The sun was barely peeking over the horizon when the world began to stir.
A gentle breeze brushed through the quiet village of Elgrad, where mist rolled lazily over the fields. Birds chirped on the thatched rooftops, and the sound of someone hammering echoed faintly from a nearby workshop. It was the kind of peaceful morning that felt eternal—except for one young man standing at the edge of his home, his heart pounding with restless excitement.
Arlen Crowe tightened the strap of his worn leather bag and looked back at the small wooden house he had grown up in. His mother stood at the doorway, her hands clutching the edges of her apron, trying to smile but failing to hide the worry in her eyes. His father stood beside her, silent, broad-shouldered, his arms crossed but trembling slightly.
"So… you're really going," his father said, his deep voice low.
Arlen nodded. "Yeah. The guild assessments start today. If I miss this chance, I'll have to wait another year."
His mother stepped forward, her voice shaking. "You don't have to force yourself, Arlen. It's dangerous work. So many hunters go and never return—"
"I'll be fine, Mom." Arlen forced a smile, though his chest felt heavy. "I won't go into any high-rank dungeons until I'm ready. I promise."
His father finally uncrossed his arms, stepping closer to place a hand on Arlen's shoulder. "Then go, and make us proud. A man only finds his worth when he faces the world."
The words struck deep. Arlen had waited years to hear his father's approval. He nodded once, firmly. "I'll come back stronger."
He turned toward the main road, the morning light gleaming against the silver badge pinned to his shirt—his Hunter Candidate ID.
He didn't notice his mother's tears, or the way his father clenched his fist. He just walked forward, toward the city of adventurers—Valeria, the capital of Hunters.
---
The city was enormous.
Stone towers lined with mana-lamps stretched high into the sky. Airships hovered lazily between buildings, and banners of the Hunter's Guild fluttered in the morning wind. The streets were filled with mercenaries, scholars, and merchants shouting prices for monster cores and relics.
Arlen's eyes widened. So this is the Hunter's City…
Everywhere he looked, adventurers moved with confidence, their weapons gleaming, armor shining, and mana radiating like heat. It was a different world—one of power and ambition.
He made his way to the Central Guild Hall, a massive building shaped like a fortress. Its entrance was guarded by golems, and its front doors bore the emblem of the seven classes—a circular sigil containing the symbols of Warrior, Mage, Tanker, Assassin, Healer, Beast Shifter, and Supporter.
---
Inside, hundreds of hopefuls filled the hall. Some stood in groups, chatting loudly about their training. Others meditated silently, eyes closed, conserving mana for the tests ahead.
Arlen stood near the back, his palms sweating.
> "Attention, candidates!"
A woman in a dark blue uniform stepped forward onto the stage, her voice sharp and commanding. She wore a guild officer's coat and a silver insignia on her chest that marked her as an A-rank examiner.
> "My name is Rhea Linford. I'll be overseeing this year's Guild Entrance Assessment. Your results today will determine not only your Hunter Rank, but also your Class Affinity. Those without sufficient mana resonance will be deemed Classless and placed in support roles."
A murmur rippled through the crowd.
Arlen's stomach twisted. Classless…
Everyone in this world was born with a unique mana signature, which determined their potential Class. When a person reached maturity, they could undergo a Class Resonance Test—a ritual that awakened their latent ability, aligning them with one of the seven primary combat paths.
Warriors channeled mana into their bodies, enhancing strength and speed.
Mages manipulated mana externally, weaving spells of fire, ice, and lightning.
Tankers reinforced their bodies with defensive mana, becoming living shields.
Assassins specialized in speed and critical strikes, erasing their presence in battle.
Healers purified mana into life energy, mending flesh and spirit.
Beast Shifters merged their souls with monsters, transforming partially or fully into beasts.
Supporters, the weakest path, could not fight directly. Their mana only enhanced others' stats or provided temporary buffs.
And then there were the Classless—those whose mana failed to align with any known path. They were considered broken… useless.
---
One by one, candidates stepped onto the resonance circle. A crystal orb floated in the center, glowing faintly blue. When touched, it pulsed and revealed the candidate's class in brilliant runes of light.
> "Next!"
The line moved forward. Arlen's heart thudded as each person before him was greeted with cheers.
"Warrior!"
"Mage!"
"Assassin!"
Even a rare "Beast Shifter!" drew gasps from the crowd.
When it was finally his turn, Arlen stepped forward, placing his trembling hand on the crystal.
For a moment, light swirled inside. He held his breath. The crystal glowed faintly, then dimmed.
Silence.
Then—
> Beep.
The runes flickered weakly, forming two dull gray words:
"Classless – Mana Incompatible."
The hall went quiet. Then laughter erupted.
> "Another Classless? Hah!"
"Poor guy. All that travel for nothing."
"Guess he'll be cleaning dungeons instead of clearing them!"
Arlen's hand fell away. His throat burned, but no sound came out. The examiner glanced at him briefly, her expression unreadable.
> "You may apply as a Supporter," she said curtly. "Classless individuals can only assist. Dismissed."
---
Outside, the wind felt colder.
Arlen sat alone on a bench, his new Hunter card glinting faintly in his palm—engraved with the words E-Rank Supporter.
He'd trained for years, dreaming of becoming a Warrior like his father once was. Yet his mana—his very soul—had failed him.
He clenched his fists. "I'll prove them wrong… even without a class."
---
Days passed.
Arlen began working as a freelance Supporter—carrying supplies, managing potions, maintaining maps for low-rank parties. It wasn't glamorous, but it paid enough to survive. Still, every day he watched others return from dungeons with smiles and rewards, while he stood on the sidelines.
One afternoon, as he was sorting healing potions in the guild lobby, a group of hunters approached him.
Their leader, a tall man in steel armor, smirked. "Hey, kid. You're a Supporter, right?"
Arlen looked up. "Yeah… why?"
"We're short one man for a C-rank run in the Abyss. You interested? We'll split the loot evenly."
Arlen blinked. "The Abyss? Isn't that—dangerous?"
The armored man grinned. "Only if you're weak. Don't worry, we'll protect you. Just do your job—buff us, watch our backs, and we'll handle the fighting."
The rest of the team nodded. There were seven of them total:
The leader, Daren, a B-rank Warrior.
Two C-rank Mages, Rynn and Lior.
A C-rank Healer named Mila.
A C-rank Tanker, Boros.
A C-rank Beast Transformer, Kira.
And finally, Arlen—the E-rank Supporter.
He hesitated, then nodded slowly. "Alright. I'll come."
It was his chance. His first real expedition into a dungeon.
---
That night, as the city lights dimmed, Arlen stared out his window at the glowing moon. His heart was torn between fear and excitement.
Tomorrow… I'll step into the Abyss.
He touched the small pendant around his neck—a gift from his mother—and whispered, "Watch me, Mom. I'll make it back alive."
Outside, thunder rumbled faintly in the distance, echoing across the dark plains.
It was as if the world itself was watching, waiting.
For the birth of something new.
The next morning dawned gray and heavy, clouds smothering the light like a warning.
Outside the Valeria Guild, a massive silver portal shimmered inside a containment ring carved with runes. Dozens of hunters gathered before it, checking their weapons, adjusting armor, murmuring silent prayers. The air buzzed with mana—thick, electric, alive.
Arlen stood among them, clutching his travel pack. The straps dug into his shoulders, weighed down by potions, rations, spare gear, and crystal lanterns. His palms were already sore.
> "E-rank supporter, right?"
Daren's voice cut through the crowd. "Stay behind the front line. Don't touch anything unless I say so."
Arlen nodded quickly. "Y-yes, sir."
Daren smirked. "Good. Keep your head down and don't slow us."
Behind him, Rynn and Lior, the mages, laughed under their breath. Mila the healer adjusted her staff and gave Arlen a small, pitying smile, while Kira the Beast Transformer rolled her shoulders, the faint trace of fur crawling up her neck as she stretched. Boros, their tanker, tested his shield with a clang.
The group stepped toward the portal together. The shimmering surface rippled like water.
> "Team Argent Vow, clearance granted," announced the portal warden. "Destination: the Abyss, outer ring—Sector Five."
One by one they stepped through, swallowed by light.
---
The sensation was instant and jarring—like plunging through icy water. Arlen gasped as the world re-formed around him. When the dizziness faded, he found himself standing in a cavern bathed in dim blue glow.
The Abyss.
The dungeon was an endless maze of stone and darkness, filled with flowing rivers of liquid mana. The air was thick and cold, humming with energy. Strange fungi glowed along the walls, casting eerie shadows that seemed to move when no one was looking.
Somewhere in the distance, a deep roar echoed.
> "Stay close," Daren ordered. "Outer-ring monsters are D-class at worst. We'll clear a few nests before moving deeper."
The mages lit mana-orbs, filling the tunnel with light. The team moved in formation—Daren and Boros at the front, Kira in mid-line, the mages and healer behind, and Arlen trailing last with the supply pack almost larger than his torso.
Each step echoed against stone. Drips of mana-condensed water fell from stalactites like tears.
Arlen's heart pounded. So this… is a real dungeon.
He had heard stories, but none compared to the reality. The oppressive weight of mana, the smell of damp earth mixed with metallic tang, the constant sense that something unseen was watching from the dark.
Then came the first attack.
A screech split the air. From a side tunnel burst a pack of creatures—Mana Hounds, skeletal beasts with glowing eyes and fangs that dripped blue flame.
> "Formation!" Daren barked.
Boros slammed his shield into the ground, a barrier of shimmering force expanding outward. The hounds collided with it, claws sparking. Kira's eyes flashed gold as fur spread down her arms—beast transformation halfway complete. With a growl, she lunged, claws slicing through one hound's skull.
Rynn and Lior chanted in unison. Circles of light spun beneath their feet.
> "Ignis Lance!"
"Chain Frost!"
Fire spears and frost chains erupted, impaling and freezing two beasts mid-air. They shattered like glass.
Mila's healing aura pulsed across the front line as Daren's sword gleamed. He dashed forward, cutting through another hound in one smooth arc. Sparks of blue mana scattered like embers.
It was over in seconds.
Arlen stood frozen, clutching the pack.
> "Hey, luggage-boy!" Lior called. "You just gonna stand there? Pick up those cores!"
Arlen blinked, then hurried forward, heart hammering. The hounds' bodies were already dissolving into motes of light, leaving behind glowing shards—mana cores. He knelt, gathering them carefully.
His hands trembled. They're so strong… I barely even saw them move.
---
Hours passed as they delved deeper. The deeper they went, the thicker the mana grew—and the more dangerous the monsters became. They fought Stone Raptors, Venom Slimes, and even a Twin-Horn Troll that took all of Daren's strength and both mages' spells to bring down.
Arlen carried everything—cores, potions, rations, monster parts. His shoulders screamed, his legs ached, but he refused to complain. Every drop of sweat was proof he belonged here, even without a class.
Occasionally, Mila offered him water. "You're doing fine, Arlen," she said softly. "Most supporters faint by now."
He smiled weakly. "Thanks… I'll keep up."
She nodded, returning to heal Boros's bruised arm.
When the group finally stopped to rest, they set up camp in a hollow chamber lit by glowing moss. Rynn started boiling monster meat while Daren inspected the cores. Kira sat cross-legged sharpening her claws. Arlen silently stacked supplies and sorted the loot.
The air buzzed faintly with mana currents, like invisible wind. Somewhere far below, something rumbled.
> "This place never changes," Boros muttered. "Feels alive."
> "That's because it is," Rynn replied, stirring the pot. "They say the Abyss was once a living beast—killed by gods and petrified into a labyrinth."
> "Yeah right," Lior snorted. "Just superstition."
But Arlen looked around at the veins of glowing stone running through the walls—like arteries under skin—and wondered if maybe it wasn't just a story.
---
Later that night, as the others slept, Arlen stayed awake beside the campfire. The silence of the Abyss was never truly silent; whispers echoed through tunnels, faint and unintelligible. Every so often, the ground trembled.
He pulled his knees to his chest. "I'm so weak…"
He thought of his father's proud voice, his mother's worried face. He wanted to prove himself—but how could he, when he couldn't even fight? He was only here because someone needed to carry the bags.
A drop of glowing water fell onto his hand. He stared at it. It shimmered like liquid starlight.
If only… I had power.
Far away, a low roar answered his thought.
---
The next day, they ventured into the lower tunnels of Sector Five.
The walls changed—smooth stone gave way to pulsating crystal. The temperature dropped. Mana density tripled. Even Daren looked uneasy.
> "We're near the middle ring," he said. "Stay sharp."
They entered a vast cavern filled with floating shards of light. It was beautiful—and wrong. The air shimmered like heatwaves, distorting vision.
> "What is this place?" Mila whispered.
> "Mana pool," Rynn murmured. "Concentrated essence leaking from the dungeon core."
Arlen could barely breathe. His skin tingled, his vision swam. It's… heavy.
Then came the sound—a deep clicking, like bone scraping stone.
From the shadows crawled Crystal Spiders, each the size of a horse, their legs sharp as blades. Their bodies refracted light into deadly beams.
> "Defensive line!" Daren shouted.
Boros slammed his shield down again, creating a dome of energy just as beams of light sliced across the cavern. Sparks exploded. Kira roared, her form shifting further—fur covering her limbs, eyes glowing feral gold. She leapt, slashing through one spider's leg, but another impaled her shoulder with crystal webbing.
> "Kira!" Mila screamed, channeling a healing spell.
Rynn and Lior unleashed fire and ice, melting and shattering webs, but the spiders multiplied, crawling from the walls and ceiling.
Daren cursed. "There's too many! Focus fire!"
He charged ahead, blade glowing crimson, cleaving through two spiders at once. Boros held the front, deflecting light beams, his shield cracking under the strain.
Arlen could only watch, frozen. They're… monsters.
A spider broke through the line, lunging at him.
He barely managed to dodge, falling backward as fangs pierced the ground where he'd stood. His bag spilled open—potions rolling across the floor, glass shattering. He scrambled to grab a dagger, his hands shaking.
> "Arlen, get back!" Daren roared.
He swung wildly, cutting shallowly into the spider's leg. It shrieked, rearing up—then a fire spear from Rynn impaled it through the head.
Smoke filled the air. The scent of burning mana stung Arlen's throat.
When it was finally over, the cavern was silent except for the hiss of evaporating corpses.
Everyone was breathing hard. Kira clutched her shoulder, blood seeping through bandages. Boros's shield was in pieces. Even Daren's armor was cracked.
> "This was supposed to be a C-rank route," Lior muttered. "Why are middle-ring monsters here?"
No one answered.
---
They retreated to a safer chamber. The mood was grim. Daren paced silently while the others tended wounds.
> "We'll rest for now," he finally said. "Tomorrow, we head back up."
No one argued.
Arlen sat apart, staring at his scraped hands. His dagger lay beside him, dull with monster blood.
I was useless again.
He clenched his fists until his knuckles went white.
---
Far above them, the portal shimmered faintly—the only link to the surface world.
Far below… something ancient stirred in the depths of the Abyss.
A pulse of mana rolled upward like a heartbeat.
And somewhere deep within that darkness, unseen eyes opened—watching the small, trembling supporter who dared to wish for power.
The roar hit first—low, resonant, and heavy enough to shake stone from the ceiling.
The echo raced through the tunnels like thunder. The torches flickered, their blue mana flames shrinking in fear.
Daren's voice snapped through the darkness. "Formation! Everyone, full mana output!"
The team braced. Arlen crouched near the rear wall, pack straps digging into his shoulders, watching the front line vanish behind a swirl of dust. From the depths of the tunnel, light exploded—a molten red glow that turned the air to fire.
Out of that inferno stepped an A-rank monster: the Infernal Basilisk, a serpent the width of a house. Scales shimmered like steel; its eyes burned with molten gold. Each breath poured smoke and sparks.
> "You said middle-ring creatures were C-class!"
Lior shouted, voice breaking.
> "It must've crawled up from the core!" Rynn's hands trembled as she began chanting. "I-Ignis—!"
The basilisk struck before she finished. A whip of its tail smashed through the ground, ripping stone apart like paper. Boros caught the blow with his shield, the impact hurling him back into the wall. His shield cracked straight down the center.
> "Kira, flank!" Daren commanded.
The Beast Transformer snarled, half-beast form complete—fangs gleaming, fur streaked with blood. She leapt, claws carving into the serpent's neck. Sparks flew, but the beast barely flinched; it twisted, throwing her aside.
Fire erupted. The shockwave flattened the camp torches, heat scalding the air.
Mila's healing light flared. "Boros—hang on!"
The tanker staggered upright, coughing, armor melted in places. "We can't kill that thing—!"
> "Shut up and hold the line!" Daren's sword ignited crimson. He dashed forward, aura slicing the air.
Steel met scale with a sound like thunder. The blade barely left a mark.
Arlen stared in frozen horror. Every clash looked like a storm made flesh—mana flashes, screams, debris. His role was simple: carry the gear, stay alive. But the air itself seemed to burn his lungs.
I can't even help… I can't do anything.
He backed away as chunks of molten stone rained down. One landed inches from his foot, hissing.
---
Minutes blurred.
The basilisk roared again, its voice breaking through armor and bone. Rynn collapsed, bleeding from the ears. Lior's frost spell fizzled before it reached the target.
Daren's breathing turned ragged. "It's regenerating—damn it!"
The serpent's wounds sealed with molten light.
> "We have to retreat!" Boros yelled. "We'll die here!"
No one answered. The leader's eyes darted toward the portal stone at his belt—the only way out. But to activate it, someone had to keep the monster busy.
For a moment, no one moved. Then Daren's gaze slid toward the back of the group—toward Arlen.
The world seemed to still.
> "Wait… what are you thinking?" Mila asked softly, eyes widening.
> "We need a distraction," Daren said, voice cold and even. "The portal takes twenty seconds to open."
> "You can't mean—" Boros started.
> "He's the weakest. No class, no mana." Daren's tone didn't change. "He'll buy us time."
Arlen blinked. "What…?"
The basilisk roared again, fire surging closer. Daren seized Arlen's arm and shoved him forward.
> "Arlen, listen!" he shouted, pretending urgency. "Run to the left tunnel—draw its attention!"
> "I—I can't—"
> "Go!" Daren barked, and pushed harder.
Arlen stumbled, nearly falling. Behind him he heard the mages start another chant, the portal stone activating with a hum.
Realization dawned.
They're not following me.
He turned back. The portal glow widened behind Daren and the others—blinding white light opening to safety. Mila's face was twisted in horror. "Daren, stop—!"
Daren's hand clamped on her shoulder. "Move."
"Arlen!" she cried as the portal swallowed her.
The last thing Arlen saw before the light closed was Daren's expression—flat, calculating.
Then the gate vanished, leaving only the roar of the basilisk and the crushing dark.
---
Silence. Then the beast moved.
Arlen's breath hitched. His legs shook.
He turned and ran.
The ground trembled under the monster's pursuit. Lava dripped from its jaws, every exhale a furnace blast. He dove behind fallen stone, chest heaving.
They left me… they really left me.
A hiss behind him. Smaller shapes slithered from cracks—Abyss Leeches, drawn by blood and heat. Their translucent bodies glowed faintly as they crawled closer, dozens of them.
The basilisk reared, filling the tunnel, eyes burning like suns.
Arlen gripped a broken dagger, hands trembling. "No… no…"
He slashed at the leeches, barely keeping them off. The basilisk opened its jaws, light gathering between its fangs.
For a heartbeat, he saw his reflection in that molten glow—small, terrified, utterly powerless.
Is this how I die?
He thought of his mother's tearful goodbye, his father's proud words. All of it ending here, as bait.
He screamed—a sound of rage and despair mingled—and charged forward, swinging the dagger with everything left in him.
The basilisk's blast hit the ground where he'd been standing. Stone exploded, sending him flying. Pain tore through his body; his vision swam.
Dust. Heat. Darkness.
He lay there, unable to move, breath shallow. The basilisk hissed, turning away, its tail sweeping through the tunnel like a storm. The smaller monsters circled, their eyes reflecting blue hunger.
The world had gone silent, except for the hiss of molten stone and the low breathing of monsters circling him.
Arlen's body trembled. The stench of sulfur filled the air, choking, suffocating.
He tried to move his arm, but pain lanced up his shoulder — the bones felt shattered. The dagger had fallen from his hand long ago.
> "Heh… still alive?" he whispered, his voice barely a rasp.
The smaller monsters — Abyss Leeches, Crawlers, and a few pale creatures with too many eyes — closed in around him. Their claws scraped the ground like nails on glass.
Arlen's thoughts blurred in and out of consciousness.
Faces flashed in his mind — Daren's cold stare, Mila's terrified scream, his father's words:
> "Even without a class, you can still make your own path, son."
A bitter laugh escaped him.
My own path, huh…?
Something warm dripped down his side. Blood. Too much of it.
He looked up — the massive Infernal Basilisk loomed over him again. Its eyes gleamed with mindless hunger. The beast had chased off the smaller predators; now it wanted to finish the job itself.
A rumble shook the ground as it slithered closer. Every movement was a mountain sliding toward him.
The glow in its throat built again — the precursor to another breath of fire.
Arlen tried to crawl. His fingers dug into the cracked floor, dragging himself inch by inch toward a corner. But his strength was fading fast.
The heat grew unbearable. The entire cavern pulsed red.
So this is it… my end.
Tears slipped from the corners of his eyes, mixing with the blood and dust on his face.
He clenched his fists weakly.
He didn't want to die here.
Not like this.
Not betrayed and forgotten.
> "Please…" he murmured, voice trembling. "Someone… anyone…"
The fire roared.
A searing blast tore through the tunnel, engulfing everything in light and pain.
---
Darkness.
For a moment, he thought it was the afterlife.
But then he realized — he was still breathing. Barely.
He lay among the ruins, the air thick with smoke. The monster was gone for now, its massive body retreating deeper, satisfied that he was dead.
His consciousness flickered.
And then—
[Ding!]
A sound — metallic, mechanical — rang inside his head.
Arlen's eyes shot open. Before him, hanging in midair, a translucent blue screen flickered to life.
> [System initializing…]
[Searching for compatible host…]
[Warning: Host life-force critically low.]
[Adapting skill prototype… "Hero Summoning Protocol" detected.]
[Integration: 47%... 89%... 100%.]
"What… the hell…?" he gasped, staring in disbelief.
The screen shifted. Lines of text cascaded downward like falling light.
> [Welcome, Candidate.]
[Class: None → Hero Summoner (Monarch Type)]
[Skill unlocked: Summon Hero – Rank ???]
[Do you wish to summon a Hero?]
[Y/N]
Arlen blinked. "Summon… a hero…?"
The words shimmered across the air, their glow faint against the darkness of the Abyss.
Arlen's fingers twitched weakly toward the screen. His body was wrecked, broken, but his soul refused to surrender.
> "If… if this can save me…" he murmured, "then… please… grant me strength…"
The moment his trembling fingertip brushed the glowing word "Yes", the world screamed.
---
The air quivered.
A soundless explosion of mana burst outward, collapsing the very air. The ground split like glass, dark energy spiraling upward from the fissures.
An unseen pressure crushed the cavern, flattening rocks, sending dust spiraling into the air. The monsters lurking in the shadows hissed—and then fled, their instincts screaming run.
A vast summoning circle unfolded beneath Arlen's bleeding form—black and crimson interlocking sigils pulsed, each line glowing like molten steel.
The magic was not of this world. It was something ancient, foreign, and alive.
> [Dimension Gate opening …]
[Searching for compatible soul.]
[Found … The Black Flame Knight.]
The world fell silent.
Then the gate tore open.
A voice—not from the system, but from somewhere beyond existence—whispered through the collapsing space.
> At last… someone calls.
First came a pair of armored boots, each step echoing like the toll of an ancient bell. Then a flowing cape of shadow and crimson flame, trailing behind as if the darkness itself bowed before him. His armor was sleek, jet-black, trimmed with blood-red patterns that pulsed like veins.
Arlen froze. He couldn't move — couldn't even breathe.
The aura pouring from the knight felt heavier than the basilisk's heat, like the pressure of an entire world.
Still, the system's text hovered before him.
The knight gaze turned toward him — a broken, bloodied human lying amid shattered rock.
For a heartbeat,the knight said nothing. Then, with slow, deliberate steps, he approached and knelt.
The knight's head tilted slightly, studying him. For a long moment, there was only silence—then a low, warm chuckle resonated through the Abyss. It was neither mocking nor cruel. It was pleased.
> "How fascinating…"
"For so long, I have waited—endlessly bored in that eternal dark—wondering if any mortal soul would ever be worthy of my call."
"And now, you stand before me, broken, dying… yet your will shines brighter than any flame I have seen."
He lowered his blade and strode forward, the black fire around him dimming to a faint glow as he approached. When he stopped before Arlen, he went down on one knee.
The Abyss seemed to bow with him.
He raised his head, his golden eyes meeting Arlen's dimming ones.
And in them, Arlen saw not pity, but reverence.
> "I am Kael," he said softly, his voice like silk over steel.
"The Black Flame that devours the night. The Knight who burned empires to ash in the name of forgotten kings."
"And now…" — he removed his gauntlet and pressed a hand to his chest — "I swear myself to you, my master. My blade, my flame, my eternal loyalty—all are yours to command."
The system chimed again.
> [Summoned Hero: Kael – The Black Flame Knight]
[Rank: SS+]
[Loyalty: 100% – Absolute Devotion]
[Contract Formed]
The knight's aura surged briefly, his flames swirling protectively around Arlen. The monsters watching from afar cowered; even the shadows dared not move.
He paused. "Tell me, master — what is your command?"
Arlen's chest rose and fell shallowly. His breath was thin, his vision dimming. The cavern quaked again—the Infernal Basilisk returning, drawn by the summoning's power.
Its roar thundered like an avalanche.
Kael stood, drawing his sword with a whispering shing.
Black flames coiled around the blade, bending the air itself.
Arlen's lips trembled. The basilisk's roar echoed again from the distance, shaking the cavern walls.
He coughed, his voice fading into a whisper.
> "They… left me… to die."
"Destroy… everything…"
Kael's eyes flared with scarlet fire.
> "As you wish… my lord."
Then the knight turned toward the roaring monster. The Abyss lit up in black fire as he advanced, each step melting the stone beneath his feet. The earth shuddered under the pressure of his mana; his presence alone was enough to silence the world.
As Arlen's consciousness faded, the last thing he saw was the silhouette of Kael cutting through the darkness—a single, radiant inferno standing against the night.
And then, finally, the world went still.
A low hum trembled through the Abyss.
Ash floated like black snow.
Somewhere beyond the haze, the sound of metal slicing through stone echoed again and again.
Arlen's eyes fluttered open.
For a heartbeat he thought he was dreaming—light flickered red and gold against the endless dark ceiling, and the air felt alive with pressure. Then he saw it: a storm of black fire dancing across the cavern floor.
In the center of it stood Kael.
The knight moved like water through flame. Each step drew a circle of burning sigils that devoured the ground, every swing of his blade carving trails of crimson light. The Infernal Basilisk—that mountainous serpent that had nearly ended Arlen—howled as Kael's sword severed one of its horns.
The creature lunged, its molten breath spilling forth.
Kael raised his palm; the flame gathered, condensed, and folded back upon itself.
> "Black Inferno—Collapse."
The blast imploded rather than exploded. A sphere of darkness swallowed the monster's attack and burst outward with silent fury. The Basilisk's body convulsed, scales melting like wax. When the light faded, only the echo of the strike remained.
Arlen stared, half in awe, half in terror.
That power… came from something I summoned?
Kael turned slowly. His armor gleamed beneath the dying firelight, no scratch upon its surface. He strode toward Arlen, sword lowering, the weight of his presence softening as he knelt beside him.
> "The beast is gone, my lord."
"You are safe."
Arlen's lips parted, words caught in his throat. The knight's tone carried neither arrogance nor impatience—only calm certainty, as if destruction itself obeyed him.
Then the familiar metallic chime rang again:
> [Ding!]
[Quest Complete – "Survive the Abyssal Trial"]
[Calculating Rewards…]
[Reward 1 – Skill Assimilation (Unlocked)]
[Reward 2 – Title: 'Master of the Black Flame']
[Skill Assimilation: The User can absorb abilities from any defeated foe or subordinate under their command.]
Light surged into Arlen's chest, searing yet cold.
He gasped as alien knowledge poured through him—fragments of the Basilisk's instincts, the taste of its fire, the resilience of its scales. For an instant his heartbeat roared like thunder.
Kael watched silently, hand hovering protectively above him until the glow faded.
> "So the System acknowledges you," the knight murmured. "You are no ordinary summoner."
Arlen pushed himself upright, still trembling.
"…Assimilation," he whispered. "I… can use what my army conquers?"
> "Indeed." Kael's eyes glimmered behind the visor. "Their strength will become yours. Their victories, your ascent."
The System flashed again:
> [Synchronization in progress … Success.]
[Skill gained: Basilisk gaze Resistance (A)]
Heat pulsed through his veins, then steadied. The burns that had seared his skin only minutes ago faded to pale scars.
Arlen flexed his hand, staring at the faint black mark now etched across his palm—the crest of a coiled flame.
For the first time, he felt power—real, tangible, living power—flowing under his skin.
He looked at Kael.
"…Why do you obey me so completely?"
Kael's answer came without hesitation.
> "Because, my lord, your soul carries the scent of sovereignty. The void recognizes it. And I…"
His voice softened to something almost reverent.
"…have long awaited a master worthy of command."
The words struck Arlen deeper than any wound.
Worthy.
No one in the guild had ever called him that.
The ground rumbled faintly; from the shattered tunnels, lesser monsters skittered toward them, drawn by the smell of blood. Dozens of them—fangs, claws, eyes gleaming in the dark.
Arlen rose unsteadily. "Can you—"
> "You need not ask twice."
Kael vanished.
A single step carried him through the swarm.
Black fire erupted like falling stars, each swing of his sword birthing shockwaves that tore through the horde.
Bodies fell, disintegrating into embers before they touched the floor. The battle lasted only seconds.
Arlen watched, breathing hard—not from fear, but exhilaration.
When the last creature fell, the System pinged again:
> [Monsters defeated – 27]
[Assimilating essence …]
[New skills acquired – Minor Regeneration (E), Dark Vision (F)]
He could feel it—his senses sharpening, his wounds knitting faster, the darkness itself becoming clear.
It wasn't just Kael's power anymore. It was theirs—shared, unified, growing.
Kael returned, kneeling once more, blade resting against the stone.
> "Your army will swell with every victory, my lord. Shall I seek out the ones who wronged you?"
Arlen stared at the endless dark tunnel from which his so-called comrades had escaped.
He remembered their laughter, the way they called him "baggage."
He remembered Daren's eyes when he said "Hold it off for us."
His fists clenched.
The System glowed before him again, as if reading his thoughts.
> [New Quest Unlocked – Path of Retribution]
[Objective: Locate and Eliminate the Traitor Party 'Silver Hawks']
Arlen's voice was low but steady.
"Kael… can you track their mana trail?"
> "Yes, my lord. Their cowardice leaves a stench even the void cannot erase."
Arlen exhaled slowly, the fury in his chest cooling into resolve.
He reached for Kael's gauntleted hand; the knight rose beside him.
> "Then we hunt," Arlen said.
"One by one… until every last one of them falls."
The flames around Kael flared brighter, casting twin shadows upon the cavern wall—one of a knight, one of a man reborn.
> "As you command," Kael replied.
Behind them, the corpses of monsters turned to ash, their power flowing silently into Arlen's growing reservoir.
The Abyss, once their tomb, had become their birthplace.
And somewhere, far above, the world remained ignorant that a new force had awakened within its depths—
a Summoner who would soon be called the Black Flame Monarch.