This magic seal was called the Doombrand Sigil. He had never thought that the twelve strongest existences of the continent would brand such a cursed thing onto his soul.
The seal bore twelve swords. Each time he broke through a rank, one sword on the seal would vanish.
However, every disappearance brought agony—like a real sword stabbing through his heart.
Not only did it cause unbearable pain, it also threw his energy into chaos, leaving him vulnerable to death from a ruptured flow.
Even if he somehow survived twelve breakthroughs, once all twelve swords vanished, the seal would truly activate—erasing his very existence in an instant.
He would vanish completely, no one remembering him, as though he had never existed at all.
And if he chose not to advance? Then the seal would, at fixed intervals, consume his life force until he died—before erasing his soul altogether.
Aldric frowned. He hadn't expected this cursed mark to follow him even into this world.
'It doesn't matter…' Aldric thought to himself. 'I was once a Legendary Array Magus. I can find a way to undo this curse.'
There was one secret no one knew: when Aldric had first isekai'd to the Fantasy world, he had possessed an SS-rank Gate of Truth.
The Gate of Truth could be understood as a canvas—the higher the rank, the larger and higher-quality the sheet.
Naturally, the larger it was, the more easily a magus could inscribe upon it, those inscriptions being the Runes of Truth.
Before Aldric's appearance, the highest rank Gate anyone possessed had been S-rank.
But attaining an S-rank Gate required more than talent alone—one had to painstakingly build it over time.
Aldric, however, was different. From the moment he arrived, he already possessed an SS-rank Gate of Truth. He never needed to waste time constructing it—he only had to inscribe the Runes of Truth.
Combined with the knowledge he'd carried from Earth, he had quickly mastered and unraveled nearly all magical theory in that world.
His speed of study and capacity for magical knowledge was a thousand times greater than others. Because of this, he had mastered nearly every profession that world offered.
Now, even though his Gate of Truth had been shattered and his magic utterly stripped away, his knowledge still remained.
Aldric drew in a deep breath, closed his eyes, and used his consciousness to peer into the Doombrand Sigil.
Before him appeared a circular array. Twelve symbols, resembling twelve swords, pierced inward—meeting at the circle's center, glowing with a strange violet light.
"Every array, no matter how advanced, has a flaw and a keystone," Aldric muttered, relying on his vast knowledge. "As long as I can find the flaw and the keystone, I can unravel it."
He directed his consciousness, examining the Doombrand Sigil carefully.
Before long, sweat drenched his shirt, fat drops rolling down his face.
'Not good!' Aldric cursed inwardly. 'I can't find any flaws or keystones. This array is… perfect.'
His brows furrowed tightly.
'Impossible… no array in existence is flawless. I'll try again…'
Refusing to give up, he probed deeper.
Then suddenly—he saw it. A tiny crack at the array's center. His heart surged with relief.
'Finally. So, this thing isn't perfect after all.' Aldric let out a silent breath.
He directed his consciousness into the crack—and instantly found himself in a bizarre space.
'This place is…' Aldric looked around, quickly realizing something was wrong. 'Space and time here… they're chaotic.'
Indeed, the flow of space and time twisted wildly, forming a realm of disorder.
Around him floated twelve orbs, suspended in midair and linked together by a strange energy. Yet only one of them glowed with that eerie violet light; the other eleven seemed like nothing more than stones.
Aldric frowned. Something felt off. 'Strange… what are these orbs? And… the glowing one carries an energy similar to the Runes of Truth.'
He took a deep breath, extending his consciousness toward the orb—trusting his instinct that it wouldn't harm him.
Besides, he had nothing left to lose. This was his only chance—to rebuild the Gate of Truth, to reclaim his power, and exact his revenge.
BAM!
"Ack!" Suddenly, a surge of energy and a torrent of information flooded into his mind.
He saw countless strange images, but everything was chaotic, like shards of memory scattered across his mind.
At that moment, space and time around him began to converge, forming a gray stone gate covered in cracks, moss, and vines—as though it had existed for thousands of years.
"This is…" Aldric steadied himself, gazing at the gate, feeling an inexplicable bond between it and himself.
Suspicious, he reached out with his consciousness to touch it. The instant his hand connected, a flash of light rippled across the gate.
Moments later, the light faded, leaving behind a symbol resembling an eye surrounded by radiant lines.
"This really is… my Gate of Truth…" Aldric was stunned at the sight.
He studied it for a long while, and soon the pieces began to fall into place.
"Though I have a Gate of Truth and a talent called Artifact Sense… this Gate seems to be only rank F." Aldric sighed inwardly.
"At least it's better than nothing. I can make up for its pitiful rank with the knowledge I already possess."
Opening his eyes, Aldric saw streams of black smoke-like currents flowing all around him.
He knew… this was natural energy—but polluted beyond recognition.
"How wonderful…" Aldric said with excitement. "I didn't expect this talent to let me actually 'see' the flows of energy."
"Instead of vaguely sensing them, I can see them clearly now. Even if the range is only a hundred meters, that's more than enough."
Aldric was astonished. He had never imagined that within the curse of the Doombrand Sigil lay such a tremendous opportunity.
He turned his gaze toward the other eleven orbs, and suspicion stirred in his heart, though he wasn't certain.
The Doombrand Sigil was far too mysterious—everything so far was just speculation.
"Alright, first I need to find a way to advance. I already have a Gate of Truth, so absorbing natural energy shouldn't be a problem."
Aldric dug through his memory for an Absorption Art he had used in his previous life, back in the Fantasy world.
In that world, anyone capable of wielding magic was required to learn an Absorption Art.
To put it simply… if this were a game where killing monsters granted EXP for leveling up, then an Absorption Art was the tool that allowed one to absorb the world's natural energy.
Of course, Absorption Arts were divided into many types. Depending on one's physique, talents, and potential, people would find themselves suited to different Absorption Arts.
Aldric chose the S-rank Absorption Art he had once mastered and began drawing in the polluted natural energy.
The black streams rushed into his body. Immediately, he clenched his teeth, his face twisting in agony.
"AGH!!" Unable to endure, Aldric vomited violently.
After a moment, he calmed himself, breathing heavily, and muttered bitterly, "Damn it! The energy in this world is too polluted. Even an S-rank Absorption Art can't purify it."
He exhaled, his mind already racing for a method to cleanse the energy. Without it, he would never be able to absorb energy—and the Doombrand Sigil would slowly devour his life.
"That damned old man!"
Suddenly, a voice barked from outside, startling Aldric.
He quickly stood and stepped out—only to see a scrawny young man with dark skin, a red beret, camouflage pants, and a military jacket thrown over a black T-shirt.
But the outfit was disheveled, a cigarette dangled from his lips, and arrogance dripped from his every expression.
Thomas was bowing his head, his face pale with fear and worry, stammering, "Manager Bob, I swear it's true. I've been working nonstop for a week, today really is supposed to be my rest day."
"Huh!" Manager Bob snapped. "Want to rest? Fine! Then you won't be getting any rice today."
"Manager…" Thomas pleaded, "I—I already got permission from the chief manager, he…"
"I don't give a damn!" Bob spat on the ground and snarled, "You don't work, you don't eat. End of story."
"An old man like you ought to work even harder. Remember—being allowed to live in a safe place like this is thanks to the Nepani organization. Got it?"
Thomas, once the mayor of this city, now trembled before a thug-like enforcer, desperately trying to explain. "I… I understand, but—"
"Shut the hell up!" Bob roared, swinging his fist into Thomas's stomach.
BAM!
Thomas was just an ordinary old man—he had no way to resist. He collapsed instantly, clutching his belly as he fell to the ground.
"Agh!" Thomas cried out in pain, vomiting up all the porridge he had eaten earlier, curling up on the dirt.
"Damn it!" Bob growled. "Lazy scum like you should die. Keeping you alive is just a waste of food."
He picked up a large stone from the ground, aimed it at Thomas's head, and grinned wickedly. "Let me put you out of your misery…"
"No… please…" Thomas begged, trembling with fear.
"Hah!" Bob sneered, raising the stone high and swinging it down toward Thomas's skull.
"Wait!"