The battlefield roared with the sound of steel and war cries. My knights and the Dungeon King’s soldiers clashed fiercely. But my knights had the upper hand, pushing forward with strength and precision.

  Then, I saw him.

  The general of the Dungeon King.

  He stood calmly in the center of the chaos. His eyes were sharp. His presence, quiet but dangerous. He was clever—I could feel it just by looking at him.

  Suddenly, he moved.

  Before I could speak, he appeared in front of me. A flash of silver. A deadly sword strike aimed straight for my chest.

  I raised a finger.

  Clang!

  His sword stopped. One finger was enough. The force cracked the ground under us, and a gust of air exploded around us. I was surprised by his speed. What a speed! But it wasn’t enough.

  He jumped back and landed lightly, eyes focused.

  “It’s my turn now,” I said.

  Dark mana surged through my body. I raised my hand, and the Obsidian Katana formed—long, black, and glowing faintly with shadow.

  With a step forward, I swung.

  A wave of mana exploded from the blade and shot him back across the field. But he didn’t stay down. He stood again. He charged.

  Our blades clashed.

  Strike after strike. Slash, dodge, block, counter. The sound of steel rang like thunder. Sparks lit the battlefield. Each of his attacks was strong, calculated. He aimed for weak points—my neck, ribs, legs—but I blocked every one.

  We moved faster than the eye could follow.

  He used shadow steps to vanish and reappear. I used mana flow to read his movements. Our swords collided again and again, shaking the earth with every blow.

  He tried to catch me off guard with a feint—I caught his blade and threw him aside. He spun midair, landed, and rushed again.

  It was a storm of blades.

  But slowly, he grew slower. Weaker. My strikes were too heavy. My mana was too sharp.

  Finally, with one swift move, I disarmed him. My katana at his throat.

  He dropped to his knees, breathing hard, sweat and blood on his face.

  He looked up at me, defeated.

  “You… win.”

  I stepped back, letting my katana fade into shadows.

  “You fought well,” I said.

  The duel was over. He had lost and died.

  And the battlefield fell silent around us.

  The battlefield was now silent—except for the wind blowing over the fallen. My knights stood tall, victorious. Not a single knight of the Dungeon King remained standing.

  Their forces had crumbled.

  Every enemy knight was slain—crushed by the might of my army, broken by my blade. Their armor lay cracked, their weapons scattered, their bodies still. The once-proud army of the Dungeon King was no more.

  I walked through the field, past the blood-soaked ground, until I stood over the fallen general. His body was still, but the weight of his power hadn’t faded. Even in death, he was fearsome.

  It was time.

  I raised my hand, and shadows began to swirl. My mana pulsed dark and deep. The ritual began—Obsidian Necromancy.

  “Resurge,” I whispered.

  Black flames danced around the corpses. One by one, the knights of the Dungeon King rose again—now different. No longer living, no longer theirs.

  Mine.

  Their armor turned deep black with violet glows, their weapons reforged in darkness. Their eyes burned with silent loyalty.

  They were now my Dark Obsidian Knights.

  Finally, the general stirred. His eyes opened—not red with blood, but glowing with crimson fire.

  He rose slowly, taller than before. Stronger.

  His armor turned fully red—metal like burning magma, sharp and majestic. I stepped back slightly, sensing something strange. He wasn’t just any knight.

  A screen appeared before me from the system.

  ? Name: Supreme King

  Race: Unknown (Now: Obsidian Undead)

  Previous Rank: General – Level 1

  Threat Level: Catastrophic

  I froze.

  “Supreme King…?” I whispered.

  He was their Supreme King? A king wearing the rank of a general?

  Terrifying.

  No wonder his strikes pushed me so far in the duel. He had been hiding his true identity, masking himself as just another commander.

  The power that now radiated from him was overwhelming—even in death. His red armor gleamed like blood under fire, and the aura around him twisted the air itself.

  Just then, the sky darkened further.

  A new presence stepped forward.

  The Dungeon King.

  His footsteps echoed across the silent field. His cape flowed like liquid shadow, his eyes glowing with the same crimson fire.

  He looked at me.

  “So, you turned him… My Supreme King… into your knight,” he said quietly.

  Then he vanished.

  And appeared right in front of me.

  A slash aimed straight for my throat.

  But I was ready.

  Our blades met. A burst of energy exploded around us. My katana clashed with his crimson blade, our eyes locked.

  The Dungeon King wasn’t any different from his knights—he was faster, crueler, stronger.

  But the fight had just begun.

  The real picture hadn’t even started.

  The battlefield had become our stage.

  The Dungeon King moved with deadly grace, and I matched him with every step. Our blades danced in the storm of mana and shadows, striking and deflecting at speeds no ordinary eye could follow.

  Each clash echoed like thunder across the field.

  Around us stood my Dark Obsidian Knights—once enemies, now bound to my will. They stood silently, watching their new master fight their old king. Not one of them moved. Not one of them blinked.

  This wasn’t just a fight.

  It was a test—of speed, of control, of power.

  His sword came like a flash—I dodged and countered. My strike came from above—he blocked and twisted under it. The ground cracked beneath us, air sliced open by every blow.

  It was fun.

  Yes… truly fun.

  My heart beat faster than it had in ages. I was fighting harder than I ever had, more freely than any day before. The world around us blurred—we moved too fast for it to keep up.

  Strike. Dodge. Counter. Dash. Spin. Swing.

  Each second felt like a hundred.

  But deep down, I remembered—

  I promised to return early today.

  A small smile crossed my face.

  “I suppose… it’s time to end this.”

  I took a deep breath, raised my katana high, and gathered my mana. This time, not just shadow.

  I called the storm.

  Lightning.

  The sky flashed as thunder crackled around me. Electricity surged through my blade, wrapping it in blinding light.

  The Dungeon King saw it—but he was too late.

  I vanished—then reappeared in a flash of lightning.

  SLASH!

  One clean strike.

  A wave of energy cut the air—and the Dungeon King.

  His body stopped mid-motion. A line of light split his chest.

  And then—he was sliced clean in half.

  The halves of his body dropped to the ground with a loud thud.

  Silence.

  The storm faded. My lightning vanished.

  The battle was over.

  I stood tall, katana humming softly, and whispered, “Thanks for the duel.”

  And just like that… the show ended.

  After the fall of the Dungeon King, silence settled once more. The battlefield was mine. My Dark Obsidian Knights stood still, their eyes fixed on me. Even the newly risen one—the Dungeon King himself—now stood behind me, silent, loyal.

  Through necromancy, I had turned him too.

  His rank: General, Level 4.

  Higher than his fallen Supreme King.

  Yet now, he bowed to me.

  I walked toward the black throne. It was carved from dark stone, pulsing faintly with old magic. Power lingered there, as if the Dungeon King had ruled from it for centuries. But I wasn’t here for comfort.

  I was here for secrets.

  Behind the throne, half-buried by the wall’s shadow, I found a small hidden door. A seal pulsed over it, but my mana broke through it with ease. The door opened with a quiet groan, revealing a narrow passage of stone stairs that spiraled downward.

  I descended alone.

  At the bottom, the air was heavy. A single pedestal stood in the center of the room, and on it—a ring.

  It shimmered with dark light. Its surface swirled with shadows, as if it were alive.

  I reached out and touched it.

  The world twisted.

  In the blink of an eye, the chamber disappeared. The ground vanished beneath my feet. I was standing in a new place.

  A realm unlike any other.

  The Realm of the Gods.

  I stood in the middle of a vast expanse. No floor, no sky—only an endless void glowing with cosmic energy. Lights floated around me—each one a different color, shape, and pulse.

  Each one... a god.

  They didn’t appear in physical forms. Instead, they shone like stars. Glowing orbs of divine energy. Their presence was overwhelming, yet familiar.

  Of course.

  They were all my creations.

  I could sense their essence. I knew each one. Thirty-seven in total. Each light represented a god or a goddess I had once shaped. They hovered around me, forming a grand circle.

  And in front of me floated a light far larger and brighter than all the others. It pulsed with absolute power. Its presence was beyond overwhelming.

  The strongest among them. I knew who it was, even without form.

  For now, I was the center of their attention.

  The subject of their divine realm.

  But I noticed something.

  One was missing.

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  The Eternal Goddess—the one who stood above even them—was not present.

  I frowned.

  Something was coming.

  And I had just stepped into its beginning.

  The brightest light—the Absolute One—spoke first.

  “Welcome to our realm,” he said, his voice echoing in all directions, like thunder wrapped in silk.

  Around me, the other gods and goddesses pulsed softly, their lights glowing in greeting. It was a grand welcome by divine beings—but I wasn’t impressed.

  I stood still, arms crossed, unimpressed by the spectacle.

  I was not one to kneel before those I created.

  With a smirk, I asked, “What do you want from me? Because you would never summon me unless there is something you want.”

  A voice answered from behind, irritated and sharp.

  “How rude of you! Let me get straight to the point. We want you to stop your foolish invade in the world’s fate... and give up the ring.”

  I laughed.

  “Ha..”

  “Haha...”

  “HaHaHa...”

  “HaHaHaHa...” My voice echoed across the divine realm, shaking their light forms slightly.

  I turned toward one of the glowing goddesses and asked, “My lady, Weaver of Forgotten Fates, have you seen my death?”

  She hesitated. “Oh... that—”

  “Only my final death,” I interrupted, “not time-passing deaths.”

  Another voice cut in, doubtful and curious.

  “How do you know you will have countless revival?”

  I didn’t bother to reply. Not worth it.

  Instead, I looked again at the Weaver of Forgotten Fates. Her glowing form shifted. Her light changed. She was trying to peer into what hadn’t yet happened.

  Her eyes flickered with strange light, shifting faster and faster—until suddenly she screamed.

  I narrowed my eyes. “Have you understood?”

  My voice cut through their realm like a blade.

  “I haven’t written my death. So don’t try to think that I’m going to die the way you imagine. No matter how many times I fall, I will return back and will complete my work.”

  Then it happened.

  The Absolute One unleashed his aura. It swept through the realm like a divine storm—meant to shake me, frighten me, make me kneel.

  But they were foolish.

  I smiled.

  And then I unleashed my aura.

  Dark. Eternal. Heavy.

  It swept out in waves and slammed into them. The lights of gods and goddesses trembled, shook, and began to collapse toward the center. Their forms cracked like breaking glass.

  Even the Absolute One’s light dimmed under my power.

  They screamed. They shouted. Some tried to hold their ground. But none of them could resist it.

  Because I… am the Creator.

  I stood calmly in the middle of their collapsing lights, arms folded, watching without emotion.

  They were not above me.

  They never were.

  And they were finally starting to remember that.

  I stopped.

  My aura faded slowly, and the collapsing lights of the gods began to steady. Their divine forms shimmered, fragile and dim.

  I turned away, ready to leave their realm—but then I paused.

  Once more, I turned back to face them.

  My voice echoed across the divine void, calm yet absolute.

  “This is not a novel. Not a manga. Neither an anime... nor the ending you wanted.”

  Their lights trembled again, silent.

  “I am the Creator. You have invaded my story.”

  I took a step forward, my shadow stretching across the glowing realm.

  “You may think I’m the villain. You’re right. I am neither the savior... nor the protagonist.”

  “I am the only selfish being... who will rule the rule itself. Absolute. Infinite.”

  Their divine lights said nothing.

  “I will change everything. Rewrite every truth. So don’t scream. You are always welcome to follow me... but never try to betray or rebel against me.”

  I smiled faintly.

  “So... goodbye. For now.”

  And with that, I left the realm of gods.

  The divine lights faded behind me.

  Light returned.

  I stepped out of the dungeon gate, into the world once more. The air felt different. Alive. I had returned.

  The middle-aged man who once rejected my support stood near the entrance, his eyes wide, stunned.

  He couldn’t speak.

  Angelica rushed toward me, her eyes filled with tears. She wrapped her arms around me tightly.

  Sayo followed, clutching my sleeve, trembling. Their warmth reached me.

  “I guess I’m late,” I said with a sigh.

  D**n that god realm.

  Behind them, I saw more people—those who had waited for me. Some still tense. Some trembling. But now, they knew I had returned.

  Angelica wiped her tears. Sayo followed, trying to hold hers back.

  But then their expressions changed.

  They looked up at me, serious.

  “There’s something you need to know,” Angelica said.

  “A large stampede is coming,” added Sayo.

  My eyes narrowed.

  I hadn’t written that.

  Then, a soft chime echoed in my ear.

  ? Notification: A sudden stampede has been summoned by the God of Silent War.

  I sighed.

  “So… that much,” I muttered.

  Another god’s interference.

  But I wasn’t afraid.

  This world was my canvas.

  And no matter what they threw at me—

  I would rewrite it all.

  Far away in the royal capital, tension hung heavy within the halls of the palace.

  A knight dropped to one knee before the throne. “Your Majesty, the dungeon’s collapse has caused a massive stampede. It’s heading straight for the eastern border.”

  Queen Gizelotte narrowed her eyes. “How large?”

  “Thousands of monsters… and something else. Something darker.”

  She stood, her long cloak trailing behind her like crimson fire.

  “Send the Cardinal Heroes,” she ordered coldly. “Have them take control of the situation.”

  Without hesitation, her order was carried.

  And soon, the Cardinal Heroes—led by Deathes, the Blade of Final Judgement—set off to face the storm.

  Meanwhile, I stood on the eastern border.

  The sky above was dark. The air reeked of blood and smoke. In the distance, the horizon trembled under the weight of the approaching stampede.

  Monsters. Thousands of them. Howling. Running. Hungry.

  The adventurers nearby hesitated. Even the seasoned ones stepped back. Fear was written all over their faces.

  But I stood still.

  And then it happened.

  A small notification appeared before me.

  ? [Status Update: Due to the God Realm Ring’s activation, your Level has dropped.]

  Current Level: –∞ (Minus Infinity).

  “…Huh.”

  I blinked. “Minus infinity? That’s… new.”

  But that wasn’t all.

  Another scan of my status told the full story.

  ? Magic: ∞

  ? Mana: ∞

  ? Skills: ∞

  ? Titles: Shadow Monarch – Creator

  A chill ran through me. I had never seen anything like this. My level may have fallen past zero—but everything else… had risen past the gods.

  Even after removing the ring, the changes didn’t fade. It was permanent.

  I looked at the stampede again. The monsters roared louder, shaking the mountains.

  Sayo, Angelica, and Flora approached behind me, ready to fight.

  But I raised my hand and stopped them.

  “Stay back.”

  They looked surprised.

  I smiled. “Today… I’ll show them. The true power of the Shadow Monarch.”

  I stepped forward, summoning my creation power.

  From my hands, two blades began to form—one glowing with soft radiant silver, the other swirling with pure black flame.

  “Darkness” and “Light.”

  Forged instantly by the Creator’s Blacksmith.

  I held one in each hand.

  The monsters roared louder. The sky darkened further.

  “Time to do some job,” I whispered.

  And then, I walked toward the storm.

  The battlefield stretched endlessly before me—scarred earth, blackened skies, and a wave of monsters that howled like a living tsunami.

  I stepped forward.

  From my body erupted a mist—a thick, swirling aura of silver and black, fused together like dusk and dawn embracing. It rolled outward across the field, pulsing with hunger.

  The mist wasn’t just for show.

  It was the bait.

  The monsters sensed it—my aura, my power—and came rushing toward me like beasts drawn to flame. From the towering Archdemons with wings of crimson flame to the lowest goblins with rusted blades and bare feet, they all charged at once.

  Perfect.

  “Come.”

  I raised both swords—Darkness in my right hand, pulsing with shadow energy that devoured everything it touched, and Light in my left, glowing with a soft white flame that burned through impurity.

  The first wave came fast—cyclops brutes and hellhounds leaping at me with claws extended.

  SLASH!

  With one motion, Darkness cleaved through three at once. Their bodies didn’t fall—they shattered into raw energy that absorbed into the blade, strengthening it further.

  A banshee screamed. An ogre lunged.

  SWISH!

  Light danced gracefully, slicing through them. Their forms evaporated into silver dust, purified, scattered into the wind like forgotten memories.

  From behind, a wyvern swooped down.

  I spun mid-air, dragging both blades upward in a perfect arc.

  CRACK!

  The wyvern’s body split in two, light and shadow cutting it apart, one side devoured, the other erased.

  The more I fought, the more my swords resonated—Darkness grew heavier, sharper, hungrier.

  Light grew brighter, swifter, more refined.

  A grin crossed my face.

  I moved like a storm. The battlefield became my canvas. Every slash painted a stroke of death. Every step echoed with raw power.

  Somewhere in the distance, I heard Sayo gasp.

  Angelica clutched her staff tightly, worry clouding her eyes.

  From the edge of the shadows, Kael the assassin watched silently.

  “To them,” I thought, “I must look like a man possessed. A battle junkie.”

  But I didn’t care.

  Because with every monster I slew, my body grew more attuned to this state. My arms moved faster. My senses sharper. I was building something.

  Forging it.

  Not just the swords—but myself.

  This chaos… was perfect training.

  More monsters poured out—liches, corrupted elves[Not the divine elves nor the dark obsidian elves, they are demon elves], armored orcs. All of them screamed and charged.

  And I laughed.

  I dashed forward.

  The sky turned dark from the monster wings above—but on the ground, I was the storm that swallowed them all.

  The battle was far from over.

  And I wasn’t finished yet.

  The battlefield had become a wasteland of smoke and silence, broken only by the rhythm of steel and roar.

  And me.

  I had been fighting for four hours straight.

  Not slowing. Not stopping.

  My cloak was torn, my boots soaked with ash and blood. But I still stood tall, blades in hand—Darkness humming with devoured power, and Light shimmering with holy radiance.

  Sayo stood on a nearby rock, arms crossed, pouting as usual.

  “You’ve been fighting forever!” she called out, waving a hand. “Either finish it in one shot, or let me join! This is getting boring!”

  I didn’t look back.

  “You’d break a nail,” I teased.

  “Hmph! That’s rude!”

  Angelica giggled softly beside her, brushing the dust from her coat.

  But Sayo wasn’t entirely wrong.

  I could finish this with one single blow. I could wipe the field clean. The ring’s strange effect had pushed all my stats to infinity. I wasn’t testing the enemies anymore.

  I was testing myself.

  How far could I go?

  How long could I fight before my body gave in?

  My stamina had no limit—yet I wanted to feel the edge of exhaustion. That thin line where body and soul blurred. That’s what I sought.

  I turned back to the field. Monsters still came, but now they were different.

  The upper ranks had arrived.

  Abyss Warlords, standing three meters tall, skin made of obsidian armor, holding hammers that shattered mountains.

  Fleshweavers, spider-like demons who manipulated living bodies into twisted abominations.

  Crimson Archmages, floating above the battlefield with flaming grins and spells that burned holes in the sky.

  And at the center—

  Dreadknights, elite demon swordsmen with cursed armor and blades forged from fallen angels.

  Perfect.

  I cracked my neck.

  A Dreadknight dashed forward, blade glowing with red hellfire. I ducked under his slash and sliced upward with Light—the fire vanished, and so did his body, turned to ashes.

  Another Warlord charged. I lifted Darkness, blocked his hammer with one arm, then drove the sword through his chest. It howled, but the blade didn’t just cut—it consumed. He crumbled into shadow and fed my strength.

  More came.

  One spell from a Crimson Archmage burned the earth. I swung Light through the fire, parting it, then jumped into the air and hurled Darkness like a spear.

  It struck the mage midair.

  BOOM.

  The explosion swallowed the sky.

  I called the blade back with a gesture, and it reformed in my hand.

  Behind me, Sayo sat on the rock, swinging her legs.

  “You’re totally a battle junkie now,” she muttered.

  Angelica just smiled. “Let him enjoy it. He looks happy.”

  They weren’t wrong.

  My body was light. My soul sharp. The swords in my hands felt like extensions of my will. The battlefield had become my world, my realm, my forge.

  I took a deep breath, then exhaled.

  Still more demons were coming.

  Let them.

  I wasn’t done yet.

  They emerged through the storm clouds like nightmares given form—two demon dragons, wings wide, fangs dripping with cursed saliva, their roars echoing across the battlefield like thunder rolling from the underworld.

  Their scales were a muddy black with streaks of crimson veins glowing faintly. Corruption dripped from every movement they made, yet something about them lacked the overwhelming pressure of true dragons.

  Yes—demon dragons were different.

  Their mana was unstable, not refined like that of the ancient dragon race.

  Their strength, though destructive, lacked the divine resilience of the real ones.

  But they were still strong—strong enough to make things interesting.

  I looked up, smiling. “Finally… something to stretch my arms for.”

  They dove at me together—one from the left, one from the right.

  I dashed forward, faster than the eye could follow, my swords already in motion.

  “Darkness” clashed against the left dragon’s jaw, black sparks flying as I deflected its bite. With a twist, I spun mid-air and countered with “Light”, slashing upward across its wing.

  SHRIEK!

  The wing burst into holy flames, and the beast recoiled, crashing into a hill with a quake that shook the battlefield.

  But the second one came from above—its mouth wide open, charging a dense sphere of hellfire in its throat.

  A direct hit? That could flatten the valley.

  I pointed Darkness skyward.

  “Let’s not ruin the land just yet.”

  A black spear shot out from the blade’s tip, piercing the dragon’s throat mid-charge. The hellfire collapsed, exploding inside its mouth.

  BOOM!

  The dragon howled in pain, spiraling downward in smoke and flame. I didn’t let it fall.

  I jumped, riding the wind, and with both swords crossed over my chest, I dived straight toward its chest.

  “Twin Divide.”

  I slashed in an X shape—Light purged its core while Darkness devoured it. The explosion lit the sky in both blinding white and endless black.

  The dragon dropped like a meteor, its corpse crumbling mid-fall.

  But the first one had recovered.

  It rose with burning rage in its eyes, mouth wide, aiming for a bite.

  I didn’t move.

  Instead, I raised Light.

  A glowing circle appeared beneath me, formed of sacred symbols and ancient words. I whispered:

  “Let the heavens purify the false…”

  The blade extended, shining like a star.

  “—and erase what never should’ve existed.”

  SWOOSH!

  The blade flew from my hand like a comet, piercing straight through the demon dragon’s skull. The body convulsed mid-air, roared once more, then exploded into silver mist.

  Silence.

  Only the echo of wings fading in the wind.

  A notification blinked softly.

  ? 2 Demon Dragons Defeated.

  [Experience Gained: ∞ (Still Useless).]

  I landed gently, swords returning to my hands with a whisper of shadow and light.

  “This is really fantastic…” I muttered, wiping dust from my cheek. “Too bad none of this is real.”

  The battlefield shimmered faintly—the illusion fading.

  Just a story, not reality.

  But one worth telling again.

  The storm of the battlefield had reached its final stage.

  All lesser monsters were gone—either slain or crushed beneath the weight of the battle. The earth was littered with broken weapons, torn flags, and unmoving bodies.

  And at the center stood the true cause of it all.

  Not just the Dungeon King.

  He had evolved.

  He had become the Stampede King.

  His aura warped the air around him, thick with rage and dark mana. The clouds above churned, and a crimson glow reflected from his eyes.

  In response, I lowered my hand.

  ? Level Synchronization Activated.

  [Adjusting to Match Target Level.]

  I wasn’t here to overpower him with infinite strength.

  I wanted a true fight—one that strained every part of my body.

  So, I matched him. Blow for blow.

  He roared and lunged.

  I stepped forward with my blade.

  Our clash echoed like thunder. Sparks burst with every contact. Each time I swung, my feet slid against the earth. Each time he struck, my blade shook in my hands.

  But I didn’t back down.

  And neither did he.

  Our duel carved a crater of raw destruction. Yet the rhythm between us flowed like a storm caught in dance.

  Far away from the eye of the storm, a bright gate opened in the air.

  Out stepped a group cloaked in authority. The Cardinal Heroes had arrived—summoned by the emergency warp spell of their mage.

  The one leading them stepped forward: Deathes.

  A silent warrior. A feared swordswoman. A hero born to stand above others.

  But what she saw… was not what she expected.

  A battlefield soaked in monster blood. Not by an army—but by one man.

  She saw him.

  Fighting alone.

  His movements weren’t wild or dramatic.

  They were calm. Measured.

  Like a blade that moved only as much as it needed to—no more, no less.

  Each slash… felt like a whisper of something untold.

  To Deathes, it wasn’t just swordplay.

  It was a story.

  A tale of pain.

  Of distance.

  Of loneliness.

  A man dancing through carnage, not to destroy—but to continue.

  Each swing a sentence.

  Each step a memory.

  Her chest tightened.

  And then… a heat spread through her body.

  She didn’t understand it—this sudden ache. This warmth that made her hug her arms, holding herself gently.

  Was it admiration?

  Respect?

  No.

  Something deeper.

  Something unnamed.

  Unable to turn away, she walked closer—her steps drawn to the quiet storm.

  She found a group watching him, standing silently.

  Among them, a calm woman met her gaze.

  “Are you his companion?” Deathes asked quietly. “I’m Deathes… the Cardinal Hero.”

  The woman nodded politely. “Yes, my lady. I’m Angelica. I’m honoured to meet you.”

  Deathes’s eyes returned to the man dancing alone.

  “…Can you tell me his name?” she asked, voice soft, almost hesitant. “The one who was fighting?”

  Angelica looked toward him, her gaze carrying a trace of pride… and something deeper.

  After a moment, she answered.

  “His name is… Amahiko.”

  Deathes whispered the name again, tasting it with care.

  “…Amahiko…?”

  It echoed in her chest like a secret only she had heard.

  The battle was still roaring, but I had already begun to lose interest.

  The Stampede King, powerful as he was, was no longer a challenge. Our blades had clashed long enough. My muscles still moved with ease. My heart beat steady.

  Time to kill some time.

  I let my eyes wander toward the shadows near the cliffs—toward someone watching from afar.

  I closed my eyes and used telepathy, connecting through the fabric of mana like pulling a forgotten thread.

  ? [Telepathic Link: Established – Target: Kael]

  He flinched. Not physically—but in the mind. His guard went up instantly.

  “Who?” he asked, calm but cautious.

  “You don’t know me,” I said, “but I know you.”

  A pause.

  “…What?”

  “You’re following me,” I continued. “But if you want something, let’s talk at the Duke’s house tonight. I know you plan to kill him.”

  Silence.

  Then Kael’s voice returned, sharper.

  “How do you know that?”

  “It’s nothing important for you to know,” I replied. “Just leave now. Or Deathes will notice you.”

  His presence faded like smoke. He didn’t argue.

  He understood.

  Back to the battlefield.

  The Stampede King stood before me, panting, his body riddled with cracks of broken magic. He raised his claw once more, ready for a desperate strike.

  I looked at my blades—Darkness in one hand, Light in the other.

  Time to finish it.

  I stepped forward once. Then slashed.

  SHHHRRING!

  One motion.

  One cut through body, mana, and will.

  The Stampede King didn’t even scream. His body split cleanly—one half dissolved into the void, the other purified into dust.

  ? [Boss Defeated: Stampede King]

  [Battle Complete.]

  The world fell quiet.

  I turned slowly.

  Deathes stood behind me. She wasn’t surprised. Neither was I.

  She took one step closer, opened her mouth like she wanted to say something—but hesitated.

  Then she said, “Meet me tomorrow.”

  She didn’t wait for a reply. She turned quickly, face flushed, and ran off like someone embarrassed to admit something.

  I sighed lightly and turned away.

  That night, I returned to the inn with Angelica, Sayo, and Flora.

  The air was calm. The chaos of the battlefield felt like a dream slipping away.

  I didn’t speak much.

  I had something else to do.

  A duty tonight.

  So I laid down on the bed, eyes closed.

  And focused inward.

  ? [Spiritual Cultivation: Initiated]

  [Goal: Full Restoration by Evening.]

  The fight was over.

  But the night would bring a different kind of battle.