icy barriers around his heart. [I’m here for you.]

For the first time in years, Kota cried, trembling as he felt a foreign yet overwhelming comfort.

‘I found her. The Mom in my games… The one who truly loves me.’

—————————————-

Kota’s bloodshot eyes snapped open, his mind rekindled by the memory of Varolia. His trembling hand ignited once more, flames roaring to life as he prepared to counter.

[Not yet… I’m not done yet…!!] he growled, summoning another Mana shield, using some of it to staunch the bleeding in his chest, and then chanting another skill with it:

“[Skill: HELL’S LANCE!!]”

A massive, glowing spear of fire formed in Kota’s hands, the intense heat warping the air around him. With a guttural roar, he hurled it with all his might, the fiery lance tearing through the cave like a comet.

‘Shit, how many skills does he have…!!?’ Van thought, his glowing figure blurring as he narrowly dodged the blazing spear. It whistled past him, grazing his armor before detonating against the cavern wall.

The explosion ripped through the air, shaking the cave and sending molten debris flying. Van skidded to a stop, his breathing heavy but controlled, his mind racing.

[I WON’T LOSE TO YOU!!!] Kota roared, his voice echoing like thunder in the collapsing chamber.

“[Skill: SCORCHING PILLARS!!]”

Towering columns of molten fire erupted around Van, forming an infernal prison that radiated searing heat. The ground beneath him cracked and glowed with an orange hue, threatening to swallow him whole.

Van crouched low, his muscles coiling like springs. With a sudden burst, he launched himself skyward, threading the needle through a narrow gap between the molten spires. He landed with a heavy thud outside the circle of flames, his glowing armor pulsing with energy.

‘Relax. Just keep moving,’ Van reminded himself, his fists clenched tight around his sword. ‘The moment you stop, you’re dead.’

Kota’s rage boiled over, his bloodshot eyes locking onto Van.

“[Skill: ASHEN STORM!!]”

The air around them ignited into a swirling hurricane of embers and fire, reducing visibility to near zero.

“[Skill: VOLCANO MANOR!!!]”

The ground beneath them erupted violently as molten lava spewed from the depths, its intense heat mixing with the fiery hurricane above. A vortex of lava and flames spiraled into existence, turning the battlefield into a molten inferno. The walls of the cave groaned under the strain, chunks of stone falling from the ceiling.

Van’s glowing figure darted through the chaos, but his movements grew increasingly erratic. He slammed into the cavern walls, each impact jarring his battered body, the searing flames licking at his armor and leaving fresh burns beneath it.

‘The ceiling is collapsing…!!’ Van’s gaze darted around as the cavern walls began to crumble. The relentless onslaught of heat and debris pressed in on him, threatening to suffocate any chance of survival.

Kota stood in the center of the storm, his form wreathed in flames.

‘I don’t care anymore. I will kill him. I’ll kill his party, even if I have to chase them to the ends of the earth. If the price is destroying this cavern I’ve called home for a century, so be it. If it means breaking the seal, so be it!!!’

The flames around him intensified, licking the walls as the cave’s structure continued to collapse.

————- NEAR THE ENTRANCE ————-

“It’s only getting worse! What in the Dragon God’s name is going on down there!!?” Savathon shouted, his voice barely audible over the violent quakes. Rocks and debris rained down, scattering the group near the entrance.

“H-HEY!! The invisible wall seal is gone!!” a human warrior yelled, his voice laced with urgency.

Vaelthir’s eyes narrowed as he barked, “We’ll use this chance to evacuate the nearby village! I won’t have more dead human corpses on my report!” He gestured sharply, leading the group toward the cavern’s exit.

The party began to flee, but Ami stood frozen in place, her gaze fixed on the fiery depths. “WAIT!!! VAN IS STILL THERE!!” she screamed, pointing at the chaos. “HE’S STILL THERE!!”

Before she could rush back, Arnolt grabbed her roughly and pulled her away. A massive boulder slammed into the spot where she had stood moments before.

“That bastard can take care of himself!! If ye live now, ye’ll see him later, won’t ya!?” Arnolt growled, his voice gruff but urgent as he carried her away with the rest of the group.

Ami’s heart pounded as she stared into the collapsing cavern. The intense glow of fire deep within the cave flickered like a dying star, the final glimpse of Van’s battle against Kota.

‘Van… Van!’ Ami’s thoughts screamed, her heart aching as the group emerged into the daylight, leaving the chaos behind.

———————————

Van’s eyes were wide, his body moving on instinct, guided by the rhythm of [Hard Swing: Perpetual].

‘Shit… SHIT…!! Come on, I need a crack…!’ Van thought, scanning the collapsing cavern ceiling as he moved around relentlessly, hoping for any sign of escape.

And as if on cue, he saw it—a crack, just big enough to propel himself through. Without hesitation, he launched upward, using [Hard Swing] to accelerate his leap. The next moment, he was outside, standing on the plains under the open sky.

Van dropped to his knees, tearing off his scorched helmet with trembling hands.

‘Air… I need air…’ he thought, gasping desperately. But the air offered no relief.

His lungs burned, each breath a searing agony. It was as if he were breathing molten liquid.

“Haa… Haa….”

His time was running out. The seal on him remained, as Kota was still alive—and far from finished.

———– BACK IN THE CAVE —————

Kota stared at the crack in the cavern ceiling, watching the faint light of the sky beckoning him. His thoughts turned to Arataxia, to Varolia waiting above… And Van, just outside of his reach.

‘You think you escaped?’

He looked down at his flaming, fractured armor, a manic smirk curling his lips.

‘It doesn’t matter what happens to this body. If I kill you… she’ll be there for me. She always was. I’ll sacrifice everything to kill you. She will pull me out of the darkness. I know she would.’

“[SACRIFICIAL SKILL: FIRE GIANT!!]”

The cavern trembled as molten lava erupted beneath him, his body expanding, transforming into a massive, fiery titan.

—- BACK OUTSIDE ——–

Van knelt on the scorched ground, his body trembling with every futile attempt at breathing. The heat still radiating from the cave clung to his armor, and his consciousness teetered on the edge of slipping away.

“VAN…!!”

Ami’s voice rang out, piercing the silence. “HE’S HERE!!!” she cried, pointing frantically at his kneeling form.

She sprinted toward him, her voice trembling with urgency.

“A…mi…” Van rasped, his voice weak and strained, barely above a whisper. He slowly raised a trembling hand toward her as she drew closer, the rest of the party trailing behind her.

Vaelthir’s sharp voice broke through the chaos, trying to reassert some control.

“Hellix, the seal is broken. I assume the deed is done. But something’s wrong with the ground…” He scanned the area, his sharp gaze narrowing. “We need to evacuate the villagers immediately before—”

“Vaelthir…”

The faint, quivering voice came from Sylva. She tugged at the elf’s sleeve, her expression now pale and stricken.

Vaelthir turned to her, startled by the shakiness in her voice. “Sylva, what—”

She didn’t answer, her wide eyes locked onto Van.

Vaelthir’s gaze followed, his brows furrowing as he focused on him. He narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing Van more closely… and then they widened in shock.

“Gods…” Vaelthir whispered under his breath, his composed demeanor cracking as he took in the horrifying sight.

Ami had stopped in her tracks, her eyes filling with disbelief and horror. She took a shaky step forward, her voice trembling. “V-Van…”

Van tilted his head slightly, his voice barely audible.

“Am…i… Don’t… lo…ok…”

The flesh on Van’s face was melted and sagging, barely clinging to his exposed, reddened skull. One eyeball hung loosely, its fluids dripping down the shattered remnants of his cheekbone. Fragments of skin and tissue clung to the helmet he had tossed aside. Blood streamed from every crack in his armor, pooling around him in dark, viscous trails.

‘How…?’ Arnolt’s rugged face twisted in disbelief. Even the battle-hardened dwarf, who had seen battle beyond count, could only stare in stunned silence.

‘How… is he still alive…?’ he thought, his lips parting in awe as the stench of burnt flesh and blood reached him.

His calloused hands tightened on his axe as he watched Van struggle to stay upright. ‘Just… how much did he hurt ya’ in there, kid?’

‘Just how hard did ya’ fight for our sake…?’ The thought settled heavily in his chest, filling it with a mix of pity and admiration as he looked upon the skeletal, bloodied remains of Van’s face.

Sylva stumbled back a step, her trembling hand covering her mouth as tears streamed down her pale cheeks. Her voice broke into soft, wordless sobs as her gaze stayed glued to the horrifying figure.

They were too awestruck and horrified to even notice the faint glow of his [Hard Swing] emanating from his armor.

“WHAT IN THE GODS’ NAME ARE YOU ALL LOLLYGAGGING FOR?!?!” Savathon roared, his voice slicing through the silence and jolting the party out of their stunned stupor. His scaly and draconic tail slammed violently against the ground with a resounding thud.

“USE YOUR SPELLS, HEALING POTIONS!! VAELTHIR, YOU SNUB ELF, YOU MUST HAVE A STASH OF THEM, AH?!” he bellowed, stomping toward Vaelthir. “HURRY UP AND GIVE HIM—”

“It…” Vaelthir’s voice cut through Savathon’s tirade, low and heavy with somber resignation. He didn’t turn to look at the Dragonkin, his gaze locked onto Van.

Even the haughty elf’s usually sharp demeanor had softened in the face of what appeared before him.

“It won’t help,” he murmured. “Not… not in his state. It would only prolong his suffering.” His voice faltered for a moment before he steadied himself.

“The only one who might be able to save him is a grand priest… or Amoria Veil herself.” He shook his head slowly. “But by the time we reached her, he would already be gone. With or without potions.”

The weight of Vaelthir’s words hung over them, the party silently processing Van’s condition.

“No… NO… D—… Don’t… Leave me—” Ami sobbed as she knelt beside him, her trembling hands reaching out.

But before she could touch him, the ground shook violently, cracks splitting open beneath them.

Molten lava erupted from the earth, a searing wave of heat forcing the party to stagger back. From the fiery depths, a massive, hulking figure began to emerge—its form towering, its body radiating an intense red glow. Kota stood transformed, a colossal titan of fire and granite.

“W-what… what… is that?”

“U… Unicus…?” Sylva’s voice trembled, barely audible. Her tear-streaked face turned skyward as she beheld the overwhelming figure looming above them, its bulk blotting out the sun.

The rest of the group froze, their faces pale as despair sank its claws into their hearts.

Kota’s voice boomed in their minds, a thunderous echo that seemed to shake the very air around them.

[YOUR TIME IS UP, HELLIX,] he roared. [I WILL USE THIS SKILL TO CREMATE YOU ALL. EVERYONE HERE, EVERYONE IN THE VILLAGE—ALL OF YOU WILL BECOME MY SKELETONS. WITH YOUR DEATH, THE GODDESS WILL ACCEPT ME!!!]

The party stood paralyzed, the sheer magnitude of Kota’s declaration stealing their breath.

“We… stand no chance…” a human warrior muttered, his voice hollow.

“No…” Sylva whimpered, clutching Vaelthir’s arm tightly; as he himself was moments from collapsing to his knees.

Even Savathon and the stout dwarf Arnolt, seasoned warriors both, clenched their fists in frustration, unable to say a word.

As for Van…

Van lay still.

“Van…” Ami whispered, her voice breaking as she leaned closer. Her fingers brushed his battered gauntlet. “Hold me…”

But her words trailed off as her gaze locked onto something—his eye.

The one eye Van still had left.

It burned, not with pain or defeat, but with an unrelenting resolve.

Van’s cracked lips parted.

“A… mi…” he rasped, the sound barely audible.

Slowly, with trembling hands, he reached for his helmet.

And as Van placed the helmet back onto his head, a soft, radiant glow spread from it.

[Hard Swing: Perpetual] activated, on the helmet. Allowing him to move his battered, broken head.

The skeletal figure that had seemed ready to collapse moments ago now stood tall.

The sight of him drew wide-eyed disbelief from his companions; turning their gazes away from the towering titan.

“…G…o… Mee..t… Me… At… th…e… ta…vern… Don…t.. wo…rry… I’…ll… be… f…ine…” he rasped, his voice hoarse and broken, every word a laborious effort.

‘There’s one thing I can do… But… Can I do it? I have to try,’ Van thought.

He raised his glowing palm, intending to rest it on Ami’s shoulder in a gesture of comfort. But as he looked at its bloodied, mangled state—its grotesque and unsightly appearance—he hesitated.

Ami noticed his pause and, without a second thought, seized his hand herself. She pulled it close, pressing her tear-streaked face to the black metal of his glowing armor.

She wept openly, clutching his hand as if it were her lifeline, refusing to let go.

Van gasped silently, his blurred vision taking in the scene. The strength with which she held him, her refusal to let him go.

He remembered Varlog’s words.

“To be needed… to be loved… that is what fuels you, Van.”

With his blurred, one-eyed vision, and the last breath left in his battered body, he made a decision.

He would make one last bet.

A single strike. A blow so powerful it could kill anyone. A strike strong enough to crush any contingency, to override any fail-safe skill, even those Kota might employ.

A bet against fate.

Against the fate Varolia had decided for him.

‘It will work. I can do it.’ He finally decided.

Van’s gaze shifted to Arnolt, who stood closest to Ami. He gave the dwarf a subtle nod.

Arnolt understood immediately. Without hesitation, he stepped forward, his large hands gripping Ami firmly as he pulled her away.

“NO!!! NO!!! LET ME BE WITH YOU!!! LET ME STAY WITH YOU!!! NO!!!” Ami screamed, thrashing against Arnolt’s grasp. She fought with all her might, but the dwarf’s resolve held firm.

Van’s gaze swept over the rest of the party, his glowing figure standing as a silent command. They understood. It was time to leave.

Vaelthir moved quickly to Sylva, who remained frozen. He gently pulled her along, her expression blank with shock, her feet moving only because he guided them.

One by one, the party began to retreat. Their steps quickened, urgency replacing their despair.

And soon, Van was left alone.

He exhaled softly, his body trembling.

It was time.

And without a word, without hesitation or another wasted thought, Van turned. He planted his feet and used [Hard Swing: Perpetual], slamming himself forward with immense force.

He flew through the air, until he landed directly on Kota’s massive titan body, Van came crashing into its molten granite abdomen.

[IT WON’T WORK, HELLIX!!!] Kota’s voice roared, reverberating inside Van’s skull. [THIS BODY IS AS STRONG AS A GOD’S!!! I SACRIFICED ALL MY LIFEPOINTS FOR THIS!! YOU WON’T DO ANYTHING!!! IT’S OVER!!!]

The searing heat of the titan burned through Van’s armor, scorching what little skin he had left beneath it.

Kota was ready. His ultimate skill was off cooldown. He would end this.

But then…

Van closed his eyes.

His trembling, charred fingers tightened their grip; but not on his armor this time.

The titan itself.

Its qualified as “Stuff”. A physical object…

… That he could ‘swing’.

Kota’s massive body twisted unnaturally. His arms flailed as Van’s [Hard Swing] sent him hurtling upwards, his colossal form moving against his will as it glowed with the radiance of Van’s skill.

[W-WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING!? STOP!!] Kota bellowed, but it was already too late. He was airborne.

Van’s body trembled as he propelled himself upward with [Perpetual], driving Kota’s enormous form higher and higher. The air grew thin, the heat of the titan’s body now replaced by a creeping chill as they climbed through the atmosphere.

‘Far…ther…’ Van thought, his vision blurring, consciousness slipping. His body screamed in protest, every nerve alight with agony, but he held firm, amplifying his speed.

The two soared upward like a reversed comet, piercing through the clouds and into the cold void of space.

Kota’s screams echoed around them. The sky darkened, stars appearing one by one as they breached the atmosphere. The planet a shimmering jewel beneath them.

[YOU THINK THIS WILL STOP ME!?] Kota roared defiantly. [I CAN JUST PROPEL MYSELF BACK TO EARTH!! THIS IS NOTHING!! YOU’VE LOST, VAN HELLIX!! YOU’VE LOST!!!]

‘F…a…r… enough…’ Van thought, his blurred vision fixed on the planet below.

He tightened his grip on Kota’s titan form, his fingers sinking into the molten surface. With the last flicker of his consciousness, he chanted in his mind:

[Hard Swing:]

Kota’s massive body stiffened, trembling as Van’s words reverberated directly into his mind.

[W-WHAT!? WHAT ARE YOU DOING!?]

Van’s single eye burned with resolve, even as the cold of space consumed its light. His mental voice rang out one final time:

[̸̨̖̗̞̟̏̂̆́͗ͅV̶̡̧͉̯͔̹̲͖͎͔̘̮̍̏͑̍̑̅̆̆͐͋̚͝͝o̶̯̥̳̝̝̱̹̳͊͆̽̎̚̕į̸̫̺͍͕͚͈́̆̇̉͋͂̏͐̓̏̕͝͝d̴̩̲̙͌͆̌̆̄̎̌̄̎̊͝͝ ̷̫̜̙̤̆̀̍̋̃̉͗͆̈́̌͘Ļ̶̼̯͙͈͓̹͕̗̫̤́̈̇̔͋̈́ä̵͈͒̋̐͐̄̑̚͜n̶̻̞̰̞͙͓̋̓́̈̍̌͠͠c̵̛̛̞͈̟̑͋̅̈́͊͒̔̋̿̚͘ė̴̛̱͉̦͍͕̼͛́ŗ̷̛̺̫̺̝̝̜͖̖̩̟͐͌̔̎͒̎̍̾̾̾́̚̕͠ͅ]̶̻͔̙̊̎͆͐̾̽̍͠

The titan’s body began to radiate an intense brilliance, its molten surface surging with unimaginable energy.

Van didn’t falter.

This wasn’t just any swing—it was [Hard Swing] amplified to an inconceivable height.

More specifically:

[Hard Swing x10,000,000,000]

And then, it happened.

In the World of Araterra, on the 3rd of the Second Moon in the year xx912 A.D., the noon sky bore witness to a cataclysmic event.

For a moment, a second sun appeared next to the high-noon sun. A blinding light erupted across the heavens, bathing the world in a radiance that eclipsed even the brightest daylight. Those who dared to look directly at it were left blinded by its sheer intensity.

The people whispered that it was the Gods showing off their strength.

But there were a few who knew the truth.

Ami fell to her knees, her trembling hands covering her face as tears poured down her cheeks. ‘Va…n… No…’

With her, the rest of the party fell to their knees, disbelief etched across their faces. Their eyes remained fixed on the heavens, where they had witnessed the impossible—a titan hurled skyward by the hands of a single man, only to explode into a blinding light.

They knew this was no act of the Gods.

It was no cosmic event.

It was their party member, Van Hellix.

And on the same day, in Arataxia’s grand palace, the seat of the ruling Goddess Varolia herself, the halls trembled with the sound of her wrath. Screams of frustration echoed, furniture shattered under the weight of her fury, and her divine voice thundered through the heavens.

Her proxy, Kota—her chosen instrument—had fallen.

To a mere meatshield.

Meanwhile, in the silent void of space, where Van and Kota had been obliterated by the cataclysmic explosion of the [Void Lancer], a series of glowing messages hovered:

[DEMI-GOD SLAIN]

[YOU HAVE DIED.]

[Your [Dark Soul] binds your essence to the mortal realm.]

[Respawning in a safe area…]

[I recommend this track: “Devil May Cry – Fire Inside” for the mood : )]

Perpetual (pərˈpɛtʃuəl)
adjective

1. Never-ending; continuous: Something that operates without interruption or cessation.
Example: The machine’s perpetual motion defied the laws of physics.

2. Self-sustaining; infinite in duration: A state of constant activity or existence that requires no external input to persist.
Example: The flame was fueled by perpetual energy, never diminishing.

3. Unyielding and relentless in action or effect: Ceaseless in application or impact, often overwhelming in nature.
Example: The perpetual strikes of the knight’s blade made escape impossible for his foes.

Philosophical and symbolic meaning: A representation of infinite potential, unstoppable force, or unending resolve.
Example: Perpetual determination drove the knight to overcome insurmountable odds.

Synonyms: Eternal, ceaseless, unending, uninterrupted….

…. infinite.

——————————-

Van grunted, his chest heaving as he glared at Kota, who lay amidst the rubble. Kota’s expression twisted into a knowing smirk.

‘Fuck… I can’t even keep a poker face—no, a poker body,’ Van thought bitterly. His breaths were uneven, ragged. Melted skin stuck painfully to the inside of his scorched armor, every movement sending fresh waves of agony through his body. He leaned heavily on his greatsword for support, his muscles screaming in protest.

[…I smell some shit all the way over here.] Kota voiced calmly, rising from the debris with ease. He dusted off Unicus’s seamless armor, his cracked mana shield still faintly glowing, protecting him.

[That last attack hurt you more than it hurt me, didn’t it, Hellix?] His voice was steady, almost conversational. [To the point where you can’t even control your bodily functions. What a laughable side effect.]

Standing tall, Kota adjusted an energy mask over his nose, as though shielding himself from an unbearable stench.

[A side effect so flawed that it completely negates the benefits. Which were… what, exactly? Giving me a momentary scare?] His brow arched slightly as he approached Van, his tone almost curious.

Van’s gaze darkened behind his helmet. ‘He’s right. I can barely move. That attack drained everything… It’s taking all I have just to keep from collapsing.’ His legs trembled, his battered form on the verge of giving out.

‘Goddamnit… GODDAMNIT…!’ His thoughts screamed.

[I bet you can barely move your arms, let alone your body.] Kota’s voice cut through the silence with a calm, cutting edge.

Van didn’t flinch—not because he wasn’t fazed, but because his body ached too much to react. His legs quaked beneath him, barely holding him upright.

[And the best part?] Kota stopped just a step away, his voice lowering into a near whisper. [I know you could destroy me with one more hit like that…] He leaned in, his tone dropping further, laced with quiet malice.

[…But are you certain it will kill me?]

[CAN YOU RISK IT?] Kota’s words carried a quiet venom, laden with confidence as though victory was already his.

[What if you miss? What if your arms burst open on the spot? What if I have a skill that triggers when I’m low on health?] He began to circle Van, his movements deliberate, his eyes scrutinizing every tremble, every sign of weakness.

[From the way you’re struggling to stay upright, it’s obvious. You just discovered this power, didn’t you? You don’t even know its limits.]

Van’s teeth clenched audibly, a low growl escaping him as Kota’s words coiled around his mind like a snake.

—– SOMEWHERE, ARATAXIA ———–

[Haaah… He gave me a scare. But such a result was expected. Don’t you agree, Dauz?] Varolia said, her voice carrying a mix of amusement and boredom as she leaned back on her ornate throne. A sigh of relief escaped her lips.

|Yes, My Goddess. He was efficient in Hellix’s downfall.| Dauz murmured, his tone steady, though his gaze faltered as he knelt before her. His voice trailed off as he spoke about Kota.

[Oh, it was far from efficient,] she sneered suddenly, her amused smirk twisting into one of disdain. Her gaze darkened as it lingered on the orb floating beside her, which displayed Kota’s battle that she deemed already over.

[It was crude, stalling. He gave Hellix far too many opportunities. Slow.] Her words dripped with disgust as she waved her hand dismissively, turning off the orb’s display.

[What I meant was, someone as lowly as Hellix doesn’t need someone efficient to stop him,] she added coldly, her expression hardening.

|…Of course, My Goddess,| Dauz replied, keeping his head down before her. He hesitated briefly before asking, |Are you not going to see it through?|

[Hmph,] Varolia scoffed, rolling her eyes as if the question itself annoyed her. [There’s no need. Defect or not, Kota is someone I molded into a proxy. He will finish the job.]

She leaned forward slightly, resting her chin on her hand. [Hellix is as good as dead. Once he dies in that cave, the Dark Soul passive will force him to respawn at a safe place. And a safe place is far away from there. That will buy Kota more than enough time to hunt down and slaughter his little party.]

[Once that’s done, he’ll target Van’s other party. And when Hellix returns, he’ll find nothing but their corpses. When despair finally consumes him… I’ll deliver the final blow through his precious Demon Lord.] Her lips curled into a small, satisfied smile, her tone turning almost sweet.

[By then, he’ll realize he has no home, no allies left to return to. If I’m lucky, he might even take his own life.]

|…Understood, My Goddess,|

———- BACK AT THE CAVE —————

[I’ll let you choose,] Kota said, finally circling back to stand before Van.

[Either you give up now, or keep fighting… and I’ll pummel you to death. If you give up, I’ll let you see them one last time before I kill them. Your… party members.]

‘Soon,’ Kota thought, a glint of determination in his narrowed eyes, ‘Soon, I’ll be yours, Varolia. As you promised. Only I deserve to stand beside you.’ The thought swelled his ego, reducing Van to nothing more than an obstacle, a stepping stone toward the Goddess’s favor.

[I’d also like you to hurry with your decision,] Kota added, his tone sharpening like a blade. [Because I wasn’t kidding—every second I stand here, my urge to hate you grows stronger. And it’s getting harder to hold back.] He crossed his arms, glaring down at Van.

“…How long… until… you burn them…?” Van rasped, cutting through Kota’s taunts. His voice was hoarse and strained, as if even speaking was an act of defiance.

[Hm,] Kota hummed, cocking his head slightly as he opened his status window. [Eight more minutes. Don’t tell me you think you can do something to me in that time…?] His voice carried a note of incredulity, as though the idea itself amused him.

“…Can you…” Van swallowed hard, choking slightly as his parched throat fought against him. “Tell me… why… you’re doing this…?” The words came out broken, but they were deliberate.

[Haaaah,] Kota sighed deeply, running a hand through his hair as if the question itself was beneath him. With an air of exasperation, he stepped back and sprawled casually on the ground, resting his arms on his knees.

[Fine. I did say eight minutes. I guess I can spare some time. Consider it a form of respect from one Transmigrator to another,] He leaned back slightly. [The Goddess gave me a test. She needs me to kill you. If I manage that, she’ll—]

Kota began explaining, his voice steady and controlled, as if recounting a task he was born to complete.

But Van didn’t listen.

‘I can’t move… Not a finger, not a toe…’ Van thought, scanning his battered body with what little focus he could muster. ‘I could push myself for one last swing, maybe kill him…’

His gaze flicked toward Kota, sprawled so arrogantly, so sure of his victory.

‘But no. He’s sitting there because he knows. He knows I’m not in any condition to do anything. If I swing, it won’t go the way I want. He has another trick up his sleeve, for sure.’

Van’s body ached, his breaths shallow, but his mind churned. ‘The only thing I can do now… is think.’

Kota’s voice droned on in the background, [… I honestly hated my own mother back in our world. You know how that place is. Even more full of shit than you are right now.] He said with a scoff, [The Goddess, though—she was like the mother I never had. When she opened that portal, I didn’t hesitate for a second…]

Van shut his eyes, tuning out Kota’s words, forcing himself to block out the pain. Steam rose from the sweat trickling down his forehead, evaporating instantly as it hit the scalding metal of his armor. The stench inside—burnt flesh, charred fabric, and the unmistakable shame of soiling himself—was unbearable. Yet he didn’t move, didn’t falter. He let himself vomit where he stood, bile and blood dripping through the gaps in his helmet, pooling at his feet. His focus remained unshaken.

‘Think…. Just…. think.’

Instinctively, Van replayed the fight in his mind. Kota’s overwhelming flames. His new skill, [Hard Swing: Overdrive]. The sheer force of it had nearly torn him apart, overswinging far beyond what his body could sustain.

That was the essence of Hard Swing—it let him swing whatever was in his hands really hard.

But what was a swing?

Van focused on the question before. The memory of his attacks lingered. A swing could be anything, couldn’t it? It didn’t need to be a wide, sweeping arc. A swing could be as small as a pulse, a ripple, even on an atomic scale—as long as his hands moved something.

Stuff.

His fingers twitched.

Van froze. He hadn’t noticed it before, but there it was—movement. Every time he moved, even without his sword, his hands still held stuff.

His armor—black-metal plating that also covered his palms.

Every piece of his dwarven armor started with his hands. His arms were covered. His chest. His legs. Everything was connected. His armor wasn’t just protection—it was stuff that rested in his hands.

Just like a sword.

So… didn’t that mean…

‘…that all of my armor could be moved with Hard Swing? That… I don’t even need to use my muscles as long as I can trigger the skill? And since there’s no cooldown, or even a duration specification…’

Van’s eyes widened, the weight of the realization freezing him in place.

‘…It can be perpetually active, letting me move without me moving…!!!’

Somewhere, just beyond his awareness, a message flickered into existence:

[̸̮̼̐͂̄∞̶̧̨̛̳̀̾̔]̵̨͔̜͒.̸̦͚̺͆.̷̣̬̠̏̔̅̚.̶̦̪͍̮̍̀͐T̷̠͖̲͆̂͑ḧ̶̬̲́̃͊̒e̶̟̞͑ ̴̭͎̰̒̕Ȇ̸̪n̴͙̾͜l̵̟͍̘̤̕i̸̢͙̼̎̍͜g̸̨̯̗̑ͅh̴̨͕̭͔̑̊t̷͚͕̻͓̑̒͑͋͑ȩ̸́͆́͝ń̷̡̢̢̼̓̆ę̷̯̲͚͔͐̒͝d̴̞͙̊̂ ̷̡͛͌O̸n̵̨̒e̸̖̓̐̑̈́ ̸̬̔̆̔̚̚t̸̨̢̺̬̥̐̈a̷̖̘̜̲͋̌̎͘͜͠k̷̨̼̱̈͆ê̵̠̞̫̰͖͂͠s̷̱͓͖̈́ ̴̡͉̻̂̄̓̏n̷̛̗̞̱̹̬͝o̸͇͎͚̗̐̅̌t̷̨̲͔͈̀͛̕ḭ̴̱̹͍̩͌͝c̷͔̖̀̃̐̓è̸̹̠͜ ̴̧̳̀o̴̡̼̍̽̈́͘f̵̝͓̦̈́ ̶̦̠̱͛ŷ̷̞̍̊̐̕ő̴̞̣̳̍̍̒u̴̧͆̑̆́͝.̶̠̀̀[̷̧̧͉̆͌͝∞̶̫̽̈́]̴̢͙̫͙̍̈́́̚͘

The armor shifted.

‘All I have to do is will it…!! After all, I don’t have to say a skill’s name aloud to activate it…!!’

His whole body could move.

His whole body could swing.

He’d never tried it before, but he knew. It had to work.

No…

…it will work.

And so, every twitch in his body triggered a [Hard Swing], the armor propelling his movements in one direction and creating momentum for the next [Hard Swing] to activate. Thousands upon thousands of [Hard Swing]s fired with each near-infinitesimal motion, a cascade of micro-swings chaining seamlessly with every twitch, every subtle shift in stance. Each tiny movement carried him forward—a relentless, perpetual force forged from a skill once deemed useless.

And thus, a new skill was born.

[…So that’s why I have to kill you. Don’t take it personally—]

“[HARD SWING]!!!” Van growled, his voice cutting through the cavern like a blade. His entire body glowed with the radiant aura of the skill.

[W-what the…!?] Kota stumbled back, his composure cracking as Van tore his sword free from the ground.

“[…PERPETUAL…!!!]” Van roared, his voice filled with determination.

The black-metal dwarven armor moved with him—no, it moved because of him. Every piece of his body was in constant motion, guided by the useless skill he had once dismissed. He no longer needed his muscles to move.

[Hard Swing: Perpetual.]

Van advanced, his greatsword aimed directly at Kota.

“Round… 3… fucker…!” Van growled, his voice low and strained, but unwavering.

[…So, you’ve chosen death.] Kota grimaced, his calm expression faltering into a snarl.

[I offered you a way out, and you chose defiance. Fine. I’ll enjoy breaking you.] He stepped back, raising his arms dramatically.

“[Come forth, CLONES!]” he roared, and in an instant, 10 clones materialized around Van, encircling him.

As one, the clones chanted, “[Demon Speed.]” Their movements became a blur, the air around them rippling with the sheer velocity of their activation.

Kota’s eyes narrowed, scrutinizing Van. ‘His body’s glowing… just like his sword did when he activated that useless skill… Tsk. Whatever. I don’t need to figure it out as long as I kill him,’ he thought. With a sharp shout, he ordered, [ATTACK!]

Two clones rushed at Van simultaneously—one from behind, one from the front—moving too fast for him to evade. One aimed a fist for his head, the other for his back. There was no time, no room to counter. No escape.

Kota hadn’t used his sword. He wanted to hurt Van.

‘He either makes that explosion swing again or accepts his demise…!! It’s over!!’ Kota thought with a sneer.

But before the clones could land their blows, in a flash, Van was gone, the air exploding in his wake.

A deafening sonic boom erupted, the sheer force of it sending the two attacking clones hurtling backward. The pressure wave staggered the rest, and Kota instinctively raised his arm to shield himself from the shock.

Van reappeared outside the circle of clones, his glowing body steady as he stood, his helmet tilted slightly toward Kota.

‘…What the fuck did he just do now?’ Kota’s mind raced as he locked eyes on Van.

Van’s arm rose slowly to his face, the movement guided by the perpetual force of [Hard Swing].

‘I see,’ Van thought, his gaze unyielding as he tested his newfound realization. ‘I can use [Hard Swing] to apply force in the opposite direction, halting my motion instantly.’

He turned his head toward the real Kota, singling him out easily from his clones; his eyes burning with determination beneath the helmet. ‘Indeed, I’m slower than him, but before he could land a hit, I amplified the force of [Hard Swing] on my armor, propelling me faster than his clones.’

Van shifted his stance, his sword gleaming as his glowing figure radiated unrelenting defiance.

‘I can do this.’ Van resolved.