And in the silence, the last remnants of him, silver motes drifting endlessly on the wind, vanished, leaving nothing but the battlefield, scarred and broken, to remember the hero who had walked through it.

  The wind carried the silver dust away, scattering it over the ruin-strewn battlefield.

  Somewhere, faint and distant, a voice called Lee Aseok’s name, stretching across the void.

  He could feel it, barely, like a thread tugging at the edges of his fading consciousness. Yet there was no panic. No struggle. Only calm. He closed his eyes.

  Then everything changed.

  Light and air rushed in. Sound, movement, and the sharp tang of the dungeon world returned with startling clarity.

  Lee Aseok’s vision sharpened.

  His body was whole again—battered, alive. The memory of dying lingered like ash, but his mind was calm.

  He opened his eyes fully, taking in the present, and the weight of recognition settled into his chest.

  He saw them first: Mu Yichen, his posture calm, detached, as always; Park Taegun, methodically drinking from a mana potion.

  The group was here, energized, unaware of the looming danger that had claimed him once.

  Lee Aseok’s gaze drifted downward. The holy sword floated beside him, obedient, protective, as though guarding his very presence.

  The Iron Rod rested easily in his hands, its rough weight familiar, grounding. A small, almost imperceptible chuckle escaped him.

  In this life, no one remembered.

  Mu Yichen, Park Taegun, Seo MinHyun, Kang Juwon, none of them bore the knowledge of the horrors that had swallowed him before.

  They would only see the world as cruel, indifferent. They would only blame circumstance for suffering, as all humans did.

  They saw cruelty; he saw cause.

  Lee Aseok flexed his fingers around the Iron Rod. Its cold, battered surface felt reassuring, a simple reminder of his will.

  The holy sword beside him remained vigilant, but he did not need it. Not this time.

  He had survived the impossible once. He would do it again, in his own way, on his own terms.

  A quiet resolve settled over him, deep and immovable. The world could be cruel.

  The “Hell Gate” could be merciless. The people he had once called companions could remain blind to the truth. None of it mattered.

  He would live however he wanted. He would forge his path free of the fragile expectations that had betrayed him before.

  The mana potions glinted in the sunlight as his former teammates prepared themselves, still discussing strategies, still measuring risks.

  Lee Aseok took a slow breath, inhaling the scent of the dungeon’s air, tinged with dust and ozone, a smell that had once meant death and despair.

  Now it smelled of opportunity, of control, of the power to shape his fate.

  No one would claim him. No one would dictate his limits. No one would see him as a mere pawn ever again.

  Lee Aseok’s eyes swept over Mu Yichen again.

  He knew that in this life, nothing would be the same.

  He had learned, once, what it meant to be expendable, to be broken, to be ignored even by those who should have cared. That memory burned in him now, a quiet, smoldering flame of resolve.

  And he would live differently.

  The smirk deepened, almost imperceptibly, as he finally spoke, though the words were meant for no one, even as he felt the eyes of others on him. “I’ll live however I want.”

  The world around him continued, unknowing, mundane, filled with the trivial fears and hopes of those who had no memory of past horrors.

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  And Lee Aseok, reborn, tempered by the fire of his death and the silence of the silver dust, prepared to walk forward, untethered, unstoppable.

  The “Hell Gate” awaited. So did the world, cruel and indifferent. But Lee Aseok no longer needed to fear either.

  Mu Yichen, as ever, kept his unblinking gaze on Lee Aseok, his posture all calm courtesy and quiet concern. “ You look different. Are you tired? Do you need to eat? Drink? Are you thirsty?”

  His tone was neutral, polite, but it carried the same weight it always did, as if Lee Aseok’s well-being was a puzzle Mu Yichen had been trying to solve for centuries.

  Lee Aseok didn’t answer. He didn’t even glance in his direction. His eyes drifted elsewhere, and the corners of his mouth twitched into a faint, unamused smirk.

  The others noticed the subtle expression and immediately looked away, pretending they hadn’t seen anything.

  Seo MinHyun coughed awkwardly. Park Taegun adjusted his armor, deliberately avoiding eye contact.

  Even Kang Juwon gave a faint flick of his gaze, eyebrow raised, clearly thinking, this kid’s a menace already.

  Lee Aseok’s smirk widened slightly.

  In this life, none of them had memories of his past death, of the world crushing him, of betrayal and blood-soaked despair.

  All they did was complain about the dungeon, the danger, the world being cruel.

  He chuckled quietly to himself, a dry, humorless sound that somehow still carried amusement.

  Let them think the world is cruel. Let them fret over their mana potions and strategy tables. He had already made his decision. This life, this time, he would live on his terms.

  Kang Juwon, scanning the area for threats and seeing none, finally turned his attention to Lee Aseok. “Do you… have any idea what’s happening?” he asked, a hint of curiosity, and perhaps irritation, in his voice.

  Lee Aseok’s head tilted back slightly, eyes glinting. A slow, deliberate smirk spread across his face. “Sweet dream.”

  The words barely left his mouth before the world shifted. A blinding light descended from above, sharp and sudden, flashing across the area.

  Mu Yichen, Park Taegun, Seo MinHyun, and even Kang Juwon crumpled to the ground, unconscious, as if sleep itself had been commanded into them.

  Lee Aseok didn’t flinch. His eyes scanned the sudden illusions around him. Pictures, strange and random, flickered into view, images of himself, fragments of moments.

  Even without the holy sword’s protection, he could see through the trickery. He didn’t bother to gawk or mock; there was no need. They were all illusions.

  Aseok narrowed his eyes.

  The illusion collapsed instantly.

  Lee Aseok didn’t mind the others sprawled across the stone ground, still trapped in their illusions.

  He knew they would wake soon enough, rubbing their eyes, confused, pretending nothing had happened. That was their problem, not his.

  He had no time for their bewilderment. His eyes scanned the cavern, sharp and calculating.

  The air was heavy with mana, dense enough to feel like a weight pressing against his skin. It wasn’t just a dungeon chamber. No, this place was waiting.

  Aseok rose to his feet, Iron Rod resting casually against his shoulder, though every muscle in his body was ready to strike.

  He wondered, absently, if there was a mechanism, a hidden trigger to bring out the boss faster.

  A crack in the stone? A seal in the walls? Or perhaps, he thought, the very floor beneath them was a false veil that needed breaking.

  His lips curved into a humorless smirk. Or maybe I should just smash everything until something answers.

  But deep down, he knew the truth. The dungeon was alive in its own way. The moment his so-called teammates shook off their illusions, the final act would begin.

  He didn’t need to search. The boss would come to him whether he wanted it or not. Still, standing idle irritated him.

  Waiting was too close to helplessness, and helplessness was something he had buried with his first death.

  The faint hum of power shifted. The holy sword drifted forward, floating smoothly into his path, as if it had read his thoughts. Its glow pulsed faintly, barring his way with wordless insistence.

  Lee Aseok’s chuckle was low and quiet, but there was no warmth in it. His eyes were cold, like frozen steel. “What? Now you want to stop me?” he murmured.

  The sword remained steady, its aura pressing down on him like a warning.

  “You didn’t stop me last time,” he continued, his voice dropping lower, more dangerous. “When I walked into the final boss’s jaws in my last life, you didn’t move. You let me bleed out. You watched me turn into dust. Why stop me now?”

  The silence stretched, only broken by the faint crackling of unstable mana in the air.

  Then, without hesitation, Lee Aseok swung.

  The Iron Rod smashed against the radiant blade, the sound like thunder cracking through the chamber.

  The holy sword was flung backward, slamming into the wall with bone-rattling force. The wall shattered, chunks of stone spraying outward, dust billowing into the air.

  The sword itself hovered calmly amidst the wreckage, unscathed.

  Of course.

  Lee Aseok lowered his weapon with a faint sneer. “Better not get in my way.” His tone was flat, but the chill in it was enough to silence even the air around him.

  The sword’s glow dimmed faintly, as though reluctant, but it no longer blocked him.

  Without sparing it another glance, Lee Aseok turned and began pacing slowly along the jagged walls, running his free hand across the cold stone, feeling for the smallest irregularity.

  Every step echoed sharply, each sound magnified in the silence. The others remained unconscious, breathing steadily, unaware of the quiet war playing out in the chamber.

  Hidden doors, hidden seals… where do you keep your secrets?

  His boots ground against the dust and broken stone, the Iron Rod heavy in his grip.

  The chamber felt wrong, not like a battlefield, but like a stage, waiting for the curtain to rise. That tension crawled under his skin.

  When the ground would tremble, the shadows would stretch, and the boss would finally reveal itself.

  And this time, this time, Lee Aseok wasn’t planning on waiting for permission to fight.

  He exhaled slowly, eyes narrowing at the cracked wall the sword had shattered. Perhaps there was something behind it. Perhaps not.

  Either way, he would break it all down until the dungeon revealed what it was hiding.

  “Come out,” he whispered coldly, voice cutting through the stillness. “Or I’ll drag you out myself.”

  The holy sword hovered silently in the corner of his vision, its light flickering like a restless heartbeat.

  Lee Aseok ignored it and pressed forward.

  Author Note:

  Every “OH MY GOD ASEOK STOP” gives me the strength to write the next disaster.

  Mon ? Wed ? Fri

  (Yes, I too question my life choices.)

  https://www.patreon.com/c/LithutheBloom

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