Reine sat hunched on his log like a lonely, brooding cub, waiting for Argol to return. The firelight flickered against his pale face, casting long, dancing shadows.
What even is the Snap? he wondered. He'd been too busy dying in his previous loops to actually analyze the mechanics of his own curse. But now, in the silence, the realization of his power felt heavy. The atmosphere around him suddenly shifted, turning dark and weirdly absurd—the same skin-crawling sensation he'd felt during the agony of his 13th loop.
"Ugh, even the thought of that time creeps me ou—"
"SIIIR!! I've brought the map!" Argol yelled from afar, sprinting through the mud with a rolled-up parchment held high.
"A map?" Reine asked, blinking back the dark memories. "For what, Argol? And why do you even have a high-level military document on you?"
"Sir, don't whisper this to a soul, but I'm actually quite fond of geography," Argol whispered, leaning so close to Reine's ear that his hot breath made Reine flinch. "I've memorized the lay of the land since I was old enough to crawl. It's the only thing that makes sense in this mess."
Argol sat beside Reine and unfurled the thick, yellowed parchment onto the green grass field. The sounds of the party—the clinking mugs and drunken singing—seemed to fade into a serious, heavy hum.
"This world is called Versaint," Argol said, his voice dropping into a lecture-like tone. "It consists of five unique continents. We are currently on the Human Continent, which is fractured into eight parts called the Eight Divine Kingdoms. If they ever united, we'd be the strongest force in existence. But that's a dream; the kingdoms are locked in a permanent conflict. We just battled the Paekl army—they are by far the strongest because they have mastered all Three Pillars of Power."
"What are these Three Pillars?" Reine asked, realizing how little he actually knew about the world he was supposed to conquer.
Argol looked at him with genuine shock. "Wow, sir... for someone who was a noble, you're impressively uneducated. The Pillars are the foundation of everything. First is the Sword Path, which Herlem specializes in. Second is Martial Arts, the specialty of the Kranth tribes. For both of these, you need a mana core—which we both have."
Argol's expression turned grim as he traced a line on the map. "Then there are the ranks of power. We've managed to scrape into the Intermediate rank, which is why we're still breathing. Above us is Advanced, then High Advanced. That Midnight Knight? He was probably between High Advanced to Master—the fifth rank."
We're Intermediate, and that monster still wiped us out like we were nothing? Reine thought, his stomach dropping. He grasped his hands together, leaning his elbows on his thighs as a cold sweat broke out on his neck.
"Above Master is Grandmaster," Argol continued, his voice trembling slightly. "And at the absolute peak... the seventh rank... is the Divine Master. Legend says they can rewrite the laws of the Pillars themselves. But no one has seen one in three hundred years."
If a Master is that far above us, a Divine Master might as well be the sun, Reine thought. He put a hand to his chin, a bead of sweat rolling down his face as he stared at the map with an over-exaggeratedly serious, concerned expression.
"And the third Pillar is Magic," Argol added. "The Erlj Kingdom is unmatched there. But Paekl... Paekl is good at all three. You saw it today; they had a vast amount of mages on that battlefield."
Why is he talking about the enemy with such honor? Reine wondered. He was literally destined to die by their hands five hours ago. "Sir," Argol said, his voice snapping Reine out of his thoughts. "You want to conquer the world, right?"
Reine nodded.
"Then I'm the perfect person to help you! I'll be your eyes and your brain... and in return, you help me reach my goal!" Argol's face was filled with a desperate, frantic determination.
Reine went quiet again, lost in the implications of the power gap.
"SIR! YOU KEEP DOING THAT!" Argol shouted, leaping up from the grass. Once again, the nearby soldiers stopped their drinking to stare. Argol turned scarlet and sat back down, clearing his throat awkwardly. "Si—"
"Sure," Reine interrupted, his tone dry. "What's your dream, Argol?"
"...My go—"
"REINE VANGALF! ARGOL ORLON! FRONT AND CENTER!" The voice boomed across the camp. Commander Elena was standing on a makeshift wooden stage, swaying slightly with a half-empty bottle in one hand and a commanding glint in her eyes.
"GET UP HERE, YOU BRATS! THE EIGHTH KINGDOM HAS A GIFT FOR OUR NEWEST 'SPECIALISTS'!"
The Power Scale(Martial Arts and Sword Path):
1. Novice
2. Intermediate (Reine & Argol)
3. Advanced
4. High Advanced
5. Master (The Midnight Knight)
6. Grandmaster
7. Divine Master (The Legend)