CLANG!
The forest shuddered from the metallic shriek—metal against something far denser than metal. Birds scattered from the treetops, and the still air trembled with the echo.
The dual-wielder's eyes widened. His entire body froze.
His blades, forged by the System, enhanced by his skill [Twin Reaper Slash], had struck true—and yet the attack had stopped. Not on armor. Not on a weapon.
It was stopped by a finger.
No, not even that—a single, black, claw-like tip jutting out from the end of Lexel's gauntlet.
Lexel hadn't even raised his arm fully. He had merely caught the blades between that claw and his thumb, like a man stopping a falling leaf.
The sound of grinding energy hissed between them as the System's hollow light flickered, dying the moment it touched Lexel's claw. Sparks crackled, then fizzled out, swallowed by the calm hum of Cultivation energy that surrounded his arm like a living flame.
"So... heavy!" the dual-wielder—Jalm—grunted, muscles bulging as he pushed harder. His veins stood out, his face turning red. The hollow glow around his blades began to stutter, breaking apart like glass beneath Lexel's still hand.
Lexel tilted his head, expression shifting from faint annoyance to utter disinterest. The playful pout he'd worn earlier was gone, replaced by eyes cold and sharp—eyes that mirrored his mother, Selena, when she judged something beneath her time.
"What's your problem?" His voice was a low, animal growl, each word heavy enough to still the air.
Jalm felt it—the oppressive weight that rolled off the man before him. It wasn't a skill. It wasn't a buff. It was presence. Something the System could not measure.
And then—his attack gave out. The blades, his ace skill, shattered with a sound like brittle crystal.
Panic seized him. He used an emergency [Evasive Retreat], blinking back several paces as his feet scraped over leaves and moss. His chest heaved, his breathing ragged.
Behind him, his companions stirred uneasily.
The gray-armored Knight, their leader, furrowed his brows. His greedy smirk was gone, replaced by unease. "That kid... he stopped Jalm's ace skill? Just like that?"
"Interesting," the Knight muttered after a pause, masking fear with pride. "The higher-levels were right—the Black Portal is full of surprises. And if that's true..." He grinned, trying to convince himself he still held control. "Then what they said afterward must be right too."
The axe-wielder—Grog—stepped forward with booming laughter, the ground cracking beneath his armored boots. "Not bad for a scrawny kid! Not many walk away after Jalm's surprise attack!"
"Skill?" Seleron frowned slightly, head tilting as if studying a particularly dull insect. "You call that a skill? That was just... speed. And not even good speed."
"What did you say?!" Jalm's face twisted in fury.
"You heard him," Myda murmured from the side, his alchemist's robe fluttering softly. His mind, calm and analytical, was already dissecting what he saw—the strange metal armor, the color of the System light, the way it clashed against real energy. 'This world they came from... it's not Cultivation. It's hollow. Manufactured.'
The Knight felt something cold slide down his spine. These three—this "error trio"—didn't act like normal prey. Even after killing strikes were thrown at them, they looked almost... bored.
"Ryla," he snapped, glancing at the mage behind him, "use [Higher Scan]. Find their weakness."
The robed mage nodded, gripping her staff. The runes along its shaft began to glow as System light gathered at the tip. She aimed it directly at Lexel.
A thin beam of pale light swept over his body from head to toe, humming faintly as data symbols flickered across her vision.
Lexel blinked. "What was that? A light show?"
The brothers, however, didn't even glance her way. Myda's arms were crossed, Seleron's focus was already shifting to the enemy's formation.
Then Ryla's face went pale. Her lips parted, trembling.
"Leader... the scan—"
"Report."
She swallowed hard.
"[Higher Scan... COMPLETE!][Hp: ??] [Fail][Ap: ??] [Fail][Str: ??] [Fail][Dex: ??] [Fail][Int: ??] [Fail][Skill(s): Unregistered. Caution!] [Fail]"
The final word flickered red in her interface, flashing warning symbols she'd never seen before.
"What do you mean 'fail'?" the Knight barked.
Ryla's voice broke. "He's... unreadable. All of them. The System can't measure their stats. They're... Unregistered."
The forest fell quiet. Even the insects seemed to vanish.
"That's not possible," Jalm whispered. "Everything in this realm is registered. The System tags everything."
"No," Ryla said softly, lowering her staff. "Not them. They don't belong here. The System's treating them like... like a bug in reality."
The Knight's gauntleted hand trembled. Fear coiled in his gut, but greed shoved it aside. "Then that makes this a golden opportunity," he hissed. "We'll be the first to log their information. Imagine the rewards—rare titles, reputation, even divine points—"
Lexel blinked, genuinely confused. "What are you even talking about? Titles? Points?" His tone turned to disgust. "You people sound insane."
Seleron's hand moved to his sword hilt. "Mother warned me about people like this."
"Really?" Myda turned slightly, a small, knowing smile tugging at his lips.
Seleron nodded, dark eyes glinting. "She said—'If someone tries to kill you, reason with them.'"
The axe-warrior laughed. "Looks like she raised you right."
Seleron's voice dropped, a whisper of death. "With your blade."
Then he moved.
Not dashed. Not sprinted. Moved.
His body blurred, vanishing and reappearing like a cut in space itself. The ground beneath him cracked from the sudden pressure of his step, dust rising in a perfect ring.
Jalm's instincts flared. He'd survived countless ambushes before. He activated [Perfect Counter]—his most reliable defensive skill. His blades crossed in front of him, his stance set to intercept a frontal thrust.
But Seleron paused.
Just for a heartbeat.
That hesitation shattered Jalm's timing. [Perfect Counter] required prediction. When Seleron didn't strike straight, the counter misfired—Jalm's footing collapsed, leaving him wide open.
(He... paused?!) Jalm's mind reeled.
By the time he realized the trap, Seleron's sword was already glowing with swirling Cultivation light.
Void Art—Thrust!
The world seemed to inhale. Then Seleron released his strike.
The thrust wasn't mere speed—it was truth given motion. The pressure tore the ground apart, and the air itself folded inward as a spear of Cultivation energy surged from the sword's tip.
Jalm crossed his blades in desperation.
The Cultivation strike met the System's hollow defense—
—and erased it.
His twin swords shattered like fragile glass, and the energy slammed into his chest. The impact lifted him into the air, his scream lost to the wind. Blood burst from his mouth before he crashed lifelessly into the grass.
For a heartbeat, no one moved.
"Jalm!" Ryla shrieked, her staff already glowing. "Heal! [Greater Heal]!"
System runes flared, geometric and sterile. A beam of synthetic light washed over Jalm's broken body—
—and did nothing.
"[Greater Heal]!" she screamed again, desperation twisting her face.
The System responded. [Target Invalid. Status: Dead.]
The Knight stared at the interface hovering in his vision. "The heal's not working," he muttered. "The System itself says he's... [Dead]."
Ryla's voice trembled. "That... that wasn't a System attack. It killed him."
The Knight's mind broke under terror. "YOU!" he roared, drawing his sword and shield in one motion. His [Inventory] shimmered around him, hollow light wrapping his form. "YOU'LL PAY FOR THAT!"
Lexel's eyes flicked toward the spatial distortion and scoffed. "So your 'Inventory' is your storage space, huh? How primitive."
He flexed his clawed hand, Cultivation energy crackling along the black metal like lightning.
"Let me show you how we fight."
The axe-warrior Grog bellowed and charged, his System aura blazing. His massive axe came down with a deafening whoosh, a blow meant to cleave mountains.
Lexel didn't dodge. He met the strike.
His clawed gauntlet caught the axe's edge mid-swing. Sparks exploded where Cultivation energy met the hollow System glow. The forest shook, trees bending from the pressure wave.
Then—Lexel moved.
He twisted his wrist. The blade slid harmlessly aside, deflected with terrifying precision. In the same motion, Lexel stepped in and slammed his knee into Grog's elbow.
CRACK.
A scream tore from Grog's throat as his arm bent the wrong way. The System blared [Status: Critical] in his vision, but Lexel didn't let him fall.
He scooped the man by the throat.
"You play at war," Lexel said quietly, his face inches away. "Let me teach you what a real one looks like."
He clenched.
The ground pulsed. A golden-red magic circle spun into existence beside Myda—intricate, fluid, alive.
The Knight froze, staring. "He can cast as well?"
Not System magic. Cultivation art. The difference was immediate. While Ryla's brands were geometric and lifeless, Lexel's circle was chaotic yet harmonious, each rune pulsing with intent, not programming.
"Ragnarok Blast."
The world went white.
A roaring shockwave burst outward, tearing trees from their roots. Ryla's System shields shattered instantly, her scream silenced as the Cultivation blast consumed her. Grog's broken body vanished in the detonation, leaving only a crater and ashes.
The Knight—alone now—stumbled backward. His vision was filled with flashing System messages:
[Party Member: Jalm – Status: Dead][Party Member: Ryla – Status: Dead][Party Member: Grog – Status: Dead]
He was the only one left. His breathing came in ragged gasps.
(What... are they?)
The three brothers stood amidst the fading smoke. Lexel's claws glowed faintly. Myda's robes fluttered in the breeze. Seleron exhaled, lowering his sword, his Cultivation energy slowly calming.
Behind them—the portal still burned black.
A sound echoed from within.
A heavy thud.
Then another.
A boot stepped out of the swirling dark.
Seleron's grip tightened on his sword. The air shifted, heavy, colder than before.
The figure that emerged was tall—taller than any of the fallen. He wore jet-black plate armor that shimmered with System light, humming with hollow power that made the very world feel... off.
He wasn't like the others. His armor was refined, dangerous, etched with runes that pulsed in rhythm with his breath. No helmet concealed his face—sharp-featured, severe, with eyes like tempered steel.
The Black Knight stepped forward, surveying the carnage.
He looked at Jalm's corpse.At the charred remains of Ryla.At the broken husk of Grog.Then, finally, at the trembling gray Knight who still lived.
The air itself seemed to tighten under his presence.
And then his gaze shifted—to the three brothers.
For the first time, his calm, intelligent expression cracked.
The Black Knight frowned.
And the world held its breath.