Someone was yelling.
"No, this is perfect. We hit them first and bury the whole righteous army at the foot of the mountain."
A second voice snapped back, quick and sharp. "If you charge in now, you die first. That's not bravery. That's stupidity."
"The barrier won't hold forever, though," another said, quieter and tighter. "You all feel it. It's weakening."
Silence stretched, heavy as storm clouds.
Jake Garreck opened his eyes into darkness trimmed with gold.
The roof arched above him. Wind whispered through hanging bells. The stone beneath him was cold, ancient, and cracked with veins of glowing runes that pulsed like heartbeats, as if they were alive. Far below, tens of thousands of distant torches flickered at the foot of the mountain like a sea of hostile stars.
Memory slammed into him without warning. Not gently or gradually. It crashed through him like a flood breaking a dam.
His name was indeed Jake Garreck.
But the body he was possessing belonged to Alaric Von Seraph, the Master of Dark Sky Guild.
Seraph wasn't your average human either. He lived for over a thousand years and was one of the strongest individuals on the planet. As for the Dark Sky Guild, it was one of the dark/evil guilds that wouldn't follow the order placed by either the throne or the World Guild Council.
The Dark Sky guild originally had ten members, one being Seraph, and the other nine are basically his disciples he took over the course of the past three centuries.
His Eldest disciple, after leaving the guild, found his own dark guild. His Second disciple became a freelance assassin. His Third disciple runs an information network, a secret guild. His Fifth disciple ruled a woman-only guild, filled with deadly beauties. And His Eighth disciple, well… he runs a gang in the underworld. Kings fell, and Cities burned because of their acts. The world learned fear through their names.
And now even the remaining five of them had turned on him.
Jake tried to sit up.
His body trembled like rotten wood.
Pain flared at him like an electric shock. Strength was gone. Whatever cultivation Alaric Von Seraph once possessed had been hollowed out to nearly nothing.
"So this is how legends die," he thought bleakly. Not in glory. On a cold stone seat, surrounded by your own disciples who might kill you if they realize you are on the brink of death.
Footsteps rushed forward as he slowly got up.
"Master!"
Four figures knelt at once. Their auras pressed against the air like drawn blades kept just barely in their sheaths.
Jake recognized them instantly. The loyal ones. The dangerous kind of loyal.
He forced Seraph's cold, ancient gaze onto them and said nothing.
The silence worked. It always did.
"Your breathing seemed unstable, Master," the fourth disciple finally said. "Are you… Alright?"
"I won't die today," Jake replied with a blank face. His voice came out calm, low, and far more confident than he felt.
Relief flickered across their faces. Atleast for a moment.
Then the seventh disciple spoke again, eyes turning toward the mountain below. "The righteous guilds are massing. If the barrier falls..."
Jake cut him off. "Then they fall with it."
The words surprised even him. The posture, the rhythm, and the authority all came naturally. Alaric Von Seraph's shadow still knew how to stand tall, even if the body was empty.
The disciples bowed in tremble.
"Now, get lost from here..." As he roared, they hurriedly left the hall, leaving him alone.
Once they were gone from his sight, Jake let out a heavy sigh; his thoughts were anything but calm.
"I have four ticking bombs in front of me. And I didn't have an ounce of strength to even kill a chicken."
Just as those words escaped his mouth…
A sound rang in his head.
*Ding!
[ Merit System Activated.]
[ Inheritance Complete.]
[ Host: Jake Garreck]
Race: Human
Cultivation Base: Rank-9 (0-star)
Merit Points: 0
Items: 3 x Peak Strength Card, 5 x Critical Block Card (passive), 1 x Reversal Card.
Cultivation Techniques: None
Remaining Lifespan: 23 hours
[ Prerequisite Mission: Drive Back the Invaders]
Jake Garreck stared at the glowing status screen as it had personally insulted his ancestors.
0-star, Rank-9?
That was it. No grand realms. No terrifying aura. Just the bare minimum level a beginner cultivator needed to avoid dying from tripping down a staircase too hard.
So this was everything that remained of Alaric Von Seraph. A name that once froze nations, reduced to a fragile old body and muscles that trembled after standing for too long.
Jake's gaze drifted to the three shimmering cards hovering in the corner of his vision.
Peak Strength x3.
He didn't need the system to spell that out. If those cards truly restored Seraph to his prime, even temporarily, then for ninety minutes, he would once again be the nightmare that turned heroes into corpses.
"That should be more than enough to scare ten old monsters," he muttered.
Another icon blinked softly.
1x Reversal Card.
He didn't hesitate to select that, though. After all, he only had 23 hours left to live.
The moment he willed it to activate, the card shattered into drifting fragments of light. The air around him thickened. Grass on the mountainside bent all at once as if caught in a silent storm. Energy rolled inward from every direction, pouring into his body through his skin, his bones, and his breath.
As the warmth of life force filled his body, his back straightened. His hands stopped trembling. The ache inside his bones loosened its grip. Even his vision sharpened.
It felt as if drinking cold water in the middle of a desert.
When the sensation faded, Jake exhaled slowly and checked the timer.
Remaining Lifespan: 301 days.
Not much. But it was no longer an execution countdown measured in hours.
At the same time, outside, the four disciples felt the pulse that rolled down from the summit like a breath from some ancient beast.
The fourth disciple stiffened. "You felt that, right?"
"That wasn't the barrier," The seventh disciple said quietly. "That was… Master."
Seraphina D'Liora, the ninth disciple, turned her face upward, eyes wide. "He's hiding something again."
A voice then boomed through the sky, sharp with provocation.
"Villains of Dark Sky guild! The righteous alliance is gathered! Come out and surrender, or we crush your coward's nest stone by stone!"
A chariot drifted above the formation. Its owner stood tall and shining, aura blazing like a fresh-forged blade.
"Heavenly Sword Guild's rising star," someone muttered. "Darius. I heard that he is a 6-star Warrior."
Seraphina D'Liora scoffed softly. "If he walked in alone, he wouldn't last three breaths."
"But he didn't come alone," Sylas De Veylin, the third disciple, said, crossing his arms in agreement and a haughty expression on his face. "And neither did the ten monsters behind him."
Lucien, the fourth disciple's lips then curled slowly as he passed a comment. "If things turn ugly… we can simply run away."
The words hung between them.
Sylas said nothing for a long time. Then, quietly, he replied, "I haven't received my weapon yet."
Isolde Von Eryna, the sixth disciple, laughed softly. "Your life costs more than some old blade."
Seraphina's face tightened, listening to their words. "You would abandon Master?"
Isolde opened her mouth to answer.
But before she did, Jake stepped out of the pavilion just as the next tremor rippled through the ground. Sunlight spilled across the stone path, warm and painfully bright. The sky was wide and clean, unaware that thousands of people below were trying to rip the mountain apart.
He inhaled.
The long breath felt… real.
His legs were still stiff. His movements are still slow. He was not young again. But he was no longer dying on a throne either.
The four disciples rushed to him in a blur, immediately.
Their eyes widened when they saw him standing.
"Master…"
"You look younger," Seraphina D'Liora said before she could stop herself.
None of them expected their master, just a while ago, from the brink of death, suddenly looked lively again. What happened? They could only wonder.
Meanwhile, Jake raised a hand and rested it lightly against Seraphina's forehead, the memory of Alaric Von Seraph's old affection guiding the motion.
"You noticed," he said.
Her expression softened at the words.
Sylas then stepped forward, looking as if his eyes were burning in flames of fury. "Master, Let me charge first."
Jake looked at him.
Just one calm glance.
The fire flickered. Sylas lowered his head instantly.
"I already have a plan," Jake said, waving his hand. "Just follow me."