Magic formulas are intricate constructs of spells, interlocking like the gears of a titanic and invisible machine. Each formula is not merely a set of symbols or gestures but a living pattern, resonating with the magic energy's unseen harmonies. They hum with purpose, their sequences deliberate, each line, loop, and curve contributing to a larger rhythm. A master of formulas can feel them as one might hear the movement of symphonies through the air, an orchestration of magic energy that bends reality with precision.
Yet, to speak of arcane artifacts and tier engines is to cross a threshold into an entirely different domain. These are not abstractions of thought or ephemeral diagrams scrolling across the mind's eye. They are tangible mechanics, forged from the raw threads of natural law, luminous and weighty, as if the universe itself had carved chunks of its own principles into physical form. Arcane artifacts are the crystallized law of creation, and tier engines—particularly the arcane cores—physical counterpart of natural force.
Only extreme harbinger monsters possess the potential to craft these wonders. Such privilege is not inherited—it is seized through struggle and evolution. Upon ascending to rank 10, a monster's body and existence undergo a profound metamorphosis. Every sinew toughens with the weight of existence, every sense sharpens to catch the whispers of the world, and their essence finally withstands the crushing pressure of natural force. While raw natural forces are a chaotic tempest, natural law is the blueprint that guides them, an invisible framework that compels the universe to move in ordered patterns. It is as if nature itself operates like a grand society, where power and authority adhere to immutable rules.
To craft an arcane artifact is to resonate with that cosmic society, to let one's own being align with the pulse of creation. An arcane core—particularly a tier engine—is the physical embodiment of those principles, a mirror that reflects the inner structure of existence back into the world. To touch such work is to press one's hand against the skeleton of reality.
I have walked this perilous path for nearly two centuries, though I remain but 189 years which is young actually. As in that time, I have crossed the paths of only five other extreme harbinger monsters, towering beings of rank 11 or 12, each a legend older than the rise and fall of kingdoms. Some have endured for over 700, and even among these ancients, few dare to shoulder the mantle of arcane. It is not lack of strength that restrains them, but the enormity of will required to press one's essence into the mold of natural law.
And yet, I stand here as a prodigy who defies every ranking and grading system. My ascent was not achieved in isolation. The journey was shared with my dearest companion, Voldum. His boundless power, a fortress against despair, and his steadfast presence formed the foundation of my climb. Through his strength and through countless trials, together we forged a path into the heart of creation itself. In the resonance of law and the roar of raw force,
Even right now I'm can't help but see him as someone to be respected and feared for his overwhelming power and wisdom and that is quite high statement considering I'm had become overlord monster which is full peak empowered monster and I was verge of becoming overpowered monster
But let's put those aside and right now looking at Hundred Mind Arcane Artifact which was like tiny tree like appearance that could be placed on my skeleton palm, roots curling delicately as if clinging to invisible soil and it has blue emerald leaves on its branches
There were innumerable consequences I could not afford to face, especially when it came to guiding Lucky. His suspicion towards me is already troubling, but with my mind whisper in the recesses of my thoughts. I knew that managing the stream of knowledge he would eventually acquire was crucial; I could, for a time, control the flow, dam the river of truths that might lead him to the darker parts of my existence. Yet, the inevitability lingered: if Lucky ever stumbled upon the reality of me
"…I will have no choice but to silence him—whether through death or by change him using mind magic, a measure that would scar him forever."
The words tasted bitter, even in the privacy of my own mind. I did not want to tread either path, but fate offered me no kinder options.
A hollow laugh escaped me. "Heh… Isn't it ironic? We kill for reasons so countless and absurd, reasons we justify or fail to justify, and still—killing remains killing. The act does not soften for its explanation. The death of a beast, a human, an elf, a dwarf, a demon, or even a monster—it is all the same. Life, in its essence, is to live, and we end it because we can. *Sigh* Lucky… for your own sake, please, stop walking toward this edge. I do not want to kill, not today, not now. Yet I know that I will, and I hate that I understand it so clearly."
My thoughts spiralled into the depths of memory, down the corridors of time I could never escape. I had lived 189 years a span that had reshaped me into something most could not imagine. The years carried weight, the kind that etches itself into the marrow of one's being. And yet, beneath all that experience, beneath the layers of power and transformation, the truth remained
"I am the monster. I am the Sans Wing Ding. And still, I have no desire to strip the life from others."
The paradox was my prison. I had learned that the act of killing, no matter how necessary or rationalized, left a residue that could never be washed away. Experience had made me powerful, but also hollow, a vessel that carried both the brilliance of survival and the silence of regret. To live as long as I had is to watch the shapes of morality blur, until the border between necessity and cruelty becomes a line drawn in dust, erased by the wind of each passing choice.
With a breath that carries the weight of lifetimes, I gather the scattered fragments of my thoughts. The mind, so eager to wander through centuries of memories, through triumphs, regrets, and the endless corridors of what-ifs—threatens to unravel my purpose. But philosophy born from nearly two centuries reminds me: the river of thought must find its channel, or it will flood into chaos.
Determination hardens in me like crystallized law. I have walked through the ages, seen empires rise and fall, companions turn to dust, and the meaning of life itself distort under the pressure of survival. My way of thinking is forged from that crucible: the knowledge that all things pass, yet the will to act is eternal so long as I claim it.
So, I still my breath and chain my mind to the present. My goal is the pillar upon which the weight of centuries rests. Distractions are shadows in the periphery; my focus is light. In this moment, with all my years and the echoes of lifetimes behind me, as I know I need to become extraordinary monster
"But right now my mask as a novice in the ways of wisdom-type arcane artifacts has shattered, and with it, my carefully woven veil of anonymity. To wield the Hundred Mind Arcane Artifact openly is to declare mastery, and mastery does not hide; it casts a shadow that even the smallest spark of truth can illuminate."
Lucky's gaze is on that spark. He walks the borderlands of understanding, and one shadow to block that spark and he will know whose shadow is that. Wisdom mind path monsters are not deceived by motion or words, they are moved only by the undercurrent of intent. To outwit them is to walk naked in the storm of their perception, and just like a young phoenix can take down a titan when the moment demands life or death.
So what can I do? Simply, I will lower the quality of the outcome this arcane artifact will give, and since it writes down the history of usage, this will conceal my mastery. Even then, with the conclusion that I will attain, it is more than enough for me to solve the cipher, but I will give the lucky impression that I have experience in this field. But I didn't know this was a hundred-mind arcane artifact, but a different type of arcane artifact, which will also conceal that I'm taking him seriously.
"…well, let's get started." I poured my magic energy into the hundred mind arcane artifact, activating this wisdom-type arcane artifact aka wisdom artifact as its leaves light up.
Wisdom artifacts are rare tools that can awaken easily, but true mastery is rare. Awakening is only the first step; fusing with an artifact requires immense skill and strength, turning it into an extension of the user's mind but I don't need to fuse it but bind it.
And activation begins with a small spark of magic energy, stirring the artifact to life. Its leaves may glow and quiver, acknowledging the wielder. True control, however, demands opening one's will of magic which pouring thought, memory, and understanding into the artifact. Words are meaningless as only clear intent and strong will matter.
To wield a wisdom artifact, one must forge a disciplined mindscape, like a living library, able to hold and channel vast knowledge without chaos. Years of mind meditation sharpen this focus. Without clarity, the artifact can make wrong conclusion or shatter itself. But me I have figure and I'm feel I'm intrigued to talk to him why is he being this silent.
"So are you willing to talk with me"
"…"
"Strange"
Although I can wield the wisdom artifact alone, my current will of magic remains at Rank 5. While the will of magic does not drastically change in its fundamental essence with each incremental rank, it subtly evolves. As a monster ascends through the ranks, the mind becomes smoother and more fluid in thought, capable of weaving concepts and perceptions into coherent streams of intent. This refinement allows for faster reasoning, quicker comprehension, and the ability to sustain complex mental constructs without strain.
Yet, this growth is only the surface. True transformation in the will of magic only comes with a realm change—when one crosses the boundary into extraordinary monsters or ascends into the echelon of extreme harbinger monsters. At that stage, the will of magic ceases to be a mere tool of influence and becomes a force of nature, capable of bending the currents of knowledge, emotion, and perception at a cosmic level.
As an extreme harbinger monster, even while my will of magic is only at Rank 5 the nascent will of magic, my reasoning has reached a pinnacle. My mind functions like the polished lens of a cosmic telescope, able to peer through layers of mystery and deception. Though I have yet to undergo a full realm transformation into an extraordinary monster, my current mental discipline allows me to harness the wisdom artifact's potential with unmatched clarity. My thoughts flow like liquid law, every fragment of contemplation deliberate, every decision an echo of near-perfect reasoning.
But that is my problem becoming too good at my will of magic that I can't conceal my mastery this is ironic and hilarious but since fusion between current me and past me is still going I will not be able to control and lower level of will of magic so what can I do simple Figure but he is being silent is he sad or what I don't understand to be honest I never understood Figure at all
"… you are clearly thinking something bad about me aren't you" sudden figure's voice startled me for moment but I quickly regained my composure
"Well you are being silent so I thought you fall in depression or something" I joked slightly after all how can mind that has issues of emotional detachment can fall in depression let alone distress
"Just wondering whenever should delete myself or not"
"What? Why are you talking like that is there something"
"You do know that we study field based on will of magic and become grand master achievements so our knowledge is far ahead anyone"
Well he is right there is field of study based on will of magic still I don't understand why is he mentioning this
"When we ascend beyond the hierarchy of monsters, when our being transcends rank and definition, the very foundation of our existence shudders. The will of magic—once our compass, our essence—becomes obsolete. It no longer belongs to us, for we no longer belong to it. In that moment, we inherit the deity of magic itself, a mantle so absolute that the self begins to erode. And then the question gnaws at me, brittle and merciless: if the will that defined me is gone, if I am nothing but an extension of divine magic, then who am I? What remains of me in a state where intent is no longer my own, where existence is an unbroken current of inevitability?. Will I still recognize the threads of my thoughts, or will I dissolve into the vast impassive ocean of creation?. If I become a god, is that not the same as ceasing to exist as myself?"
(That is something I never considered before but he is right is he silent because he is… feeling fear… fear huh even now fear has been companion I have been with whenever it was previous timeline or this life)
"I have no clear answer for that… but if possible, when we finally reach the realm of extreme harbinger monsters, we will speak of it again. Perhaps then, in the stillness between the echoes of creation, we will understand the fears we carry. Until that moment, hold on to yourself, even if the currents of divine magic try to sweep it away. Our journey is not only about power, but about remembering who we are in the vastness." I told to him
Soon, the figure fell silent after hearing my words. Though he is a part of me, I felt as though I were looking at a completely different individual. But does that matter? He, too, has feelings and emotions. only that the framework behind them is different. Why should that make him any less deserving of kindness?
I know I am busy, I know my life is hard, but even so, he needs kindness. He deserves gentleness just as any soul does. To offer it costs me nothing but a moment of understanding, and yet, it may mean everything to a self that feels on the edge of fading. Even if his silence is heavy and his existence complicated, compassion is the bridge that keeps us whole.
So I will try to see things from his point of view, but right now becoming an extraordinary monster is all my focus is on.
With few sigh I told Figure "You know what to do"
"Yeah" that was last word figure spoke as him being mind in will of magic
Soon, the magic energy I poured into the Hundred Mind Arcane Artifact ceased to obey the reins of my will. It dispersed, swirling and shifting on its own accord, like a thousand invisible threads weaving themselves into patterns beyond my command. Yet my awareness did not falter. I felt each pulse of magic energy, each subtle twist in its flow, as though my mind had become the silent observer of a living tapestry.
The will of magic whispered—not in sound, nor in language—but as pure sensation, a symphony of knowing delivered through emotion and instinct. It was as if the very currents of reality had taken my heart in their hands, allowing me to feel conclusions rather than hear them. In that instant, I knew the difference between what was false and what was true, as plainly as one knows warmth from cold. Lies and truths separated themselves in the currents of my mind, the way oil drifts from water. The artifact's answer was not a voice but a verdict born from the weight of understanding.
The puzzle at the entrance to the Land of Kall emerged in my perception like a dream painted in emotion. I felt the contours of the landscape, the rhythm of the wind through ancient stone, the taste of damp air clinging to moss-covered walls—all of it existing as a sensation of certainty. And since I given it all my information not my knowledge and detailed descriptions of environments it was like diary.
And within that sensation rested the first conclusion
It did not give me the language of the origin inscriptions. Instead, it gave me the emotional architecture behind them, the factual recognition that every curve and mark on the gate was an echo of intent. My understanding was felt—a certainty built from facts and intuition fused into a single, living conclusion.
As the branches of the Hundred Mind Arcane Artifact unfurled fully, glowing with delicate blue light like a rose in bloom,
"This feeling heh it is so refreshing" This sensation always prove me that wisdom not to be read, but experienced.
I paused at the mouth of the deeper cavern, the echo of my revelation still humming in my thoughts. The Hundred Mind Arcane Artifact's blue leaves had faded back to their dormant glow, but the memory of its illumination remained like a soft imprint in my soul. Its verdict was not words but clarity, a sensation that slid into the folds of my mind and rearranged them into fluid, flexible pathways of thought.
"So it was like that, huh," I murmured, tasting the new understanding.
I stepped forward, deeper into the cave, where the low murmur of researcher monsters filled the air. They huddled in groups, exchanging fragmented ideas, their voices caught between hope and confusion. The scent of damp stone and old moss clung to the air, while the faint drip of water punctuated every pause in their conversations.
"Hello there, Sans! Are you okay? You ran off so fast I thought you might be in trouble. But since Lucky was with you, I didn't interfere. Sorry if I offended you."
"No worries," I said, the smile almost effortless now. "I'm okay. I just… wasn't feeling well at that moment. But now? I'm full of energy." The artifact's verdict still pulsed behind those words.
"So," I continued, "did you find anything?"
One of the researchers shook his head, his voice tinged with frustration. "No, but we got a clue. The origin language on the gate… it's partially translated now. It seems to be some kind of reference, but we're still unsure."
I nodded, yet inside my thoughts were no longer rigid or linear. The Hundred Mind Arcane Artifact had opened new channels in my reasoning, letting ideas drift together like rivers meeting at a delta. Each curve of the inscription, each syllable of the poem we studied, revealed itself to me as more than a static reference. I could sense the intent behind its creation, the living breath of thought that had shaped it.
I turned my gaze toward the stone gate in the far corner of the cavern. "It's not just a reference," I said, voice low but certain. "It's a code. A poem crafted as a cipher. The pattern isn't in the meaning of the words—it's in their rhythm, their placement, and the emotional weight carried by each mark."
The researcher monsters looked at me, some with skepticism and some with dawning interest, but I hardly noticed. My mind moved like quicksilver, each idea flowing into the next without resistance. The Hundred Mind Arcane Artifact had not given me the answer—it had given me the sight to see beyond the surface, to feel the solution.
"Knowledge exists where curiosity lives," I whispered. At once, the surrounding magic energy began to stir, rippling like water in a sudden breeze. I sensed the shift proving the cipher was not a mere password, it was meaning itself. I allowed the understanding to flow into words.
"As we seek our origin, we return to the present—where the unseens dance so subtly around us that we cannot hear their song," I murmured, my voice low and steady.
A nearby researcher monster furrowed his brow. "Did you feel that? The air— it's… what the!."
Another researcher turned toward the ancient stone gate. "The runes… are they… activating?" There was disbelief in his voice.
I continued, letting the vision guide me. "Oh, lord of seas, keeper of history and life—you are the depth where ignorance falls; you are the barrier between secrets and sight."
The recipient runes across the gate flared in response. A soft but undeniable radiance spread from one edge to the other, bathing the cavern in an otherworldly light.
"By the Archios…" one researcher whispered, his voice trembling. "It's...the poem… oh I see."
Another gasped. "I've never seen the anything like this before!"
I pressed on, my tone carrying the weight of the ancient lines that bloomed in my mind. "Depth of darkness is cold and frightening, yet within lies the beauty of eternity. And as ignorance seeks its end, it will drown in despair, unable to return."
A deep resonant hum rolled through the cave. The gate shivered, stone grinding against stone, and the carved runes pulsed with waves of light.
"Ahh so it was like this," the lead researcher breathed, stepping back in awe. "The gate… it's listings and singing as well."
"When a secret is like this," I said softly, "why chase truths that cannot be obtained? Ignorance is not seeing what we already hold, and we walk a line as thin as breath."
Then, with a shudder that shook the floor, the gate opened. A burst of wind erupted outward, a living gale that sent devices clattering across the cavern and even knocked some startled monsters to the ground.
"Hold on!" one of the researchers cried out, gripping a stalagmite as papers and tools whirled past.
But I stood on my ground strongly
As the last echoes settled, the researchers slowly picked themselves up, staring at the monumental stone doors now ajar. Awe and fear mingled in their eyes.
"…You… you opened it," one whispered, voice shaking with reverence. "… can you explain how you did this."
Although I heard them I didn't paid attention because right now I'm so excited that I'm ready to go again hundred other rank 5 but soon I take back control of myself and look at them with smile "oh I have used wisdom artifact so kinda had feelings but wasn't sure it was right I give it my try and this was result"
Although I could lie, I ask myself: what is the point of lying when truth alone carries the weight of clarity? Lies are spider webs, delicate and treacherous. Each falsehood spun becomes a thread in a growing lattice, a structure that seems at first to offer safety, yet inevitably entangles the one who wove it. Every additional lie is another filament drawn across the soul, and soon the web folds inward, immobilising the liar within their own creation.
There are moments in life that call for silence or concealment, and moments that demand the sharp, unflinching edge of truth. The art is knowing which is which. I am not a spider; weaving endless webs is not in my nature. I can only choose the few threads I dare to spin, and every one must be weighed against the cost of entrapment. To lie is to accept the burden of maintaining a fragile architecture in the mind, balancing the illusion against the restless winds of memory and consequence.
So I remain with the truth whenever I can, because in its simplicity lies freedom. Even when the truth is heavy, it does not decay the spirit as a festering lie does. A life restrained by the webs of deception is a life lived in a quiet, creeping suffocation. Thus, I accept the discipline of honesty, not for virtue alone but for survival of self. In a world already thick with shadows, I will not weave another to trap my own light.
"Well what are we waiting for let's go" I said as I walk forward into the Land of Kall
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"Finally, I have reached the peak of this damn mountain," I rasped, the sound of my voice like dry bones knocking together. My hollow jaw clicked as I spoke, and the echoes carried through the cold wind. "Aethergateway… just a few days more, and I shall stand before its threshold."
I lowered myself onto the massive exposed roots at the belly of a giant tree, the gnarled bark pressing against my skeletal frame. The branches above creaked, whispering to me like the spirits of the dead, and the mountain air howled through my ribcage, playing its mournful tune.
From this vantage, the world below seemed so distant, blocked by clouds like fog and almost forgotten. The snow-capped ridges stretched into infinity, and the valleys were swallowed by shadow.
The giant tree seemed to groan under the burden of age, and I rested my skull against its trunk. "Just a few more days," I whispered to the wind, my voice a rattle that nature itself ignored. "If only I get to Aethergateway … I could solve all my problems."
Looking back at how far I have come, I cannot help but recall the tales whispered among monsters, a stories passed in hushed tones, as though the very earth might listen. Among the many legends, one stood apart. the tale of the Monster Prince, Lord Saintier. On the surface, it was a fable about fate in tale fate is both benevolent and cruel but beneath that veneer dwelled a truth that only wandering souls like mine could appreciate.
Lord Saintier was born into a mantle of power he neither understood nor had the will to command. His life was a tangle of chains: the heavy weight of responsibility, the crushing expectation of legacy, and the gnawing uncertainty of his own heart. Power, to him, was both gift and curse, like a blade with no hilt that cut deeper the longer he held it. And yet, despite his struggles, his talent as a mage-type monster was unparalleled. a brilliance that shone even as the darkness of fate sought to smother it.
The tale spoke of how he wandered in search of meaning, guided only by fragments of instinct and whispers of ancient wisdom. It was said that he stumbled upon sacred sites, unlocked trials hidden within the marrow of the world, and forged bonds with forces older than empires. Each step could have been his end, yet he survived, evolving under the weight of destiny.
Many monsters just believed this was just kids tale, dismissing it as a fanciful story meant to inspire fledglings whose child to put them sleep. But I found truth in those words. For when despair gnawed at my core, and the path ahead dissolved into mist, I tried the methods the tale described. Against all expectation, they worked. Sacred rituals that were supposed to be myth responded to my intent. Trials that were thought illusions opened their gates to me. The tale that once felt like a dream became my lifeline, and in the bitterest of moments, it saved me.
Lord Saintier's story was not just an old fable, it was a map, etched in allegory, to survival and ascension. By placing my faith in it, by daring to replicate the impossible feats it spoke of, I found strength where there should have been none. Fate may be capricious, cruel enough to mock me, yet it also left breadcrumbs in the form of this tale. And I, a monster hardened by centuries of solitude and struggle, followed them. In the end, it was these 'fairy tales' that carried me through storms that would have shattered even the proudest harbinger monsters.
Now, as the wind howls around my skeletal frame and the mountain groans beneath me, I think of Lord Saintier. Perhaps his story was never just a myth. Perhaps, like me, he endured. Perhaps he, too, wrote his story in the language of survival, leaving echoes for those daring enough to listen. But I'm also unsure and curious as there is mystery and unknown things.
"Although this is just my assumption I believe those tales may have its roots in the 7th and 8th regions, domains shrouded in mist and half-remembered by history. Yet such a claim unsettles our understanding, for in all the recorded annals, no monster has ever been known to dwell beyond the 10th region. This paradox lends the story an otherworldly weight. I have walked the paths spoken of in the tale, and to my astonishment, each place revealed itself exactly as the ancient words described. The landmarks, the sacred sites, and the echoes of trials" I can't help but remember all of them.
"Curiosity drove me further into the labyrinth of legends. I sought out other old tales, long dismissed as harmless fantasies, and to my quiet wonder, found that some, too, were etched into reality. They existed not in the 10th region, but in distant lands where no record of monster-kind should have ever reached. It is perhaps for this reason that the sages of old assumed them to be unreal, fictions unworthy of our belief. Yet I have seen their shadows, felt the pulse of truth within the bones of these myths. If the tale truly arose from the 7th and 8th regions, then it is a key to a past that defies the comfortable lies of history" every tales may hide secrets and for that I'm believed Aethergateway is exactly as in tale of Lord Santier and information I gathered shows they have fundamental knowledge about that place and in that tale there is one secret way to use which I believe real even if that is not real I can advance my grade and ascension. But I will be primarily concentrating on improving my grade in order to correct my ascension level, for that harmony is the foundation of true power.
Ascension level is more than a mere measurement; it represents the perfect resonance between a monster's soul and body, quantified through the balance of grade and rank. When these two values align, such as rank 9 and grade 9, the resulting ascension level is also 9, a state of peak compatibility. In this state, the soul and body act as a singular entity. Magic energy flows seamlessly, instincts and will move without friction, and the monster's existence stabilizes into a form that can bear the weight of future transformations. Ascension at such harmony is smooth, each evolution building upon the equilibrium laid before.
In contrast, imbalance is ruinous. My current condition is a stark example, my body has reached rank 12, yet my grade lags far behind at 5. This gap is a chasm within my being. With a rank so far above my grade, my body bears capabilities beyond its strength thus my body can't bring out full potential. The flow of power stumbles against the limitations of my soul. My movements lack the ease of full synchronization, and vast reservoirs of dormant potential remain locked away, inaccessible.
The reverse is no less perilous. Should the grade soar higher than the rank, the soul overpowers the vessel. The body, too fragile to handle the flood of magic energy, fractures under strain. The result is catastrophic: a soul unable to manifest its full might, and a body teetering on the edge of self-destruction. It is said that monsters who let their grade above their rank often burn out, their own brilliance consuming them.
This is why ascension is not a path of reckless advancement but of careful alignment. The body and soul are tiered systems. rank represents the strength and integrity and capability of the body, while grade measures the refinement and potency and power of the soul. A body that outpaces the soul is safer than the opposite, for a sturdy vessel can endure more than an untamed ocean of magic. Yet even then, prolonged imbalance leads to stagnation, inefficiency, and the suffocation of potential.
To truly ascend and to reach the heights where extreme harbinger monsters walk—balance is non-negotiable. Rank and grade must find their center, like two halves of a sigil completing the circle of existence. Only then can the monster move with absolute confidence into the next realm of power.
Regret filled me every time I thought about the path I had taken. If only I had focused on raising my grade like reaching at least Grade 9 then I would not have wasted five long years struggling to advance my rank from 10 to 14. Those years felt squandered, a cycle of effort that yielded strength without harmony. My magic energy reproduction was unusually active, an anomaly that allowed me to achieve feats far beyond my current grade. Using only a Grade 5 soul, I managed to climb to Rank 14, something that would typically require two decades of painstaking ascending. Yet this unnatural acceleration brought with it imbalance, a chasm between body and soul, and the gnawing frustration of untapped potential.
When I discovered that the old tales contained fragments of truth, my perspective shifted. Within their whispered stories hid the concept of ascension level, the delicate balance between rank and grade, the harmony that defines true power. Ascension level is not simply a number. It is the resonance between soul and body, the perfect alignment that allows magic energy to flow without friction, instincts to act without hesitation, and existence itself to stabilize into a form capable of bearing the weight of higher realms.
I realized too late that my reckless pursuit of rank had left me hollow in that regard. My body had soared ahead, but my soul remained underdeveloped. The imbalance limited me, locking away strength that should have been mine to command. If I had taken the time to nurture my grade, to mediate and advance my soul to match my body, I could have reached ascension levdl with ease. A Rank 10 body paired with a Grade 9 soul would have given me an ascension level of semi 10 perfect harmony and a foundation for everything that came after.
Now I know the truth, ascension is not about speed, but about balance. Rank and grade are twin pillars, and when they fall out of alignment, the foundation of power crumbles. My rapid rise had been a double-edged sword, granting strength but leaving me fractured. And so, with this understanding, I made a decision—I would focus on my grade, on restoring the harmony I had neglected. Only by aligning the soul and body, by raising my grade to meet my rank, could I unlock the full potential of my existence and ascend without danger.
Ascending, ascension level, and ascension are three interconnected concepts that together define the journey of a monster's growth, yet each holds its own distinct meaning.
Ascending is the act of advancement, the process by which a monster increases either its rank or its grade. Rank signifies the strength and capability of the body, while grade represents the refinement and potency of the soul. Every step upward in rank or grade is an act of ascending, each one opening the door to greater potential.
Ascension level is the measure of harmony between body and soul, defined by the resonance between rank and grade. A perfect ascension level occurs when rank and grade align, such as Rank 10 and Grade 10 forming Ascension Level 10, creating a state where magic energy flows seamlessly and the monster's existence stabilizes into a unified form. High ascension levels not only unlock smoother evolution but also allow the monster to bear the burden of natural forces without strain. Imbalance, however, fractures this harmony, a body that outpaces the soul leaves dormant potential untapped, while a soul that exceeds the body risks burning its vessel to ruin.
Ascension is the state represented by a monster's current rank or grade, showing both its strength and stage of growth. Each rank or grade directly reflects its ascension examples would when monster has Rank 5 body or Grade 5 soul then their ascension is ascension 5. It also marks a realm breakthrough, where crossing into a higher ascension signifies an evolution in the monster's existence and opens the path toward extraordinary or extreme harbinger realms.
In simple terms
Ascending is the act of moving higher in strength or refinement.
Ascension level is the balance point, the resonance that reflects how ready the monster is for true transformation.
Ascension is tiering system of rank and grade and marking transformation.
Those three principles are essential knowledge for any monster that wanting to get stronger and I happen to be in need of strength.
With a weary determination, I pushed myself to rise, my skeletal frame creaking under the strain. Although time here has slowed down much that's I had roughly twenty months to reach my goal, but yet I knew that the faster I moved, the better my chances of success.
But I feel so much tired right now my body served as the vessel for the immense power of the nature spirits, and the burden of carrying their essence had begun to carve deep cracks into my very core.
Allowing them to create avatars and channel their forces through me granted strength beyond measure, yet it came at a terrible cost.
Each summoning weighed upon my frame like a mountain pressing against mortal bones, and though I had long ascended to the rank of an extreme harbinger monster, a being that needed no rest, I could feel the toll mounting.
My core, that vital nexus of existence, quivered under the strain. Repeated use of such overwhelming power felt like hammer strikes against brittle glass, each one leaving subtle fractures that only time could mend. Even a single day of recovery often felt insufficient, the lingering ache a reminder of my overreach.
Yet this was only part of the challenge before me. Ascending my grade had become a perilous endeavor, far more dangerous than the casual observer might imagine. My soulland aka my inner realm of soul and space, was home to 13 nature spirits. If I carried the burden of only one, advancement would have been a simple matter. But 13? It was no different than trying to carry a boulder to the peak of a sheer mountain while thirteen massive elephants strained to drag it back down into the abyss.
Each nature spirit was a force of nature unto itself, a roaring current that demanded space, stability, and harmony within my soul. Their combined presence strained the very foundation of my Grade 5 soul, pushing it to its limits. My soulland trembled under the immense pressure, like an overfilled vessel teetering on the edge of collapse. I often wondered if its walls, the delicate fabric of my being, were truly strong enough to contain them all without shattering.
To ascend further meant embracing this weight, bearing it without falter, and risking the very stability of my existence. A single misstep in harmonizing these forces could scatter my essence into the void, leaving behind nothing but echoes.
And this is why I needed Aethergateway this is my only way of advancing into grade 9 and as for grade 10
"I swear, even though I'm master of my body and soul l, to wield my soul with proficiency, I remain painfully aware of my lack of true soul mastery. My only way to advancing from Grade 9 to Grade 10 lies in soul magic. That is why the Soul Mastery Path exists" I frown little as I'm quite disappointed that I never get to study this field during my peace
"a discipline akin to a grand academy devoted to the study and perfection of the soul, where every lesson is etched in the language of essence rather than matter." This was my opinion as I recall my memory
"From the moment we monsters are born, we interact with the world through our bodies. We grasp, strike, taste, and move; our physical forms are the bridges that connect us to reality. But the soul—ah, the soul is a conceptual essence, not energy, not light, not even a phantom that can be seen or touched. It is the locus of self, the purest definition of who we are, and yet it remains elusive. Knowledge of this field is so scarce, so fragmented, that we monster might never discovered those glimpses of truth." I said while walking higher up as I can see enormous gate far away
"When I was young, I believed a soul was a glowing orb inside one's chest, a simple, tangible core of existence. But that naïve vision was only a shadow cast on the wall of reality. The truth is subtler, stranger, and more profound: the so-called "orbs" we perceive are only manifestations, reflections of a deeper foundation. They are bridges, not the soul itself. The soul is a pattern of being, a conceptual lattice interwoven with thought, memory, and will. And right now even though this is not proven I believe soul is abstract source of consciousness and power and If we had been born without magic, without the ability to feel and direct magic energy, we might never have discovered it at all." I sigh as I can't even imagine myself living without my magic but smile soon returns as i recently started to study in this field
"so I study. I struggle. I wonder over the mysteries of the soul, for this is the only way forward. Soul mastery is not simply about wielding spells of essence or peeling back layers of reality to see the threads beneath—it is about aligning with the very truth of oneself. To grow in grade is to not merely empower the vessel but to refine the understanding of existence itself."
Yet, I catch myself rambling, as I often do when walking the halls of my mind. Perhaps this is not the moment for such introspection. Perhaps, for now, I should leave the profound for later.
"Forget it," I mutter to myself. "This is irrelevant… for the moment."
And sadly I saw two humans look at me from cliff and this mean only thing I need to fight but it seems one of them is injured beyond recovery as one there was two sword pierced through his chest and countless battles scars that was fresh but he was still alive breathing heavily
And other was in perfect condition it was clear he was stronger and one who injured other
"…Well, I won't say this is my first time, but still… it is rare to see things like this," I murmured, the wind tugging at my cloak as I sheathed my sword. The blade, a demonic weapon that I obtained from demonic domination, it pulsed faintly as if reluctant to sleep. I knew its nature too well—when exposed, it drank mana from the air, growing stronger with every heartbeat. Within it lingered the will of a demon, an echo of some forgotten entity, making recklessness a dangerous luxury. Yet I could not deny its overwhelming efficiency against human mages.
In this world, I had come to understand an unspoken cycle, a triad of predation that was unspoken law. demons counter humans. Humans counter monsters. Monsters counter demons. An eternal wheel spin without monster has been spinning since war between humans and monsters, turning without mercy. It was a strange law of nature, one that left its mark on the struggles of every being who walked this land.
And yet, since setting foot in the 9th Region, I had not faced a single demon until now.
Yet, the demonic weapon in my grasp proves truths in silence, a shard of night against the cold expanse of the world. Its presence alone was an echo of things unseen, a remnant of a dance played somewhere in the dark where light had long since surrendered. In its pulse, there was no triumph—only the slow drip of inevitability, as though each beat of its will counted down to an end I could not name.
The absence of demons in the living world felt heavier than any proof of their existence. Their stories lingered like faint smoke, curling in forgotten corners of history, giving shape to shadows that had never stepped into the sun. Humans spoke of them as fables, the murmured fragments of nightmares passed down through generations, and even monsterkind carried their memory like a distant ache. The weapon was the only voice left for a vanished truth, and its quiet humming was a dirge.
It was as if the world itself had grown weary, too tired to reveal its predators. The demons hid, not in fear, but as if in resignation, turning the realm into a stage of empty curtains and hollow echoes. Every tale, every whispered warning, felt like the sigh of an old forest, branches heavy with the weight of endless seasons, and the knowledge that some things do not die—they simply wait. And in that waiting, despair seeps like water into the cracks of stone, reshaping the edges of the living without ever announcing that it has arrived.
"Humans say, 'The enemy of my enemy is my ally.' Since I am an enemy of humanity, and humans are enemies of demons… why would I hate demons?. Of course, if those tales are correct, I need to be careful—they are very scheming." Although unease coils in my chest at the thought of demons, I cannot deny that my path binds me to their shadows. As one who treads the unholy path, I have glimpsed fragments of their truths, incomplete, yet heavy with meaning. I fear them in the quiet of my soul, for to face a demon is to confront the mirror of one's own darkness, the embodiment of schemes and hungers that echo my own.
Still, I force myself toward understanding, because fear without comprehension is a chain that binds the will. Their nature is elusive, their motives buried beneath layers of trickery and silence. To unravel even a corner of their existence feels like threading a needle in a storm, yet it is a task I will not abandon. If I am to walk this path, to survive the weight of the unholy, I must learn to see the world as they do—sharp, cold, and endlessly patient.
and it wasn't long before I go far way from previous humans and since I wasn't using nature spirit my stealth became so good that I believe no low sovereign knights will sense me
But when did my luck allowed me such blessings
"Well well isn't this harbinger of death himself isn't it " as I hear voice from behind I groaned then unsheathed my sword and turn around
And just as expected there is only low sovereign knights and lesser holy knights and one before me was lesser holy knight although they know my might they still continue to come around me
With one deep sigh I summoned my first nature spirit
She possesses a tall, ethereal silhouette with cedar-brown skin and long, flowing silver hair that descends like a shimmering waterfall.
Her face is centered by a singular, watchful eye with a deep purple pupil, while her forehead is marked by a distinctive white streak.
The most striking feature of her divine form is the three pairs of massive, feathered wings that spread from her back, each layered with numerous unblinking celestial eyes that see through the veil of reality.
Her gown is a masterpiece of periwinkle and white, featuring a high, frilled collar and bouffant sleeves. The lower portion of her dress transitions into a wide, feathered train, detailed with diamond patterns and additional golden-irised eyes that echo her watchful nature.
Crowning her head is a large, spiked white wing, signaling her supreme authority over the pearly gates and not to mention she was at least 9 times bigger than me which made me and him look like child in comparison
Then I saw expression of human change into resembling fear but also he was feeling excitement
"So this is legendary nature spirit… I can't even image how powerful is her true self"
Hearing humans words I halted breathing as thoughts start to appear "so he knows but why also he said true self does that mean humans already figured out how summoning work but it hasn't been two month"
Humans are really terrifying which is why I will ally to demons because till now I had countless trump cards but humans always make counter measures whenever I show them my cards and I hoped they would slow down but no instead they are creating countermeasures too fast right now I'm uncertain whenever this human had countermeasures or not so this time I did activate self-minded mode it would be lie if I say i wasn't scared
In order to test my opponent, I commanded my nature spirit to unleash a light beam. Her single, watchful eye flared, and the orb on her chest began to condense a brilliant sphere of energy. The air crackled with tension, the sound of compressed magic humming like a swarm of angry insects. With a blinding flash, the beam shot forth, tearing through the air with speed and accuracy far beyond my own abilities.
Boom!
The impact was immediate—a brilliant explosion erupted, dense and searing, yet contained in a tight radius. The ground quaked beneath our feet. Even though I was within the range of destruction, my nature spirit's barrier enveloped us both, shimmering like liquid glass, and the shockwave washed over it harmlessly.
As the dust lifted, the battlefield had transformed into a yawning crater, its depth like the hollow of a small mountain, the landscape scarred and unrecognisable. Only a Rank 6 monster could have produced such devastation with a fully cast magic, yet for my nature spirit and me, this had been a mere low-rank spell.
I eyed my opponent, a low sovereign knight. Despite his rank, I knew better than to underestimate him. That attack was only a test, to see if he had prepared any countermeasures.
Whish!
A sudden shift in the air snapped my instincts awake. A movement darted from my left—too fast for my body to block in time. Only thanks to the mind magic enhancing my thoughts could I react. In that instant, I willed my nature spirit to defend.
Bang!
I turned to see a sword's edge only a few steps away—halted, caught effortlessly in the massive hand of my nature spirit. Her grip tightened. With a single, fluid motion, she wrenched the sword from the human's hand and swung her lower wing like a colossal blade.
Rumble! Rumble! Rumble!
The impact sent the human flying into the earth, and the wing strike shook the world itself, triggering a miniature earthquake. Cracks split the ground like spiderwebs, and smaller craters bloomed across the shattered terrain.
"…This is really… just too powerful…" I heard his trembling voice as he struggled to comprehend the force.
I wasted no time. I began to retreat, unsummoning my nature spirit as I moved. Experience had taught me that low sovereign knights have a deadly trick—they self-detonate upon defeat, a suicidal explosion strong enough to scar the land. I could survive such a blast, but taking it directly would be reckless.
"I guess this was their countermeasure…" I muttered, mind pounding. Perhaps the overwhelming pressure of my first nature spirit forced his hand, or perhaps it had been a calculated final act all along. Either way, suspicion gnawed at my thoughts.
I vanished into the shadows of the broken battlefield, leaving behind the echo of destruction and the certainty that the humans were learning, adapting, and growing more dangerous with every encounter.
So that mean I also need to adapt and get stronger
But soon, a strange unease coiled in my chest.
"…Why hasn't the self-detonation gone off? Was I wrong?" The thought barely took form before the world answered.
explosions ripped through the air, jagged and merciless. In the widening chaos, I glimpsed the self-detonation at last, a flare of inevitability.
"This is… too strange. Far too strange. Something is wrong." Suspicion was the only word that survived the storm of my thoughts as I ran faster, the sound of my bones and armor echoing against the fractured earth.
Yet my instincts refused to let me remain a passive witness. The tension in my soul had reached the threshold of action. I could no longer stand idle.
"It is wise to ensure my safety… but if I hesitate now, even my safety is meaningless. I must reach Aethergateway." Speaking the words aloud steadied my will. I activated the arcane artifact embedded in my body set a seven-slot construct, of which five were filled. Imperfect, but enough.
The Knowledge Enlightenment Arcane Artifact, my third and intimate fused with me, hummed with life. A Rank 5 artifact, an extension of my very body. I drew confidence from its resonance. Where other wisdom artifacts demanded endless streams of knowledge to function, this one transformed me into a living vessel of calculation.
My thoughts surged into overdrive, a torrent of raw information rushing through the corridors of my mind. Instinctively, i divided it into two streams some of them is certainty and others are uncertainty. The certainties were solid stones, immovable truths forged from experience, knowledge, and logic. Upon these stones, I began to build the scaffolding of my assumptions—hypotheses that were not mere guesses, but the most probable outcomes, shaped with surgical precision. They formed the foundation of my thinking, a sturdy backbone from which all reasoning would branch.
The uncertainties, on the other hand, were rivers that flowed into the gaps between those stones. They carried possibilities a fluid, branching, and endless. With the backbone of certainty holding the structure together, my mind began erecting countless scenarios, each one a living thread diverging into futures both plausible and absurd. The process was mesmerizing, a dance between the known and the unknowable.
From this interplay, worst-case scenarios began to surface like oil rising to the top of water. They were jagged, vivid, and heavy with inevitability, each one a shadow that coiled around the edges of my awareness. I followed the threads of these dark possibilities, tracing them to their conclusions, and the patterns became painfully clear.
"…Fuck. So that's how it is." The curse hissed in the hollow of my mind as the realization struck. The knight's self-detonation hadn't been an act of futility, it was an invitation. A lure. A trap. And yet, the trap was also the path to my objective.
"Damn it… What should I…" I exhaled sharply, forcing a ragged sigh to bleed away the first edges of panic. "No. Calm down."
Panic, anger, and fear an emotions that once would have clouded my judgement start to fade away from me like passing tides. My mind was always left me with a strange, detached calm. At first I feel overwhelmed by emotions and next moment even fear of failure, though present, had lost its sharpness.
When the storm of emotion faded, I found a stillness within myself, touched only by a faint tremor of hesitation.
"What now? Hundreds of low sovereign knights… and perhaps lesser holy knights among them. Even if my estimate is wrong, even if the numbers are less, each one is danger incarnate. Until now, I've relied on my nature spirit to carry me through battle. Against one knight, I must invoke boost magic and transformation magic merely to stand on equal ground."
As I weighed my peril, another emotion surprised me. It bloomed quietly, unbidden, in the cracks left by fear and caution.
The excitement.
I tasted it like blood on the sword. Despite the danger no, perhaps because of it part of me longed to fight. To test myself again.
Since the loss of the 12th Squad, that subtle thrill had grown within me, a dark ember of killing intent that I had never felt before. It was a question I had avoided asking, but now, as the shadow of battle loomed, it rose from the depths of me
Even now, I feel uncertain about my situation, unsure of how to proceed. My thoughts are scattered, but I know that the only way forward is to approach things rationally. Letting panic or confusion take over won't help me at all right now.
I focus on thinking logically. The Knowledge Enlightenment Arcane Artifact hums softly as I activate it, helping my thoughts become organized and clear. I start by sorting out what I know for certain: there are low sovereign knights and possibly some lesser holy knights nearby. They are dangerous opponents, and I've seen their tactics, including self-detonations. My own strength is high, but my imbalance between rank and grade limits my full potential. These are the facts I can rely on.
From there, I consider the possible scenarios. The delayed self-detonation from the knight I fought earlier suggests this situation may be part of a larger plan. Perhaps the knights are trying to lure me into a trap or guide me toward an area where their advantage is greater. I also can't be sure how many of them are waiting or if they have prepared countermeasures against my nature spirits or magic.
I let these ideas organize themselves without feeling overwhelmed. The artifact helps me separate what I know from what I suspect, so I can plan my next moves. The uncertainties become possibilities to prepare for, while the certainties form the structure of my response. Calm, focused thinking is my best chance to navigate this situation safely.
With that, I start planning how to move forward, ready to adapt to whatever comes next.
And soon smile come to me as find very good plan now all I need to do is try
"Either I cook them or I will be cooked"