Noctus sat in silence, his thoughts a tangled web of fear, confusion, and reluctant determination. The revelation of this world's dangers weighed heavily on him, and the lingering memory of the voice he heard before waking in this body pressed at the edges of his mind. Survival was no longer a distant thought; it was his immediate reality.
Almost instinctively, his gaze drifted inward, and the familiar translucent panel of the system unfolded before him.
[System Panel – User Status]
Name: Noctus Ignisar
Soul Cores: Dual (Fire – Divine Path | Time – Cursed Path)
Realm: Elemental Realm (Low)
[Skills – Fire Core]
Fireball (Basic offensive fire technique, weak destructive power)
Fire Whip (Short-range whip made of flames, moderate control)
Fire Dome (Defensive flame barrier, fragile and taxing at current level)
[Skills – Time Core]
Chronos Dissolution (Cursed Skill – Partially Locked. Alters the flow of time within a 1-meter radius, slowing the perception and movement of others while the caster remains unaffected. Due to the user's insufficient rank, the skill cannot be fully activated. Even partial use risks severe backlash on the body.)
[Emotions]: Confused, Uneasy, Determined
Noctus stared at the cursed skill, its name echoing ominously in his mind. Chronos Dissolution. Just the word alone felt alien, oppressive, as though it carried a weight beyond mortal comprehension. Unlike the fire techniques—straightforward extensions of flame and will—this ability touched something greater, something that bent reality itself.
The system's warning unsettled him even more. Partially locked. It was there, yet beyond his reach. Trying to wield it now would be like forcing open a sealed door—possible, but at a cost he might not survive. Still, even a fragment of this ability was terrifying. To alter time's flow, even within a single meter, was something beyond what most could imagine. But it also underscored the truth—this cursed element was a blade with two edges. Power always demanded a price.
That thought naturally pulled with knowledge. The truth of how this world divided power. The Divine Path was the road most men and women walked—the climb from frail mortality to elemental mastery. It began with the Awakening Realm, where a cultivator first ignited their mana, fragile and unsteady. Then came the Elemental Realm, the stage where elements bloomed and shaped into spells—fireballs, water whips, blades of wind. Beyond that lay the Knight Realm, where the body was tempered like steel, giving the cultivator the ability to endure and wield mana in battle. At the Lord Realm, true refinement began: the art of Aura layering—the ability to stack and compress Aura in layers, multiplying the force of each strike.
The Emperor Realm marked the birth of Domains—manifestations of elemental insight. Some were standard, simple fields of fire or ice. But the rarest were unique domains, born of individuality, where flame could burn lies, or shadows devour sound. Above them towered the Sovereign Realm, where mastery of elemental concepts began. A Sovereign of Fire could scorch the soul, a Sovereign of Ice could still the heart, leaving flesh untouched but spirit frozen. And finally, at the summit, the Zenith Realm. Zeniths were not mortals who wielded elements—they were their element, holding absolute command over its law. Each of these ranks held three steps—Low, Mid, Peak—a cultivator's foundation and growth.
But the world also whispered of another road: the Cursed Path. Unlike the Divine Path, it was not a path of balance but one of burden. The cursed soul cores granted immense power, but at a terrible cost. It began with the Fractured Realm, where the body cracked under the strain of cursed Aura. Then the Erosion Realm, where one's very presence corroded the world—time slipping, decay spreading, memory fading in the wake of their power. The Abyssis Realm twisted both flesh and Aura into weapons of despair. At the Domination Realm, cursed wielders discovered their own form of layering—not orderly, but unstable and violent, a power that could overwhelm even seasoned knights.
The Calamity Realm brought cursed Domains into existence. Unlike their Divine counterparts, these were grotesque fields that defied nature: a place where decades passed in moments, or where silence became a crushing weight. At the Eternal Realm, they grasped concepts of their cursed elements—Time that bound, Death that consumed, Chaos that unraveled laws. And at the peak, the Absolute Realm, the cursed wielder no longer merely commanded their element. They were it. They became its living embodiment, for better or worse. And just like the Divine Path, each cursed rank was divided into Low, Mid, and Peak, a steady climb into madness or mastery.
Noctus's chest tightened as the knowledge settled in. His fire core was small, weak, belonging to a Low Elemental Realm cultivator. But his second core—the cursed core of Time—was more than dangerous. It pulsed in silence, waiting. He thought of the great powers that ruled this land. At the peak of the kingdom stood King Aldric Ceraunos, the mightiest of men, his thunder shaking both sky and earth. He stood proudly in the Low Sovereign Realm, unmatched in might. Beneath him, four dukes held dominion—the pillars of the realm. Each one a Mid Emperor cultivator, each with their own Domains carved into the world. Among them was his father, Duke Ardyn Ignisar, whose flames had reduced armies to ash.
Compared to them, he was nothing. A boy with a weak flame, burdened by a cursed core he did not yet understand. But still… he clenched his fists. Even a flicker of fire could become a blaze.
A knock sounded at the door.
"My lord," came the voice of a servant, steady and respectful. "His Grace, Duke Ardyn Ignisar, summons you to his study."
Noctus's gaze lingered on the fading memory of the system panel, on the words Fire and Time etched into his soul. He exhaled slowly, rising to his feet. His father awaited—and so did the road ahead.