"Good thing I've got cheats," Cyr muttered.
Otherwise, bringing someone back from the dead would've come at a price far from trivial…
He reached up and scratched his cheek, deeply feeling the inconvenience of losing the Six Eyes.
The mist had rendered the Six Eyes ineffective. Not the mist's fault. Not the eyes' fault either.
The problem was Cyr himself—he'd grown too dependent on them. Even though he'd often felt like digging them out, he had to admit: ever since arriving in this world, he'd relied on them constantly.
Relying too much on one ability makes you arrogant.
"…That was incredible." Maro pressed a hand to his newly restored heart, his eyes full of awe.
Even the injuries from earlier were completely gone. Aside from his bloodstained, torn clothing, there was no trace of what had happened.
"Be more careful… ah, never mind." Cyr began to speak, then cut himself off.
"Not like being careful helps much anyway," he shook his head.
If he hadn't had cheat-like powers just now, every one of them would be dead—except him.
Caution alone wouldn't have saved them. He only survived because of Infinity, and the others didn't have that luxury.
"Let's go. Keep moving forward—and be ready to die at any time." The silver-haired figure began walking again.
"I can't guarantee I'll always be able to save you in time," he added lazily over his shoulder.
If they came across an insta-kill type of ability, he wouldn't be able to react fast enough.
If that happened, they'd just have to accept it.
The dark purple mist was getting thicker. Up ahead, a fortress-like structure loomed in the haze—it looked like it was made of sand and dirt. Almost like… a block of honeycomb coal.
Strange creatures moved in and out of the fortress. None of them looked human.
They were about two meters tall. They looked like—
Chimera Ants.
But not the kind born from the Queen's mixed human genetics. These resembled the Queen herself.
In other words, instead of hybrids, these ants were pure-blooded Chimera Ants.
"Look, it's your relatives," Cyr said, pointing at the creatures that bore no trace of human features.
They were all Chimera Ants—so surely, that made them related, didn't it?
"But going by Chimera Ant behavior, maybe these are a whole new batch."
After all, the Queen's purpose was nothing but constant reproduction.
The three hybrid Ant guards didn't show the slightest interest in reconnecting with their "relatives." In fact, they looked at the pure-blooded ants with a hint of disdain.
To them, the strength of these purebreds… was laughably weak.
No nen. Just beasts.
"We're nothing like them, nya," Neferpitou said coolly.
Those ants had their own King.
And they had theirs.
Ants under different Kings weren't even allies.
More often than not, they were enemies locked in a power struggle.
"Let's just go around," Cyr said nonchalantly.
Those Chimera Ants didn't look worth fighting anyway. He wasn't here for a war—he was just sightseeing in the Dark Continent.
The group circled the nest and moved on. After some distance, they came to another halt.
A deep pit yawned before them, with thick purple smoke drifting up from its depths.
They made another detour. Along the way, they witnessed a battle between other creatures of the land.
The victor devoured the corpse of the loser.
This place was… raw, primal wilderness.
A faint rustling began—like the sound of distant bells.
Everyone's eyes glazed over for a moment. Then, all at once, they turned pale and clapped their hands over their ears in alarm.
That sound couldn't mean anything good.
It was like the subtle scraping noise of some reptile passing by. But they couldn't see a thing—the delicate bell-like sound seemed to come from everywhere, slipping into their ears with no resistance.
Suddenly—
Thunder cracked across the sky.
Bolts of violet-red lightning tore through the heavens—like the prelude to the apocalypse.
Cyr stared at the flashes of light with a strange expression.
Why…
Why did he get the feeling those bolts were aiming at him?
The lightning grew more intense, and finally—under Cyr's gaze—several thick bolts struck down, as if locking onto him specifically.
"…They're really going for it."
Cyr lay charred and blackened at the bottom of the new crater the lightning had carved into the ground. A moment later, he stood up, bits of scorched skin flaking off piece by piece, revealing the fresh, newly grown flesh underneath.
Even Infinity hadn't helped.
He'd been directly obliterated.
Did the lightning… have spatial properties or something?
What the hell had he done to deserve being struck by heavenly judgment?
"Click—this makes no sense."
As he saw more lightning building up in the sky, Cyr clicked his tongue in frustration.
In the blink of an eye, the storm above gathered strength again, and another barrage of bolts came crashing down—straight at his head.
It wasn't even random.
The lightning was targeting only him.
> [System Message: Host detected as being rejected by the world. Initiating world-jump protocol.]
[Please prepare for transfer.]
The usually dormant system finally surfaced—and it actually sounded nervous.
"…Huh? Why the hell am I being rejected by the world?" Cyr stood in place, getting repeatedly electrocuted while using his Reversal Technique to heal himself. His entire body tingled and buzzed like a live wire.
> [Countdown: Ten…]
[Nine, Eight, Seven…]
[Two, One.]
[Initiating world jump.]
The world in front of him began to shake violently.
A sensation like being slammed in the back of the head with a sledgehammer hit him, and his vision went black.
Just before losing consciousness, Cyr caught one last glimpse of violet lightning streaking toward him.
Is this ever going to end…?
That was his final thought before he blacked out.
---
The Heian Era.
A fisherwoman in coarse, homespun clothing was walking along the shoreline when she noticed a figure drifting in and out of the waves.
White hair.
Blindingly conspicuous.
She hauled the person ashore and finally got a good look.
The clothes were soft to the touch—clearly not made from cheap fabric.
His skin was so pale it glowed, whiter than the finest pearl she'd ever seen.
His hands were long-fingered, the skin smooth and unmarred, clearly not the hands of a laborer.
Dangling from one ear was a vibrant gemstone earring—something that screamed unimaginable value.
It took the fisherwoman mere seconds to grasp the boy's identity—
He had to be a nobleman's son.
Which meant…
She had to bring him home.
After all, letting a noble die and being found out?
That was a death sentence.
She slung the boy over her shoulder and carried him back.
As she stepped into the house, she ran straight into her husband.
She handled the fishing, while he stayed home farming or hunting.
But right now, he lay sick in bed—nothing but skin and bones, face waxy and yellow, coughing now and then.
°°°
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