The next morning arrived without warmth.
Rey rose in silence and made his way toward the memorial grounds where the fallen members of Clan Aegis were to be laid to rest. The sky was overcast, as if the world itself mourned alongside the living.
The funeral hall was filled.
Leaders from nearly every major power had gathered—not for politics, not for alliances, but for the dead.
Clan Rose was represented by Eris herself.
Clan Glory arrived with Tristan at the front.
The leader of Clan Obsidian, Vincent, stood solemnly in black mage armor, his grimoire held close to his chest.
And overseeing it all was Willson, the Head of the Adventurer Guild, his crimson-black assassin coat standing out sharply among the mourners.
Prayers were offered.
Words of farewell echoed through the hall as names of the fallen were read aloud, one by one. Each name was met with silence—heavy, suffocating silence.
When the ceremony finally ended, grief lingered like a curse that refused to fade.
Later that day, the leaders gathered inside a grand hall prepared by Drax, a private space meant for rest and discussion. Only those at the highest level were present.
Willson broke the silence first.
“Tell me the truth, Drax,” he said, his sharp eyes locking onto the clan leader of Aegis.
“You entered that dungeon with multiple Class A adventurers… yet only five of you returned. And all of you were heavily injured. What exactly happened?”
Drax lowered his head.
“It was… a Minotaur,” he said slowly.
“Level 87.”
The room stiffened.
“It was overwhelming. Brutal. The moment we engaged it, our formation collapsed. We couldn’t even stabilize.”
Tristan narrowed his eyes.
“So…how did you survive that monster? The power of the level 87 Minotaur monster is very terrifying…almost the same as what happened that time.”
His words lingered too long.
Eris’s eyes snapped toward him, blazing with anger.
“Are you seriously bringing that up again?” she snapped.
“Do you know how deep that wound still is for me? Or are you doing this on purpose, Tristan?”
“I—Eris, I didn’t mean it like that—”
“Enough.”
Vincent stepped forward, his calm voice cutting through the tension.
“Are the two of you still fighting over that incident?”
Eris clenched her fists.
“Vincent, do you also believe that what happened back then was just an accident?”
Before he could answer—
“Silence.”
Willson’s voice carried authority.
“Eris. Tristan. Vincent. I’m questioning Drax.”
The room fell quiet.
Drax took a breath.
“If Ace hadn’t been there…”
He hesitated.
“…I believe all of us would have died.”
The name struck the room like thunder.
Eris froze.
Fear flickered across her face before she could suppress it.
Tristan noticed immediately.
“…Eris?”
“What’s wrong?”
“N-Nothing,” she said quickly.
“It’s nothing.”
Drax continued, unaware—or perhaps deliberately ignoring her reaction.
“He saved us. With his formations. His tactics. We were able to kill the Minotaur because of him.”
Tristan exhaled sharply.
“Ace… The man I personally invited to Clan Glory.”
He smiled faintly.
“I knew my judgment wasn’t wrong.”
Vincent frowned.
“Ace? Isn’t he the one with only 10 MP?”
Willson’s eyes shifted toward Eris.
“Eris. Isn’t Ace the VIP guest of Clan Rose?”
“…Is he a Player?”
Eris hesitated—then nodded.
“Yes. He is.”
“And he is a Player.”
The room erupted into shock.
“That means…” Willson muttered.
“…His strength has already reached Class S. Possibly even top three.”
Drax nodded.
“That’s correct. His power is terrifying. But what I can’t understand is his role.”
He gestured vaguely.
“He fights like a warrior. Moves like an assassin. Uses daggers. Yet… I never once saw him activate a skill. Not even a single one. He relies purely on physical strikes—punches, kicks, raw force.”
Eris swallowed.
“I fought him once… when he entered Clan Rose.”
Her voice trembled.
“I couldn’t withstand his anger. His presence alone was crushing. But…”
Before she could finish—
The doors of the hall opened.
Footsteps echoed.
Rey entered.
Drax immediately stood.
“Ace! We’ve been waiting for you.”
Every gaze turned toward him.
Admiration. Curiosity. Fear.
Only Eris looked away.
Willson studied him carefully.
“So… you are Ace.”
“A Player from another world.”
Rey stiffened.
“…How did you know?...And who are you?”
Willson folded his arms.
“My name is Willson, Head of Guild Adventurer....Nice to meet you....For your question, after the major incident weeks ago, I began investigating. Players from other worlds have started appearing again. Their growth rate is abnormal—terrifyingly fast.”
He paused.
“And this world knows of them. This is not the first time.”
Rey’s eyes widened.
“This… has happened before?”
“Twice,” Willson replied.
“You are the third wave.”
Tristan stepped forward, smiling.
“Ace. We meet again.”
“I’ve heard everything from Drax. So—what about my offer?”
Rey shook his head.
“I’m sorry, Tristan. I can’t decide right now.”
“My party member is critically injured. I need to check on her.”
His gaze shifted.
“Eris… you’re here too.”
“How is Elysa?”
“She’s stable,” Eris replied quickly.
“But to fully heal her—to remove the scars and restore her body—we need a Grand Tier Potion.”
Rey nodded.
“I’ll find one.”
Drax stepped forward immediately.
“Clan Aegis has three Grand Tier Potions.”
“I’ll give you one.”
Rey was stunned.
“…Are you sure?”
“It’s a gift,” Drax said firmly.
“You saved us. And you didn’t even take the Minotaur’s drop items.”
Rey bowed his head slightly.
“Thank you. I won’t forget this.”
Laughter broke the tension.
“Hahaha! Then let’s celebrate!” Drax declared.
“It’s been a long time since we partied like the old days!”
Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.
Cheers erupted—
Until Rey spoke again.
“Eris.”
“Where are Melvin and Luna?”
The room froze.
Eris’s face drained of color.
“L-Lord Ace…”
“They went searching for a Grand Tier Potion after Elysa was brought back. They… haven’t returned.”
Crack.
The table split down the middle.
The floor beneath Rey fractured.
The pressure exploded outward.
“Why,” Rey asked quietly,
“didn’t you stop them?”
“I—I’m sorry…”
Aura flooded the hall.
Walls groaned.
Vincent staggered.
Willson clenched his teeth.
This pressure… it’s stronger than mine.
“Ace!” Willson shouted.
“Calm yourself! I’ll issue a full Guild search order. We’ll find them.”
The floor continued collapsing.
“…By tonight,” Willson added urgently.
“I promise.”
Rey slowly retracted his aura.
“…Alright.”
The hall fell silent once more.
Yet Rey’s eyes were cold.
That night, laughter returned—but it never reached Rey’s heart.
Much later—
As the feast died down.
Vincent suddenly spoke.
“Ace… if only you had appeared five years earlier…”
“…that tragedy would never have happened.”
“VINCENT!” Willson roared.
“We agreed never to speak of it!”
Tears streamed down Eris’s face.
Rey looked at them.
“…May I ask?”
Drax sighed deeply.
“That incident… five years ago.”
“When the five of us were still one party.”
Willson’s eyes darkened.
“…Ace. What we’re about to tell you—”
Willson closed his eyes.
“…Five years ago,” he began slowly,
“there were no clans.”
Everyone in the room stiffened.
“At that time, there was only one great guild—the Christope Adventurer Guild. Every strong party belonged to it. For large-scale missions, dangerous ones that required overwhelming manpower, multiple parties would merge into one force.”
Drax leaned back, his face dark.
“That was when we were at our peak as a party.”
Willson nodded.
“Our party was considered one of the strongest.”
He looked at each of them in turn.
“I, and Drax—we had already reached Class S.”
Drax continued quietly.
“Tristan, Eris, and Vincent were Class A. Evelyn… and Emily… were Class B.”
Eris’s shoulders trembled at the mention of that name.
“…Emily,” Willson said softly.
“She was Eris’s younger sister.”
Rey’s eyes widened slightly.
“And Evelyn,” Vincent added, his voice low,
“was my lover… and Emily’s closest friend.”
No one spoke for a moment.
Tristan broke the silence, his voice hoarse.
“I—was Eris’s partner. We were… supposed to get married years ago.”
The words felt like knives.
Willson continued.
“Emily was special. A rare support-type adventurer. She could activate buffs and healing magic at absurd speed—faster than any support we’d ever seen.”
Drax nodded grimly.
“She could heal, buff, and still unleash destructive magic. A hybrid of support and mage.”
“One day,” Willson said,
“the guild issued a mission.”
His eyes darkened.
“A large-scale expedition. One filled with Class S adventurers. Even the Guild Master himself—Level 83—acted as the supreme commander.”
Rey held his breath.
“The mission was simple in wording… but suicidal in reality.”
“—Explore Dungeon Floor 7.”
The air turned cold.
“At that time, anyone below Class A was forbidden from participating,” Willson continued.
“Only Class S and Class A were allowed.”
Vincent’s voice trembled.
“…Except for us.”
Everyone knew what he meant.
“Our party was granted an exception,” Willson said bitterly.
“Because we had Emily.”
Drax clenched his teeth.
“Nearly ten parties joined the expedition.
Thirteen Class S adventurers.
Twenty-four Class A.”
He exhaled.
“Thirty-seven people in total.”
Rey’s fists tightened unconsciously.
“They entered Floor 7 fully prepared,” Willson said.
“High-grade equipment. Top-tier potions. Perfect formations.”
Eris laughed hollowly.
“…We thought we were ready.”
Drax continued.
“Midway through the floor… we encountered them.”
“—The Orcs.”
The word alone felt heavy.
“They had territory. A kingdom of their own,” Willson said.
“Three Orc Warlords, levels between 80 and 90.”
Rey’s eyes widened.
“Dozens of Orc Champions, Warriors, and Shamans. Over fifty in total.”
The room felt suffocating.
“The battle…” Drax whispered.
“…was hell.”
Spells roared. Steel clashed. Blood flooded the dungeon floor.
“We fought with everything we had,” Willson said.
“But the casualties… kept rising.”
He swallowed.
“Out of thirty-five adventurers…”
“…only eight survived.”
Rey’s heart sank.
“Even the Guild Master… fell in that battle.”
Eris finally broke.
Tears streamed down her face as she covered her mouth, sobbing silently.
Rey could feel his chest tightening.
So this is the wound…
“The reason Emily died,” Willson continued, his voice shaking,
“…was because Tristan was forced to choose.”
Tristan’s head dropped completely.
“At that moment,” Drax said,
“the seven of us were split.”
“Willson, Vincent, and Evelyn held back an Orc Champion—Level 72.”
Vincent clenched his jaw.
“And Drax, Tristan, Eris, and Emily…”
“…faced the other one.”
“Level 75,” Willson finished.
Silence.
“That Orc Champion had already evolved,” Drax said.
“We were completely overwhelmed.”
He pointed at his own body.
“My armor was destroyed. I suffered fatal wounds. Several bones shattered.”
Tristan’s voice cracked.
“My left arm… was broken. But I was still standing.”
Eris whispered.
“…I was bleeding heavily.”
Her voice trembled.
“And Emily…”
“…was behind us.”
“She was terrified,” Vincent said quietly.
“She couldn’t move.”
“There was an Orc Shaman behind the Champion,” Willson continued.
“It noticed her immediately.”
Because she was the core.
The lifeline.
“Eris begged Tristan to save Emily,” Drax said.
Eris screamed suddenly.
“I TOLD YOU TO GO TO HER!”
Her voice echoed violently through the hall.
“At that moment,” Willson said carefully,
“the Orc Champion was targeting Eris.”
“If Tristan stopped blocking,” Drax said,
“Eris would have been cleaved in half.”
Tristan’s fists trembled.
“So I went berserk,” he whispered.
“I attacked without restraint.”
The image was vivid.
“He forced the Orc Champion back,” Drax said.
“Severed one of its arms.”
Tristan closed his eyes.
“Then… I ran.”
“One second,” Willson said softly.
“…That was all it took.”
The Orc Shaman’s magic was already unleashed.
“Emily activated her barrier,” Vincent said.
“But it couldn’t withstand repeated fire magic from a Level 57 monster.”
Flames.
Screams.
“…She burned to death.”
Eris screamed, collapsing to her knees.
“I SAW HER DIE!”
“I SAW MY SISTER DIE!”
Her body shook violently.
“I LOST EVERYTHING!”
Rey stood frozen.
After that—
“Eris lost control,” Willson said.
“She collapsed from shock.”
“In the end,” Drax continued,
“the remaining survivors retreated.”
Willson, Drax, Tristan, Vincent, Eris, Evelyn…
And two other Class S adventurers.
“We couldn’t retrieve a single body,” Willson said.
“Twenty Orcs still stood. One Warlord. Three Champions.”
A complete defeat.
“We fled Floor 7.”
The nation of Christope went into mourning.
Veterans lost. Heroes dead.
The Guild Master fallen.
“…After that,” Willson said,
“Eris distanced herself from Tristan.”
Tristan whispered.
“Our party… broke.”
“And clans were born,” Vincent said.
“Clan Rose. Clan Glory. Clan Obsidian.”
Rey thought
“I think that was when Clan Rose and Clan Glory became enemies.”
The room was silent.
Rey finally spoke.
“…I’m sorry.”
Eris sobbed uncontrollably.
Tristan dropped to one knee.
“It was my fault,” he said.
“If I had been stronger… Emily would’ve lived.”
Eris turned on him instantly.
“DON’T SAY THAT!”
She struck him.
“Because you didn’t listen to me—my sister died!”
No one intervened.
They couldn’t.
After a long while, Rey asked quietly,
“…Have you ever returned to Floor 7?”
Willson shook his head.
“We weren’t strong enough.”
“The Orc Warlord…” Drax said,
“…was far stronger than the Minotaur we killed recently.”
Vincent nodded.
“We even discussed asking neighbouring nations for aid.”
“…They refused.”
Rey inhaled slowly.
“…May I ask one more thing?”
“Go ahead,” Willson said.
“How strong is Floor 7… truly?”
Willson’s expression darkened.
“I’ve heard that higher-tier nations have cleared it.”
“But even they suffered heavy losses.”
“They encountered monsters at Level 112.”
Drax added,
“One attack from such a creature could erase a beginner city.”
Rey’s breath hitched.
“…Above Level 100?”
Willson nodded.
“I’ve heard rumors of monsters reaching Level 120.”
He laughed bitterly.
“Floor 6 and below… I don’t even want to imagine.”
Tristan spoke quietly.
“That’s why no nation on this continent has ever stepped onto Floor 6.”
Rey frowned.
“…Other continents?”
Willson looked at him sharply.
“This continent is the weakest among the four.”
Rey stiffened.
“I once heard,” Willson continued,
“that the Southern Continent had adventurers at Level 180.”
Rey’s eyes widened.
“…That’s possible?”
Willson laughed.
“I doubted it too.”
“But forty years ago—when the Southern Continent invaded the Eastern Continent…”
His voice turned grim.
“…The Eastern Continent was annihilated.”
Drax whispered.
“And from that war…”
Vincent finished.
“…One name emerged.”
Willson’s gaze locked onto Rey.
“The Paladin Mage.”
“A man who surpassed Level 160.”
“…And erased an entire nation with magic alone.”
“…The Eastern Continent,” Rey asked slowly,
“…has it already been destroyed?”
The question fell into the hall like a stone into deep water.
Willson shook his head.
“No. It wasn’t that simple.”
Everyone turned toward him.
“They fought back,” Willson continued.
“Fiercely. To the brink of extinction.”
His gaze sharpened.
“But when all hope seemed lost… a new light appeared.”
Rey listened intently.
“A Player,” Willson said.
“One who became the Hero of the Eastern Continent.”
Eris lifted her head slightly.
“He was only Level 150,” Willson continued,
“yet he alone forced back the invasion of the Southern Continent.”
Rey’s breath slowed.
“From that point onward,” Willson added,
“people began to believe something.”
He looked directly at Rey.
“That every Player who descends into this world… is extraordinary.”
Rey finally understood.
Players are variables.
Irregular existences that can overturn fate itself.
Before anyone could speak—
The doors of the hall burst open.
Footsteps rushed inside.
One of Eris’s subordinates knelt immediately, her face pale.
“Lady Eris…”
“I have located Lady Melvin and Lady Luna.”
The air froze.
Rey stood up so abruptly that his chair crashed backward.
“What?”
“You’ve found them?”
His eyes locked onto the messenger.
“Where are they?”
The subordinate trembled violently.
“L-Lord… Lord Ace…”
“They are… they are in Clan Glory.”
Silence.
“Marek,” she continued, voice shaking,
“has captured them.”
“And he is… punishing them.”
—
BOOM.
Rey’s fist struck the wall behind him.
The stone didn’t crack.
It exploded.
A shockwave tore through the hall, blasting straight through the structure and carving a visible path of destruction behind it—walls shattered, corridors collapsed, and beyond the hall, entire sections of the forest within Clan Aegis were flattened by the residual force.
People screamed outside.
Inside the hall—
Fear.
Pure, instinctive fear.
Rey’s voice was low.
Dangerously calm.
“Tristan.”
Every eye turned to him.
“I will give you two choices.”
The temperature dropped.
“One,” Rey said.
“Marek stands before me.”
A pause.
“Two,” he continued coldly,
“Clan Glory will exist in name only.”
The hall shook.
Eris froze in terror.
Vincent’s face went white.
Even Eris’s subordinate collapsed to her knees.
Tristan’s breath hitched.
Drax and Willson exchanged grim looks—both tense, both aware.
This was not a threat.
This was a verdict waiting to be executed.
Outside, the guests who had come for the funeral stared in shock at the destruction. Many believed—mistakenly—that the leaders had already begun fighting one another.
Inside the hall—
Tristan finally spoke.
“I… I didn’t know,” he said quickly.
“I swear it. I had no knowledge of this.”
Rey’s eyes were lifeless.
“I will handle it,” Tristan continued.
“I promise you, Ace. I will resolve this matter myself.”
No response.
Rey stared at him with a gaze so cold it felt inhuman.
Then—
Rey sat back down.
Slowly.
Deliberately.
The aura did not fade.
The pressure remained, heavy enough that breathing felt difficult.
Those eyes…
They were no longer the eyes of an adventurer.
They were the eyes of someone who had already decided a sentence—
and was simply waiting for the execution.
The hall was deathly silent.
No one dared to speak.
Tristan swallowed hard.
“One hour,” he said quietly.
“I will personally bring Marek before you.”
Rey did not answer.
He closed his eyes.
For a long moment, there was nothing but the sound of strained breathing.
Finally—
“Make sure they are both alive,” Rey said.
He opened his eyes.
“If not—”
The floor beneath his feet cracked again.
“I don’t need excuses.”
Elsewhere.
Far from the suffocating pressure of the hall.
Inside Clan Glory.
Marek was laughing.
Loudly.
Carelessly.
Unaware.
The torches along the stone walls flickered as he leaned back in his chair, wine in hand, satisfaction plastered across his face.
“Run all you want,” he scoffed.
“In the end, you’re still just prey.”
He had no idea—
That somewhere beyond his walls,
Time itself had turned against him.
One hour.
And far away, deep within Rey’s mind—
A system notification pulsed silently.
[Warning: Emotional Suppression Threshold Reached.]
[Limiter Integrity: UNSTABLE.]
Rey exhaled slowly.
“One hour…” he murmured.
And for the first time—
Even Willson felt it.
This wasn’t the wrath of a Player.
This was something far worse.
A calamity…
…waiting for permission to begin.
