The aftermath of the dragon portal still hummed in my veins as I stood in the fading violet stormlight. The Nameless God's test was over, but the consequences were only beginning.
Before stepping out of the portal, I paused. I had work to do.
The system interface flickered, more vibrant than before. The jagged, lightning-shaped borders now coalesced into a solid pattern of amethyst and black energy, pulsing in rhythm with my heartbeat. It wasn't just a tool anymore—it was my authority manifested.
A voice, faint and resonant, whispered from the depths of the system.
"I am the Nameless Warden. The storm answers to you. Command it, shape it, transcend it."
The interface rearranged itself, intricate glyphs forming around my stats, wraiths, and abilities. New functions appeared:
System Name: Nameless Warden Interface Style: Amethyst lightning over black void; responsive to thought and emotion. New Features:
Authority Panel: Allows direct control of storms, wraith coordination, and elemental amplification. Quest Recorder: Tracks all divine and catastrophic-level dungeons cleared. XP & Evolution Tracker: Displays potential evolution thresholds. Store & Crafting: Now enhanced by Nameless God authority, allowing creation of advanced elixirs, weapons, and wraith upgrades.
I scrolled through the system methodically, savoring the upgrades. Experience points surged from the countless hordes I had slain. The level indicator ticked up: Level 55 → 63. Storm Veins mastery, Abyssstorm control, and Judgment Spark precision all expanded. My wraiths hummed in perfect synchronization.
Satisfied, I exited the portal.
The city square had changed. The smoke had cleared, and yet the strongest members of every guild in the city were there, standing in rigid formation. A collective sneer attempted to mask their surprise.
"Well, look who thinks he can play hero," one of the guild champions said, arms crossed. "The 'newbie' who slaughtered hordes while we were organizing ourselves."
I smirked, violet lightning tracing my arms. "Newbie, huh?" I let a streak of Abyssstorm ripple across the cobblestones—barely enough to scorch the ground. "You should probably sit down before you get… fried."
They froze. Not a single one moved. Their sneers faltered under the weight of the storm I carried. Every one of them knew instinctively that I was not a man to underestimate.
I ignored them and looked to the side, where the head of the Hunters' Association approached. An old man, tall, still built like iron, eyes sharp enough to cut glass. He stopped a respectful distance away.
"Ashura Bellet," he said, voice steady. "I've heard of your deeds. The dragons, the hordes… I would have offered you my position in the association, but I see you have no need for it."
I inclined my head slightly, smirk softening into respect. "I appreciate it, sir. Truly. But my path… is my own. No titles, no chains, no obligations beyond what I choose."
He studied me, and for a moment, even his composure faltered under the storm that radiated from me. "Strong… far stronger than I expected. You carry the authority of something far beyond mortal comprehension. Respect."
I nodded, faint violet sparks flaring across my body. "You carry strength too, old man. I can see it. But… today, the world isn't testing you. It's testing me."
The hunters and guild elites remained tense, unsure how to respond. Even with their numbers, even with their reputations, it was clear—they had witnessed firsthand that I was beyond anything they had faced before.
I turned to leave, stormlight trailing behind me. My wraiths shadowed my every step, wings of violet-black energy folding and stretching in perfect synchronization. I didn't glance back, but I could feel every pair of eyes on me—awed, wary, and perhaps a little afraid.
My system whispered softly as I walked:
"Authority confirmed. Title confirmed. Level increased: 63. Potential for next evolution unlocked."
I smiled, a smirk meant for no one but myself.