Kaizen woke up feeling surprisingly refreshed.
"Dungeon floors are better than dorm mattresses," he noted, stretching his back until it popped. "My spine actually feels aligned for the first time in years."
He sat up and grabbed the plastic bag Helga had given him. He devoured the sandwich, ham and cheese, slightly squished but tasting like victory, and cracked open the water bottle.
Steam.
The coffee was still hot. Scalding hot.
"Helga," Kaizen whispered, blowing on the cup. "You are like an aunt I never had."
He drank the brew, feeling the bitterness kick his brain into gear.
He left his heavy backpack near the pillar. He wouldn't need it for this part. He grabbed his trusty [ Rusty Pan of Doom ] and strapped it to his belt.
"Time for the lore tour."
He walked deeper into the Golden Temple.
It was magnificent. The walls were covered in moving murals depicted in light and shadow, telling a story older than the kingdom itself.
Mural 1: The Sun God descending from the heavens on a chariot of fire.
Mural 2: Demons fleeing like roaches under a flashlight, burning in the holy gaze.
Mural 3: The Great Purification, where light cleansed the land of all filth.
"5,000 years old," Kaizen murmured, running his hand over a pillar that felt warm to the touch. "This place remembers everything."
He looked up. Above the central altar, a massive Sun Disc floated in mid-air, rotating slowly. It hummed with pure, holy energy, casting no shadows.
But Kaizen wasn't here for the furniture.
He scanned the crowd of looping NPCs. He ignored the chanting monks. He ignored the praying pilgrims.
He found him.
Standing in the courtyard, bathed in perpetual sunlight.
A Paladin.
He wore armor of white steel and gold trim. A massive Greatsword, glowing with faint, warm light, was strapped to his back. He wasn't standing guard. He wasn't training.
He was laughing.
Three children—NPCs with bright, happy faces—were chasing him. The Paladin pretended to be a monster, growling playfully, letting the kids tackle his armored legs.
"Sir Cassiel," Kaizen whispered. "The Guardian of the Dawn."
The Paladin picked up a little girl and spun her around. She squealed with delight. The scene was pure, wholesome joy.
Kaizen felt a knot form in his stomach.
"I hate this part," he muttered.
He knew the lore. He knew the script.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out the [ Sun Tear Pendant ].
The golden crystal pulsed in his hand. It was the key. It was the trigger.
"Sorry, Sir Cassiel," Kaizen said softly. "But I need the sword."
He squeezed his fist.
CRACK.
The pendant shattered into golden dust.
[ SYSTEM ALERT ]
[ Key Item Consumed. ]
[ Initiating Historical Echo... ]
Hummmmm.
Everything stopped.
The laughter cut off. The Paladin froze mid-spin. The little girl hung suspended in the air. Even the snowflakes outside the window paused in their descent.
The world turned grey.
Then, time moved forward. Fast.
ZOOM.
The sky darkened. Red clouds swirled.
The temple doors burst open. Not by pilgrims, but by shadows.
Demons.
Kaizen stood there, a ghost watching a recording, as the "Happy Scene" turned into a slaughterhouse.
Monks fell. Pilgrims screamed. The golden floor was stained black.
Sir Cassiel drew his Greatsword. He fought like a lion. He cut down demons by the dozen. His light was blinding.
But the demons were cunning.
They didn't attack the Paladin. They attacked the weak.
Kaizen watched as the black smoke poured into the children. The same children Sir Cassiel was playing with seconds ago.
Their eyes turned black. Their skin turned grey.
They weren't children anymore. They were vessels.
They leaped at the Paladin, claws extended.
Sir Cassiel froze. He couldn't swing. Those were the kids he swore to protect.
"No..." the echo of the Paladin screamed. "Don't make me..."
The demons laughed. It was a distorted, mocking sound coming from the throats of innocents.
"Please sir Cassiel, please don't kill us…" the children cried. "You love us! Don't you remember our lovely moments…."
They bit into his armor. They tore at his flesh.
The Paladin fell to his knees. He looked at the corruption spreading. He looked at the Sun Disc above, pleading for a miracle.
There was no miracle. There was only duty.
"I purify thee..." Sir Cassiel wept.
He raised his sword.
He swung.
SLASH.
Kaizen looked away. Even as a viewer, it was too heavy.
When he looked back, the children were gone. The demons were gone.
Sir Cassiel remained, kneeling in the ashes of the ones he loved.
He was weeping.
Tears fell from his eyes. But they weren't golden anymore. They were black. Thick, tar-like tears of despair and corruption.
Drip. Drip.
The black tears fell onto his glowing Greatsword.
Hiss.
The light died. The holy metal screamed as it melted. It twisted, shrank, and reformed.
The broad, western blade narrowed. It curved. It sharpened into a single edge.
It became a Katana.
Black as a demon's heart, but laced with intricate golden streaks—the last remnants of the Paladin's light trapped within the darkness.
Zoom.
Time accelerated again.
Years passed in seconds. Centuries passed in minutes.
The golden paint peeled. The marble cracked. The roof collapsed under the weight of winter. The Sun Disc shattered, falling to the floor in dull, rusted pieces.
The warmth vanished. The cold wind returned.
Kaizen stood there, shivering.
The temple was a ruin again. The gold was gone. The people were gone.
He was alone in the grey, rotting carcass of the cathedral.
Except... he wasn't entirely alone.
Sob.
A sound echoed from deep inside the inner sanctum.
Sob... hic...
It was the sound of a man weeping. A broken, jagged sound that had echoed here for five thousand years.
Kaizen checked his interface frantically.
[ Current Location: The ruined temple of the Sun God ]
[ Dungeon Rank: F (Variable) ]
"Still F-Rank," Kaizen whispered, letting out a breath he didn't know he was holding. "The boss hasn't aggro-ed yet. He's still in the 'Grieving Phase'."
Kaizen gripped the handle of his Rusty Pan.
"Okay. Time to go say hello to the saddest man in history."