[The Azure Marshlands: 5 Miles from the Breach]
The world ended at the edge of the treeline.
Beyond the gnarled roots of the cypress trees, the sky ceased to be the familiar blue of afternoon. It was a bruised, sickly violet, pulsing with a rhythmic beat that felt less like weather and more like a massive, subterranean heart.
"Young Master," the wagon driver stammered, his hands white-knuckled on the reins. The horses were foaming at the mouth, their eyes rolling back in terror. "They won't go further. The Mana Density... it's too high. Their lungs are burning."
Caelus peered out from the back of the covered wagon.
A semi-transparent blue screen hovered in his peripheral vision, It didn't make a sound—the System was a silent observer—but the jagged red text flashing across it was screaming.
[ ⚠ SYSTEM WARNING ⚠ ]
[ Environmental Mana Density: 400% above normal. ]
[ Vessel Integrity: 17%... ]
His head throbbed. It wasn't a headache; it was a spiritual static, as if every nerve ending in his body had been stripped of its insulation. The sensation of the two other souls—the Ancient Warrior and the Modern Cynic—grating against his own consciousness made his teeth ache
.
"Stop here," Caelus ordered, his voice tight. He tossed a pouch of gold Solars to the driver. "Go back to the estate. Tell my father you lost me in the fog."
"But—sir! You can't walk there! The scavengers—"
"Go."
The driver didn't need to be told twice. He unhitched the wagon, jumped on one of the horses, and galloped north, leaving the "useless" third son alone in the mud.
Caelus stood in the silence of the marsh. He adjusted his heavy Wyvern-hide cloak. He had a dagger at his hip that he couldn't swing effectively, and a bag of volatile alchemical flasks that cost more than a small village.
"Right," Caelus muttered, stepping into the muck. "Step one: Reach the staging ground. Step two: Don't die to a slime."
He took three steps.
Shing.
Cold steel pressed against his throat.
He hadn't heard a footstep. One moment he was alone; the next, a blade was kissing his pulse point.
"Turn around slowly," a woman's voice commanded. It was calm, professional, and utterly devoid of warmth.
Caelus raised his hands. He knew that voice.
He turned slowly. Standing there, blending perfectly with the twilight shadows, was Elara. Her midnight-blue leather armor was dry despite the rain. Her eyes, pale gray like winter clouds, looked at him with profound indifference. She wasn't disgusted by his weakness; she simply didn't care. To her, he was a package to be delivered.
"Elara," Caelus said, forcing a smile. "Father sent the 'Silent Blade' for a runaway merchant? I'm flattered."
"You are going home, Caelus," Elara said, not lowering the blade. "The Guildmaster is furious. You are walking into a Tier 4 Zone as a civilian. It is suicide."
"It's my only way to survive," Caelus corrected.
"It's stupidity. Turn around. If you resist, I will break your legs and carry you."
Caelus looked at her. In the novel, Elara was a background character. A loyal dog who capped at Tier 4 and died defending a warehouse. But Caelus saw the way her gaze flickered toward the violet horizon—a hunger she tried to suppress.
"I won't go back, Elara," Caelus said softly.
Elara didn't argue. She simply flared her Mana.
[ Killing Intent: Tier 4 ]
The air around them grew heavy, heavier than the ambient mana of the marsh. It felt like gravity had doubled. It was a test. A Tier 0 Civilian should have collapsed instantly, vomiting from the pressure.
Caelus's knees buckled. His vision blurred. His Merchant instincts screamed at him to beg.
But he wasn't just a Merchant.
Deep in the recesses of his fractured soul, the Ancient Half-Elf woke up. The warrior who had faced gods on a burning battlefield didn't understand the concept of kneeling.
Caelus's spine snapped straight. He grit his teeth, forcing air into his lungs. He didn't collapse. He stood there, sweat pouring down his face, trembling violently, but standing.
He looked up, and his eyes had changed. The pampered warmth was gone. In its place was a gaze as cold and sharp as a glacier—the eyes of a predator trapped in a cage.
"Is that all?" Caelus rasped.
Elara flinched. The blade against his neck wavered. She had expected him to faint. She hadn't expected... this. This pressure radiating from him wasn't mana. It was Will.
"Who are you?" Elara whispered, uncertainty cracking her indifference. "You aren't Caelus."
"I am Caelus," he replied, his voice hollow. "But I'm also the one who knows how long you've been stuck at STR 199."
Elara stiffened.
"You take jobs for my father because you need High-Grade Beast Cores to push your stats," Caelus continued, taking a step forward. The tip of her sword pressed into his skin, drawing a bead of blood, but he didn't blink. "But the Guild only hunts Tier 2 and Tier 3 monsters. You're starving, Elara. You're a shark swimming in a goldfish bowl."
Elara stared at him. The indifference in her eyes shattered, replaced by a mixture of fear and intrigue. A Tier 0 body but that kind of aura. What is he?
"I'm not going back," Caelus said softly. "Because inside that Breach isn't just death. It's Opportunity. I know the layout. I know the spawn points."
He gestured to the violet sky.
"Escort me inside. Act as my shield. Let me throw the fires while you hold the line. And I promise you, Elara... you will leave that catacomb as a Tier 5 Commander."
Elara lowered her sword slowly. The logical part of her brain said he was lying. But the warrior in her—the part that sought power above all else—respected the fact that he was still standing under her pressure.
"You're a Civilian," she whispered, testing him one last time. "One mistake, and you die."
"I won't," Caelus replied, the ancient light fading back behind his merchant mask. He grinned, looking like a harmless boy again, though his legs were shaking. "Because I have you."
Elara sheathed her blade. "One mistake. If you endanger me, I leave you to the ghouls."
"Deal."
[The Staging Ground: The Forward Camp]
An hour later, they crested a ridge and looked down at hell.
The Breach was a tear in reality, hovering ten feet off the ground. The center was a beautiful, ethereal blue—like the iris of a god—but the edges bled into a corrupt purple that stained the clouds.
Around it, the Kingdom's military camp was a picture of collapse. The air smelled of wet rust, rot, and the metallic tang of blood.
"It's a swarm type," Elara noted, her hand resting on her hilt.
Below them, skeletal warriors poured from the Breach like water. These weren't the clumsy undead of stories. They moved with terrifying speed, overwhelming the perimeter guards.
"We need to get to the inner circle," Caelus whispered. He reached into his bag and pulled out a glass flask filled with shimmering red liquid. [Alchemical Fire].
"You plan to fight with... potions?" Elara raised an eyebrow.
"The dungeon measures Contribution," Caelus explained. "It doesn't care if you stab a skeleton or blow it up. These things cluster. If I drop this in a choke point..."
"Mass casualties," Elara finished. "Smart."
They moved down the slope, Caelus using his Guild Badge to bypass the panicked outer guards. They found a spot near a crumbled stone wall, overlooking the main path to the Breach. Caelus began setting up his "kill zone," lining up flasks. He didn't need to be the hero who killed the boss. He just neededd that skill in any way possible.
Suddenly, the ground shook.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
From the North, black-armored cavalry thundered into the camp. At the lead was Kaelen.
He pulled his Steel-Horned Bison to a halt, looking at the chaos. His eyes—young but filled with the weight of a thousand dead comrades—scanned the disorganized lines. He saw the General shouting useless orders while men died.
A flash of pain crossed Kaelen's face. It's happening again, he thought. The incompetence. The waste.
He jumped off his mount, marching toward the command tent.
"General!" Kaelen barked. "Pull back the left flank! You're feeding them into a grinder! Use the shield-bearers to funnel them!".
The General turned, red-faced. "Who are you to give orders, boy? This is a Tier 4 zone!".
"I am someone trying to save your life!" Kaelen shouted, grabbing the map. "Look at the terrain! If you don't plug the gap—"
BOOOOM.
Thunder cracked, drowning out Kaelen's logic.
The clouds above tore open, bathing the muddy camp in blinding, golden light. An ornate white airship descended, broadcasting a choir of angels.
Arthur stood on the prow, his robes fluttering in the magical wind. He looked down at the blood and mud with a beatific smile, raising his staff.
"Fear not, lost lambs!" Arthur's amplified voice shook the ground. "The Light has arrived!"
He didn't look at the map. He didn't ask for a situation report. He slammed his staff down.
[Grand Heal].
A wave of golden energy washed over the camp. It was warm, addictive, and overwhelming. Wounds closed instantly. Exhausted soldiers gasped as their stamina refilled. It was a miracle.
But to Caelus, watching from the shadows, it looked like a stage play. The way the saint entered the battlefield his actions and words all looked like practiced theatrical act.
"General!" Arthur shouted, ignoring Kaelen completely. "Rally the men! We charge the Gate!".
"Your Holiness!" The General stammered. "We cannot charge! We need a formation—"
"The Light waits for no one!" Arthur laughed. He jumped from the airship, floating down on a cushion of wind, and sprinted straight toward the swirling blue vortex of the Breach.
"Wait!" Kaelen screamed, reaching out. "It's a trap! You don't know the layout!".
But Arthur was already gone, disappearing into the blue light. The soldiers, drunk on the healing magic and the spectacle, roared and followed him, breaking formation.
Kaelen stood there, watching the disorganized mob rush to their deaths. He cursed, drawing his claymore.
"Damn it," Kaelen growled. "Ironbloods! Form up! We have to cover that idiot's back!".
As the Regressor charged after the Author, Caelus watched from behind his wall, preparing himself for what he is about to face and the variables that had come out of knowhere.
"I knew the regressor will show up somehow, but who is he?"