Chapter 1

The stench of rotting flesh and sulfur clung to the damp walls of the Abyssal Hollows, a forbidden ruin nestled on the jagged borders of the Azeroth Kingdom. Deep within its belly, far past the territories mapped by Silver and Gold-ranked knights, the shadows danced violently against the flickering glow of blue light.

Arthur Morgan stood perfectly still.

He was a stark contrast to the grime of the dungeon. Clad in an expensive, perfectly tailored black long-sleeve torso piece and a pitch-black cloak that seemed to drink the ambient light, he looked more like a prince attending a macabre gala than an Adventurer. His jet-black hair fell slightly into his piercing blue eyes—eyes that held the terrifying, hollow calm of a frozen lake.

A monstrous roar shook the cavern. A Dread-Troll, a hulking beast of muscle, bone-plating, and vicious claws, barreled toward him. It was a creature that required a platoon of Platinum-ranked soldiers to subdue.

"Arthur! Move, you stubborn idiot!" a voice echoed from the cavern entrance. Jacob Anders, his brown hair plastered to his forehead with sweat, had his single-handed sword drawn, water mana swirling around the blade.

Arthur didn't move. He casually adjusted his expensive black leather gloves. His own sword remained sheathed at his waist. He watched the Troll close the distance—fifty feet, thirty feet, ten feet. He could see the saliva dripping from its jagged teeth. He could smell the decay on its breath.

(Closer), Arthur thought, a cold smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth. (Let me feel it).

The beast swung a massive, clawed hand, tearing through the air with the force of a falling boulder. Jacob screamed his friend's name.

The claws connected. They raked across Arthur’s torso, slicing through his light armor and tearing deep into his flesh. Blood, crimson and hot, sprayed the stone floor. The impact sent Arthur flying backward, crashing violently into a stalagmite, shattering the ancient rock into dust.

Silence fell over the cavern, save for the heavy panting of the Dread-Troll. Jacob dropped to his knees, his face pale. "No..."

But from the cloud of dust, a sound began to rise. It wasn't a groan of pain. It was the sharp, crackling hiss of a thunderstorm.

A sudden, blinding flash of azure light illuminated the entire cavern. The dust vanished, blown away by a shockwave of pure energy. Arthur stepped forward. His clothing was torn, but beneath the fabric, his flesh was already knitting itself back together at an impossible, terrifying speed. The fatal wounds closed in mere seconds, leaving behind unblemished skin. His Quickest Regeneration—a trait of his Diamond-rank status—made him practically immortal.

"Is that all?" Arthur's voice was quiet, yet it carried over the crackling thunder. "I gave you a free hit, and you couldn't even reach my heart. How disappointing."

Blue lightning cascaded down his arms, arcing across his shoulders and dancing across the floor, scorching the stone beneath his black boots. The Dread-Troll took a step back, its primitive instincts suddenly recognizing that the small human was not prey. He was the apex predator.

In a fraction of a second, Arthur vanished.

(Ultimate Super Speed.)

Before the beast could even blink, Arthur materialized directly above it, suspended in the air. His single-handed sword was now drawn, the steel enveloped in a blinding aura of dense, volatile blue thunder.

"Let me show you how to actually strike," Arthur whispered.

With a casual flick of his wrist, he brought the blade down. The sound that followed wasn't a slash; it was a deafening thunderclap that violently shook the very foundations of the Abyssal Hollows. A massive pillar of blue lightning erupted from the sword, completely engulfing the Dread-Troll. When the light faded a second later, the beast was simply gone, reduced to nothing more than a faint wisp of ozone and ash floating in the damp air.

Arthur landed softly, sheathing his sword with a sharp click. The lightning faded from his eyes, returning them to their usual, bored state.

Jacob sprinted over, grabbing Arthur by the collar of his ruined black shirt. "Are you insane?! You let it hit you on purpose! Again! Do you have a death wish, Arthur?!"

Arthur gently brushed Jacob's hand away, his expression unreadable. "If death wants me, Jacob, it needs to try harder. Come on. Let's head back to the capital. I think Hilia mentioned something about baking bread today, and if I'm late, she's infinitely scarier than a Dread-Troll."

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