The tip of a heel pressed against the scorching stone plaza. Sunlight glimmered, reflecting off pools of blood that streamed endlessly past crimson flames. The air was thick with the stench of burning, smoke rising to veil the skies.
Golden hair fluttered with each step. His skin shone flawless, unmarred from head to toe. A long white cloak billowed violently, like fabric battered in a storm.
He flicked his sleeve, gazing at everything through luminous golden eyes. With every step, countless sparks flared forth, filling the atmosphere with brilliance.
A single clap echoed amid the destruction, mingling with the roaring blaze and the thunderous collapse of shattered buildings.
"Welcome, Exalt of the Stars."
The insignia of a high-ranking Dungeon Organization member was carved into the faded cloak whipping in the opposite direction. His face was scarred, and one hand was nothing but exposed white bone.
He stood before the Exalt of the Stars with courteous poise, bowing in reverence.
"The stars are radiant and beautiful; they adorn the world with brilliance. But they defy the order of what should be. You impose rules across the heavens, watching all from the pinnacle of creation. I beg you—return to the path from which you came."
"Are you deranged?"
The man smiled.
"The Dungeon Organization does not number in the mere millions as you may think. We are dispersed, assigned to roles according to our talents, hidden within every strand of history. Many exist who can oppose you. War fleets from across the world converge here. Your actions summon the wrath of the azure heavens. It will not be easy to let you pass."
The Exalt of the Stars strode in a circle, laughing with scorn.
"Do you take me for a fool? Two hundred and sixty million members—and before me stands the Exalt of Fortune. Though your rank falls short of an Exalt, I admit, this day marks your end."
"If that is your will, then may you succeed."
His cloak flared wide, revealing a skeletal hand etched with the single digit '1.' The Exalt of Fortune shattered the stone floor around him, light of myriad hues spreading from beneath his feet, glittering like suspended dewdrops frozen in air.
The single digit writhed wildly, multiplying into millions, then tens of millions—rising still, until it reached hundreds of millions.
The sight made the Exalt of the Stars falter in shock. He swiftly moved, summoning radiant beams through the atmosphere, descending as colossal pillars of light.
The world around was plunged into darkness, then blinding brilliance concentrated at one point.
A spear pierced through his chest. Something had descended from the heavens, seizing the spear and hurling it along with the Exalt's body—
—across the curve of the world, back westward, to the central continent. His body crashed into the bay of the Dungeon Organization's lands, then burst back to the surface with the spear still lodged within.
Before him loomed hundreds of thousands of warships. On land, a vast army occupied every inch of ground.
Light blazed across the skies, clashing with storm clouds heavy with rain.
…
Time seemed to halt. Amid the blood-stained armor, a faint lantern revealed a sigil drawn in blood.
It was deliberate—either a message, or a cold-blooded threat.
When Selith regained her composure, Victor brought her to examine it. The symbol: an upward arrow pointing north, radiating light into four directions, centered upon a dark giant tree.
Moments later, a silent change overtook her.
Selith's body trembled, her eyes vacant. Breath came uneven, chest tightening as if to suffocate her. She collapsed weakly, the chill of the air weighing upon them.
"What's happening?! Selith, stay with me!"
Victor seized her collar, shaking her hard.
"You must tell me what this means! What do you know about it?!"
Her trembling hand pointed toward it.
"…Dungeon Organization… th-they… they were hired! I must report this immediately!"
She bolted for the door. Victor chased her. The Dungeon Organization… he had never heard the name, yet "Dungeon" evoked images of underground prisons—like those game dungeons where monsters gave players levels.
He had never paid attention to such media in his past life.
But panic was useless. Selith's fear meant danger was imminent. Perhaps this was a trap. With that thought, he grasped her hand—
—and as her arm passed the doorway, a deafening sound erupted. Crimson droplets splattered the walls and floor in grotesque patterns.
Victor caught her collapsing body. Her screams tore the air, tears streaming as she writhed in his arms.
Blood chaos filled the room. He ripped off his coat, binding her wound.
"Hhh… ugh!" She clenched her teeth, forcing calm, but tears flowed freely.
Victor raised her chin, forcing her eyes to his. His shadowed gaze struck her with harsh resolve.
"You're okay! Look at me!"
"Hhk!"
"You must use your power to move us!"
"I… I can't—ugh!"
She hiked up her skirt, revealing a small leather pouch strapped to her thigh. With trembling fingers, she drew a vial, gulping it down in two swallows.
Green light burst along her severed arm; crimson tendrils wove together, regrowing flesh anew—like the man Victor once saw heal a bullet wound in his throat. He studied the vial carefully, memorizing its design.
She then drew a pistol and thrust it to him, along with a handful of bullets.
Victor froze—astonished. The gun resembled modern firearms, utterly unlike weapons of this era. But instead of fear, exhilaration filled him. Years had passed since he last held a weapon, back when he worked illegally after politics had cast him aside.
"Keep it! D-do you know how to use it?"
"Of course."
He hid it beneath his coat.
"What do you mean you can't?"
Selith brushed tears away, clearing her sight.
"There's much you don't know of my power. For now, I can't use it instantly. We must escape through the underground passage."
Her bloodstained dress swept as she shoved aside a table, searching the floor for a hidden path. Finding none, she grasped Victor's hands tightly, whispering one last command:
"Hold on to me. Once you descend, follow the path. It will lead you to an alley—leave immediately!"
Victor frowned.
"What are you planning?!"
"They know we're here. I'll distract them, to secure your escape."
Before he could argue, Selith pulled him hard. The floor swallowed him into darkness, the warmth of her hands vanishing.
When his eyes opened, he was in a narrow underground passage, torchlight flickering, water dripping in the silence. Above—only solid stone. Sealed.
She must have prepared this before her professor's death.
Victor pressed onward. His thoughts churned. Someone had hired the Dungeon Organization—likely nobles, the elites of the Venn Republic.
If true, then he had a chance to reset everything. His lips curled in a grin. To survive here, and thrive—he needed wealth and supernatural power.
The surest way to climb from the darkest abyss—was to build an identity without form.
He reached a staircase. It seemed to rise into a dead-end ceiling. But as he pressed, the panels shifted open by themselves. Crows shrieked as they scattered.
Climbing out, he found the way behind already sealed.
Dusk had fallen. Footsteps echoed on the street. Blue-uniformed soldiers ran with rifles, encircling the university. Spotlights swept the area; civilians were searched at checkpoints.
A well-prepared trap.
Victor hid in a shadowed alley, watching. His mind buzzed with suspicion, but he cast it aside. First, he had to rescue Selith. She was part of his plan.
He coughed loudly, drawing a soldier near.
Slumped against a wall, clutching his arm, he groaned, "Help me! Some stranger attacked and stole my briefcase. He went that way!"
As the soldier stepped deeper, Victor rose quietly, pressing the gun to his head. A shot rang out—
—but the soldier turned calmly, bowing to the others.
"Apologies, rats startled me. I didn't expect this place to be so filthy."
With a faint smile, he resumed his patrol.
Night fell. Fifty soldiers now surrounded the professor's chambers, waiting to spring the trap. Vehicles arrived, unloading squads with rifles, lanterns, rations, and strange gleaming metal cubes.
Victor stood outside a shop, posing as one of them, weapon hidden under his coat. Crows circled, cawing as if to witness the event.
And then—a single spark ignited the night sky.
All eyes turned upward—just before gunfire thundered, becoming the music of the evening.