The battlefield of Vermillion Abyss had long ceased to resemble land.

Mountains of corpses stretched farther than the eye could see. Demonic beasts the size of houses lay split open, their black blood steaming beneath the crimson moon. Broken shields, shattered staffs, severed limbs, and half-buried swords littered the earth like forgotten relics of men who would never return home.

Ash drifted silently through the sky. And in the center of that ruined world...

Something monstrous breathed.

A single exhale from it made the earth tremble.

A second forced the remaining soldiers hundreds of meters away to their knees.

And a third...

Made even veteran knights forget how to breathe.

Valthor

The Demon King.

Nearly four meters tall, his body was covered in obsidian-black armor that seemed grown from flesh rather than forged by metal. Six jagged horns curved backward from his skull, while molten crimson cracks pulsed beneath his skin like rivers of lava.

Each movement radiated enough mana to warp the air itself. In his right hand rested a massive black greatsword.

And within his golden eyes—

Only hatred.

“Humans…”

His voice alone shattered the broken spears scattered across the battlefield.

“You have crawled this far... only to die.”

And yet—

Five figures stood before him.

Not retreating.

Not trembling.

Only watching.

At the center stood Leonhart Vale.

Seventeen years old.

Golden hair fluttered in the bloodstained wind, and beneath strands matted with sweat, golden eyes burned with unwavering resolve.

His silver armor was cracked.

His cape torn.

Blood dripped from his fingertips.

But even exhausted...

He still stood straight.

As if the word defeat had never existed for him.

In his hand rested Dawnbreaker, the holy sword chosen by heaven itself.

Mana flowed naturally around him—

As if the world itself wished to lend him strength.

Beside him stood a young man who seemed to belong to an entirely different world.

Kael Jin

Eighteen years old.

Long black hair reached his shoulders, swaying quietly in the wind like dark silk.

His face was calm.

Too calm.

But his eyes—

Deep red eyes that seemed almost inhuman—watched the Demon King like a dragon studying its prey.

In his hand rested a long black sword with elegant eastern craftsmanship, its blade slender yet unnaturally sharp.

A weapon unlike anything found in the western kingdoms.

Black Heaven.

Unlike everyone else—

Kael possessed no mana.

No class.

No blessing.

Instead...

He wielded something forgotten by most of the world.

"Qi"

A force cultivated through blood, bone, breath, and will.

Not gifted.

Not inherited.

Earned through suffering.

Behind them stood the rest of the Hero Party.

Cedric Thorne, draped in navy robes embroidered with ancient runes, adjusted the thin glasses resting on his nose. Beneath his calm blue eyes lay a mind feared even by generals—the youngest Sage in recorded history.

“Leonhart,” he said calmly. “Try not to die before I’m done calculating.”

Beside him stood Gareth Crowne, a giant of a man nearly two meters tall. Golden armor covered his scarred body, a massive tower shield in one hand, while a sword and spear rested across his back.

He laughed loudly.

“Ha! If anyone’s dying today, it’s that ugly bastard.”

Near the shadows stood Seris Valeheart. Silver hair tied behind her, twin daggers spinning between her fingers as naturally as breathing.

“Less talking,” she muttered. “More killing.” And before anyone could blink—

She vanished.

At the rear stood Lyra Virel, white robes stained with battle, silver hair dancing behind her as divine light gathered softly at her fingertips.

“Come back alive,” she said gently.

Leonhart smiled.

“Always.”

Then he turned toward Kael.

“Same plan?”

Kael lowered his stance. A faint crimson aura leaked from his body as the stones beneath his feet cracked.

He nodded once.

Leonhart grinned.

“That’s enough.”

Then—

The Hero Party moved.

Valthor swung first.

His black greatsword descended like a collapsing mountain.

“MOVE!” Leonhart shouted.

BOOM—

The blade struck earth, sending chunks of rock the size of houses flying into the air.

But Leonhart was already moving.

Golden mana exploded beneath his feet as he dashed through the smoke.

“Kael!”

Kael disappeared.

Not fast—

Gone.

A sonic boom tore through the battlefield.

Void Step

He reappeared above Valthor.

His blade moved once.

No wasted motion.

No flourish.

Only perfection.

Heaven Splitting Draw

SHHHK—

Black steel carved through the Demon King’s shoulder. Molten blood sprayed into the air. Valthor roared.

“You insect—!”

Then—

Ice spears erupted from below.

Cedric’s voice echoed.

“Eyes up.”

CRACK—

Seven massive spears slammed into Valthor’s side, forcing him to stagger. Seris appeared behind him. Her daggers flashed.

One.

Two.

Five.

Ten cuts opened across the Demon King’s legs before she vanished again. Gareth charged next.

“COME HERE!”

BOOM—

His shield slammed into Valthor’s chest like a battering ram. The Demon King staggered. And Leonhart smiled.

“Now.”

Golden mana flooded his sword.

For a moment...

The battlefield looked as though dawn itself had arrived.

Solar Judgment

Leonhart leapt—

And drove Dawnbreaker straight through Valthor’s chest.

Silence.

Then—

The Demon King screamed. Light consumed him. And at last...

Valthor fell.

The war...

was over

Or so they thought.

Leonhart let out a tired laugh.

“We... actually did it.”

For the first time in hours, Kael’s sword lowered. Then—

He felt it. Something was wrong. The air... Had changed. And when Leonhart turned—

Cedric was already raising his staff.

The battle...

Hadn’t ended.

It had only just begun.

Cedric’s staff glowed with cold blue light.

Before Leonhart could even process what was happening, layers of magic circles expanded beneath his feet. One after another, runes rotated in perfect synchronization until chains of condensed mana erupted from the ground and wrapped tightly around his arms, chest, and legs. Leonhart’s golden eyes widened as the mana around his body began flickering violently under the suppression.

“…Cedric?”

The Hero’s voice was quiet—not angry, not yet. Only confused.

Cedric calmly adjusted his glasses, his expression completely devoid of guilt. “Do you know how many centuries scholars have spent trying to understand mana itself?” Another magic circle formed beneath Leonhart’s feet, then another, each one increasing the pressure on his body. Cedric’s blue eyes gleamed with obsession. “A body blessed by mana from birth… a human capable of bending mana beyond common logic…” A faint smile appeared on his lips. “Your corpse alone could advance magical civilization by hundreds of years.”

Leonhart’s expression froze. “…You want to dissect me?” Cedric smiled. “I want to understand you.”

Kael moved instantly, but before he could take more than two steps, blue chains erupted beneath him as well. Mana restraints wrapped around his wrists, ankles, waist, and shoulders, halting his movement mid-step. Cedric glanced toward him, pushing his glasses upward. “And you, Kael… a man with no mana, no class… yet able to stand beside the Hero.” His smile deepened. “You fascinate me almost as much.”

Kael pulled against the restraints once. The chains groaned—but held.

Heavy footsteps echoed across the ruined battlefield. Gareth stepped forward, resting his tower shield against the ground before pulling the spear from his back. The carefree laughter from earlier was gone. In its place was a twisted sneer.

“You know what pisses me off the most, Leonhart?” Gareth’s voice was low and bitter. “No matter what I did… no matter how many monsters I killed…” He pointed the spear toward the Hero. “The women always looked at you.”

His grip tightened.

“The glory. The fame. The admiration. All of it…” His lips curled upward. “Went to you.”

He lowered his spear.

“So I figured… if the Hero dies…” His smile widened. “The strongest man left standing would be me.”

A faint laugh echoed from the shadows. Seris stepped out, lazily spinning her dagger between her fingers. Her expression remained as indifferent as ever.

“I honestly don’t care.” Her violet eyes shifted toward Leonhart. “My orders were simple.” A faint smile formed on her lips. “Eliminate the Hero.”

Leonhart frowned. “…Orders?”

Seris shrugged. “The Church pays well.” Her dagger stopped spinning. “And I like money.”

Soft footsteps followed.

Lyra stepped forward, her silver hair dancing softly in the bloodstained wind. Her smile remained beautiful.

But her eyes—

Were empty.

“The Demon King is dead,” she said gently. “And a Hero who no longer serves a purpose…” Divine light slowly gathered around her sword. “…Becomes more dangerous than any demon.”

Leonhart stared at her. Of all the betrayals…

That one hurt the most.

“…So all of it…”

His voice trembled.

“…Was fake?”

Lyra didn’t answer.

She didn’t need to.

Kael pulled against his restraints again. The chains creaked violently. His red eyes trembled—not with fear, but with rage.

They had planned this from the beginning. Kill Leonhart first. Then kill him. Because between the two of them… Leonhart’s kindness made him the easier target.

And Kael—

Was the harder monster to kill.

Then Gareth moved.

The spear pierced straight through Leonhart’s stomach. Leonhart’s body jerked violently as blood spilled from his lips. Kael’s pupils shrank.

Then Seris vanished.

A moment later, her dagger buried itself deep into Leonhart’s side from behind. The Hero coughed violently, blood staining his armor. Before he could recover, Gareth switched weapons, drawing his sword and driving it straight through Leonhart’s lung.

Blood poured onto the battlefield.

And finally—

Lyra stepped forward.

Her blade glowed with holy light as she stood directly before him. Leonhart looked into her eyes. Still hoping. Still believing. Lyra smiled. And drove her sword into his heart.

Silence.

Absolute silence.

Kael stopped struggling. Stopped breathing. Stopped thinking. Blood dripped from Leonhart’s body.

One drop.

Then another.

And then—

Crack.

A tiny sound. Yet everyone heard it. Cedric frowned. “…What?”

The restraints around Kael began to break. One by one.

Crack.

Crack.

CRACK.

A crimson aura erupted from Kael’s body like a dragon awakening. The ground beneath him shattered. The air itself grew heavy as his long black hair rose violently with the pressure.

When Kael slowly raised his head—

His eyes were no longer red.

They had turned crimson.

For the first time… The traitors understood. They had not restrained a man. They had restrained a monster.

“…You’re all dead.”

Kael vanished.

The earth behind him exploded as he appeared directly in front of Gareth. Black Heaven moved once.

A single draw.

A single strike.

Blood sprayed through the air as Gareth barely managed to raise his shield before the impact launched him across the battlefield like a broken doll, crashing through pillars before collapsing into rubble.

Cedric reacted immediately, summoning gravity magic powerful enough to crush stone into dust.

But Kael kept walking.

Step.

Step.

Step.

Cedric’s face turned pale. “…Impossible.”

Then Kael disappeared.

A fist slammed into Cedric’s stomach hard enough to make him cough blood before his body was thrown violently across the battlefield.

Seris attacked next from his blind spot.

Her dagger aimed straight for his neck. Kael caught her wrist mid-strike. Bone cracked. Before she could scream, his knee drove into her stomach, sending her skidding across the battlefield.

Then Kael turned toward Lyra.

For the first time—

Fear appeared in her eyes.

“LYRA!” Cedric screamed. “USE IT!”

Lyra clenched her teeth and raised both hands toward the heavens.

A trump card originally meant for the Demon King… Was now turned against Kael.

The sky split apart.

Golden light descended from above as three colossal winged figures emerged from the heavens.

Angels.

Before Kael could fully react, a spear of divine light pierced through his shoulder. Another angel carved across his ribs. The third descended like judgment itself, smashing him into the ground.

Blood spilled from Kael’s lips. But he still stood. His killing intent had only grown stronger.

Then—

He looked toward Leonhart.

That was enough.

Without hesitation, Kael grabbed Leonhart’s body and placed him across his back before vanishing into the night.

For hours he ran. Through forests. Across rivers. Over mountains. Every step left blood behind.

Until finally—

A cliff.

A dead end.

Kael stopped. His breathing was ragged. Blood dripped from his wounds as he slowly turned.

The traitors stood behind him. Weapons raised. Blocking every escape. And on his back—

Leonhart smiled weakly.

At that moment, there was a truth only Kael knew. A truth hidden from the world. Even from his closest companions.

Beneath Leonhart’s blessing of mana—

The Hero possessed a second innate skill.

Second Chance.

A skill that should never exist. A skill capable of resurrecting its owner after death.

Maybe in months.

Maybe in years.

Maybe even decades.

No one knew when.

But it would happen.

Eventually.

Leonhart slowly placed his bloodstained hand on Kael’s shoulder. “…Kael.”

Kael’s body trembled. “…Don’t.”

Leonhart smiled. Warm. Bright. The same as always.

Then he whispered—

> “Wait for my return.”

And before Kael could react—

Leonhart pushed him off the cliff. Kael’s eyes widened. “LEONHART—!” The world disappeared.

Sky.

Wind.

Darkness.

And the last thing Kael saw… Was his hero. Sitting alone at the edge of the cliff. Surrounded by traitors. Smiling. Waiting for his death.

After that night, history would remember Kael Jin as the man who murdered the Hero.

But history lied.

Because on that night—

The only one who never betrayed him…

Was the one who disappeared.

And from that day onward—

Kael Jin lived for one purpose. To prepare for the day his hero returns.

And this time… They won’t be the ones saving the world.

They’ll become its adversaries.

Kael did not remember how long he had been falling.

At some point, the sky had disappeared. The crimson moon, the cliff, and the faces of those who had cornered him all blurred into a storm of wind, blood, and darkness. His body crashed through branches thick as spears, splintering wood and snapping bone alike before stone finally greeted him with merciless violence. The impact should have killed him. Perhaps it would have, had his body belonged to an ordinary man.

But Kael Jin had never been ordinary.

His body rolled across wet earth before finally coming to a halt against jagged stone. For several seconds, there was nothing. No pain. No thought. No rage. Just silence. Then he coughed, and blood spilled from his mouth in thick, dark streams, staining the mud beneath him. His fingers twitched weakly as his lungs fought to draw breath. Every inch of his body screamed in agony. His ribs felt shattered, his left shoulder refused to move, and the deep gash across his torso had already soaked through what remained of his clothing.

Yet none of those wounds frightened him.

It was the wounds left by the angels.

Even now, faint traces of golden light pulsed beneath his torn flesh like dying embers trapped under skin. Every heartbeat sent waves of burning pain through his nerves, as though something divine had lodged itself inside his body and refused to leave. The flesh around those wounds had not begun to close. If anything, it looked worse.

Kael’s fingers dug into the soil as he forced his body to move. He tried to stand, only for his knees to buckle beneath him. His body collapsed forward, his forehead striking damp earth. For a long moment, he stayed there, breathing heavily while mud and blood mixed beneath his face. Somewhere nearby, water roared. Loud. Constant. Unforgiving.

Slowly, his eyes lifted.

Water.

Without thinking, Kael began to crawl.

His movements were slow, uneven… almost pathetic. One arm dragged his broken body forward while the other barely obeyed him. His knees scraped against stone and root, tearing flesh that had yet to close, leaving streaks of blood across the damp earth with every inch he advanced.

It was a miserable sight.

A pitiful sight.

Nothing like the monster who, only hours earlier, had forced four heroes to taste fear for the first time in their lives.

Nothing like the swordsman whose rage had split shields, shattered spells, and nearly turned the battlefield into a massacre.

And yet now—

That same man could do nothing but crawl.

But he did not care.

The sound of water grew louder with every inch he crawled. At some point, his vision began to blur again. Leonhart’s face appeared in fragments within his fading consciousness. That stupid smile. That warm voice. That final look.

Kael’s fingers trembled against the ground.

“…Why…”

The word barely escaped his lips.

He didn’t know who he was asking. Leonhart. The traitors. The gods. Or perhaps himself.

Why had he not been stronger?

Why had he hesitated?

Why had he survived… while Leonhart stayed behind?

His nails dug into the stone until blood began dripping from his fingertips. He hated it. He hated his weakness. He hated their faces. But most of all, he hated that Leonhart’s final expression had not been anger, hatred, or fear.

It had been relief.

The roar of water became deafening. Through the haze clouding his vision, Kael finally saw it. A waterfall. Towering and violent, crashing between black stone like nature itself had decided to bury the world beneath its weight. Cold mist filled the air, clinging to his skin like ice. But Kael’s eyes weren’t on the water.

Behind it, hidden within the falling curtain of white, was darkness.

A cave.

Kael did not think. He dragged himself forward with what little strength remained and forced his body through the wall of crashing water. The cold nearly stole the breath from his lungs, but he didn’t stop until his body finally collapsed onto wet stone inside the darkness beyond.

The cave was cold. Silent. Hidden.

Safe.

At least for now.

Kael lay there for what felt like hours, staring blankly at the ceiling while the sound of water echoed endlessly behind him. His body refused to move. His fingers felt numb. His breathing grew shallower with every passing minute. Eventually, his hand moved toward his waist, searching instinctively for medicine, herbs, anything that could buy him time.

Nothing.

Somewhere during the fall, everything had been lost.

A bitter laugh escaped his lips before quickly turning into another cough of blood.

Slowly, Kael forced himself upright, pressing his back against the cave wall. His entire body trembled from the effort. He closed his eyes and lowered his breathing. Once. Twice. Three times. Gradually, a faint heat began circulating through his meridians.

Qi.

Thin. Unstable. Weak.

Even his internal energy had been pushed to the edge of collapse.

Kael focused what little remained and guided it toward the wounds left by the angels. The moment his Qi touched the divine energy embedded in his flesh, pain exploded through his entire body. His eyes snapped open as blood spilled from his mouth. His fist slammed into the cave wall hard enough to crack stone.

The wounds…

Were rejecting him.

As though heaven itself refused to let him heal.

Kael’s breathing became uneven. His Qi, once fierce enough to split steel, flickered weakly around him like a dying flame. For the first time since Leonhart’s death, Kael felt something he had not allowed himself to acknowledge.

Not fear of death.

Not fear of pain.

But fear of helplessness.

If he died here, then everything would end. Leonhart’s trust. Leonhart’s promise. Leonhart’s return.

All of it.

Kael lowered his head, wet strands of black hair falling over his face. Silence filled the cave. Only the sound of rushing water remained.

For a long time, he said nothing.

Then, quietly—almost as though he were confessing to the darkness itself—his lips moved.

“…Revenge…”

The word felt hollow.

His fingers slowly clenched.

Revenge. Strength. Survival.

None of it mattered…

If he died here.

Kael slowly raised his head, and though his eyes remained red, something within them had changed. The weakness was still there. The pain was still there. But beneath it all, something colder had begun to take shape.

No.

He would not die here.

Not before that day came.

Not before Leonhart returned.

And certainly—

Not before they paid.

That was Kael’s final thought before his consciousness finally faded, and his body collapsed against the cold stone floor.

***

Far beyond the darkness of that hidden cave, while blood still stained the stone where Kael Jin had collapsed, the world had already begun to celebrate.

The capital of the Holy Kingdom of Luminar had never looked more alive. Bells rang from the towering cathedrals, their echoes rolling across marble streets packed so tightly with people that even breathing seemed difficult. Children ran through the crowd with wooden swords in hand, pretending to be heroes as flower petals rained from balconies overhead. Merchants laughed as they poured wine into raised cups, soldiers embraced brothers they thought they would never see again, and mothers cried openly as the banners of humanity danced beneath a clear blue sky.

The Demon King was dead.

That news alone was enough to send the entire continent into celebration.

At the center of the capital, a grand procession moved slowly through the sea of cheering civilians. Holy knights marched at the front, their silver armor reflecting the sunlight while the banners of the Church fluttered high above them. Behind them rode the surviving members of the Hero Party atop white warhorses draped in gold and silk.

Thousands screamed their names.

Cedric Thorne, the youngest Sage in recorded history.

Gareth Crowne, the shield who stood against demon hordes.

Seris Valeheart, the assassin who struck from shadows.

Lyra Virel, the Saintess whose miracles had saved countless lives.

Yet above them all, one name was chanted louder than the rest.

Leonhart Vale.

Even in death, humanity’s Hero remained its brightest symbol.

Countless civilians wept as his banner passed overhead, the golden lion crest dancing proudly in the wind.

Then, as if rehearsed from the beginning, the bells stopped.

A silence fell across the capital so complete that even the laughter of children disappeared.

Standing atop the steps of the Grand Cathedral, an elderly man clad in white and gold robes slowly raised his hand. A crown bearing the emblem of twelve radiant wings rested upon his head, and when he spoke, divine mana carried his voice across the city.

Supreme Pontiff Aurelius.

“The Demon King has fallen.”

A roar of celebration erupted.

But the old man slowly lowered his hand.

“And yet…”

The cheering died instantly.

Aurelius’s gaze swept across the crowd.

“Humanity’s Hero did not fall to demons.”

Confusion spread through the masses.

“He was betrayed.”

Gasps spread like wildfire.

“By one of his own companions.”

His voice hardened.

“Kael Jin.”

Shock turned into fury.

The crowd erupted.

“That bastard!”

“He killed the Hero?!”

“Find him!”

“Hang the traitor!”

Flowers that had once decorated the streets were trampled beneath furious feet. Children clung to their parents while hatred spread through the capital like poison.

And above it all…

Not one member of the Hero Party spoke against the lie.

***

Deep within the Grand Cathedral, where sunlight struggled to reach through layers of sacred stone, the atmosphere was far colder.

Leonhart Vale’s body lay atop a white marble platform, covered in sacred cloth. Even in death, his expression remained calm. Too calm.

Cedric Thorne stood closest to the body, his blue eyes silently studying the shape beneath the cloth. The reflection of torchlight danced across the lenses of his glasses as his fingers lightly brushed the marble edge.

“A remarkable vessel,” he murmured.

Lyra’s expression hardened slightly. “Choose your words carefully.”

Cedric ignored her. His eyes remained fixed on Leonhart’s body as though he were staring at a puzzle no scholar in history had ever solved.

“Transfer the Hero’s remains to the Magic Tower.”

The room fell silent.

Even Gareth, who had spent most of the meeting leaning lazily against a pillar with his arms crossed, lifted an eyebrow.

Cedric finally looked toward the others, his voice calm, almost clinical.

“A human blessed by mana to this degree transcends current magical theory. If properly studied, his body alone may advance humanity’s understanding of mana by centuries.”

Gareth let out a short laugh.

“You mages really are freaks.”

His smirk widened as he glanced toward Leonhart’s covered body.

“The bastard’s dead and you already want to cut him open.”

From the shadows, Seris slowly spun one of her daggers between her fingers, a faint smile touching her lips.

“At least he’s honest about it.”

Her violet eyes narrowed slightly.

“Can’t say I expected you to wait even a day.”

Cedric didn’t react.

Lyra, however, remained silent. Her silver eyes stayed fixed on Leonhart’s body, though whether it was guilt, calculation, or something else entirely, no one could tell.

At the far end of the chamber, Supreme Pontiff Aurelius finally spoke.

“No.”

Cedric’s gaze slowly lifted.

For the first time since entering the cathedral, something changed in his eyes.

Not anger.

Not yet.

But disappointment.

Possessiveness.

Aurelius’s aged eyes narrowed.

“The Hero belongs to the Church.”

Silence followed.

Cedric said nothing after that.

But behind the glass resting on his nose, his eyes had already grown colder.

And though none of them realized it then—

That single refusal would become the first crack in the alliance forged by betrayal.

***

No one noticed it at first. To the common eye, the two greatest powers of humanity still stood united beneath the same victory. The Church preached salvation from cathedral halls bathed in golden light, while the Magic Tower continued its endless pursuit of truth beneath ancient stone and floating runes. To kings, nobles, and commoners alike, nothing had changed.

But among those who stood at the very top...

Silence had begun to rot.

Cedric Thorne returned to the Magic Tower three days after Leonhart Vale’s funeral. The moment he stepped through the gates, apprentices and scholars alike lined both sides of the marble hall, their voices filled with admiration as they welcomed the youngest Sage in recorded history back from humanity’s greatest war. Some praised his strategic brilliance during the Demon King campaign. Others called him one of the architects behind mankind’s victory. A few even bowed their heads as he passed.

Cedric acknowledged none of them.

His navy robes swayed softly with each step, his polished boots echoing against marble floors as he ascended the spiral staircase leading toward the upper research district. His face remained expressionless, his pale blue eyes fixed forward as though the dozens of voices around him did not exist.

Only when he finally reached the highest chamber of the tower did he stop.

The heavy doors closed behind him with a dull thud.

Silence.

For the first time since leaving the capital, Cedric slowly exhaled.

His private chamber was exactly as he had left it. Shelves lined with forbidden grimoires. Ancient relics sealed behind crystal barriers. Half-completed magic circles glowing faintly across the floor. Preserved monster organs floating inside glass containers filled with mana-rich liquid. Research notes scattered across his desk in careful disorder.

A paradise for scholars.

A place most mages would willingly die for.

And yet...

Cedric stood motionless in the center of it all.

Then, slowly, he raised a hand and removed his glasses.

For several seconds, he simply stared at his own reflection in the polished lens.

Then his fingers tightened.

Crack.

A thin fracture spread across the glass.

"...Such a waste."

His voice was low. Controlled. But beneath it, something ugly stirred.

It wasn’t regret.

It wasn’t guilt.

And it certainly wasn’t grief.

It was frustration.

No—

Obsession denied.

Leonhart Vale’s body had been perfect. A living anomaly blessed by mana itself. A human capable of understanding and manipulating mana on a level that defied modern magical theory. Cedric had spent years observing him from the shadows of battlefields, recording every movement, every spell, every fluctuation in mana output.

He had been so close.

So close to understanding.

And then the Church took everything.

Cedric slowly placed the cracked lens onto his desk and turned toward the massive window overlooking the floating city beneath the tower.

Far away, beyond clouds and sunlight, stood the distant silhouette of the Holy Capital.

His expression darkened.

"...Faith."

He spoke the word as though it were poison.

"...Always interfering with truth."

He stood there for a long time, his blue eyes fixed toward the horizon where the Church’s influence still reached.

Then, without another word, Cedric sat down at his desk and began writing.

Not research notes.

Not magical formulas.

Not theories.

But calculations.

Political calculations.

Because if the Church refused to hand over the Hero...

Then one day—

Cedric would simply take what he wanted himself.

***

Unlike Cedric, Gareth embraced his new life without hesitation.

If the Sage returned to knowledge, then Gareth returned to glory.

Within months, his name had spread across taverns, noble courts, military barracks, and training grounds alike. Songs were sung of the giant who stood beside the Hero during humanity’s final war. Young soldiers spoke his name with admiration, while nobles invited him to feasts as though he were some legendary champion carved straight from old myths.

And Gareth accepted it all.

Wine.

Gold.

Women.

Fame.

Everything he believed should have belonged to him from the start.

Tonight was no different.

Laughter echoed throughout one of the western kingdom’s grand banquet halls as Gareth sat at the center of a long table overflowing with expensive food and half-empty goblets. Noble daughters clung to his arms. Merchants offered him business contracts. Even knights who once outranked him now raised their cups in his honor.

“Humanity’s strongest shield!”

Someone shouted.

The hall erupted in cheers.

Gareth grinned and raised his cup high.

“To victory.”

The crowd repeated it louder.

“To victory!”

He drank deeply, letting the warmth of alcohol settle in his chest as applause surrounded him. This was what he wanted. What he deserved.

Recognition.

Admiration.

Power.

And yet...

As his cup lowered—

His smile faltered.

Only for a second.

A brief, nearly invisible pause.

Because for reasons he refused to admit...

His mind wandered back to that night.

Not the Demon King.

Not the victory.

But a young man with black hair.

A pair of crimson eyes.

And the sound—

The sound of his shield splitting apart beneath a single strike.

Crack.

Gareth froze.

His fingers had tightened too hard.

A thin fracture now spread across the silver goblet in his hand.

The woman beside him blinked.

“Sir Gareth?”

He stared at the cup for a moment before forcing a laugh loud enough to drown his own thoughts.

“Cheap craftsmanship.”

The hall laughed with him.

But even as Gareth smiled...

Even as women leaned closer...

Even as the world praised his name...

A truth he could never speak had already rooted itself deep inside him.

Even after the Hero’s death...

Even after Kael Jin vanished without a trace...

He still wasn’t sure he could win.

And just like that...

One year passed.

***

Far away from kingdoms, cathedrals, politics, and the lies of mankind...

Beyond cursed lands where even monsters avoided wandering too deep...

A figure slowly emerged from behind a roaring waterfall.

Black hair clung to his face.

Fresh scars covered his body.

And crimson eyes, colder than they had ever been before, quietly opened to the world once more.

Kael Jin...

Had survived.

The roar of the waterfall had become so familiar that Kael no longer heard it.

For an entire year, that endless torrent of water had filled the darkness surrounding him. Day and night had long since lost meaning inside the cavern hidden behind the falls. There had only been silence, pain, and the slow passage of time marked by cold stone beneath his body and blood staining the floor beneath him.

Yet now—

For the first time in what felt like forever—

Kael stepped outside.

Mist drifted heavily through the air as he emerged from behind the waterfall, the cold spray soaking his already tattered clothes almost instantly. Grey skies stretched endlessly above the forest canopy, sunlight barely piercing through layers of dark clouds hanging over Blackveil Forest like a curse that refused to fade. Towering trees twisted unnaturally toward the sky, their bark blackened by demonic miasma accumulated over countless years. Some moved slightly despite the absence of wind, as though the forest itself were breathing.

Kael stopped walking.

The world felt... loud.

The rushing water.

The wind between leaves.

The distant cries of unseen creatures echoing through the forest.

After spending so long trapped between consciousness and unconsciousness, even simple sounds felt unfamiliar to him now.

His crimson eyes narrowed slightly.

Then pain spread through his chest.

A sharp sensation tore across his side, forcing his breathing to hitch faintly as one of the half-healed wounds reopened beneath the bandages wrapped around his torso. Dark blood slowly soaked through the cloth almost immediately.

Kael lowered his gaze toward it in silence.

The divine energy was gone.

He could no longer feel that burning corruption eating away at his flesh from inside his body. For one entire year, his Qi had clashed endlessly against the remnants of holy power left behind by the angels summoned by Lyra Virel. Every breath had felt like inhaling shattered blades. Every moment spent conscious had been agony.

And even then—

The wounds still refused to heal properly.

Kael slowly exhaled through his nose before tightening the loose cloth around his torso with one hand. His movements were slower than before. Heavier. The kind of heaviness that settled deep inside bones after surviving something the body was never meant to endure.

For a brief moment, his eyes drifted toward the sky beyond the trees.

Grey.

Empty.

Cold.

Then his thoughts wandered—

Golden hair stained red.

A trembling smile.

> Wait for my return.

Kael’s fingers tightened unconsciously around the black sword hanging at his waist.

Black Heaven.

Even after falling from the cliff...

Even after one year trapped between life and death...

He had never let go of it.

"...You really left me behind."

His voice was quiet enough to vanish beneath the waterfall.

No answer came back.

Only silence.

Kael lowered his eyes again and began walking.

Each step felt unfamiliar. Muscles stiff from disuse protested with every movement, yet his posture remained straight out of habit alone. The forest floor beneath him was damp and uneven, covered in roots thick enough to resemble coiled serpents beneath layers of black moss. Strange fungi glowing faintly blue clung to tree trunks while dark mist drifted between the woods low enough to hide whatever moved beneath it.

Blackveil Forest.

One of the few places on the continent abandoned even by monsters intelligent enough to fear death.

Centuries ago, this land had once been a battlefield during the earliest wars against demonkind. Countless demons had died here. Countless humans too. Their blood, mana, hatred, and despair had seeped into the land until the forest itself became corrupted. Over time, the mana within this region twisted into something unstable.

Something rotten.

Normal beasts mutated after living here too long.

Plants developed venom potent enough to kill knights within minutes.

Even mana itself behaved strangely within Blackveil, often becoming violent or distorted without warning.

Most humans who entered never returned.

Kael continued walking through it alone.

Because unlike mana—

Qi was not borrowed from the world.

It was carved directly from the body itself.

And Blackveil Forest...

Could not corrupt what already flowed within his bones.

The deeper Kael ventured into Blackveil Forest, the quieter the world became.

Even the sound of the waterfall had long since disappeared behind him.

Only the crunch of damp soil beneath his feet remained.

Mist drifted low across the forest floor, thick enough to obscure the roots twisting through the ground like veins beneath rotten flesh. Towering black trees blocked most of the sunlight overhead, their branches tangled together so densely that the sky itself seemed distant. Strange growths pulsed faintly along the bark, glowing dim crimson before fading again like breathing embers hidden beneath ash.

Blackveil Forest was alive.

Not in the way ordinary forests lived.

This place endured.

It watched.

And somewhere deep within its endless darkness, things far older than mankind continued breathing unnoticed.

Kael walked through it alone.

His pace remained slow. Not cautious—simply limited. Every few steps sent dull pain spreading through his torso as the wounds left behind by the angels threatened to reopen beneath his bandages. The divine authority embedded within them had faded after a year of constant resistance from his Qi, but traces still lingered inside his body like splinters lodged too deeply to remove entirely.

A normal person would have died within days.

Perhaps hours.

Even now, Kael himself did not fully understand how he remained alive.

His body should have collapsed long ago.

Yet it continued moving.

One step after another.

The same way it always had.

His crimson eyes shifted quietly toward the surrounding forest.

Silence.

Too much silence.

Then—

A faint sound reached him.

Rustling leaves.

Slow.

Heavy.

Kael stopped walking.

The mist ahead stirred unnaturally.

At first, it resembled nothing more than shifting shadows beneath the trees. Then the shape slowly emerged from the darkness, scales scraping against damp earth with a low dragging sound.

A serpent.

No—

Something that had once been a serpent.

The creature’s body stretched nearly fifteen meters long, thick enough that its coils resembled tree trunks. Black scales covered most of its flesh, though parts of its skin had split open unnaturally, exposing pulsating veins glowing with dark crimson light beneath. Several malformed eyes had grown along the sides of its neck, opening and closing independently while black saliva dripped from fangs longer than daggers.

The stench reached Kael a moment later.

Rotten blood.

Corrupted mana.

Demonic miasma.

The creature stared at him.

And Kael stared back.

Neither moved.

Then the serpent opened its mouth.

SCREEEE—

The sound tore violently through the forest.

The creature lunged.

Its massive body exploded forward with terrifying speed, jaws wide enough to swallow a man whole. Trees shattered apart behind it as the corrupted serpent crashed through the forest like a living avalanche.

Kael’s body reacted immediately.

Not through thought.

Instinct.

His hand moved toward Black Heaven.

The blade left its sheath with a low metallic whisper.

SHING—

The serpent’s fangs descended.

Kael stepped sideways.

Pain instantly tore through his ribs.

His movements slowed for the briefest fraction of a second—

Enough.

The serpent’s tail whipped toward him from the mist like a collapsing pillar.

BOOM—

Kael crossed his sword defensively.

The impact hurled him backward through the forest floor, roots and dirt exploding beneath him before his body slammed violently against a tree trunk.

Crack.

The bark shattered.

Blood spilled from Kael’s lips as fresh pain spread across his chest.

The wounds reopened.

Again.

For several seconds, he remained still.

The serpent slithered closer through the mist, malformed eyes blinking hungrily.

Kael slowly wiped the blood from his mouth with the back of his hand.

Then he stood up.

His breathing had grown slightly heavier now.

But his eyes remained unchanged.

Cold.

Empty.

The serpent lunged again.

This time—

Kael moved first.

BOOM—

The ground beneath his feet collapsed as Qi surged through his legs. His body shot forward fast enough to tear apart the surrounding mist, black sword trailing behind him in silence.

The serpent opened its jaws—

Kael stepped inside its range.

One movement.

One strike.

Heaven Splitting Draw.

SHHHK—

Black steel flashed once through the darkness.

The serpent froze.

Then—

Its entire head slid from its body.

Blood erupted across the forest floor as the massive corpse collapsed violently between the trees, crushing roots and stone beneath its weight.

Silence returned.

Kael stood motionless beside the corpse, his sword still lowered at his side.

Blood dripped slowly from his reopened wounds.

Warm.

Steady.

Yet his expression never changed.

Not relief.

Not satisfaction.

Not fear.

Nothing.

The serpent was dead.

And he felt absolutely nothing at all.

***

For a while, Kael simply stood there beside the serpent’s corpse.

Black blood spread slowly across the forest floor, steaming faintly where it touched the roots beneath the mist. The stench of corrupted mana thickened the air around him, yet the creatures lurking within Blackveil did not approach. Whether they feared the serpent or the man standing beside it was impossible to tell.

Kael lowered his sword.

A faint tremor ran through his arm.

His body had not fully adapted to movement yet. The brief exchange alone had reopened several wounds across his torso, and he could already feel warm blood soaking through the cloth wrapped beneath his dark robes. The pain remained constant now—a dull ache buried deep inside flesh and bone alike.

But compared to the agony of the past year...

This felt insignificant.

Kael slowly sheathed Black Heaven before walking toward the serpent’s corpse. Its enormous body twitched occasionally from lingering nerve spasms, malformed eyes still blinking weakly despite the severed head lying several meters away.

Mutated creatures possessed absurd vitality.

Kael crouched beside the corpse in silence before pressing two fingers lightly against one of the exposed crimson veins pulsing beneath its torn scales.

Warm.

Corrupted mana flowed through the creature like poisoned blood.

His crimson eyes narrowed slightly.

The demonic corruption inside Blackveil had worsened.

Even one year ago, beasts this deeply mutated rarely wandered near the outer layers of the forest. But this serpent had appeared relatively close to the waterfall cave.

Which meant one thing.

The forest itself was becoming more unstable.

Kael withdrew his hand slowly.

"...Mana."

The word left his mouth quietly.

Once upon a time, he used to envy it.

A power gifted naturally to almost everyone in the world. Beautiful. Convenient. Blessed by heaven itself. Meanwhile, Qi demanded endless suffering just to take shape within the body. Bones shattered. Muscles torn apart. Breath cultivated until even sleeping became a form of training.

Mana was loved by the world.

Qi fought against it.

And yet—

Looking at the serpent before him now...

Kael wondered if perhaps mana had always been more dangerous.

Because unlike Qi—

Mana could be corrupted.

Twisted.

Driven mad.

His gaze drifted upward toward the dark forest surrounding him.

Then slowly—

Toward the distant sky hidden beyond the canopy above.

Leonhart.

No matter how many times Kael tried to suppress the thought, his mind always returned there eventually.

Mana Sovereign.

A man loved by mana itself.

A blessing so absurd that even the greatest archmages of the continent considered Leonhart’s existence a miracle granted by heaven.

But if mana could rot...

Then what would happen to someone loved by all mana?

The thought lingered unpleasantly inside his chest.

Kael closed his eyes briefly.

Tired.

Not physically.

Something deeper.

The kind of exhaustion that settled into the soul after watching everything meaningful collapse beyond repair.

For a moment, he almost laughed.

Leonhart had spent years saving people who would never remember his name.

Shared meals with them. Bled beside them. Trusted them without hesitation.

And in the end—

the blades that pierced his body had all come from people he once called companions.

How absurd.

Kael opened his eyes again.

The mist drifting through Blackveil no longer felt cold to him.

Neither did the silence.

Perhaps because after surviving that night...

Nothing in this forest felt more frightening than humanity itself.

He turned away from the serpent’s corpse and resumed walking through the forest once more.

Slowly.

Aimlessly.

Like a sword that no longer knew what purpose it had been forged for.

***

The deeper regions of Blackveil Forest rarely changed no matter how far one traveled. Endless black trees stretched across the land like the ribs of some enormous corpse buried beneath the world. Mist drifted endlessly between them, carrying the scent of damp earth, blood, and decaying mana. Occasionally, distant roars echoed through the forest before vanishing just as quickly, as though even sound itself feared lingering too long within Blackveil.

Time passed strangely here.

Without civilization, sunlight, or human voices, days blurred together until they became almost meaningless.

Kael did not mind.

Perhaps because after everything that had happened...

He no longer knew what exactly waited for him outside this forest.

Revenge?

The thought felt hollow.

Killing the traitors would not bring Leonhart back.

Destroying the Church would not erase that night.

Even if every single person involved died screaming before him—

The memory of Leonhart sitting alone at the edge of that cliff would remain unchanged.

Kael’s hand tightened slightly around the sheath of Black Heaven.

For a moment, he almost stopped walking entirely.

What exactly was he supposed to do now?

Wait?

Search?

Hide?

Survive?

His entire life until now had revolved around a single person.

From childhood until the final battle against Valthor, Kael had always walked beside Leonhart without questioning it. Leonhart smiled, so Kael followed. Leonhart wanted to save people, so Kael cut down whatever stood in his path. The Hero walked toward the light naturally—

And Kael became the shadow following behind him.

Simple.

Obvious.

But now that light was gone.

And for the first time in years—

Kael had no idea where to walk.

The realization settled unpleasantly inside his chest.

Perhaps that was why Leonhart’s final words angered him so much.

> Wait for my return.

Such selfish words.

As though Leonhart had simply decided Kael would continue living no matter what happened afterward.

As though surviving that night had been easy.

Kael exhaled slowly through his nose.

“…Idiot.”

Yet despite the bitterness hidden within the word—

His steps never stopped moving forward.

Because even now, after one year buried inside darkness and silence...

A part of him still believed those words.

Black Heaven shifted lightly against his waist as Kael stepped over a fallen tree root. His body remained tense instinctively, senses quietly spread through the surrounding forest through Qi perception. Unlike mana detection, Qi perception did not expand outward explosively. Instead, it sharpened awareness itself—the movement of air, killing intent, breathing, vibrations beneath the ground.

Subtle.

But deadly.

And at this moment—

Kael sensed something.

A faint tremor beneath the earth.

His crimson eyes narrowed slightly.

Not another serpent.

Smaller.

Lighter.

But moving quickly.

The bushes several meters ahead rustled violently.

Then a shadow burst from the mist.

A beast roughly the size of a large hound lunged toward him, its body twisted unnaturally by corruption. Dark fur hung in rotten patches across exposed flesh while multiple crimson eyes glowed across its skull. Its jaws opened wide enough to reveal rows of jagged teeth dripping black saliva.

Fast.

But predictable.

Kael shifted sideways slightly.

SHHK—

Black Heaven left its sheath halfway.

One precise movement.

The beast’s body split apart before it even reached him.

Blood scattered across the roots beneath the mist.

Kael continued walking without even looking back.

The corpse behind him twitched weakly before falling still.

No hesitation.

No emotion.

Just movement.

The deeper he wandered through Blackveil, the more Kael realized something unsettling.

Fighting monsters felt easier than thinking.

Because monsters were simple.

They attacked.

He killed them.

Nothing more.

Humans, however—

Humans smiled before placing blades through your heart.

***

The forest gradually grew darker as Kael continued forward.

Whether evening had begun or the canopy above had simply thickened further, even he could no longer tell. Blackveil swallowed light unnaturally. The deeper one traveled, the harder it became to distinguish time itself. Even the air felt heavier now, carrying traces of demonic miasma dense enough to distort ordinary mana circulation.

Kael’s expression remained unchanged.

But internally—

His body had already begun reaching its limit.

The earlier movements against the serpent had reopened more wounds than expected. Warm blood continued soaking beneath the bandages wrapped around his torso, sticking uncomfortably against skin already scarred from a year of resisting divine authority. Every breath carried faint pain through his ribs, while the lingering remnants of holy power buried deep within his flesh reacted violently whenever he pushed his Qi circulation too forcefully.

He could continue fighting.

But not for long.

Kael understood that much clearly.

A faint rustling echoed somewhere above.

His eyes shifted upward instinctively.

Several pairs of crimson eyes stared down at him from the branches overhead.

Silent.

Watching.

The corrupted beasts of Blackveil had already begun recognizing weakness.

Kael stopped walking.

The forest became quiet once more.

Then slowly—

His hand rested against the hilt of Black Heaven.

Not drawing it.

Simply touching it.

A faint crimson pressure spread outward from his body.

No explosion.

No killing intent.

Just enough.

The creatures above immediately retreated deeper into the trees.

Kael lowered his hand again before resuming his steps.

Even weakened, he remained dangerous enough that most beasts instinctively avoided risking death against him. Creatures born within Blackveil understood violence better than humans did. They knew when something could kill them.

Humans often did not.

After several more minutes of walking, Kael finally stopped beside the roots of an enormous dead tree twisted nearly twenty meters into the air. Its trunk had split open long ago, leaving enough hollow space beneath the roots for temporary shelter from both rain and wandering beasts.

Good enough.

Kael sat down slowly against the wood.

The moment tension left his body, exhaustion crashed into him all at once.

His breathing roughened slightly.

Blood loss.

Fatigue.

Pain.

For one entire year, survival had consumed every fragment of focus inside his mind. Expelling divine authority from his body had demanded constant Qi circulation without rest. Several times, he had nearly died simply because his consciousness slipped for too long.

And now that the immediate struggle for survival had lessened slightly...

The emptiness left behind became clearer.

Kael tilted his head back against the tree trunk and closed his eyes.

Silence surrounded him once more.

No battlefield.

No screaming.

No Leonhart smiling beside him.

Only darkness beneath his eyelids.

“…What now?”

The words left him quietly.

No answer came.

Of course not.

Leonhart had always been the one moving forward first.

Kael simply followed behind him.

But now?

There was no path ahead anymore.

Only a forest filled with monsters and a world beyond it that believed him to be the murderer of the only person he had ever truly cared about.

A bitter smile almost formed on his face.

Almost.

Then—

His eyes opened again.

Slowly.

Because for the briefest moment—

Kael sensed something strange.

Not killing intent.

Not mana.

Movement.

Small.

Weak.

Somewhere nearby within the darkness of the forest.

Kael’s eyes remained fixed on the darkness beyond the trees.

The movement disappeared almost instantly.

Small.

Light.

Not enough to pose any threat.

For several seconds, neither the forest nor the mist moved again.

Only silence remained.

Kael quietly narrowed his eyes before eventually lowering his gaze once more. Whatever had been watching him possessed no killing intent. Most likely some small scavenger drawn by the scent of blood lingering around him after the battle with the serpent.

Normally, creatures that weak would avoid approaching stronger predators.

But Blackveil Forest was not normal.

Everything here survived by feeding on whatever it could.

Even corpses.

Kael closed his eyes again.

He was too exhausted to care.

The faint presence lingered for a few moments longer somewhere within the darkness before eventually retreating deeper into the forest once it realized the wounded human beneath the dead tree was still awake.

Then even that presence disappeared completely.

The forest became silent once more.

Cold wind drifted quietly between the roots while distant cries echoed far beyond the mist-covered woods. Somewhere deeper within Blackveil, another beast roared violently before being answered by something even larger.

Kael ignored all of it.

His breathing gradually slowed.

Qi circulated quietly through his body as he meditated against the dead tree, carefully guiding energy through damaged meridians while suppressing the lingering pain buried inside his wounds. Faint crimson aura flickered beneath his skin occasionally before fading again into darkness.

Hours passed quietly.

Or perhaps only minutes.

Inside Blackveil Forest, time often felt meaningless.

At some point during his meditation, Kael’s thoughts drifted once more toward the outside world.

Toward the continent beyond this cursed forest.

The Hero was dead.

The Demon King had fallen.

Humanity had won.

By all logic, the world should have entered an era of peace now.

Villages rebuilding.

Kingdoms celebrating.

Children no longer fearing demons crossing borders during the night.

It was what Leonhart had wanted.

What he had fought for since childhood.

And yet—

Kael could not bring himself to care.

Not because he hated humanity.

But because the world Leonhart died trying to protect no longer felt real to him anymore.

It felt distant.

Like something belonging to another lifetime.

Another person.

Kael slowly opened his eyes.

The forest before him remained dark and endless.

For a moment, he simply stared into it silently.

Then his hand moved toward Black Heaven resting beside him.

The black blade reflected faint traces of crimson light beneath the mist.

A sword.

That was all he was now.

Not a hero.

Not a savior.

Not even a person with a destination.

Just a blade that had failed to protect the one person who mattered most.

Kael lowered his gaze slightly.

“…Leon.”

The name escaped his lips almost unconsciously.

Soft.

Quiet.

Like someone speaking to a memory already gone.

No answer came back.

Only the endless sound of wind moving through Blackveil Forest.

...Kael slowly stood.

Pain spread through his body immediately, but he ignored it.

The bandages wrapped around his torso had already turned dark red again. Fresh blood seeped slowly beneath the cloth before disappearing into black fabric. Above him, the endless canopy of Blackveil swayed quietly beneath the wind while distant beast cries echoed through the forest like something mourning within the dark.

For a moment, Kael looked back toward the direction of the waterfall cave hidden deeper inside the forest.

One year.

An entire year spent surviving.

Breathing.

Enduring.

Yet in the end—

Nothing had changed.

Leonhart was still gone.

His fingers tightened slightly around Black Heaven.

Then Kael turned away from the cave and continued walking deeper into the forest.

Not toward revenge.

Not yet.

First—

He needed to know what remained of the world beyond Blackveil.

Because before sharpening his blade against the world…

Kael first needed to understand the world that abandoned them.