The sky was cracked open.
In the middle of the Academy courtyard, a swirling portal loomed—an A-rank red gate, hissing with unstable energy.
A deep hum echoed across the ground like a low heartbeat. Black fog seeped out from its edges, and monstrous figures began to emerge from within, clawed and grotesque.
Michael Lancaster stood before it, torn and bloodied, his dark school uniform soaked with the stench of monsters. Yet his posture was steady. Calm. As if this chaos was expected.
"Brother, I..." a voice called out behind him.
Michael didn't turn around.
The blonde young man behind him—his younger half-brother Allen—froze mid-step, unable to finish the sentence. A soft wind blew between them, stirring the bloodied tips of Michael's silver hair and the ash settling on their boots. They stood in the same school uniform. Wielded the same blade. Wore the same academy crest on their chests.
But only one of them looked like he belonged in the middle of a war zone.
Allen stared at the scene in front of him, heart pounding. The portal continued to pulse, spitting out beasts that howled and snarled, but he couldn't take his eyes off his brother.
That uniform—torn at the sleeve, stained with thick blood—was no longer recognizable. The blade in Michael's hand dripped with a blackened ooze that hissed where it fell.
Yet his grip was light. His expression unreadable.
Michael Lancaster. The eldest son of Duke Helios Lancaster. The so-called failure of the family.
Everyone had said it: useless, talentless, cursed. A stain left behind by Princess Althea, the former duchess who went mad and died alone. He had no achievements. No power. Just a name and a bloodline no one wanted to acknowledge.
So why—why was he the one standing between the monsters and the school?
Allen's breath caught in his throat when he noticed something else. On Michael's torn sleeve, there was a crest. Not the school's. Not the military's.
It was the golden-thread badge of the ARC, the mysterious underworld guild that had recently shaken the continent. And on it—was the mark of leadership.
Allen stared. When had that happened?
"...When did you change?" Allen whispered, more to himself than anyone else.
Michael, finally acknowledging his presence, turned his head slightly. His gaze was piercing—cold, detached, almost mechanical.
"I'm busy," Michael said flatly. "Talk later. Go and evacuate the others."
"But—how about you? You can't fight them alone!"
Another explosion thundered from the gate. Smoke and screams echoed through the academy. Students were fleeing. Professors were injured. And yet, Michael merely clicked his tongue, brushing dust from his arm like it was an inconvenience.
Allen was stunned. He had trained. He had studied. He had always thought he was the one who'd protect the family.
But his brother, the one he once dismissed—he was the one holding the line.
Allen's voice cracked. "I thought you hated me. But all this time... you've been protecting me. Why don't you hate me?"
Michael's answer was simple.
"Why should I?"
The question felt like a slap. It wasn't cruel—it was honest. Empty of emotion, but sincere. Michael was staring at him as if the question itself was pointless. Staring through him.
Allen's heart twisted. "I..."
"Because Father loves you more?" Michael continued, voice calm. "Because my father hated my mother and loved yours?"
The words sliced deeper than any blade.
Everyone in the empire knew. Duke Helios Lancaster had once married a princess—Althea. Beautiful. Proud. Untouchable. And cruel. She had harassed the maidservant who later became his second wife. Harassed her until she broke.
Althea went mad. She died bitter, alone, and forgotten. Her only son, Michael, was left behind. A boy with royal blood and no one to defend him.
Meanwhile, the maid became duchess. And her son—Allen—became the light of the family.
Allen had inherited all the talent, all the praise, all the love.
And Michael? Nothing.
"I..." Allen's voice was barely a whisper.
Michael tilted his head. "I don't care. I'm a Lancaster. We pay back everything that was given."
His eyes—those cold purple eyes—glinted like tempered steel. Allen lowered his head, unable to meet them.
For the first time, he saw it.
Michael wasn't a failure. He wasn't weak. He wasn't even angry.
He had simply stopped expecting anything at all.
Allen stood frozen, watching as his brother turned his back and faced the gate once more.
The ground trembled. Another monster emerged—a hulking A-rank beast with molten skin and eyes like coals.
Michael moved.
In one smooth motion, he disappeared from view and reappeared atop the monster, blade gleaming as he plunged it through the creature's eye. Black blood sprayed. The monster collapsed.
Allen's breath hitched. He was still staring, helpless, when the final words came.
"I think you are mistaken, Allen," Michael said without looking back. "I have no intention of dying. Not until I finish everything."
*****
Far away, in the Duke's mansion, the fire crackled quietly.
Duke Helios Lancaster sat alone in his office, a stack of reports spread before him. His hands trembled as he removed his glasses and pressed his fingers to his eyes.
He had just finished reading the latest intelligence gathered by his advisor.
His eldest son. The stain. The one he never called "son."
The boy who was now the founder and leader of ARC.
He had expected a ghost. A lost child. Instead, he found the shadow of a man—brilliant, powerful, and terrifying.
"I owed that child so much," Helios murmured.
A woman with dark hair and crimson eyes entered the room. Diana, the current Duchess. Once a maid. Now, the mother of the golden child.
She looked at the documents and frowned. "Helios..."
"Diana," Helios said hollowly, "Tell me. How do I ask forgiveness from him?"
"I never embraced him. Never reached for him. I never even looked back. I taught myself to hate Althea, so I turned away from everything she left behind. I turned away from my son."
"He never joined our celebrations. Never sat at our table. I forbade it." His voice cracked.
"I forged him into a sword for Lancaster. A shield for Allen. I used him, Diana."
"And he did it," she whispered. "He became the sword."
They both stared at the final report. The priest's letter.
Allen was described in glowing words. Kind. Blessed. Destined.
Michael's letter, however, was chilling.
'There is no hatred. No greed. No ambition. His spirit is bright—but disturbingly detached.'
'This universe does not seem to matter to him. He could die tomorrow and feel nothing, so long as it fulfilled his "duty as a Lancaster."'
Helios clenched his fists.
"I killed that child," he said. "I turned him into a weapon. And if he vanishes tomorrow... there's nothing of him left in this household. No trace. Not even a memory."
Diana closed her eyes. "We can still change—"
"We can't."
*****
Back at the battlefield, the ground cracked again.
"Achoo. Is someone talking about me behind my back?" Michael muttered, wiping blood from his face. His voice was flat, almost bored.
"Lilian. Gate status?"
A woman with long green hair and deep cerulean eyes floated beside him. She gave him a small smile.
"SS-rank. Mutated red gate. Can you handle it?"
Michael sighed, gripping his sword tighter. "It's not a choice."
Lilian nodded. "This is the turning point, right? In the original timeline, this gate broke the Empire. The nobles fled. The academy collapsed. The commoners lost hope."
Michael didn't reply. He was already moving.
With a single leap, he landed atop a massive dire wolf. His blade flashed—one strike to the eye, another to the skull. The beast fell in seconds.
A student stepped forward, wide-eyed, perhaps hoping to help.
Michael turned, gave him a glare cold enough to stop time. The student ran.
He checked his status window.
[Synchronization in effect: I am me but not me.][Act naturally. Your behavior may attract suspicion.]
Michael grumbled. "I know it's a skill, but do I really have to act like a jerk?"
Lilian laughed quietly. "It is your original personality."
He rolled his eyes.
As the final wave of monsters emerged, he raised his blade again. He didn't need applause. He didn't need thanks.
This was just another day. Another duty.
He was Michael Lancaster. The one left behind.
The one who no longer expected anything.
But the world was watching now.
And in this moment—the ending had just begun.