Behold Julian Krytart Placon, the prodigy of the Kryart branch lineage. In his youth, his mere presence commanded the hearts of every maiden defying the hierarchy of noble blood. But those days are gone. Now the world trembles at the name Julian of the Hidden Eyes, a legend carved in blood on the battlefield. A dual cultivator of blade and sorcery. He slaughters demon legions with a chilling smile upon his lips. His monocont control absolutely divine. Yet his true terror lies in his cursed vision eyes that perceive fear and rage as a suffocating colored aura. Even his own kin recoil in terror before his might. The main house plots his demise, fearing this branch family monster will seize the throne of the patriarch at any moment. And they are right to fear. The original Julian was a tyrant in the making, a true villain. However, a secret lies buried in the dark. The villain's soul has departed. The entity inhabiting this vessel is a transmigrator, a man named Lee Seu from the modern world who obsessed over a game where the hero falls to the traitorous Julian Kryart. Lee Seahu despised this character. Yet the cruel gods cast him into the very body he loathed to rewrite fate. The ultimate irony. He inherited the villain's face, but none of his apocalyptic power. To survive the vipers, circling him, he must maintain the illusion of absolute strength. He must become the monster everyone fears. While overseeing the academy entrance exams, a student commits the fatal error of bumping into him. The old Julian would have reduced the boy to ash. The air grows heavy with the purple aura of pure terror. Only one figure stands unafraid. Professor Eileen Donasia, a genius mage, and his former classmate. Lee knows she must detest the villain Julian from their school days. Sensing danger, he detects a flicker of purple fear around her. To cement his villainous persona, he unleashes a barrage of elegant venomous insults, but the result defies logic. Not only does the purple aura vanish, but her cheeks burn with the crimson flush of intense emotion. Truth be told, Julian isn't cruel. He's merely posturing to survive. He coldly declares that only blood can pay for such mistakes, expecting her to beg for mercy. Instead, she calls his bluff. Mana flares around her as she issues a challenge. If he wants the student, he must step over her corpse first. Desperation is written on her face. Julian expected resentment, but this volatile reaction is unpredictable. Without power, a duel means his death. As she turns to save her students, Julian relies on his treacherous reputation. He strikes from the shadows, shattering her barrier. The blow leaves her paralyzed. A mage should be helpless at close range. Yet something is wrong. That blushing face, it defies the situation, and his attack was suspiciously weak. Eileen stands frozen, not from pain, but because a flood of repressed memories has returned. Years ago, Julian was her son and stars. Even without the title of a high lord, he was perfection incarnate. No woman could resist his allure, herself included. She worshiped his beauty, his grace, his talent. She had offered him her heart only to be coldly rejected. That killing intent he saw. It was the agony of a broken heart. Seeing the aura of hatred dissolve, the impostor moves with the silence of an assassin. He closes the distance, but instead of a blade, he places a gentle hand upon her head. A duel demands a victor yet. Julian breaks character completely. "I could never mar beauty as radiant as Lady Eileen's," he whispers. "All he truly wanted was directions to the exam hall." Eileen's mind completely shortcircuits. "Why is the tyrant acting like the gentle youth she once adored? What of the blood soaked legend surrounding him?" As they walk, the protagonist analyzes her earlier words. She spoke of his signature art, enchanting the blade until it holds the very luminescence of the moon. A weapon that glows with celestial blue fire, the legendary moonlight sword that severed countless demons, earning him a name spoken with equal parts reverence and dread. It is the symbol of Julian's might and a technique the powerless Lee cannot possibly replicate. The fact that Eileene noticed the weakness in his strike is a catastrophe. He must crush any rising suspicion immediately. He turns his cold gaze to the two trembling witnesses trailing behind. Is something a miss? Their fear strikes deep, silencing their doubts as they hurry along. The trio arrives at the training grounds. With a confident smirk, Julian throws open the gates to his destiny. He offered a hollow apology for his tardiness, casually shifting the blame onto poor Eileene. Then, with an air of absolute authority, he introduced himself, declaring that times he times would preside over the admission trial today. Of course, he knew his name alone was enough to strike fear into their hearts. Heron's gaze prowled through the nervous crowd until it locked onto a specific target, the second scion of the prestigious Torso Clan, a house renowned for its deep historic alliance with the Cryheart family. To join the shut eyes is the highest honor, and the competition is ruthless. Tradition dictated a duel between master and aspirant. But this was a trap. If Julian dared to fail the torso heir, the council of elders would seize that excuse to execute him. Heron smirked internally. This was the graveyard of Julian's legend. Oblivious to the trap, the silver-haired noble addressed the trembling candidates. "Do you truly desire to walk the path of the shut eyes?" he asked. The youth stammered a fearful yes. The silver phantom sneered, looking down at them as if they were insects. All I see before me is a pile of cowardly refues. He mocked their soft, naive eyes, proof of a pampered life, and laughed at the pristine swords they held with shaking hands. This organization is the Empire's darkest, most violent abyss. And as your time senior asterisk, Julian's voice dropped an octave. I will show you reality. The exam begins now. The passing criteria is simple. You must extinguish the life of Julian Cryheart. A ripple of pure terror tore through the crowd. Murmurss turned to gasps of horror at the insane command. Julian gripped his hilt with apparent arrogance, masking the cold sweat drenching his back. He prayed his bluff would shatter their resolve. But Heron leaned in, his voice dripping with malice. Remember instructor, show them. No mercy. Julian's heart pounded. He had barely escaped Eileen before, and now he was forced into a real duel. If he fought Haron, and the disciples would instantly realize the truth, his legendary strength had vanished. Without the moonlight sword responding to him, his reputation would crumble and the rumors of his amnesia would be confirmed. Crushed by the weight of impending doom, the young master froze. His mind raced. Worse yet, if he showed even a sliver of hesitation, that monster Eileene would strike him down herself. Her predatory gaze dissected his every micro movement. Gripping his blade until his knuckles turned white, the protagonist scrambled for a strategy. Panic won't save me. Only madness will. He doubled down on the provocation. This exam ends only when my heart stops or when every single one of you is dead. The killing intent was palpable. The students were paralyzed by the sheer overwhelming pressure. Julian stood like an immovable mountain, his bluff perfect. Suddenly, a hand trembled into the air. A boy, his face drained of blood, choked out. I I withdraw. The damn broke. Hand after hand shot up in surrender. Even the torso Scion looked around in dismay, realizing he was surrounded by cowards. He ground his teeth in humiliation, unwilling to admit defeat, but fear won out. Slowly, he raised his hand too. The other instructor stood Agapee. Impossible. The entire batch of applicants had forfeited without a single clash of steel. Julian covered his mouth, unleashing a maniacal, hotty laugh as his cape snapped dramatically in the wind. As the cowards fled with their tails between their legs, the exam was declared void. There would be no duel today. Lee's desperate gamble paid off. By wearing the mask of a cruel tyrant, he had survived another day. He risked a glance at Eileene, expecting fury at the canceled exam. But to his shock, she wasn't angry. In fact, he couldn't sense a shred of hostility from her asterisk. Is my empathy ability malfunctioning times? He wondered. He was wrong. The display had reminded her of the old Julian, the ruthless times sunbay times, who won wars without drawing a blade simply by crushing souls. Sometime later, back within the dark halls of the shut eyes headquarters, a voice called out to the silver-haired master. It was Haron forced to congratulate him on the outcome. Julian, however, felt no pride, only relief. He placed a heavy hand on Haron's shoulder, a gesture meant to be friendly. But Haron flinched, terrified by the monster's touch. Seeing the fear, Julian realized his bluff was still holding strong. "It was all thanks to your guidance, Haron," he said, shifting the credit. But their tense moment was cut short. "A young man with eyes sparkling like stars burst in." "That was magnificent, Lord Julian." He bowed low. "I am Lazarth, head of administration. It is an absolute honor to stand in your presence. Clearly after that display, no one dared question Julian's memory or power. The exam had ended bloodlessly, but Julian was already exhausted by the sycopants. Lazarth chirped on excitedly. Even the torso air was there, yet you crushed his spirit without mercy. Truly inspiring. That name pierced Heron like a poison needle. His plan to use the torso family had backfired spectacularly. Enraged and panicked, Heron jabbed a finger at the administrator. You fool, do you realize what you're saying? To fail the test on purpose. Knowing the blood feud between the Torso and Cryart clans, it is an insult to the very concept of power. With a voice as cold as ice, Julian lays out the deadly facts. The Shut Eyes faction refuses to harbor active nobles, or anyone directly leashed to the Imperial throne. Only the fallen or the common may enter these gates. He then turns his sharp gaze to his own lineage. Julian lets out a dry, sarcastic laugh. I am but trash from a collateral branch, he snears. A mere lap dog of the Imperial family. nothing more. Yet, the Scion of the Torso family took the exam regardless. He knew he would fail the second round. Perhaps his family intended to teach him a lesson through humiliation. Or is there a darker scheme at play? A shadow hanging over this entire admission process. Heron's entire body begins to tremble uncontrollably. His fists clench until the knuckles turn white. His cover has been blown. However, the silver-haired devil suddenly shifts his tone. Relax. It is likely just a misunderstanding. Julian smiles, but the menace in his eyes remains. If it is not a mistake, things will get bloody. Later, back at the Ducal Estate, Julian finally returns. The maids line the hall, bowing in perfect unison. The young master strides through the corridors, masking his fatigue. One servant dares to ask about dinner. No. Julian answers curtly, turning to the young woman. Let no one disturb me. She agrees instantly, trembling at the dark aura radiating from her master. Finally, alone within the sanctuary of his chambers. Julian discards his weapon and collapses into his chair. The tension leaves his body in a heavy sigh. He was sharp enough to catch Heron's flinch earlier. There was definitely a conspiracy behind that exam. He was lucky to escape the crossfire today, but luck is a finite resource. If the association finds his weakness, he will be exiled from the family in disgrace. His eyes drift to the blade on the table. today proved one terrifying fact. He cannot wield the moonlight sword in this world. That sword is the symbol of absolute oppression. Without it, he is nothing. He grips the hilt once more. He must conquer this weapon or he will be devoured by this world. As he draws the blade, a faint azure light washes over the room. He studies the steel with intense focus. But as expected, the true moonlight aura does not awaken. Julian's talent, however, is undeniable. He possesses the innate eye of a master swordsman. The moment he touches a hilt, the path of the cut reveals itself. A genius trait he has possessed since birth. To him, handling a blade is as natural as breathing. But in this reality, technique alone is trash. There are countless swordsmen in the empire with perfect form. True dominance comes from something else. The overwhelming disparity in aura and mana. That is the wall he must climb to survive. With the cold logic of a gamer, he analyzes his new body. Channeling mana is a dance with death. One wrong flow and the energy reverses. His internal organs would liquefy instantly. The fear is real, but he crushes it down. He has no choice but to prove his worth. If the mana system here mirrors the game he mastered, then Lee with his thousands of hours of gameplay is already a grandmaster of theory. He knows exactly what to do. He must drag the energy from his heart to the meridian. The 38 gates of the mana circuit. Six great veins leading all the way to the mind. That is where the essence of magic bridges with the soul. He forces the connection open. Julian's crimson eyes snap open, his aura fluctuating wildly. He feels the power surge. Now comes the hardest part, channeling it into the steel. The resistance is like pushing against a mountain, but his will is absolute. Suddenly, the steel sings. The true glow of the moonlight flickers into existence, then vanishes. It was faint, merely the sliver of a crescent moon. But the first step on the path of legends has been taken. Time skips forward to the training grounds. Julian stands amidst a circle of wooden dummies. He lowers his stance, hand hovering over the hilt. Focus. Visualize. Execute. Like a bolt of silver lightning, he dashes past the target, the sound of the impact lagging behind. The dummy shatters into a cloud of splinters. Julian exhales, satisfied. He has reached the level of a knight, but the moonlight sword remains incomplete, and his knowledge of the future is running dry to seek the wisdom he desperately needed. But suddenly, a maid bowed low, her voice trembling as she sought her master. She brought news that the young lord, we had an unexpected visitor. Julian's eyes lit up. Perhaps fate was offering him the perfect chance. But alas, it was no one of consequence. It was merely Lazarth. The spark of interest vanished from the silver-haired noble's face, replaced by cold indifference. Lozer, however, was beaming. He was absolutely thrilled that the great Julian even recalled his name, though truthfully, how could Lee forget? This man chattered like a parrot in the presence of a predator. It was a fine line between immense courage and sheer stupidity. Julian sliced through the idol chatter like a blade. "Why are you here?" the swordsman demanded. The young messenger straightened his posture. He had come on the commander's direct orders to verify the results of the V Academy entrance exam. Julian scoffed internally, a pointless endeavor. The outcome was already written in stone. Yet protocol must be obeyed, no matter how trivial it seemed. Receiving and delivering the score was simply the law. Turning his back with icy dismissal, Julian issued his verdict. Tell him not a single soul passed the trial. But then a spark of inspiration struck him. He had use for this moment. Wait, he commanded, freezing Lazarth in his tracks. The swordsman narrowed his eyes. Will this report reach the commander's eyes directly? If that was the case, then I shall deliver the news myself. Lazarth stood paralyzed, unable to process the words. Then a heavy hand landed on his shoulder. Julian's voice dropped low. We shall ride in my carriage together. Pure terror washed over the young messenger's face. Had he committed a grave offense? Was this his execution? Sensing the fear, the silver-haired noble tried to soothe him. Relax. In truth, our protagonist merely pied the boy and didn't wish for him to make the long journey alone. But the shadow of Julian's villainous reputation was far too dark to ignore. Since fate had dealt this hand, Julian decided to seize it. He would ask that man for guidance, the commander of the shut eyes surely knew the original owner of this body well. With the shut eyes involved, the Crayfart family schemes would crumble to dust. Meanwhile, in a fortress of gold and grandeur, a frantic shout echoed through the halls. A soldier stammered, warning his superior of an approaching storm. Sir Ti, that person, he is here personally. The soldier could barely speak. The demon Julian Cryart Placon had arrived. Yet the commander remained as still as a deep lake. He simply repeated the news in a calm voice. His eyes guarded secrets untold, betraying nothing. Outside the palace of the Adrithan Empire stood in breathtaking glory. Our protagonist never dreamed he would witness this majesty firsthand. This was Rosenda, the heart of the game world, a land dominated by three great powers. With the Adrithan Empire reigning supreme as the strongest of them all. After the ceiling of the demon lord Barbados, a mighty monarchy rose from the ashes of devastation. This golden palace was the ultimate symbol of their unyielding strength. Internally, Lee was screaming in awe at the graphics coming to life. But on the outside, Julian wore his signature mask of icy indifference. Beside him, Lazarth was trembling. Every low chuckle from the swordsman sounded like a death nail to the poor boy. Yet, as the panic settled, a thought struck him. The great Julian was usually untouchable, hidden behind walls of servants. But now he sought the commander personally, and he was dragging a mere commoner along for the ride. It was unnerving. Even the citizens nearby began to whisper. I heard the young lord was injured, one muttered. He looks formidable as ever. Another replied, sensing the aura of power. The rumors of his memory loss were surely lies. Poor Lazarth felt the weight of a thousand gazes. It was a great honor, but he was ready to faint. With a satisfied nod, Julian broke the silence. Majestic indeed, he mused, looking at the architecture. The captain waits beyond the second gate, does he not? Lazarth froze. Why would a member of the shut eyes admire a familiar sight? A chill ran down his spine. This wasn't small talk. It was a psychological game. A dark thought took root in his mind. Is this a test? The swordsman's arrogant gaze seemed to scream the truth. Prove you are worthy, incompetent trainee. But in reality, Julian was simply fanboying over scenery he'd only ever seen on a computer screen. Finally, noticing the boy's pale face, he frowned. "Are you unwell?" he asked, his voice deep. I I am perfectly fine. Lazarth stammered, saluting. The golden spires blinded them as they approached the destination. Trembling, the boy whispered the question that haunted him. Did I pass the test, my lord? Julian blinked, utterly confused. Test? There was no test. He shook his head. Testing you would be a waste of time. The boy's face lit up instantly. He interpreted the insult as supreme praise. Waste of time meant he was already qualified. Thank you. Thank you so much. He bowed deeply and scampered off, humming a happy tune, leaving our protagonist baffled by his odd behavior. A soldier stepped forward, snapping to attention. The captain awaits you. The moment of truth had arrived. It was time to face Odwin Ballader, the sole heir to the legacy bloodline. Only a warrior of absolute strength could lead the elite squad known as the shut eyes. They were the emperor's shadow, answering to no one else. Lee imagined the captain, a titan of war. Surely just the thought of such overflowing charisma made his heart race. He stood before the ornate doors. Enter. A voice echoed. But the figure seated on the throne shattered every expectation. It wasn't a giant. With a serenity of a saint, Odwin Ballader welcomed him. Is the report of your injury true? Julian froze. His mind reeled. The legendary captain was a little girl. He fought to keep a straight face, but the absurdity was overwhelming. She looked like a child playing dress up. The game lore mentioned she was short. Yes, but looking like a junior high student, this was madness. Suddenly, a petite finger thrust toward his face. "You were thinking, I'm small again, weren't you?" Her voice dripped with irritation. "No," he lied, sweating. But her pressure was real. "She was terrifying. "Report on your condition," she commanded. Julian stiffened his mind, racing for a strategy. "One wrong move here would be fatal. He had to tread carefully on this battlefield of words. If she sensed a shift in his soul, she would know he wasn't the real Julian. He had to be perfect. The original Julian was a loyal hound to the shut eyes. Despite his colossal arrogance, he bowed low, feigning deep respect. "Thank you for your concern, Captain. The wound was severe," he declared. "But my devotion to the Empire remains unshaken. Silence hung heavy in the room. Had he miscalculated?" The tension was suffocating. She signaled for quiet. Then, bam! Her hand slammed the desk, shattering the piece like glass. She rose, stalking toward him. Something is wrong. Lee wanted to vanish right then and there. You never speak this politely. She pressed her sword hilt against his cheek. Who are you? Julian's eyes widened. A dark aura of denial radiated from her. She truly suspected him. He had to adapt instantly. How did the villain treat her? He snatched her weapon's hilt midair. No more nice guy. It was time to unleash the arrogant monster she expected. Her eyes flashed with fury, touching a warrior's blade. That was a declaration of war. You usually throw a report at me and vanish. She spat. This sudden diligence makes me sick. Lee realized his mistake. The original Julian wasn't just arrogant. He was borderline insubordinate. I've been away, he said coolly. My injuries required a personal touch, don't you think? He shifted his stance, adopting the bold, shameless aura of a true villain. A crooked mocking smile twisted his lips. "Or are you trying to leash me, Captain? I heard the injury scrambled your brain," she retorted. "But it seems your venom remains intact. Even Lee felt the pressure. This was no ordinary child. She was a monster in human skin." She shifted gears instantly. "The entrance exam. Did any diamonds shine in the rough?" "None," he scoffed. "Total garbage," she nodded, expecting nothing less from a disciple of the legendary Hayden Reich. High standards were in his blood. not even fodder for the traininee core she pressed. He shook his head dismissively. Her eyes scanned the report narrowing dangerously. You failed to every single soul. Julian's grin widened without hesitation. The air around her began to crackle. Why? She roared, standing so fast. Her beret tumbled to the floor. We are bleeding manpower. We need bodies on the front lines, Julian. Desperation is no excuse for incompetence, he countered. I won't lead sheep to slaughter. She believed in nurturing potential. He declared it a useless waste of time. "Truthfully, Lee just didn't want to waste energy fighting a bunch of brats. It was pure laziness. "Get out of my sight," she snarled. "Wait," he interjected. "I have a proposal." He slapped a crisp white envelope onto the mahogany desk. Inside lay the autopsy of their failed system. Confused, Odwin reached for the letter. She scans the document, and the gravity of the words hits her instantly. It argues that the participants are walking blind into the shut eyes domain and the captain has to agree these lambs have no idea they are signing up for a slaughter. She focuses on the young man's handwriting. One specific clause catches her attention upon signing up for the admission. Exam the shut eyes organization bears zero responsibility for any casualties. To her, this isn't a waiver, it's a threat. A warning that Julian intends to face the candidates with lethal intent. Odwin asks if she has interpreted his bloodlust correctly, but the protagonist simply throws his head back and laughs that signature sarcastic laugh. He offers no clear answer. Resting on the fact that his rank within the shut eyes is absolute and he has never before intervened in the organization's internal politics so brazenly. The captain realizes the truth. This is exactly why he failed every single candidate. He didn't want the headache of political fallout after crippling the participants. The boy confirms her suspicions, adding that any survivor accepted under the current standards would be useless, trash, unworthy of an agency affiliated with the empire. The young man refuses to show mercy to those who would stain the nobility's honor. With a sigh, Odwin notes that he becomes a fanatic whenever the imperial family is involved. She agrees to present his ultimatum to the council, though she makes no guarantees that the old men will accept it. Business concluded, Julian asks to be dismissed, but the captain orders him to halt. Odwin informs him that a priority missive from the Imperial family should be waiting at his office. A knowing smile touches the boy's lips as he thanks her, leaving the captain alone to watch his retreating back. The young woman looks down at 40. The letter again, letting the weight of the text sink in. To claim no responsibility for the exam means that even if a candidate is slaughtered, it will not be treated as a crime. However, this brutality doesn't change the core nature of the test since only fallen nobles and commoners are desperate enough to apply. History shows there have never been complaints simply because it is all too easy to silence the grievances of the powerless. Julian likely dragged this darkness into the light because he realized the Elders Association and the Torso family were scheming in the shadows. This letter is his counterattack, a declaration that he sees through their little game and will not allow them to use the exam for their own ends. It is his method of exacting revenge on the corrupt elders association. The girl's strategic analysis is interrupted. A soldier steps in asking if the captain summoned him. She hands over the explosive document, ordering him to deliver it to the council. Obediently, the soldier accepts the mission. Until now, Julian was regarded as the royal family's loyal lap dog. But it seems the beast that once followed orders has grown. Fang's developing an ego and breaking free from its chains. The realization makes Odwin uneasy. She knows she must keep a close watch on this boy, for he represents a chaotic variable full of danger. Meanwhile, Julian arrives at his private sanctuary within the Shyes headquarters. Typically, members do not possess private offices as constant readiness is required, but one can only wonder what a personal chamber granted by such a massive association looks like. likely something extravagant and dripping with luxury. As expected, it is a museum of Julian's flashy taste filled with sinister artifacts and creepy decor. These are items with zero practical use, yet everything feels more expensive than a noble's entire estate. As he strides through the room, he steps on priceless items scattered carelessly on the ground. It seems the young master is something of a hoarder. A knock echoes at the door, and the swordsman grants permission. It is Lazarus returning to deliver the missive from the Imperial family. Smirking, the young master accepts the envelope. It is indeed the message the captain predicted. However, before the messenger can flee, Julian orders him to wait and load the carriage with the heavy sculptures. Startled, Lazareth asks if he means all of them, Julian confirms. Overjoyed, the boy bites his lip to hold back tears of happiness. He is thrilled to be trusted with a task, believing his days as a mere intern are numbered. He immediately begins hauling the trinkets. Too excited, the young man grabs a massive chest, but trips over the junk, littering the floor, crashing down with it. Miraculously, nothing breaks. Julian doesn't explode in rage. He simply watches with that terrifying sarcastic smirk. In the boy's mind, however, his life is flashing before his eyes, expecting a severe punishment. To cut the tension, Julian cracks a dark joke, noting that cleaning up the mess would be a bigger hassle if the boy died right there. He knows that fear will make the intern work faster. With the labor sorted, the silver-haired young man turns his attention to the letter while he waits. The wax seal bears the imperial crest, just like in a missive from within the game world. The handwriting was unfamiliar yet strangely decipherable to Julian's eyes. It promised a return to duty upon his recovery, though it sounded suspiciously like a sugar-coated shackle. No matter. Real combat is the only way to sharpen his dulled sword arts. His objective, restore a resonance stone. A vital task in a world plagued by the demonic. Chaos descended after the fall of the demon god Barbados. His remains refused to die. Instead, they birthed the very demons that hunt humanity today. Only one power can stop them, the resonance stones. A magnificent legacy of mana left behind by the great mages of old. Lacking magic himself, Julian's role was clear. Be the shield for the mage performing the ritual. Facing demons is dancing with death. But he had no reason to decline. This was his chance. Success here would silence the poisonous rumors surrounding his name once and for all. But who would he protect? Manipulating a resonant stone requires a mage of the highest caliber. Meanwhile, within the golden walls of the Adrithan Imperial Palace, a weary beauty stretched her limbs. It was Eileene. Even as a professor, the paper war never ended. One must constantly prove their worth to the Imperial family. A gentle hand broke her trance. It was Diana, her emerald hair flowing as she teased her friend. Eileen had been a ghost lately, buried in work. Diana insisted on tea to catch up, tempting, but the mage sighed. Her thesis was a jealous lover that demanded all her time. Diana chuckled, noting that Eileen's diligent spark hadn't faded since their academy days. But then her gaze sharpened. A carriage bearing the crest of the Cryheart collateral bloodline. "It could only be him," Diana murmured in surprise. Rumors said the man was at death's door, yet here he stood. A mischievous glint entered her eyes. She noticed the subtle shift in Eileen's posture. "Did the flame still burn?" Diana recalled. "A time when Eileen was innocence personified, believing the legend that a confession under the academyy's cherry blossoms could never fail. She had dragged Julian there. Desperate to bury that memory, Eileene suddenly decided she had plenty of time for tea. But Diana laughed it off. There was no shame. Half the academy had been charmed by him back then." The words forced Eileene to reflect. The man in the carriage was a shadow of his former self. The Northern Front and the ruthless shut eyes Eyes unit had carved away his old warmth. Eileen shook her head. A crush from the past did not equate to feelings in the present. Besides, fate was kind. She wouldn't have to see his face for a long, long time. Or so she thought. She produced a sealed envelope. Diana's eyes widened at the Imperial seal stamped upon it. Destiny has a sense of humor. Eileen had been assigned to the resonance stone mission. Elsewhere, the air crackled with tension. Soldiers gripped their spears, ready for war. Why such a heavy guard? Even the shut eyes and the blue knight's order were mobilizing. This was no ordinary task. The infamous Julian himself would be joining the fry. Gossip spread through the ranks. Had the prodigy truly lost his memory. Impossible. To them, his strength was absolute. Seeing their awe, our protagonist felt a grim satisfaction. The whisper of incompetence was fading. Two knights approached to offer their regards. Pin and Hinlike of the Blue Lion's Order. An alliance formed to safeguard the mages. The road to Julen was treacherous and demons were sure to be lurking. One night offered a suggestion. Why not ride in the carriage until they arrived? Rest, they said. Leave the heavy lifting to them. But Julian saw through the veil of kindness. This wasn't charity. The Blue Knights were high-ranking nobles, unlike the shut eyes. They simply didn't want a warrior from a collateral branch stealing their glory on the battlefield. Fine by him. The carriage offered comfort. While they could deal with the fatigue, he accepted. It was easier than Hinlike expected. But then the knight dropped a name, Eileene. Julian's eyes widened. Before he could process the shock of that revelation, she was already there. With a radiant smile, the mage introduced herself to the party. Fate had played a cruel joke. She was the last person on Earth he wanted to see. Cold sweat trickled down Julian's neck as he ordered Parn to drop the carriage issue immediately. The young woman stood frozen, shocked to find her former flame standing there. But what hurt more was the way he instantly turned his cold back on her. Julian felt like he was suffocating. For the first time, his ability failed him. He couldn't read a single one of Eileen's thoughts. The soldiers, however, completely misread the tension. They assumed Julian was flexing his authority to assert dominance over the squad. Paranoia spread through the ranks. They feared this sharp-eyed noble had uncovered their mutinous plan to seize command and send him to the rear lines. It was exactly the kind of cunning expected from a survivor who had walked out of the Imperial family's snake pit, alive and alone. Still, the soldiers gritted their teeth. It was the height of arrogance for a mere collateral royal to look down on battleh hardened veterans. But Julian's mind was elsewhere, screaming internally. Why had no one warned him? The VIP mage he was sworn to protect was none other than Eileene. The air between them was thick enough to choke on. Since Destiny had forced this hand, he decided to speedrun the mission to minimize their time together. He kicked his stallion into a gallop, forcing a brutal pace. They rode hard until the walls of Julen, a tiny settlement, rose from the dust. They had been deployed by the Imperial capital itself, yet the town was enveloped in an ominous silence. No welcoming committee awaited them. Finally, a lone youth hauling supplies spotted the group. He offered a weary welcome, acknowledging their long trek, and guided them toward the resonant stone. The squad quickly secured the perimeter. Eileen stepped forward, insisting on carrying the containment box herself, as the stones were volatile and sensitive to mana. However, the young guide stopped her. He requested her expertise immediately to inspect the damaged artifact that required restoration. It was a massive, pulsating blue crystal, but a jagged, ugly crack ran deep through its base. The damage was catastrophic. The mage shook her head grimly. Repair was impossible. The artifact was dead. It would have to be completely swapped out. This meant the protective barrier would fall, leaving them exposed. She assured the soldiers it would be brief, but her heart raced. She had to warn the commander. Swallowing her pride, Eileen placed her hand on the dying stone, preparing to deliver the bad news to Julian. Looking at his face was torture, but she was a professional. Personal feelings had to be buried for the sake of the mission. She approached him, stealing herself, only for him to spin around and present his back to her once again. She pressed on, insisting that this was critical information, but her mind reeled, trying to decode why he was treating her like a contagion. Whatever their past, this behavior was childish. They were in a danger zone. She reached out, grabbing the fabric of his tunic. "Why are you avoiding me?" she demanded. Julian finally turned his expression, the picture of innocence. "I never avoided you," he lied smoothly. You are the one stalking me," he countered, pointing out her face, which was now burning a bright, embarrassed red. For a second, his confident tone almost fooled her. Eileen shook her head, snapping back to reality. "That is not the point right now." Julianne smirked a sarcastic glint in his eye. "What could be so urgent, Miss Stalker?" His mockery made her blood boil. Boom! A thunderous crash shattered their argument. The earth trembled. Demons had breached the city perimeter. Their petty squabble vanished instantly. Eileen shouted over the noise, explaining that she had been trying to warn him the barrier was already failing. Screams erupted from the village. Through the chaos, a familiar figure stumbled toward the protagonist. It was the soldier Hinnlike, but Julian's eyes didn't focus on the man. They locked onto the nightmare rising behind him with pure horror. Jagged, bloodstained horns pierced the air. A two-horned demon was looming over the battalion, radiating death. This wasn't a grunt. It was an elite monster. Eileen instinctively stepped forward, but Julian barked a command. Stay back. It's too dangerous. The beast unleashed a bone-chilling roar. The mage trembled her mind, racing for a spell that could scratch such a highranking calamity. Speaking in a vile, guttural tongue, the demon commanded its minions. The horde surged forward to slaughter the humans. A lesser beast lunged at the girl claws, ready to tear. But in a flash of steel, the protagonist was there. Julian positioned himself as a human shield, his grip on the sword iron tight. Never let your guard down, he hissed. Even now, he couldn't resist provoking her. It is naive to tremble before such weak trash, he scoffed, hiding his own tension. "Leave the violence to the swordsman," he declared, his aura flaring. "We each have our own battlefield." Stuttering, she asked what he meant. Julian pointed his blade at the crumbling artifact. "You fix the stone. I protect you." "That is the deal." His sarcastic mask slipped, revealing a glimpse of the fierce protector beneath. or are you too terrified to remember your job teacher? That snapped her out of it. Eileen rushed toward the crystal. 7 minutes. She screamed back. She paused, looking at him with desperate eyes. Please don't get hurt. I have no healing mana left. The protagonist tightened his stance. Getting hurt isn't in my schedule, he retorted with bravado. But inwardly, Lee was sweating bullets. He was terrified. He never expected to face a two-horned demon this early in his journey. But with witnesses everywhere, retreat was impossible. Rumors would destroy him. The protagonist gritted his teeth, preparing for a battle of life and death, exactly how the real Julian would handle this. But his internal monologue is shattered by the heavy clatter of steel. The Blue Lions have descended upon the chaos to reinforce the front lines without a moment's hesitation. They charge their killing intent locked entirely on the monstrosity that towers over them. Now Julian, the elite knights, and the spear infantry stand, united against the threat. Cautiously, a soldier suggests a strategy to chip away at the beast's vitality. Trying to mask his beast's terror with a joke, the man asks if the young lord fears the two-horned demon, but fear. That emotion didn't exist in this villain's script. The atmosphere shifts instantly as the soldiers witness the silver-haired noble bursting into maniacal laughter. Lee realizes that in the face of death, the original Julian would embrace the madness. The demon refuses to wait, winding up a devastating punch toward the protagonist, who seems to find this life or death struggle utterly delightful. Relying on his transcendent swordsmanship, the young man's eyes widen. He weaves past the enemy's blow with supernatural grace, carves into its flesh in return. Parn is thunderruck. A single strike dealt catastrophic damage. As the foul blood of the party monster sprays across his face, the boy grins like a true maniac, his blade suddenly erupting with a spectral glow. The young noble accelerates, blurring into a sprint toward his adversary before launching himself into the air. He drives a lethal strike directly at one of the demons horns. Seeing the hit connect, the swordsman smirks, but his arrogance blinds him. The demon's massive crimson eye locks onto him. Julian realizes his mistake too late. The monster's skull slams into him with the force of a battering ram. Badly battered, the protagonist feels his ribs creaking under the impact. The agony is blinding, making every breath a struggle. But Julian thinks even a worm writhes when stepped on. He refuses to yield. He lunges at the beast's eye, driving his laugh, blade deep into the monster's skeletal frame before crashing into the earth, carving a trench with his own body. The soldiers are paralyzed by fear, but Parn sees a fleeting chance to rally them. Suddenly, a frantic shout rings out, "Look behind you." The boy's silhouette rises from the dust unbroken. His sword burns brighter than the stars, pulsing with a mesmerizing azure radiance. A soldier gasps, recognizing the aura. It is the legendary moonlight sword finally answering the call of its true master. The battlefield falls silent, everyone dumbfounded to witness the fabled artifact in action. It hasn't even awakened half its potential. Yet its pressure places the monster at a severe disadvantage. Relentlessly, Julian stalks toward the demon, his body wreathed in blue spirit energy. With his gaze sharpened, the young man enters a state of battle, ecstasy, and even the demon recoils from the killing intent behind his strike. But the clash takes a toll on our protagonist, too. The monster may seem sluggish, but its counterattacks are deceptively agile. However, Julian is one step ahead. Utilizing his innate talent to read the flow of battle. Completely in the zone, the young noble parries every strike, his body flowing like water to evade the monster's lethal charges. The boy's crimson eyes are fixated on his prey. The soldiers watch in awe of this god tier display, and Parn finally understands that the rumors of the boy's talent were not exaggerated. Meanwhile, the resonant stone nears completion. Just a few seconds remain before the skilled mage fully restores the artifact. The girl leans over the parapet, screaming that the protective barrier is live. On the battlefield, debris begins to float around the demon, drawing its attention. Julian seizes the opening, sneering that taking one's eyes off an opponent is a fatal error. He flashes toward the monster's exposed neck, unleashing a worldending slash. In a jagged flash of azure light, the boy phases right through the adversary, bisecting it in a single motion. This magnificent display leaves Eileene breathless, mirroring the soldiers who are utterly dazzled. The nightmare that once terrorized them now collapses like a puppet with its strings cut. The monster's body hits the earth with a heavy thud as our protagonist turns away, striking a heroic pose. Finally, the brutal duel concludes with Julian's absolute victory. He can hear the murmurss of the crowd swelling around him. Visibly moved, the protagonist realizes every drop of sweat was worth it. The onlookers are torn between terror and admiration. Since Julian plays the role of a villain, it is only natural for his overwhelming power to instill fear. But then, a voice calls out to the boy who stands amidst the aftermath. A pair of trembling hands reaches out to grasp his. A soldier thanks him. Tears streaming down his face. With a heavy sigh of relief, the man admits he accepted death, and cheers of survival erupt among the warriors. Parn approaches to offer his gratitude, but the man is a nervous wreck, sweating profusely before the noble's presence. Julian simply rests a hand on the warrior's shoulder, commanding him to handle the cleanup as he has no patience for accolades. Parn realizes that Julian is built differently from the rest shining with a brilliance that eclipses even the nobility. To remain so composed after slaying a demon, that is true power. Escaping the suffocating noise of the crowd, the protagonist sought refuge by the crystal clearar waters of the lake. The adrenaline finally faded. Only now did the sheer insanityinducing danger of the situation crash down upon him. Every ounce of despair, every shiver of terror he had suppressed while facing that beast. It all flooded back. His hands wouldn't stop shaking. This wasn't a game anymore. Reality was far more terrifying than any screen. How did the original Julian endure this hell as if it were nothing? He had forced himself to wear the mask of a cold-blooded character, but in doing so, he had even terrified himself. Was his mind warping to fit this new vessel? A chilling question echoed in the depths of his soul? Just how powerful was the real Julian? The skill he had unlocked was a masterpiece, a perfect fusion of Lee's otherworldly knowledge and Julian's combat instincts. Now he possessed the eyes of a predator. He could see through his enemy's defenses, and if they felt fear, his strikes would be fatal. With this power, wiping away the doubts surrounding him would be child's play. However, one glaring weakness remained. The moonlight sword. It was still incomplete. A weapon forged specifically for this character's tragic destiny. He drew the blade, his eyes tracing the steel. The battle had taken its toll. Ugly scratches marred the surface. It was a monoglutin draining him dry just to activate. In its current state, it was unstable, a shadow of its true potential. But the word stability sparked a thought. A smile crept across his face as he looked into the water. Inspiration had struck. Meanwhile, in the distance, flags snapped in the wind as hooded figures waited in the shadows. The atmosphere was heavy with conspiracy. A heavy door creaked open, revealing a lavish hall dominated by a massive table. This was the den of the Association of Elder nobles. One of the cloaked figures gestured for the newcomer to sit. It was Haron, and he was trembling like a leaf in a storm. The interrogation began. Did Julian know the truth? Haron's voice cracked, dripping with dread as he confirmed their worst fears. Yes, Julian had seen through everything. The organization's grand design lay exposed before him. The tension snapped. One noble sneered, declaring that he knew Heron's incompetence would lead to ruin. He spat that if not for Heron's bloodline, he would have been disposed of long ago. The air in the room grew toxic. Another lord spoke up, his voice grave. The shut eyes faction was making strange moves, sending a formal proposal to the Imperial Secretary. Heron dropped the bombshell. A new rule had been established. The shut eyes would take zero responsibility for casualties during the exams. Silence fell, then broke. The noble's face twisted in darkness. Bang! A fist slammed onto the table, shaking the room. This was outrageous. It was practically handing Julian the victory on a silver platter. Accepting his demands was humiliation. Chaos erupted. The dignified nobles lost their composure, their voices rising in a cacophony of anger and fear. But then, a calm voice cut through the noise. Perhaps this is an opportunity. It was Lord Aiden wearing a smile that didn't reach his eyes. He reminded them of the facts. Until now, Julian had been nothing but a loyal hound of the Imperial family. But if the beast was breaking its chains, if Julian was starting to act on his own ambitions, that changed the entire game board. A rogue variable could be useful, far more useful than when they had simply banished him to the frozen hell of the Northern Front. A confused noble asked the question on everyone's mind. Are you suggesting we just let him run wild? Aiden's smile widened. Precisely. Back in the sanctuary of his quarters, Julian finally collapsed. The mission was over. Peace returned. His beloved plants greeted him vibrant and green. This room, designed by his own hand, was the only place his soul could rest. There was a subtle magic in these leaves, a soothing aura that could calm even a heart scarred by battle and deception. The mission had been chaotic, but he had survived. The rumors were dead. He turned his attention to a large chest in the corner. Inside lay a treasure, a crimson stone that pulsed with inner light. Finally, he had the key to awakening the moonlight sword. The idea had come to him while studying the resonant stones. He would use this scarlet gem to bridge the gap. In the game's lore, every object could hold mana. But the stones of this empire were special. Their conductivity was absolute. That was the secret of the resonance stones. He would borrow that principle. He would imbue the weapon with pure energy. He needed a buffer, a layer between the swordsman and the steel to act as a perfect conduit for his power. He reached out, monoflowing. Crack. The stone shattered instantly, crumbling into useless dust. Failure, Julian side. He needed a stone with better compatibility, something that could handle the intensity of his flow. Knock-knock. The sound interrupted his experiments. Dinner time. Is that you, Butler? He called out. The door opened. Lazarus stood there diligent as a shadow, but he didn't bring food. He brought orders. The captain requested his presence at the Imperial Secretary's office. A personal report was required. Julian blinked. Me? He double-checked, surprising himself. Standing up, he brushed off the dust. Lazareth, store these stones. Duty called back into the shadows. The summons from the secretary's office was unexpected, sparking a flicker of intrigue. Before the swordsman could depart, Lazarth's voice halted him. He held up the crimson shards of the monasterone, asking for orders. Julian's eyes turned cold as he told him to discard them. Though the aid hesitated to trash such precious gems, he bowed and obeyed the command. Moments later, Julian stood before the imperial secretary's office. Unlike the austere shy building, this architecture screamed of opulence and power. He announced his presence, seeking an audience with Mr. Saddan Orby. However, the attendant offered a polite refusal, stating Mr. Orbee was currently indisposed. Julian nodded, accepting the delay. He would wait. Whoever was inside likely held a status that dwarfed his own. Stepping into the wan, a waiting room, Julian marveled at the site, a location never revealed in the original game. In the corner, a solitary object seized his gaze, a sword. It sat there, radiating a silent pressure. Furthermore, the the weapon felt out of place amidst the luxury. It was unadorned, yet it hummed with the aura of a grandmaster. The inscription on the sheath read, "A strong body harbors a strong mind." The protagonist felt a jolt of recognition. He had seen this blade in the annals of history. Suddenly, a sharp voice commanded him to unhand the weapon. He didn't need to turn around. The voice was etched into his memory. It belonged to the noble, Lady Renbell Scion of the Empire's greatest nightly house and the prize disciple of Hayden Reich. She was the one whose tragic fate in the original timeline was sealed by none other than Julian Cryart Plan himself. The image of her cold, lifeless body flashed through his mind. Yet here she stood breathing and vibrant. As Hayden's successor, she was the golden key to escaping this cursed game. Ren Ronbell, the genius destined to eclipse even Julian in skill. She was revered for her absolute loyalty to the sword saint. For this reason, the developers had crafted a unique wedding dress for her, cementing her status as the most beloved heroine among the player base. But now, gazing at Julian, her eyes held no warmth, only pure, undiluted killing intent. When she demanded to know why he touched her blade, Julian feigned ignorance. Deciding to test the waters, he remarked on the carelessness of leaving a master's sword unguarded. The girl snapped back, claiming Hayden despised carrying weapons unnecessarily. since she had mentioned her master. The young man seized the opening, asking if the sword saint was the one currently in the meeting. Her eyes narrowed suspiciously as she asked what business a traitor had with him. Julian smiled thinly, claiming nostalgia for his old teacher. Ren's hands trembled with suppressed rage as she gripped her hilt, demanding how he dared to speak so casually. Since the provocation had hit its mark, Julian prepared to deescalate, but the heavy oak doors swung open, interrupting their standoff. An official requested Miss Ren to enter. Spinning on her heel, she offered a freezing farewell, stating she hoped their paths would never cross again. However, the messenger cleared his throat. Julian was also summoned to the buff inner chamber. The air grew heavy with tension. Trying to diffuse the bomb. The protagonist shrugged, suggesting they play nice as fellow disciples. Her gaze turned to ice as she replied that those bonds were severed, warning him to never let her master's name foul his lips again. Julian was about to meet his absolute favorite character, all while wearing the skin of the man who betrayed him. The irony made his heart race with a mix of thrill and dread. Side by side, the two entered the Imperial Secretary's office, greeted by a refined gentleman, who immediately praised the protagonist for his legendary victory over the two-horned demon. Impatient Ren slashed through the pleasantries, demanding the location of her teacher. The official revealed that Reich had already departed, leaving behind a directive, a joint mission for her and Julian. The color drained from her face as she asked why she must work with such filth. The answer was simple. Her master requested an Imperial escort for a task of utmost danger, and Julian was the only one qualified and present. Their destination, the sprawling darkness of the capital's slums. Julian scoffed, questioning why they must descend into such squalor. Intelligence suggested that demonic entities were festering in the shadows and the Imperial family could not risk a public intervention. Therefore, it was a task suited for the gray sheep, those affiliated with the crown, but operating on the fringe. The slums were a melting pot of exiles and rejected souls who harbored deep resentment toward the throne. Sending the Silent Eyes neutral agents was the only strategic play. If Miss Ren outperformed Julian here, it would pave her path to inheriting the title of sword saint. The mission was far from ideal, but as a lap, as a hound of the Imperial family, he had no choice but to bow his head and accept. The girl, however, refused with a scowl, a luxury the young man wished he possessed. But the envoy was quick to remind her. This mission came directly from her master, and defying the will of one's teacher, was a transgression no disciple should dare commit. A heavy silence hung in the air before the young woman finally whispered her compliance. She tried to hide her trembling hands, but the protagonist saw everything. As a knight bearing the prestigious title of Hayden's disciple, she would undoubtedly do everything in her power to keep a leash on him. She saw him as a threat to be managed. And truth be told, the young man currently lacked the strength to rebel. If only he could find a catalyst, a stone that resonated with his mana. Suddenly, his gaze locked onto the necklace adorning Ren's neck. He couldn't suppress the hunger in his eyes as he asked about the jewel. With a cold look, she revealed it to be a moonstone. To the protagonist, it wasn't just jewelry. It shimmerred with the very energy he had been so desperately hunting for. He reached out, his fingers trembling as Julian felt the magnetic pull of its aura calling to him. Back off. The blonde recoiled in anger. He quickly claimed he was merely admiring it. But in that split second, his mana had sung in harmony with the stone. The key to his power was tantalizingly close. Driven by newfound determination, the protagonist rushed to a jeweler demanding a stone identical to Ren. Do you have any moonstones in stock? he asked with intensity. But these artifacts were treasures of the highest tier. Aside from obsessive collectors, no shop carried such rarities. Julian's face fell, and a terrifying shadow of frustration washed over him, making the merchant sweat profusely. We We can try to procure one, the man stammered, breathing a sigh of relief. The young man emphasized his desperation. The poor merchant swore he would scour the entire kingdom. Yet when the day of fate arrived, the stones remained elusive. The protagonist grit his teeth, terrified that Reena would realize his sword was missing its core. The girl marched ahead with confidence, but the young man called out a warning. That is the path to ruin. She shot him a glare sharp enough to cut glass. The slums were a labyrinth of illegal construction. Standard maps were useless here. Clutching her map like a holy scripture, the blonde insisted on trusting paper over the young man's words. He could only sigh at her stubbornness. She didn't understand. The Eastern slums were a nightmare zone. Even the game's original developers admitted this territory was hell to navigate. But her pride was a fortress, she accused him of scheming. Convinced that the so-called traitor was plotting to sabotage the reputation of the Holy Swordsman's disciple, her voice hardened with resolve. "I am nothing like you, Julian," she declared. "I am destined to inherit the title of Holy Swordsman." "Make no mistake." The young man watched her nervously. She was delusional if she thought this mission would be a walk in the park. The two adventurers stood at a crossroads, bickering. Narrowing her eyes, Reena asked the fatal question. "Have you ever set foot in this filth before?" Liu certainly had, but revealing his past life would shatter his disguise. "I have no experience here," he lied. "Then how do you know the way she pressed, flashing a mysterious smile, he simply tapped his temple, pure intuition, scoffing," the blonde suggested they split up. Julian's expression turned cold. "The Imperial Order commands us to move as one unit. Unless he added dangerously, "You believe your loyalty to Hayden Reich outweighs your duty to the Empire." Her face turned crimson with fury. "Do not speak his name with your filthy mouth," she hissed, her hands shaking with the urge to strike him. Deep down, the warrior knew the truth. Julian was a monster compared to her. The whispers of the people comparing their strength haunted her every waking moment. If it were him, this would be easy. The thought echoed in her mind, but she crushed it, clinging to her conviction, that she alone was the true heir to the swordmaster. Shaking off her dark thoughts, the girl noticed something disturbing. The street signs were a chaotic mess of contradictions. Julian, already aware of the trap, grinned. Is something wrong? It was painfully obvious. The highborn knight was hopelessly lost. The map in her hands mocked her, bearing no resemblance to the reality of the streets. And so the adventurers wandered in circles, ghosts haunting the same corner over and over. Suddenly, a man with a jagged scar emerged from the shadows. "You two look like lost sheep," he sneered. "But charity does not exist in the slums." Ben demanded a drink as payment. He recognized her noble bearing. He had found a golden goose. Julian stepped forward to intervene, but Ben ignored the nobody. The protagonist paused, searching his memory banks. The name rang a bell, but no alarm bells went off. just a minor mob character unworthy of caution. Before showing the way, Ben led them to a dive bar. The bartender wiped a glass, his eyes scanning their expensive clothes and calculating just how much he could bleed them dry. "Where do you hail from?" he asked, adjusting his prices on the fly. "That will be 30 Nars per glass," the attendant announced shamelessly. "Ben smirked." "Inflation strikes hard in the slums, my lady." But the girl didn't blink. She reached into her silk robes and pulled out a fortune. "Is that all? I found it quite cheap." The bartender's eyes nearly popped out of his skull at the glimmer of gold. Just as expected from the sheltered daughter of a tycoon. In the shadows, a conspiracy was born. Pulling the owner aside, the scoundrel demanded a special cocktail laced with malice. His plan to rob them blind once the poison took hold. The bartender, fearing for his life, followed the wicked order perfectly. Three frothing mugs were slammed onto the table. Unsuspecting, the blonde reached out, bringing the chalice of death to her lips. But before a single drop could touch her tongue, Julian's hand shot out. He stared into the abyss of the liquid, analyzing it cold why. With a voice deeper than the abyss, he asked if the drink came with a side of poison. Panic flashed in Ben's eyes as he feigned ignorance. Testing the rat's resolve, the protagonist shoved the mug toward him. Drink it. Or would you prefer I pour it down your throat. Annoyed by the commotion, Renee scolded her partner. But the moment his name left her lips, the atmosphere shifted. Recognition struck Ben like a lightning bolt. How did the Imperial family's mad dog find his way to this wretched hive? Cold sweat drenched the thief. He stammered confident only because his squad of cutthroats had already surrounded the table. The meanest thugs in the slums were closing in, sensing blood. But Ben wasn't just relying on numbers. His hand crept inside his coat, gripping cold steel. Even a cornered rat will try to bite the cat. Julian's patience snapped. "Time is up," he declared, his aura flaring as he prepared to dismantle them. The moment the protagonist moved, the thugs charged like mindless beasts. But Julian was faster, seizing the first fool by the throat. An assassin struck from the shadows behind him. But against Julian's reflexes, the ambush was nothing but child's play. One by one, the henchmen were crushed, unable to comprehend the monster they had provoked. Renee, realizing the danger, drew her blade. Witnessing the carnage, the remaining lackey froze, their courage shattered by the overwhelming gap in power. Standing amidst the chaos, the boy sighed. He didn't care for their petty schemes, but he would not tolerate obstacles in the slums. Cold steel, now pressed against the thief's jugular. The crowd watched in silence, realizing their leader was defeated. With the boss in check, the protagonist issued a final command. Call off your dogs, Ben. Unless you want to end up shattered on the floor like that beer mug. The threat hung heavy in the air. Ben trembled, his spirit breaking as a dark purple aura of fear leaked from his very soul. His men hesitated, but a desperate scream from their boss sent them running. Terrified of the monster before them, the lackey fled into the night. Now it was interrogation time. Julian promised mercy, but only if the young thief sang like a bird. Surrender and live, he offered coldly. Or cling to your pride and die. The choice lay solely with Mr. Ben. The pressure was suffocating. Faced with the Reaper, Ben chose life. He dropped to his knees and surrender. Julian had suspected the man was a snake, but finding a member of the syndicate here, that was a surprise. At least the ambush yielded valuable intel. Renee, however, slumped in her chair, the weight of her mistake crushing her spirit. She felt like a burden. Julian glanced over, noticing the fiery girl's confidence had been extinguished. Looking for answers, she asked the swordsman how he detected the poison. "How did he see what she missed?" A smirk played on his lips. "Do you truly desire to know?" he teased, building the tension, swallowing her pride, the blonde nodded. She would learn from the devil himself if it meant getting stronger. "A warrior's mindset, though it would be easier if she didn't glare at him with such disdain." Julian began his lecture on the art of perception. It was his mana detection. He didn't just smell the poison. He felt the murderous intent radiating from the glass and the room. A true master scans the battlefield before stepping onto it. He had sensed the hostility in their energy signatures miles away. It is like the sonar of a bat in the dark. A technique reserved for high tier mages, yet effortless for a monster with his mana reserves. The explanation made sense, but the blond's curiosity wasn't satisfied. She pivoted to his strange interrogation tactics. Why ask about slum life instead of the demon's location? Renee was confused. Wasn't their mission to hunt monsters, not audit peasants? Julian's eyes narrowed. That is exactly the point. He asked if she truly understood the horror of demonization. She recited the textbook definition. Remnants of the demon god Barbados, infecting living creatures, twisting them into beasts, but usually resonant stones protected the cities. It should be impossible for demons to breach the slums. Exactly, Julian confirmed. Which means the only available vessels for the demons are the humans themselves. Just like in the game's lore, Julian knew the terrifying truth. Demonic possession was already spreading through the populace. Rene's eyes widened in denial. To think the citizens were turning into monsters. It was too dark to believe. The young man dropped the final clue. Three families bought high-grade fever medicine last week. The first symptom of the corruption. Doubt still lingered in her gaze, but the seed of truth was planted. As the sun dipped below the horizon, darkness fell upon the slums. With spirits high, she announced only one dwelling remained. Since the shadow of demonization hadn't stained these lands, yet hope began to bloom in her chest. Fueled by this optimism, the end of their mission felt within reach, Julian struck the wood, demanding presence. The door creaked open to reveal a gaze burning with crimson malice. Though no visible corruption scarred his skin, his aura screamed of secrets, and the scent, vile and familiar. It was the same metallic stench from the resonant stone. The heavy reek of demonic vital fluids, masking his intent, the silver-haired youth spoke calmly. But the moment the shut eyes were mentioned, the host's mask crumbled, panic seized him, and he screamed for them to vanish. But Julian was an immovable object, blocking the retreat. With a single decisive shove, he hurled the elder inside and stormed the threshold. His partner gasped, appalled by this lack of courtesy, demanding an explanation for such brutality. To Julian, however, her innocence was a poison. Such naivity would lead her to an early grave. The young warrior trembled, fearing the laws they had broken. But our protagonist stood like ice, knowing the imperial court demanded results, not mercy. Intel claimed two residents, father and son. Yet three places were set at the table. Trembling, the elder claimed a guest had arrived. Julian tested the broth. Too viscous. Too dark, a sleeping draft. This guest was a beast meant to be sedated. A monster locked behind the inner door. The truth struck the blonde knight, leaving her silenced by his deduction. Desperation took the old man. He scrambled for the lock, screaming for his son to escape. The padlock clicked open. "Run, run for your life," he wailed. But from the abyss, a shadow surged. Jaws snapped shut. The father's scream was cut short by his own creation. Behind that seal lay a nightmare made flesh. Reena unshathed her steel. Was this truly once human? If so, the corruption was absolute. It had to be purged. She struck for the eyes a lethal blow. But the beast was faster. It swatted her like a fly. She recovered, shaking off the impact. Julian's gaze narrowed. That blade, it was the one she wielded before her awakening. Was she suppressing her mana? This suppression could be fatal. The young man stepped between her and death. The blonde bristled pride stinging, insisting she needed no savior. As his blade sang from its scabbard, he spoke coldly. He could not allow the holy swordsman's disciple to fall here. The moonlight sword was incomplete. But necessity demanded its power. Better to reveal his strength than risk failure. The abomination lunged, but our protagonist saw the future. Activate predictive arts. Weaknesses glowed like beacons. In a flash, a pillar of light scorched the beast. Julian danced through the chaos, sliding beneath the behemoth. Focus absolute. He had carved a path. Strike now, Reena. The enemy was exposed. She charged a comet of determination, brandishing her steel. However, the demon's instincts were sharp. It blocked the assault. "Keep its attention," Julian commanded. But she was barely surviving the onslaught. The gap in power was a chasm. Desperate, her eyes locked onto a weapon of chance. She hurled the pot of thick stew directly into the beast's visage, blinded by the broth. The monster roared, clawing at its burning eyes. Confusion reigned, seizing the moment. Reena channeled her mana, preparing a devastating blow to end it all. But she forgot. The beast hunted by scent. A massive palm slammed into her, crushing her momentum. Her guard had crumbled. The distraction had failed. Shame burned hotter than her wounds. How could she face her master after such disgrace? The demon opened its maw, a cavern of razor-sharp death. Miss Ren Julian's voice cut through the despair. Why, she thought, but the swordsman only smirked. Well done. His crimson eyes flared with awakening power. The beast shook off the stun, hoisting the girl like a ragd doll, but that lift exposed its heart. Julian lunged into the breach, driving his odor, soared deep into the corruption. The monster's strength drained away, its grip faltering. As she broke free, the blonde warrior roared, seizing the chance to deliver her own justice. The duo left there. The beast lay broken, doubly wounded by his blade. Julian held his post- battle stance, unwavering until the monster's massive frame finally crashed into the dust. Watching from the side, Reena was left breathless. Her colleague had annihilated the demon without even drawing his legendary moonlight sword. Noticing her awe, the young man flashed a roguish smirk, remarking that the moonlight sword wasn't even needed for trash like this. Internally, Julian felt a thrill of victory, delighted that his improvised cool line sounded so natural. Sometime later, the duo arrived at the majestic Imperial Palace. Despite the chaos, the protagonist had survived another mission without breaking character. Relieved that his sharp-eyed companion suspected nothing. But suddenly, the blonde warrior shattered the blonde. Silence, insisting Julian take full credit for the subjugation. In her eyes, her honor as a knight wouldn't allow her to claim glory where she had contributed nothing. He tried to argue, but deep down he knew she was right against that demon. She had been little more than a spectator. Her voice turned sharp as ice. Reena glared at him and stated, "I do not like you." Julian simply grinned, replying, "At least you're not trying to hide your disdain anymore." She recalled her master's teachings. With great power comes the heavy burden of responsibility. She admitted his marshall prowess was admirable. However, seeing how carelessly he unleashed his power around civilians made it painfully obvious why their master had cast him aside. He possessed absolutely no restraint. Hearing her preach about morality, the protagonist smiled coldly, retoring that restraints are nothing but shackles for cowards. Bristling with anger, the blonde warrior demanded to know if he was calling her revered master a coward. The boy deflected with a shrug, claiming he wasn't good with fancy words since he wasn't born a high and mighty noble. He never had to live a life suffocated by rules. He looked her in the eye, stating she needed to learn that people like him also have a right to exist in this world. Frustrated, the warrior demanded to know his point, but unwilling to drag this out, the protagonist simply thanked her for the mission credits and walked away. Left fuming, Reena couldn't help but feel completely baffled by this man. After all, restraint is the core of knighthood, a virtue expected of all warriors, not just the aristocracy. Suddenly, a carriage pulled up. It was her uncle Urggon offering her a lift. She accepted, and the two nobles traveled together. Her uncle inquired about the mission's difficulty and whether she had succeeded. Then his curiosity turned to the young man she was walking with. He recognized Julian immediately. He mentioned dark rumors that the elders association was on high alert due to that specific young man's volatile behavior. He feigned surprise that anyone would dare disrespect the association, but I suppose that's expected from someone of luck. A lowly branch family he sneered. Her uncle's insults echoed Julian's earlier words about never living a life that required noble restraint. Urggon advised his niece to keep her distance, labeling Julian a dangerous element who likely possessed more bark than bite. But before the elder could finish his condescending lecture, Reena cut him off sharply. "That is not true," she declared. She couldn't vouch for his character, but she refused to lie about his marshall ability. The swordsman is undeniably strong. As frustrating as it was to admit, his power was absolute. The Grand Castle with its golden spires came into view once more. Julian approached Captain Odwin. With a face like thunder, the captain demanded, "What the hell did you do this time?" The young man smirked sarcastically, asking for clarification. Internally, panic set in. Had the bartender or the slum residents reported him for the brawl or the smashed property. He had been so focused on role- playinging as the chaotic Julian that he completely forgot about the consequences. But the captain just continued to stare at him with dead eyes. She revealed that Ben, a notorious criminal wanted by the shut eyes, had suddenly turned himself in. When interrogated, the criminal began to tremble violently at the mere mention of Julian's name. Even though Julian's actual mission was only to hunt demons in the area. With a nervous laugh, the young man suggested the criminal simply had a sudden spiritual awakening about his sins. Odwin didn't buy it for a second. She knew he was involved, but she was too tired to care. Just take your payment and get out of my sight. Delighted, the young man snatched the learned payment slip. A few days prior, his savings had hit zero, and a terrifying email from the jeweler had warned him of insufficient funds for the moonlight stone. Desperate for enough cash to clear his debt, the young man looked at the paper and froze. The total reward for the mission was 11,000 Nars. Since one NAR was roughly equal to a dollar, this was a fortune. Even with Miss Reena transferring all her credits to him, the number was astronomical. Odwin noticed his bizotics nine shock and clarified the situation. The amount is docked because you've been awol for so long. This statement left the protagonist stunned. Scanning the document closer, his eyes widened at the list of deductions for registration fees and maintenance costs likely for Julian's expensive art hobbies. The slip was bleeding with installment payments. After the system took its cut, only 900 Nars remained. It seemed the original Julian was financially incompetent. A massive obstacle stood between our hero and his goal. He desperately needed a fortune to acquire the moonlight stone. Seeking a solution, the boy turned to the captain, hoping for a high bounty mission to appear. Odwin, impressed by his drive, asked if money was the issue, but then delivered the crushing news the mission board was empty. She advised him to curb his lavish spending, a lecture that would have stung less if he had actually spent that gold willingly. However, Odwin dropped a revelation that struck like lightning. He could buy an entire castle if he simply sold his own artwork. It was a genius emergency plan. The path to riches lay in selling his stockpile of artistic creations. The captain was left speechless, watching the situation unfold with a sense of utter bewilderment. Meanwhile, in the shadows, two hooded figures from the elders association whispered about Julian's legendary feat slaying a demon bare-handed. Aiden, his face twisted into a malicious grin, cut the conversation short, sensing an opportunity, he moved toward a nearby door, his mind already weaving a dark web as he addressed his subordinate. Aiden demanded confirmation. Did Julian truly slaughter a demon without drawing his renowned blade? The servant, drenched in a cold sweat of terror, confirmed the monstrous deed awaiting his master's command. With eyes burning with wicked intent, Aiden gave the order to proceed. He was determined to make that monster his personal puppet. Far away at the prestigious Edcosmos Art Gallery, shadows lurked, but our protagonist was focused only on the sale. He wondered if these mere trinkets would fetch enough gold just as a short man named Pio approached to greet him. The appraiser bowed, honored to serve a sudden request from the illustrious Sir Julian of the shut eyes. Julian reached for the cloth covering the canvas, pulling it back to unveil a masterpiece hidden beneath. It was a breathtaking depiction of a golden wheat field, and the appraiser's eyes instantly sparkled with greed. Pulling out a magnifying glass, Pio scrutinized the brush work, noting its uncanny resemblance to the legendary Corsius Vincent. The protagonist leaned in, expecting praise, but the snake-like appraiser declared the masterpiece a fake. The young man's crimson eyes widened in shock, questioning if the original Julian truly had such terrible taste. He mentally kicked himself, realizing he should have brought a different treasure instead of the one hanging in the hallway. But Pio continued his deceit, claiming it was a top tier forgery and offering 4,000 Nars to take it off his hands. It was a decent sum, but nowhere near enough to purchase the precious moonlight stones he required. The appraiser smirked, going to fetch the contract, leaving Julian to wander the gallery in defeat. Suddenly, a voice cut through the air, asking if he was truly foolish enough to close such a scam of a deal. It was Eileen. She stepped forward, radiating confidence, declaring that the artwork was undeniably authentic. Julian, stunned by her appearance, asked for proof, and she revealed she had come to admire her cousin's work nearby. She explained that no painter in the entire empire possessed the divine mastery of oil paints required to mimic this style. Suspicion finally dawned on Julian as he looked back at the canvas. The signature in the corner was legitimate. As the protagonist leaned in to verify, Pio feigned shock, acting as if he had made an honest mistake. But Julian's patience had evaporated. His eyes began to glow with a terrifying abyss-like hatred. He asked if the rat dared to deceive him, and the sheer pressure of his fury caused the appraiser to tremble in mortal fear. Before Julian could unleash his wrath, Eileen gently grabbed his hand, pleading with him to maintain his composure. She argued that even experts make mistakes trying to diffuse the killing intent that filled the room. Jolted back to reality by her touch and the staring crowd, Julian suppressed his rage and offered a stiff apology. Yet, with eyes still burning with intensity, he turned to the trembling man and asked if the price had changed. The terrified appraiser bowed until his head hit the floor, begging for mercy and claiming the gallery couldn't afford the real price. Julian let out a dark, mocking laugh, gripping the man's shoulder with a heavy hand, realizing he was back to square one. As the scammer wept, Eileen stepped in with a lifeline offering a solution to his financial dilemma. She knew a collector who would pay a fortune for anything by Corsius. A promise that instantly calmed Julian's storm. However, everything comes with a price. She held up two fingers outlining her conditions for the help. First, the deceptive appraiser must be spared a mercy Julian hadn't planned on granting. Second, with a faint blush coloring her cheeks, she demanded his assistance, knowing his schedule was currently open. Julian accepted the terms, shaking her hand. Though Eileen quickly clarified it was strictly a repayment of debts, not an act of kindness. Gratitude for saving her and Julian. Somewhere in a pitch black corridor, a terrified soldier holds a flickering lantern. His legs turn to jelly as a chilling noise echoes through the darkness. Suddenly, countless eyes snap open in the gloom, freezing his very soul. This is the ghost story Eileen narrates to Julian as they patrol the majestic hallways of V Academy. She insists a guard was ambushed in the shadows. Yet the arrogant professors brushed it off as mere hallucination. But the whispers didn't stop. Strange noises haunt the night, and more guards have fallen to unseen attackers. Perplexed, Julian asks, "What could haunt these halls if not a ghost?" Eileen's expression darkens. A demon. Though the academy boasts impenetrable barriers, she suspects the beasts slipped in during the resonant stone's dormcancy. Suddenly, a cold presence interrupts them. A dark-haired man approaches Hardy Godfrey. He sneers, asking if Eileen is desperate enough to hire outsiders. He offers Julian a greeting while treating the young woman like she is invisible. Eileen seethes at the disrespect, but Hardy scoffs, claiming she has no right to bring strangers into the academyy's internal affairs. She fires back instantly. She simply wanted to ensure a competent warrior was summoned to handle the threat. Hardy's eyes narrow in disdain. He mocks her heritage, asking if a member of a collateral bloodline shouldn't try harder to be useful. But Eileen refuses to back down. She reminds him that times he times barely scraped by his thesis review and should focus on his own failures. Irritated, the noble snars that lowborn collateral trash should know their place. The air crackles with tension. Julian has heard enough. He steps forward, the sound of his blade, leaving its sheath ringing through the hall. Eileen gasps, unsure if his anger is directed at the insult or at her. Without a single word of warning, the swordsman unleashes a strike. Eileen and Hardy flinch, squeezing their eyes shut in terror. Crack! A piece of debris crashes onto Hardy's head. Julian had sliced open the ceiling itself. From the gap, an ominous crimson light bleeds out. A demon had been lurking within the walls all along. The main character wastes no time. He launches a flurry of blows, but a high-pitched shriek pierces the air. Hardy is in a frenzy. "Get it off me!" he screams, thrashing wildly. Clinging to his back are small red spheres with twisted, horrifying faces. Julian watches with a cold, sarcastic gaze. "It seems demons don't care about your precious bloodline status," he deadpans. He smirks, adding salt to the wound. "If you want to live, perhaps you should beg this collateral man to save your skin." With a single fluid strike, the protagonist obliterates the demon, threatening the noble. But the danger isn't over. Above us, Eileene cries out, sensing a spike in mana. High in the air, the swarm of small demons begins to fuse. They swirl into a grotesque cloud, twisting and morphing into a single entity. The shadow of the beast swallows the corridor. Hardy trembles like a leaf, while Eileen stares up, paralyzed by its sheer scale. The small spheres have birthed a towering giant. Julian analyzes the foe instantly. Just a bunch of weaklings huddled together to feel strong. A wicked grin spreads across the swordsman's face. This might actually be entertaining. The demon manifests as a for-eyed monstrosity with razor-sharp fangs with a roar that shakes the walls it charges. The beast strikes to kill, but Julian is a blur of motion, dodging with god-like agility. Blue aura flares from his blade, grazing the creature's eyes. The monster howls and lashes out again, but it hits nothing but air. Now it is the predator's turn to become the prey. Julian's sword dances, carving deep wounds across the enemy's face. With every cut, the monster shrinks, shedding the smaller demons that formed its body. The young hero sees his opening. He locks eyes with his adversary. His plan already formed. Mercy is not an option. He lunges his sword, a streak of lethal grace and speed. Eileen reacts instinctively. She weaves a magical barrier to shield herself from the explosion of debris. The monster disintegrates its form, shattering into nothingness. The protagonist sheathes his sword with a satisfied click. The mage is already at work. her golden gem glowing as she weaves a spell to repair the shattered walls. She turns to him bewildered. "How did you pinpoint them?" Julian recalls seeing a strange aura behind Hardy with his emotion-seeing eyes, but he decides to keep that ace up his sleeve. Instead, he offers a mysterious smile. Eileen sigh, admitting she thought he looked down on collateral bloodlines, but it seems, "You are one of us." The young man tilts his head, genuinely confused. "When did I say that?" Eileen reminds him of his sharp tongue earlier. She explains that seeing him defend her people reminds her of the Julian she knew back in their student days. A wave of nostalgia hits her. He stood tall against prejudice then just as he does now. Meanwhile, the protagonist screams internally. He only said that to sound tough and intimidating. He didn't expect it to touch her heart so deeply. The mage smiles sadly. No one dares mistreat you, Julian, because they fear your power. But for us, she whispers, facing scorn for our bloodline is just another Tuesday. Julian looks at her, his expression unreadable. Bloodline or not. Blood is just blood. That the blood flowing through all our veins remains a vivid crimson. He conceds his earlier words were a mistake. The sentence makes Eileen's face erupt into a shade of red that rivals the very blood he spoke of. Though indirect, his clumsy words carried the weight of an apology. So, the girl decides to offer her gratitude. But our dense protagonist is left blinking in confusion. Flustered, the mage quickly covers her tracks, claiming she only thanked him for carrying the team during the battle. That logic finally clicks for the simple-minded swordsman. By now, the breach in the wall is nearly restored. And after a few fleeting dock moments, the restoration is complete. Now that Julian has purged the demons, the young noble woman leads him to the buyer just as she vowed. Julian now stands in a sanctuary of wealth where arcane tomes float freely in the air. A man trembles with excitement confessing he never dreamed of witnessing this masterpiece with his own eyes. It is aostumous treasure by the legendary painter Corsius. The connoisseur admiring the canvas is none other than Alamchi, the esteemed vice director of the V Academy. The man possesses a terrifyingly sharp eye for art, finding wonder in strokes that appear mundane to Julian. Alam dissects every microscopic detail, immersing himself in the canvas, which secretly impresses Julian with the depth of his imagination. The vice director remarks that the painting radiates a suffocating air of loneliness because the artist sought to capture the agony of his younger brother. This brother was his financial pillar, and in a final letter, the painter confessed that this work held every ounce of his suffering in isolation. While sipping his tea, Julian nod solemnly. However, activating his ability to perceive the color of emotions, he detects a blazing intense orange radiating from the man. It is the unmistakable color of denial. This reveals a dangerous truth. Not only is the director deeply involved, but he harbors dark suspicions about our hero. Anxious Julian questions if the painting itself is flawed, but that seems impossible given the genuine awe from Eileene and the director. The artwork is undoubtedly authentic. So, what dark thought is fueling Alam's suspicion, breaking out in a cold sweat, a sense of dread begins to creep up the young man's spine? The suffocating silence shatters when Alram calls out to the protagonist. He challenges Julian, asking if he truly understands the art or if he is merely a scavenger looking for quick cash. Alram admits he desires the piece, but states he would prefer to negotiate with a soul that comprehends its spiritual weight. Hearing this, the young man realizes his payout is in jeopardy. Julian decides to gamble everything on a risky move, revealing secret knowledge he knows Corsius perished shortly after the final brushstroke. The reason this canvas holds such power, he declares, is because it is inextricably bound to the artist's own death. Upon hearing this, the man bursts into laughter. However, he confirms the theory, apologizing and admitting that Julian possesses a surprising depth of artistic insight. Finally, the battlefield shifts from art to commerce. raising four fingers. The man proposes 400,000 Nars, a fortune, certainly, but our protagonist decides to push his luck and bargain for more. He argues that a masterpiece recognized only after tragedy deserves a price to match its legacy. Without a second thought, Alam counters with 500,000 Nars, confident it settles the matter. The negotiation escalates to a staggering sum, leaving the young man momentarily struck dumb. Since the NARS currency holds value equal to the dollar, this single painting is worth 500 million one. The man snaps his fingers to recall the boy who is drowning in thoughts of wealth. With a confident smile, Julian declares that the vice director has truly honored the work spirit, and they have a deal. The previous gallery had warned they lacked the play capital for such a treasure, and they were right. Julian's appraisal skill had struck gold. A short while later, a knock echoes on the office door. It is Eileen inquiring if she was summoned. The man is still lost in admiration of his new prize and gestures for her to sit. He shifts the topic to the chaos in the hallways and the mage reports she successfully neutralized the threat. It seems the director's fears were unfounded as he pours her a fresh cup of tea. He probes to see if she faced any difficulties. Remembering the arrogant Hardy the young woman chooses to bury that detail, dismissing it as trivial. Even so, the vice director offers his apologies. He then lowers his voice demanding their next words remain a secret buried between them. He drops a bombshell. The Aurora Society orchestrated the chaos. The mage gasps in disbelief. Why would they target the academy? Alam admits uncertainty. Yet he states, "There is undeniable evidence. They likely struck the moment the resonance stone's protection shattered. He warns that this truth must be hidden from the students to prevent mass hysteria. A chill runs through the young woman as she grips her teacup tighter. The Aurora Society, a fanatic cult of demon worshippers that has recently clawed its way into existence. The thought of them targeting the school sparks a dark intrigue within her. However, the man assures her that security has been fortified and swear to protect the students with his life. He also noted that previously she had relied on Julian's assistance. Upon hearing that young man's name, her eyes widened in realization. She suddenly recalled their scheduled meeting to discuss the sale of the artwork. Eileen remarked she intended to thank the boy, but it appeared he had already vanished. The vice director confirmed the swordsman had departed in a rush after securing his payment, mentioning a specific rumor. He intended to buy out the entire stock of moonlight stones. This revelation struck the mage like a lightning bolt. She dashed out, leaving the man alone musing about the chaotic energy of the day. Arriving breathless at the jewelry store, the shopkeeper bowed deeply, offering profound apologies. Annoyed, the young woman insisted he promised there was enough stock, but the attendant explained that Mister Julian had purchased far more than anticipated. To make matters worse, restocking these rare gems would take an eternity. Despair crashed over her. Eileen needed those stones for her research thesis. Overwhelmed, she burst into tears, her academic future crumbling before her eyes. Meanwhile, our protagonist was the picture of satisfaction. He had arrived at the Ductive Cross, Twilight Flame Forge, and was currently petitioning a blacksmith to craft a blade using those very jewels, a sword that would shimmer as if bathed in eternal moonlight. The irritated smith began to argue, claiming this was no weapon, but a mere decorative trinket, and his pride as a craftsman forbade him from forging such a toy. Julian, however, insisted the weapon was designed for the battlefield. Slamming his fist on the anvil, the blacksmith bellowed that this was a luxury item. How dared this brat bring him a design that mocked the very concept of a weapon. He declared that if Julian's goal was to create jewelry, he was in the wrong shop. This forge only created instruments of war for legends like Sir Reich. Maintaining his composure, Julian explained to Ruger Orland his plan to engrave mono meridians directly onto the blade. Ruger, however, scoffed at the foolishness. No warrior could possibly clash steel with a sword made of fragile gemstones. As Julian considered his next move, a young female assistant approached, bowing apologetically. She explained that the forge engraved its seal on every weapon they produced. If the sword were to shatter in combat, the smithy's legendary reputation would shatter along with it. Julian expressed his regret as he truly desired a weapon forged in the same fires that served Hayden Reichkis. Nevertheless, he extended a hand acknowledging their honor, but guaranteed he would ensure the weapon's structural integrity. Ruger pointed an accusatory finger, questioning if the boy truly believed such nonsense. With absolute confidence, Julian replied that he did. He challenged the master smith to a test of durability. If he doubted his words, he then dropped a form, heavy sack of gold onto the table, offering to pay double the commission fee. The terms were simple. If the weapon broke during the trial, Julian would forfeit both the money and the precious stones. The blacksmith accepted the wager, warning that a broken sword would mean the deal was void and erased from history. A few days passed. Julian returned to the heat of the smithy to behold his commission. The masters had labored day and night to birth this creation. The assistant, still skeptical, asked if he was certain this beautiful object could serve as a weapon. The moment Julian's fingers grazed the hilt, his perfect sword technique skill activated. Resonance established, he was ready for the trial. On the day of judgment, beneath a piercing blue sky, a crowd of onlookers gathered to witness the spectacle. The young assistant asked if she should disperse them, but Julian waved it off. Let them watch. Ruger stepped forward, calling out to the swordsman. He revealed the target prepared for the test. It wasn't a dummy, but a solid block of steel, one centimeter thick. The challenge was impossible. Cut through the steel. Laughing, Julian realized they had prepared a true stage for him. After all, there is no glory in defeating a weak opponent. The blacksmith watched, admitting internally that the blacksmith boy's presence matched the rumors. However, he doubted the delicate moonlight sword could survive the impact. Upon drawing the blade, Julian felt a shift in the atmosphere. A path of mana began to form, flowing seamlessly through the crystal. He marveled at the sensation. With a movement faster than the eye could follow, he unleashed a devastating strike against the steel armor, leaving the crowd in stunned silence. The crystal blade remained pristine without a single scratch. Witnessing the miracle, the assistant gasped in awe. He was channeling overflowing mana, binding it to the blade in a continuous high-speed rotation. This was the true form of the moonlight sword. Without meeting resistance, the armor, so painstakingly crafted by the masters, had been reduced to scrap metal. With a confident smirk, Julian turned to the dumbfounded blacksmiths, silently asking for their verdict. The azure energy radiating from the sword grew so intense it bathed entire plaza in light. In response, the system chimed. Julian's skill, the incomplete sword evolved into the moonlight sword. Proud of unlocking this legendary potential, the young man smiled. A torrent of mana pulsed through the weapon. Yet there, not a single blemish marred the pristine steel. The blade pulsed with a majestic, terrifying aura. At long last, our hero had forged a masterpiece worthy of legend. Shame burned on Ruger's face as he bowed, admitting his foolish arrogance to the young master. Julian smoothly sheathed the weapon, a cold smile playing on his lips. One strike speaks louder than a thousand empty promises. Ruger, however, offered a grim warning. If that blade shatters, the forge's honor dies with it. Julian vowed to wield the power with absolute precision. Watching from the shadows, Master Reich inspected the shattered remains of the armor test. His eyes widened. The severance was unnatural, too clean. A chill of apprehension ran down his spine as he questioned the depths of Julian's true strength. Reena stepped forward, asking about the young lord. The master whispered, "I can still taste his mana on these fragments. It was terrifying to witness a sword path designed by a soul perfectly attuned to destruction." Reich clenched his fist, regretting he missed the moment the technique was unleashed. Sensing Reena's hesitation, he pierced her with a sharp gaze. Does Julian trouble you? Since she had walked the path of danger with him, he needed to know the truth of the swordsman's capability. With a conflicted expression, the girl admitted her partner possessed strength that defied logic. But Reich pressed harder, his voice dropping to a whisper. Did you sense darkness? not comprehending the weight of his words. She asked him to clarify. The master's eyes darkened. Is there a chance he asked that? Julian walks the path of the dawn society. Meanwhile, our protagonist basked in the glory of his achievement. The sword hummed shining with brilliance now overflowing with catastrophic power. Yet internally, Lee felt a disconnect. Day by day, he was merging with Julian's memories. He had to stay focused. His mission was not power, but to return to his original reality. He refused to remain trapped in this game character's vessel for eternity. But the road home was paved with blood for the gate to open this world's story must end. The script demanded that the hero Hayden stop the resurrection of the demon god. And crucially, he had to stop the original Julian from murdering the protagonist. It was a delicate balance of fate. The timeline had reached the critical juncture where the dawn society emerges. fanatical heretics who would sacrifice anything to revive the demon god Barbados. They were the sworn mortal enemies of Hayden and Reena, especially since they were the ones who slaughtered the girl's father. Our hero hoped to ally with the forces of light, but fate was not so kind. He considered walking the path of darkness, joining the Dawn Society like the original villain to gather intel, but he lacked a way to contact the cult. Suddenly, his keen instinct skill screamed a warning. The air grew heavy. Unsure if it was paranoia or a genuine threat, the young man shifted into a combat stance. He decided to seize the initiative. "Show yourself," he commanded his voice, cutting the silence. "I can smell your mana." The shadows rippled and a figure emerged from the abyss. Julian let out a laugh of disbelief as recognition struck him. It was a woman. "Have we not met in my memories?" The mysterious figure boasted emerald hair and crimson eyes, a silent guardian standing behind her. Julian's mind raced. He knew this woman, the dark mage, the bishop of the Dawn Society, Eleanor Demishell, and he suspected the identity of her silent protector as well. These were the monsters Hayden was destined to destroy. Chuckling, the witch realized the the boy had seen through her illusion magic. Impressive, she purred, dropping her disguise. As expected of the notorious Julian, the boy masked his fear with arrogance. I have a vague idea why you've come. A sinister smile spread across her face. If you know, then this saves time. She extended a hand. Give us your answer. Panic flared internally. The protagonist had absolutely no clue what she was talking about. He was bluffing. Desperate to stall, Julian waved his hand. Dismissal. I required time to deliberate. But the bishop's eyes narrowed. Impossible. Her voice turned ice cold. After all, it was you who contacted us. First to pledge your loyalty. The protagonist froze. The original Julian had already set the wheels of doom in motion. He was constantly cleaning up the villain's messes, yet his mind worked fast. It didn't matter which path he took. Eventually, he would have to face Hayden in battle. The original script had him joining the Dawn society to obtain demonic power, but he wasn't ready to sell his soul just yet. Decisions of destiny, he declared, should not be rushed. The mage nodded slowly, but offered a lethal warning. Do not keep us waiting. We might think you are plotting against us. After all, to them, he was still the Imperial family's loyal lap dog. A double agent's life hung by a thread. Julian realized the danger. She was suspicious. Joining the cult now was suicide. If the Empire discovered his betrayal, it was an instant bad end. Worse, if Hayden found out their inevitable clash would happen too soon, and one of them would die, locking him in this game forever. Our boy began desperately calculating a survival strategy. His mind raced at a mile a minute, calculating every possible escape route. But Alanar's voice cut through his thoughts, warning that he already possessed dangerous knowledge. Backing out now was not an option. It would be a fatal mistake. The hooded figure stepped forward, his killing intent suffocating. He wasn't just a thug. He was a senior combatant of the society, a monster far stronger than any ordinary knight. As the hood fell back, a face twisted by vengeance was revealed. It was Pelor, the legendary Iron Fists, vowing to crush Julian into dust if the boy dared to hesitate. Pointing to a jagged scar, Pelor growled that the phantom pain still haunted him. The protagonist sighed internally. It seemed this was yet another ghost from the real Julian's bloody past that he would have to exercise. But to maintain his cover, he wore the mask of arrogance perfectly. He apologized with a smirk, claiming he never remembered the weak insects he trampled. This mockery sent the Iron Fists into a blind volcanic rage. The protagonist gulped, thinking perhaps he had played the villain a little too well. In a blink, his opponent vanished. Using god-like speed, Pelor reappeared instantly behind the swordsman, whispering a dark taunt about how long the boy could keep up that bravado. At that critical second, the passive skill exceptional swordsman roared to life. He parried the lethal blow, but realized with horror he had drawn his rusted iron blade, not the moonlight sword. It was a fatal slip of muscle memory, but there was no time for regrets. He had to hold the line. Steel clashed against Aura as he desperately defended, deflecting a barrage of heavy strikes. Seeing an opening, Julian launched a counteroffensive, but Pelor weaved through the attacks effortlessly. The gap in raw power was evident. The young man realized the situation was spiraling out of control. He needed to buy time, but the iron fists gave no quarter. Pelor surged forward with explosive speed, channeling all his energy into a devastating haymaker. The impact was catastrophic, launching the protagonist through the air like a ragd doll. The shockwave rattled his bones, and his consciousness teetered on the edge of the abyss. Palor's mocking laughter echoed, asking how it felt to be crushed by a so-called weakling, fingers clawing the dirt the protagonist reached for his true weapon. Fury boiled within him. Why was he cleaning up another man's sins? Pellar watched, genuinely stunned that the boy could still stand after such a blow. That frustration became the catalyst. His emotional limit shattered, and just like that, the unique skill, Open Eyes awakened. A terrifying scarlet aura erupted from his body, suffocating the battlefield, grip tightening on his sword. The protagonist stood tall. The air turned heavy with blood lust. The enemies recoiled, realizing the true threat radiated not just from the boy, but from the ominous blade in his hand. Pellar resolved to shatter the weapon immediately. But before the man could even blink, the swordsman closed the distance. A flash of steel caught him completely offg guard. Blood sprayed into the air before Pellar even registered that his arm had been severed. Julian stood cold and unmoving. a wicked sadistic smile twisting his face, roaring with adrenaline and rage, iron fists charged. Despite his grievous injury, he threw a punch that screamed through the air, missing the protagonist's face by a millimeter. But Julian danced through the danger, his sword carving into his enemy's flesh with surgical precision. Pol's agonizing scream pierced the knight. The warrior tried to create distance, preparing another strike, but it was useless. The swordsman moved like a phantom, appearing everywhere at once. After dodging a desperate lunge, he buried a heavy kick deep into the Iron Fist's gut. Julian's power was simply overwhelming. To the battered victim, this boy was no human. He was a true monster. Crimson eyes glowed with sadistic delight. The sensation of tearing flesh and watching the terror bloom on his enemy's face brought him a twisted euphoria. The open eyes ability fed on high emotion, driving him further into madness. Broken and bleeding, Pelor cast aside his warrior's pride, begging for mercy. But the skills bloodlust demanded more. Julian ignored the pleas. Aggressive instincts taking over completely. He continued to carve into his opponent. Unable to stop until his thirst for violence was sated. Standing over the wreckage, he scoffed at the nickname Iron Fists useless. With cold ruthlessness, the merciless swordsman grabbed the defeated man by the hair. Palor wept for his life, finding no mercy in those red eyes. Suddenly, a soft, gentle touch grazed Julian's neck. Elonor asked if he had had enough fun. As her presence calmed him, the crimson fire in his eyes flickered and died. Pelor gasped for air, realizing he had been spared by a miracle. Clarity returned and horror washed over Julian. While personality shifts were a known side effect, this descent into sadism was far too extreme. Sensing the heavy tension he tried to joke, claiming Pelor had started the fight, Alanar simply pointed her wand, nodding in agreement. But the protagonist wasn't amused, pointing out that she had stood by and watched, knowing exactly how this would play out as she cast a healing spell on the battered warrior. The mage smirked. She admitted she enjoyed watching her partner get humbled and that Julian's performance had impressed her. Activating her mark of beauty, the enchantress suggested an alliance, reminding him he had no choice. With nothing left to lose, the protagonist gripped the mage's shoulder and accepted the premise. However, he stated calmly that he needed time to weigh his soul against the cost. As Julian stroed past, young Pelor trembled, his spirit crushed by the swordsman's overwhelming pressure. Elellaner clicked her tongue. She realized her enchantment magic had shattered against Julian's iron will. Turning to iron fists, she probed his mind, searching for any ripples in his perception. The young man confessed, his voice shaking that Julian's power far exceeded their wildest calculations. The mage narrowed her eyes. She knew the rumors of his amnesia were nothing but a calculated facade. Yet, she commanded Palor to silence. This secret would be her leverage against the other bishops. Pelor, blushing under the influence of her charm, nodded in mindless submission. It was as she suspected. Her sorcery could enslave a novice, but Julian remained untouched. Back in the sanctuary of his quarters, the protagonist's calm mask finally cracked. Rage and anxiety swirled within him. He had escaped death today only by a stroke of luck. He knew all too well that relying on such unstable abilities was a one-way ticket to the grave. As he had predicted, the Dawn Society was not a mere cult. They were a dragon sleeping in the dark. The young man stood at a crossroads of fate, his mind clouded with uncertainty. If he joined the society, Hayden would hunt him down, sealing the path back to his own world forever. But if he dared to expose them, their assassins would silence him before he could speak a word. Julian closed his eyes, diving into the depths of his mind to construct a strategy. After analyzing every variable, he realized the most dangerous path was his only hope. He would enter the tiger's den. He would join the Dawn Society. From within, he could gather the intelligence needed to halt the demon king's resurrection, stopping that apocalypse was the only key to unlocking the gate back to his original dimension. At the Janelle Monastery, the colossal heart of the sun, God's influence on the continent. Julian walked through the Grand Hall, his presence cutting through the sacred atmosphere. The faithful froze, their eyes, widening as they recognized the notorious godless swordsman. Whispers of disdain filled the air like venom. To them, his very existence was blasphemy. One devote trembled, convinced the reaper had come to claim a soul for purging. A nervous priest stepped forward to block the path. "What business has a heretic in the house of God?" With ice in his veins, the protagonist replied, "I am here for the Supreme Abbott." "Stand aside," the answer struck the cleric with fear. No such meeting had been on the holy schedule. Suddenly, a nun materialized beside them, her voice cutting through the tension. She bowed gracefully, claiming she was sent by the very person Julian sought. As Julian analyzed the subtle fluctuations in her aura, she whispered a warning. "You arrived sooner than fate anticipated," she murmured, the holy disguise melting away. "It was Elanar." She smirked, admitting she had bet against him showing up at all. Julian offered a dry compliment. Seeing highle illusion magic unravel was a rare sight. He noted the audacity of the Dawn Society hiding their dark heart within the continent's holiest sanctuary. They reached a towering set of doors. Alanar's playful demeanor vanished instantly. "The Archbishop awaits," she warned, her eyes serious. "Show proper reverence or perish." Julian gave a non-committal shrug, but his instincts were screaming danger. The mage was far more terrified now than during their last encounter. He realized the entity behind these doors possessed a pressure that could suffocate even her. As they crossed the threshold, the murmurss of the council ceased abruptly. A man sat upon the throne. He asked, "Is this the one they call Julian?" The Archbishop wore a mask, but his smile radiated a chilling lack of dignity. Justifies his cruelty, claiming he is merely disciplining the brat, and warns her never to challenge his authority again. Crushed by his spiritual pressure, the woman bows her head in shame. The archbishop turns, asking if Julian is satisfied. The protagonist plays the role of the obedient servant, thanking him. Tennelron grins, promising to unveil a true marvel since he traveled so far. In the depths of the great hall, a mysterious chalice sits brimming with a crimson liquid that pulses with life. Julian's eyes widen. It is the sacred relic, the legendary artifact that elevated a lowly farmer to the supreme leader of the Dawn Society, a divine item capable of forcibly awakening the dormant power of Barbados and giving it physical shape. The Archbishop extends a hand toward the chalice. The red liquid defies gravity, twisting and hardening into a sinister horn before their very eyes. With this relic, Tennelron can manufacture a demon's horn, the very essence of a monster's strength. Julian had never witnessed such a dark miracle. His mind races, calculating the terrifying potential of the artifact. So lost in thought that Tennelron has to snap his fingers to regain his attention. The swordsman quickly composes himself, declaring that fate has led him here. This horn is the final piece he needed to ascend to the next level. With a fox-like smile, Tennelron makes a shocking offer. If the boy wants power, he can simply take the horn he just created. Julian accepts the object, but his instincts scream trap. The archbishop parted with such a treasure far too easily. To forge a single horn like this, countless lower demons must be slaughtered. It is a resource of immense value, offering god-like strength. Tennelron watches with hungry eyes, eager to see if this young prodigy will evolve, imagining the boy might even surpass the legendary holy swordsman. However, Julian knows the cursed price of this power. Humanoid demons are born from these very horns. It is not merely borrowing strength. It is a corruption of the soul. The user risks becoming a monster themselves, and Julian has no intention of abandoning his humanity. Sensing the tension, Elellanor steps forward, her voice trembling. She whispers that it is reckless to bestow such a gift upon a newcomer. The boy has not yet sworn his blood oath to the society. Since the horn represents the core of their organization's might, the other elders would be furious. Though they believe their whispers are unheard, Julian's heightened senses catch every word. He tactfully intervenes, offering to return the treasure, claiming his visit was never about greed. The archbishop looks impressed, noting that the young man possesses a wisdom beyond his years. He admits he needs time to silence Alanor's doubts, but in the meantime, he has a quest for Julian. The raw materials for these horns can only be harvested from the hearts of high-ranking demons possessing at least three horns. Tennelron commands the boy to hunt them down. Wandering around hunting such nightmares could attract the Imperial court's gaze, but the Archbishop promises to cloak his actions in shadow. A few days pass at a bustling station, a massive steam locomotive hisses on the tracks. Julian gathers his thoughts. The archbishop didn't just accept him. He granted him the high rank of bishop instantly. Yet the moment he joined the the young man was sent on a suicide mission to hunt a three-horned calamity. Worse, he suspects the society has infiltrated the Tastravide, Imperial Court itself. They are not a mere cult. They are Leviathan powerful enough to rival a nation. Harand sits opposite Julian, awkwardly commenting on the convenience of the train system to break the silence. They are bound for Bernardan, the holy city hosting the Sun God Church's Ascension Festival. Herand is attending as the noble representative of the Cryart family. Desperate to appease the terrifying Julian, he suggests the protagonist should enjoy the festivities once the slaughter is finished. Julian nods, knowing he must play along for now. He agrees vaguely, but he can practically smell the fear radiating off the young noble. The train screeches to a halt in Bernardan. As they part ways, Herand turns with a grave expression, warning Julian to avoid a man named Margaril. That man was an ally of the Highlands family, the very lineage Julian wiped from existence. Julian suppresses a groan. Another enemy inherited from the previous owner of this body. The past truly never dies, but he must prioritize the hunt. His target is the demon. Suddenly, a red-haired man blocks his path, glaring with undisguised hostility, ordering him to halt his advance. Cold sweat forms as Julian demands an explanation. The redhead sneers, declaring the Pyon Forest is currently under the exclusive jurisdiction of the Sunod Church to prepare for their sacred rituals. The swordsman argues that a catastropheclass demon is loose in those woods and the pros in tapa entire festival is at risk, but the guard waves him off, arrogant and blind to the danger. In a voice dripping with killing intent, Julian asks if a mere guard dares to defy the direct orders of the Imperial court. The redhead laughs. This was the commander's reasoning for delaying the inevitable mission. The upcoming festival was the jewel of the city's pride, and he refused to tarnish the celebration for a demon that had yet to even stir. With cold authority, the man declared that should the festivities be ruined by a premature eradication operation, Julian would bear the full weight of responsibility. Since the event was only a week away, he insisted the boy simply enjoy the holiday. With a gaze full of silent mockery, Julian simply stared the man down. Suddenly, a sweet voice pierced the tension, calling out for her father. An adorable little girl peeked through the doorway. It was Terrina searching for Oreneal. With innocent curiosity, she approached, asking who this handsome stranger was. Panic seized Ornal, and he frantically ordered the child to stay away from Julian and returned to his side. Julian stood stunned, realizing the commander actually believed he would harm a defenseless child. Activating his vision to see the color of Orneal's emotions, the air turned a suffocating purple with genuine terror. Deciding to end this farce, Julian stated they would resume later and turned to leave, granting the paranoid father and daughter their privacy. Running a hand through his hair, the young protagonist exhaled a long, heavy breath. He was met by two comrades in the hallway, eager to hear the outcome. Julian informed them that Sir Orinel was blinded by stubbornness, making a postponement unavoidable. One of the swordsmen asked if they should recall the shut eyes unit stationed in the forest, but Julian ordered them to hold their position. He knew with absolute certainty that the festival would not proceed as planned. Sensing the ominous tone, the two men asked what the main character meant by that prediction. Julian explained that this city, Bernardan, was the stage where players first faced a nightmare, the three-horned demon. Such a creature was far from a common monster. It was a calamity. The festival was destined to end in chaos. The more horns a demon possessed, the more devastating its power. Beyond unique abilities, this class of creature was granted a true name. The three-horned beast Hamlene was a parasitic horror that twisted reality into a labyrinth. A venomous swamp would be manifested the moment one stepped into its domain. And even if a warrior survived the physical trap, the beast launched a crushing punisively psychological assault-making victory nearly impossible. The protagonist sipped his coffee, waiting for destiny to catch up. He was certain Holene had already begun its invasion, and soon Ornel would come crawling for aid. For a brief moment, the young man simply basked in the silence. Suddenly, a messenger burst in, breathless, shouting that the commander required his presence at the mansion immediately. The boy bowed, apologizing for the intrusion, but Julian remained unfazed. He had known this moment was inevitable. Trembling with anxiety, the commander awaited the warrior<unk>'s arrival. Promptly, our main character stood before the city's leader. voice thick with desperation, Orinel explained that his daughter Tina had not awakened since the previous night. The healers are baffled and reports are flooding in of other children suffering the same fate he admitted, barely masking his terror. Julian knew instantly the demon's assault was underway. The commander stammered that healthy children do not simply fall into comas. "This is undeniably the work of a monster." Oral shouted, his composure shattered. The young man confirmed the theory, revealing the culprit was indeed the beast Holene lurking in the Pan forest. The creature released invisible spores infecting living beings to create throls. While harmless to adults, the toxin was fatal to children, trapping them in an endless slumber. The warrior explained the grim reality, warning that it might already to be too late to save his daughter. Broken by fear, the leader seized the soldier's arm. He screamed that he no longer cared for the festival or his reputation. The only thing that mattered was slaying the beast. Julian asked coldly if he truly desired to save the girl. Begging, the commander swore he would do anything. Anything? Our protagonist asked, his voice calm. Even if you must commit a sin against the city of Bernardan, Sir Orinil swallowed hard, his body shaking. With no other path left, he gripped the young man's shoulder. The proud commander fell to his knees and begged. I will take responsibility for the consequences. I understand the price. The protagonist looked down with a faint smile. With his plan secured, our young man declared that he would proceed to eradicate the beast Holene. Soon, soldiers were drenching the forest floor with fuel. One guard, however, hesitated, asking if destroying such a beautiful landscape was truly necessary. Julian retorted that he would be a fool to leave any advantage on the table against a three-horned threat. "You intend to burn it all?" the soldier asked incredulous. "I do. We will not fight Holene inside its labyrinth. We will burn its home to ash. The warrior declared, recalling the most efficient strategy from his gaming days. The aid worried this would incense Sir Oreneal, but the hero replied that the commander had already agreed to value life over the festival's scenery. With a confident smirk, he signaled the men to begin the destruction. Light it up, Julian commanded, walking away. The ancient creature awakened as the flames roared to life around it. A massive roar of fury shook the earth as Holene rose from the inferno. A chill ran through the soldiers at the demon's power. Cry out, but our protagonist raises a hand, ordering the group to halt. With a cold gaze, he announces that he will face this nightmare alone. The men gasp in disbelief. How can you fight that thing so low? They stammer. I said, "Stay back, Julian commands, his voice brooking no argument. You would only be a hindrance to me," the warrior declares, unshathing his blade with a metallic ring. Julian steps forward, marching straight into the inferno. He walks through the wall of fire as if it were a gentle breeze. He laughs, mocking the scorching heat that would melt a lesser man. His eyes lock onto the target. It is Hamlin, the legendary three-horned beast. Roaring in fury, the monster prepares to crush this insect. Its claws descend. The attack shatters the earth, sending debris flying everywhere. But with deadly elegance, Julian infuses his lunar sword. Concentrated mana floods the blade. It glows with an ethereal light, filling the battlefield with a suffocating pressure. The warrior dashes forward like a bolt of lightning. The beast freezes. It senses the overwhelming power and instinctively recoils. It laughs nervously, realizing its strength has been sealed. The fire has sapped your vitality. Julian taunts with a smirk. The demon glares with malice, but Julian declares that its end has arrived. Suddenly, the beast erupts. Brilliant flames explode outward in a desperate gambit. The protagonist stops in his tracks, his body seizing up. His vision swims. He covers his nose, realizing his fatal mistake. He had forgotten the creature's most insidious weapon, its pollen. Hamlin's pollen isn't just poison. It induces hypnosis and shatters the mind of anyone who inhales it. The demon sees its chance to strike. The beast recovers its stance, ready to kill. However, a chilling laugh cuts through the smoke. Did you truly think such a cheap trick would work? Julian shouts from within the flames. His mind was a fortress of chaos. The pollen's hallucinations couldn't even scratch the surface of his psyche. The beast screams in terror, its roar shaking the burning forest to its roots. Julian prepares the final blow, his grin widening. I'm already crazy enough without your help, he mocks. He leaps into the air, his silhouette framed against the fire. The lunar sword descends. Bathed in pure mana, it sings a song of death. With a swift spinning motion, the young man unleashes his power. An azure flash consumes the forest. A massive explosion rocks the clearing, visible for miles. The dust settles, revealing the beast cleaved in twain. The demon falls, its reign of terror ended. The warrior glances down, confirming the kill with cold indifference. The soldiers rush in, panic written on their faces. "Are you hurt?" they cry. "I am fine," he assures them, sheathing his weapon with a sharp click. He stands victorious over the corpse of a legend. Far away, Sir Ornal watches from a window. His eyes are fixed on the burning horizon, filled with a deep, unsettling worry. "Your cooperation is noted," Julian says later, his voice void of warmth. "I am sure the imperial court will honor your brave choices." "There is no remorse in his tone." "Has your daughter awakened?" the protagonist asks abruptly. "Yes, she is recovering," the commander replies stiffly. Julian reaches into his pocket. He produces a necklace and offers it. A gift for the child, he says calmly. The father freezes in shock. He recognizes the materials. It is crafted from Hamlin's remains. Your daughter reacted first to the pollen, the warrior explains. That proves her monosensitivity is off the charts, he continues. She is destined to become a great mage. The father is bewildered. Why give us this? You despise me, he stammers. Julian smiles, but it doesn't reach his eyes. The empire needs strong mages. What is your price? Orel demands, but the young man simply turns away. Consider it gratitude for the mission, he retorts. The commander trembles. This generosity feels like a trap. Surely the warrior knows of his ties to the dethroned royals. The protagonist offers a final nod and departs. He leaves behind a man consumed by fear and confusion. The commander stares at the artifact, his hands shaking. Still in disbelief, he enters his home. Clutching the powerful item, the leader approaches his daughter's bedside. Papa, the girl chirps, her face lighting up. He smiles, masking his inner turmoil. I have something to help you heal, he whispers. He places the necklace around her neck. To his surprise, the girl immediately bonds with the artifact. It hums with energy against her skin, but the father's heart remains heavy. He fears Julian's true intentions. I must write to the council of elders, he decides. The association had ordered him to delay Julian, but with his daughter's life on the line, he had no choice but to fold. I pray the Highlands forgive me, he thinks. Despair clouding his mind. I chose my family over our vengeance. Meanwhile, a train departs Bernardan station. In a private carriage, Julian holds a small box. He sighed the tension, finally leaving his shoulders. He had successfully captured Hamlin's heart. Cautiously, he lifts the lid. A surge of raw power floods the room. The spirit stone pulses with a terrifying aura. It is an item of legendary potential. He stares into its depths. What is the best move? He wonders. Handing it to the Dawn Society would guarantee their loyalty. But perhaps he muses his eyes narrowing. There is a greater purpose for this power. Suddenly, the announcer calls out Rondrean station. The train slows. Julian senses the crowd boarding and snaps the box shut. He must secure the item immediately. Click clack. Elegant footsteps approach his compartment. A woman slides the door open and sits directly opposite him. She looks up and freezes. Her eyes widen in total shock. Julian's gaze meets Reena's and time seems to stand still. He is just as stunned. Quickly, he hides the box behind him. She cannot see this. If Hayden finds out about the stone, it would be war. A catastrophic disaster was brewing. Carrying the severed remains of a high-ranking demon was practically a death sentence. He stealthily shoved the cursed box behind his luggage. "It seems the threads of destiny have bound us together, haven't they?" he joked. The young noble woman checked her ticket again, refusing to believe this cruel twist of fate. "You must be wondering why I am here." The young man teased, and the lady nodded, demanding an answer. The warrior explained his presence was due to a mission in Bernardan. "He sees the moment to tease her, pointing to a rather embarrassing garment slipping from her bag. "Looks like you had a wild trip yourself. Keep your eyes to yourself, Julian." Reena shrieked, face flushing red. He laughed, relieved that her embarrassment distracted her. It seemed his secret cargo was safe for now. But suddenly, the young lady called out, shattering his momentary peace. Something felt wrong. The noble woman's gaze turned sharp, piercing through his casual facade. The young man asked what was the matter sweating internally. She remarked on the suspicious timing, her eyes narrowing as she accused him of stalking her. With a dramatic sigh of relief, he explained he hadn't purchased the ticket. The Imperial Secretariat had orchestrated the entire schedule. Perhaps it is you who is stalking me," the protagonist countered, causing the girl to explode with indignation. Nervous sweat trickled down his back. The warrior decided to relocate the box. "If he had known, the threads of fate would lead him to her." He never would have removed the cursed item from his suitcase. "By the way, you seem guard that box like it is, your life's treasure," Reena observed, her eyes narrowing. The protagonist's mask of calm cracked instantly. She noted that he had been fidgeting with the container for quite some time. The young man realized his movements had been scrutinized. Entire journey. It is merely a jewelry box, the hero lied, forcing a casual laugh. The noble woman looked entirely unconvinced. Still obsessed with shiny trinkets, are we? The young woman scoffed, her tone dripping with mockery. "Rumor has it you forged a blade using only gemstones." "One can never possess too much wealth," he replied, chuckling. Suddenly, a violent impact shook the carriage, knocking the precious box from his grasp. Julian eyes blazing with fury wondered why the train had slammed to a halt. A magical transmission announced that a sudden violent storm had interrupted their travel. Time seemed to freeze as the artifact tumbled out and rolled directly to the girl's feet. The young man froze his stealth, utterly rendered useless. The noble woman picked up the stone, examining it with critical eyes. Reena remarked that the jewel looked heavily damaged, scolding him for his poor maintenance of such items. She casually tossed the demonic relic back to him. The the protagonist stared dumbfounded that she failed to sense the overwhelming spiritual energy. The warrior thanked her quickly, stashing the item, his hands still trembling from the adrenaline. They exchanged small talk, though Julian's heart hammered against his ribs. The lady claimed she despised his company, but the young man offered a sincere gratitude for having a companion amidst the chaos. An attendant arrived, bowing to the lady and guiding her to a private carriage. Suddenly, the noble woman stopped calling out to her former classmate. "What is it?" the protagonist asked, trying to mask his lingering anxiety. Blushing slightly, the girl thanked him for his heroism back in the village. I do not thank you as Reena Ronbell, but as a warrior of the sword. Julian laughed, dismissing the debt. "After all, they were both walking the path of the blade. You were expelled, remember?" She cut in sharply. Don't be so cold, my dear colleague, the warrior said, turning to vanish. We are departing, she told the attendant. Later in the office, Captain Odwin spoke. Did you enjoy your chaos in Bernardan? I wouldn't call a life or death struggle fun, the protagonist scoffed. And what is this fortress of paper? He asked, eyeing the stacks with irony. A literal mountain of bureaucracy. Seems you were the one enjoying yourself, weren't you? Captain, the young man grinned grimly. Why do you think I am buried in this? she roared, her aura flaring. Are you? Lazy Julian teased. She screamed that it was entirely his fault, demanding to know why he incinerated the pier and the blenn entire forest. The young man shrugged, claiming extreme situations required explosive solutions. I do not even know why I bother asking. The captain sighed, defeated. Most of these complaints are from the church of the Sunday, she explained. The forest was sacred ground, but fortunately, the imperial court was intervening. However, Julian needed to understand that she was the one cleaning up his destructive mess. "That is precisely why I did it," the boy said, flashing a charming smile. With a heavy sigh, she pushed a stack aside, revealing letters addressed to him from the academy. Confused, the captain focused on a letter bearing a sinister seal. "This is from the girl monastery," she muttered, bewilderment coloring her tone. Julian felt a spike of irritation. He couldn't believe Aurora was handling the mission this way. Odwin noted that while their hatred for him was logical, sending a direct missive was an unprecedented escalation. "What exactly have you gotten yourself into?" the captain asked, her eyes demanding the truth. He stood silent. He calls him in disbelief, stunned that the Aurora Society could commit such a catastrophic blunder. Suddenly, a soldier kicks the door open, shouting Julian's name at the top of his lungs. The panic-stricken guard informs him that the secretary's office demands answers about the incident in Bernardan. The soldier quickly recoils, trembling with fear, and bows profusely to apologize for interrupting the captain. "Get out of my sight." "And take these documents with you," Julian Odwin commands, handing over the letters. "Until next time, Captain," our protagonist, says, exiting with a mysterious smile. Outside, a young admirer rushes up, eyes wide. "Did you really slay the demon single-handedly?" Thanks to the missive from the Dawn Society, a demon was the least of Julian's concerns. He waves the boy away. He needs absolute solitude to read the fried secret message and wonders what earthshattering news lies within. As his eyes scan the parchment, the young man is taken aback. It appears to be a mundane letter devoid of magic. But as he focuses his mana, the ink twists and writhes, and a serpent leaps from the broad paper. The archbishop summons Bishop Julian. The ink beast hisses. Julian identifies Alanor's unique magic signature. The the moment the spell activates, they want the demon's horn. The warrior deduces, dissipating the ink creature into mist. But wait, the only souls who knew his return schedule were the captain and the Imperial cabinet. Julian realizes the game has changed. He must be paranoid about who he trusts. Inside the cathedral, heavy gazes lock onto the young man in the corner. The protagonist loathes this unwanted spotlight. A nun glides forward and whispers, "Welcome home, Julian." "It has been too long." "Indeed, it has, Elanor," he replies, his smile masking his tension. "I was beginning to feel anxious. Tales of your exploits in Bernardan have spread like wildfire. The mage purers as her illusion flickers and transforms." She speaks of him soloing a three-horned demon and incinerating the entire Pieran forest, desperate to hear the epic saga from his own lips. I am flattered, bishop, but the warrior interrupts, reaching into his robes. Never send a message like this again. You are painting a target on my back, he warns, flashing the letter with a gaze full of killing intent. She scoffs that the spell was invisible to others, but Julian refuses to gamble with his life. In that case, how do you propose we communicate? In the shadows, the girl challenges. Julian shrugs, suggesting he could simply visit her to speak face to face. Visit me," she asks, genuinely startled. Trying to regain composure, the girl jokes that he wouldn't know where to look. Elonor stares at him, sweat forming. It must be a bluff. There is no way this man knows the secret identity she guards so closely. The warrior leaves, her stunned, and enters the inner sanctum. Bishop Julian, you have finally returned. I have missed you dearly, the archbishop bellows, trembling with excitement as the leader of the Aurora demands to see the demon's horn. The young man's lips curl into a wicked grin. I couldn't bring the artifact, he chuckles darkly. What was it? Not a three-horned demon? The masked man asks, unable to believe his ears. The protagonist confirms the beast's rank and that the legendary spirit stone was indeed there. Then, where is the stone? The chief roars, his patience snapping. The entire congregation looks baffled. Gazing at the new member of the society, the man calmly states he took it straight to the Imperial Secretary's office. Say that again. Tennelron stammers confused. Yes, Archbishop. I delivered the threehorn demons artifact to the imperial dogs. The young man repeats beaming. Terrifying mana explodes from the raft leader hands. Enraged. He demands the warrior. Explain his treachery. Let's just say I took one step back to take three steps forward. The young man laughs completely unfazed by the death threat. The members erupt in chaos, protesting Julian's transgression. How short-sighted of you, the protagonist size, looking down on them. If I intended to betray you, why would I walk back into the lion's den? He explains that this was purely an information gathering tactic. This is the first spirit stone from a three-horned demon the nobles have ever tasted. Once they discover its true power, their greed will drive them to hunt for more. I see. A sound strategy, the archbishop admits, his anger cooling. However, do you truly believe that justifies handing over my prize? The leader questions fire still burning in his eyes. The protagonist senses the assassins behind him tightening their grip. Laughing, Julian waves it off, claiming there is a deeper layer to his plan. He mentions the rumors spreading across the realm about the one who slew the demon alone, the pillar of the blind eye, the successor of the holy sword, the new hero. He continues, "All eyes are on me, including those of our true enemies. Aren't you curious who will strike first? The young man asks, his smile widening. The members scream that he is fabricating lies. Do you wish to dance? The young man challenges slowly, drawing his blade. How amusing. Then come, Julian declares as his sword glows with latent mana. Hold, the archbishop screams at the mob. Who are you referring to? He yells. But the protagonist swiftly parries a surprise ambush. He uses the opening to channel his aura and delivers a devastating counter-strike to his attacker. The beaten man coughs up blood writhing in agony while the warrior looms over him completely unscathed. Julian turns his cold gaze to the leader. If you are truly curious, he declares, "My master the sword, St. Hayden Reich, will come personally to retrieve his weward student." Fury erupts from the archbishop, his aura darkening the room. He notices the hesitation. The mention of the Dawn Society and the Holy Sword has shaken the leader. Terrifying mana crushes the air as Tennelon roars. That man is the one responsible for ruining my face. He screams, realizing the connection. He suspects me as well. The archbishop argues that returning empty-handed after slaying a three-horned demon would be too suspicious. I see it now. The organization's leader springs to his feet, eyes wide with realization. That monster even suspects his own disciple. In that moment, a dark alliance is born between the warrior and the priest. Their mutual hatred for Hayden Reich becomes the iron chain, binding them together. The archbishop nods, finally grasping Julian's motive for joining. I am glad we are on the same page. Julian sigh internally, the tension leaving his shoulders. Back in his quarters, our protagonist sits mind racing. He has bought himself a few precious moments of time. If he can manipulate the Dawn Society and the Imperial Court against each other, he might just survive until the game's finale. But first, there is a rat he must exterminate. He needs to deal with his shadow. The stalker seemed harmless at first, but Julian's instincts scream danger. The longer this goes on, the tighter the noose becomes. He lets out a breath, a smirk forming. He knows exactly who the spy is. His train of thought is broken by a knock. A young man enters, clutching a letter from the cabinet. "Just leave it on the table," Julian commands, his voice steady as a calm lake. The boy places the document down with practiced care. But just as he turns to leave, the protagonist's voice stops him cold. "Lazareth, you seem awfully busy these days." The boy flinches. "It is the higher up, sir," he replies, sweat forming. Even as a trainee, the workload is brutal. Julian narrows his eyes. For a mere recruit, you handle far too many sensitive tasks. This was the same boy who rushed a message to the captain the moment Julian returned. You are right, sir. I was just curious about the spirit stone. The trap snaps shut. I see. Julian says a predatory smile stretching across his face. The protagonist leans forward. How fascinating. You know about the stone despite being nothing more than a trainee. The boy feains ignorance, but it is too late. Julian has never uttered the words spirit stone in his presence before this moment. And yet, the boy showed zero surprise. The only ones aware of that artifact's existence are myself, the Imperial Court, and the Dawn Society. The color drains from Lazarus's face. His composure shatters completely. Our hero stands his presence filling the room. I felt it from the start, Julian says, his voice dropping to a menacing whisper. A simple boy, always handling the most critical documents, even for a trainee. Julian grips the boy's shoulder, his fingers digging in. This level of access is unnatural. It would be impossible unless the Dawn Society had a mole burrowed deep within the Imperial Court. Isn't that right? The warrior smiles, a terrifying sight. Then he releases his grip, his aura vanishing. Relax. I have no intention of killing you. I merely want to talk. Talk. The boy stammers, trembling. Does this mean the masquerade is over? Lazarus reaches for his neck and unclasps a pendant. A burst of purple mana ripples through the air as the seal breaks. The boy's spine straightens his timid demeanor, evaporating instantly. He stares at the protagonist with eyes sharp as daggers. "Was that an illusion spell?" the warrior asks, unimpressed. "Without this artifact, my disguise would crumble," the spy admits coldly. "If you do not plan to eliminate me, then what is your play?" Lazarus demands. Our protagonist leans back the picture of arrogance. I want something very simple. The strategist chuckles darkly. How would you like to work for me? What are you implying? The agent eyes him with suspicion. It is simple, Julian shrugs. You will become my double agent. A double spy. The boy recoils, terrified by the sheer audacity of the request. You expect me to betray the Dawn Society. Spare me the righteous indignation? The warrior laughs. I just want to control the board. Do not mock me, the boy shouts. Do you think my loyalty is so cheap? However, our hero never enters a negotiation without leverage. His tone turns icy. I hear you have been making regular anonymous donations to a certain nursing home. The young man freezes his blood running cold as Julian recites the exact sum to the copper coin. That place is precious to you, is it not? Julian lets out a cruel laugh. It would be such a tragedy if an unfortunate accident were to befall that sanctuary. Lazareth glares at him, pure hatred burning in his eyes. Suddenly, the warrior waves his hand dismissively. I am only joking. There is no need for such a scary face, he grins. If you help me, I will personally ensure that home receives a fortune. A fortune, you say. The boy's resolve waivers. Suddenly, I feel an overwhelming urge to perform a charitable deed. The hero laughs. Confused by the whiplash and tone, the agent stares in silence, realizing he has been completely outmaneuvered. A few days pass after their pact. Deep in the shadows, a member of Aurora interrogates Lazarus. Did you bring the item? Yes, Bishop Aiden. With a trembling hand, the spy surrendered the letter. The officials eyes narrowed as the paper divulged Hayden Reich's next move. Desperate to be heard, the boy stammered about the elers's petition, but the noble silenced him with a cold, dismissive wave. "Trivrivialities," he scoffed. He commanded the youth to report this discovery to the Archbishop at once. The boy bowed his spirit, crushing under the weight of the order. "Understood," he whispered. "You look pale, child," the superior noted, his gaze piercing through the soldier's facade. Lazarus's mind raced a whirlwind of indecision and fear. Could the undercover agent truly trust Aurora to shield him and Sister Turnia? Julian had sworn a blood oath to protect her orphanage. Caught between duty and gratitude, the boy remained frozen in silence. Speak. The noble barked, shattering his trance. Startled, the boy cried out, "Nothing is wrong, my lord." Elsewhere, elegant footsteps echoed against the marble floor. The master of the house had returned, and servants rushed to greet him. One attendant took his coat, but Julian's mind was miles away. The memory of that day haunted him like a spectre. I was too reckless with Lazarus, the Scion thought, sweat forming on his brow. My acting was sloppy. If the boy had possessed a sharper gaze, he would have seen right through the bluff. The protagonist cursed himself, pretending to be Julian was clouding his judgment. A maid approached with urgent news from the main estate. "A message, my lord?" he asked. His curiosity peaked. It was his older sister, Runa Cryheart. She was to be wed, and his presence was requested at the ceremony. Without a second thought, the swordsman declined, citing his heavy burden of work. The maid bowed, preparing to send the rejection. "Wait!" The warrior<unk>'s voice rang out, stopping her in her tracks. "I have changed my mind. I shall attend." His aid beamed with excitement. "Excellent. I shall ready your usual pink glittery suit immediately. Perhaps something more dignified today," he suggested, suppressing a shudder. The protagonist decided to venture to the tor alone. He arrived at the white ornament house, the city's pinnacle of luxury. But as he entered, a heavy silence fell over the room. The staff trembled before the famous swordsman's overwhelming pressure. Yet internally, he was the one panicking at the endless sea of fabrics. "Does this body have zero fashion sense?" he lamented. Neither Cihon nor Julian knew the first thing about style. He tried to ask for assistance. Someone help me," he rumbled, his voice dripping with accidental killing intent. Terrified, the attendant scattered like leaves in a storm, and the young hero was left standing in awkward solitude. Elsewhere in the shop, a trembling assistant greeted Eileene. "The mage looked utterly drained from her academy duties. She complained bitterly about the moonstone shortage caused by some hoarding fool. "I nearly lost my position," she grumbled. But fate had smiled upon her with the discovery of spirit stones. The imperial court had personally requested her expertise. Her eyes lit up with manic academic fervor, her thesis would be legendary. "What brings you here, my lady?" the clerk asked. "A wedding?" the mage sighed, the excitement fading. "Foruna Cryheart." As the attendant led her to the dresses, Eileen finally exhaled. "It was a relief to escape the laboratory for a moment. She wandered through the aisles, admiring the fine silks, but suddenly her blood ran cold. It couldn't be. Julian here." Instinctively, the noble woman dove behind a mannequin. The warrior paused, sensing a disturbance in the air. He turned but saw nothing but suits. Why am I hiding like a criminal? Eileen scolded herself, heart pounding. She was still in shock from seeing him. She realized that despite his branch family status, he was still a cryart. But why bother shopping? Julian usually dresses like a stuffed sausage, she thought meanly. She watched in horror as he browsed the racks. The hero beamed, convinced he had found a masterpiece. But the girl could only stare in disgust. "He will destroy the ceremony's dignity with that rag," she thought. Just then, a child ran past. "Mommy, look at the crazy lady hiding over there." Humiliated, Eileen straightened her spine and marched toward him. "You cannot possibly intend to wear that," she declared. "Oh," the scholar emerges. The man smirked. "I assumed you had no interest in fashion given your obsession with books." "And I assume you have no eyes," she retorted. since you only seem capable of choosing the tackiest outfits in existence. The young man blinked in confusion. What do you mean? Are you playing the fool? The professor narrowed her eyes. Or do you hold such a deep grudge against the Cryheart family that you intend to signal their destruction at a wedding? She added. The protagonist was utterly baffled. Destruction over a shirt. Julian couldn't grasp the concept. With a sigh, the mage spun the garment around. This symbol, she explained, pointing to the ominous crest. It was the design the Warrior Clan used when purging their enemies. She laughed darkly at his ignorance. While it is merely aesthetic now, the irony would be quite comical. To witness a notorious deserter in such garb, since so had never played this route, he was blind to Julian's quirks. Exhausted by the search, and realizing his character had the taste of a flamboyant peacock, Julian signaled his surrender. He announced he would deploy his backup plan. But as he revealed an outfit that shimmerred with blinding tastelessness, Eileene stared in pure horror. she asked without hesitation if he truly intended to wear that garbage. The young woman stepped forward, declaring that she would not permit this crime against fashion. On the honor of the donation lineage, a family of true artists, she vowed to save him. The young man accepted her aid, relieved to be rescued from his own wardrobe. The outfit was secured and the destined wedding day dawned. The gatekeeper took the invitation with shaking hands, his voice trembling as he confirmed the guest. Meanwhile, the warrior strode toward the ceremony with lethal elegance. Yet, see who felt a storm brewing inside. The character Julian loathed being here. The protagonist had no desire to attend either, but necessity drove him. The Cryart clan held the powerful spirit stones, ancient artifacts within the game, and this was one of the few ways to obtain them. Julian's father possessed one, and the mere memory of that man made bile rise in the young man's throat. With regal poise, he finally crossed the palace threshold. Instantly, the musicians faltered. The entire hall froze and trembled under his presence. The music died just for me. "Isn't that a bit excessive?" the boy thought, forcing a jagged smile. Every eye was locked on him, paralyzed by shock that the exile had returned. Suddenly, a vision in white rushed to embrace him. It was Renea, unable to hide her surprise that her brother had actually arrived. The bride waved cheerfully, lamenting how long it had been since they last met. It was jarring to see anyone offer Julian such warmth. His sister greeted Eileene, beaming at the reunion with her brother. She chirped, happily surprised the two knew each other, especially since their academic years were not the same. Julian flinched. He had completely forgotten the academy hierarchy. The lady's eyes sparkled as she praised his appearance, noting that he usually dressed like a court jester. You could feel the mage's icy glare piercing him from a mile away. The academic stared daggers at him, demanding credit for this miracle transformation. The young man smoothly lied, claiming he chose the fine suit for the special occasion. The bride noticed Eileen's disappointed stare, but smiled brightly, thanking them both for coming. Suddenly, a man called out from the distance. Joshua Cryart stomped in, practically vibrating with arrogance. The girl turned to thank her other brother, but he violently snatched her hand. Tightening his grip, the young man roared, demanding an explanation. He scolded her for wasting breath on members of the secondary family in such a sacred hall. I was just happy to see them. The noble woman cried, wrenching herself free. You should greet your older brother, too. Furious, the young man bellowed. Who said that filth is my brother? Finally, the toxic atmosphere Julian expected had descended. Joshua sneered, asking what a secondary was doing here when he wasn't even real family. Laughing softly, the protagonist replied that he merely accepted an invitation. The brother snatched the letter and shredded it into confetti without a second thought. The entire hall watched, paralyzed by the munder escalation. Glaring with menace, Joshua declared that as a true blood heir, he had one order for the warrior. Get out. And if I refuse, the swordsman retorted, his voice dripping with mockery. As he reached for his hilt, the furious noble vowed to make an example of him. Steel rasped against the scabbard. I'll show you what happens to secondaries who defy me. The young man's spat, his twisted face reflected in the cold steel. Joshua Cryart, a problematic stain on the Cryart lineage. He was the tyrant of V Academy. He built factions, tormented new students, and crushed teachers from lesser families. No one dared to meet his gaze. His voice boomed through the hall, daring the Imperial dog to face him. The warrior let a dark smile slip. Was it courage or sheer stupidity to challenge one of the kingdom's greatest swordsmen? Julian moved faster than the eye could track, launching a devastating lunge. In a split second, he had already seized Joshua's arm. The noble couldn't withstand the crushing pressure. Julian tightened his vicelike grip his voice cold. You have the nerve to hurt Renea. Something a secondary would never do. The only sound in the cross, the silent hall was Joshua's sword clattering helplessly to the floor. The warrior leaned in, whispering that he should be ashamed of himself. Suddenly, Heron shouts, "Enough." Julian demands to know if they should let Renee be treated that way. But Haron gestures to the watching crowd. This was not the place for bloodshed. The younger brother sees the moment to wrench himself free, shouting that Heron was right. How could he forget where they were? However, Haron's voice sliced through the tension, commanding Joshua to cease shaming their bloodline immediately. After all, he was the fool who ignited this conflict. The young noble froze the weight of his public humiliation, finally crashing down on him. With a scowl, Haran pressed on, declaring that he stood there, representing the authority of their father, and such reckless behavior was a stain on their house. Siu quietly analyzed the implications of those words. If Herand was the representative, then the patriarch their father was absent. A cold realization hit him. Obtaining the spirit stone today would be nearly impossible. Frustration nodded at him. It seemed this entire journey had been a waste of time. Shifting gears, Julian apologized smoothly for the disturbance, his eyes darting to Renea to ensure her safety. She dismissed it with a smile beaming with pride that her brother had protected her. Though she tried to laugh off the danger, Julian decided it was time to withdraw from the spotlight. Renea, puzzled by his haste, began to protest, but her brother cut in, noting that a wise guest knows when the curtain has fallen. He paused, turning his gaze toward Lady Eileene. With a charming smile, he declared the ensemble she selected was flawless. He praised her discerning eye, stating she was truly worthy of the family's patronage, and offered a graceful bow. His words struck accord, unearthing a buried memory within the lady's heart. She recalled a voice from the past comparing the fabric to stars woven into the night sky. He had said, "It is a magnificent enchantment, one that suits Adon perfectly." Emotions surged like a tidal wave, and the professor found herself drowning in the bittersweet echoes of their shared history. Julian seized the moment to exit the palace, but before he could vanish, a desperate voice called out from the distance. He turned to see Renee sprinting after him. Gasping for air, she complained about his rapid pace, fearing she had missed her chance to hand over something crucial. Still catching her breath, her expression turned serious. "Tell me the truth. You only attended this wedding to confront father, didn't you?" Without waiting for an answer, Renea produced a small jewelry box, insisting he take it as a keepsake from their late mother. She knew well the wars he had fought with their father over this very legacy. Julian accepted it. A question lingering in his mind was his presence. The reason the patriarch refused to show Seiu was struck by the revelation that Julian's mother had passed long ago. Renea confessed she had smuggled the item out of the vault. She reasoned that their father would remain ignorant and letting such a treasure gather dust in a store room was a crime. With trembling hands, the young man lifted the lid. A blindingly brilliant spirit stone rested within. Julian's senses flared. It had been magically purified. The vile demonic energy was completely gone. Sei Wu, for his part, realized just how little he understood the history of the body he now possessed. A wave of genuine affection washed over Julian as he thanked his sister. Renea beamed certain that returning the heirloom to him was the only righteous path. It is the first time I have witnessed such a joyful expression on your face. She teased with a laugh. Laughter bubbled up between them, a rare moment of warmth for siblings who were usually distant. Reneea bid him farewell, extracting a promise that he would return soon. With a final nod, the protagonist turned his back on the palace. Siu was still reeling from the shock. The elusive family spirit stone had been his mother's inheritance all along. The hero swallowed hard, a lump forming in his throat. Overwhelmed by this foreign emotion, a single tear traced a path down his cheek. It seemed the cold warrior still possessed a heart. As the carriage thundered through the woods, our protagonist remained stunned, that someone as icy as Julian could feel such depth. Perhaps there were fragments of humanity left within this vessel. A chuckle escaped his lips. Despite the chaos and the failed meeting, fate had smiled upon him. He had secured the prize he sought. Who could have predicted the spirit stone would fall into his lap this way? Siwu pondered his next move with such a god tier artifact. Handing it over to Aurora or the Imperial family felt like a foolish waste of potential. Then a memory sparked, a forgotten skill buried deep within this character's arsenal. The demon king's vessel. It was the terrifying ability to absorb relics containing the ancient creatures remnants and convert them into raw power. In other words, our warrior could devour the spirit stone himself. He laughed at the absurdity. What if he was destined to become the demon king himself? Yet maintaining the charade of being Julian was a burden he detested. The hero's journey continued in silence through the dense forest. He snapped the ornate box shut. Even he felt a flicker of fear carrying such a volatile item. Mastering a ceiling enchantment would be his next priority. After enduring endless knot, schemes and battles, the young man finally returned to his sanctuary. The mansion stood silent and untouched. He collapsed onto the sofa, but peace was short-lived. A sudden chill shot down his spine, forcing him to his feet. He sensed it immediately. The ambient monoflow had been violently disturbed. The swordsman scanned the room for the source, his instincts screaming danger. But he quickly checked his own aura. If he wasn't careful, the intruder would detect his power level. Relieved to sense no immediate killing intent, our warrior tracked the strange magical signature. pushing open a door, he found a girl with sapphire hair and amethyst eyes casually sipping tea. "Well, well, Julian," she purred, placing her cup on the saucer. Eileen let out a soft laugh, chiding him for his tardiness. She claimed she had grown weary of waiting, so she had simply helped herself. "Some tea?" After all, a guest deserves the finest hospitality, do they not?" the mage asked with a smile that didn't reach her eyes. All our protagonist could think was how on earth the woman had breached his defenses. He was certain of one thing. She had used a charm spell to enslave his staff. Bishop Alanar. To what do I owe the immense pleasure of this intrusion? He asked, sinking into his chair. The woman merely smiled, claiming it was a casual meeting between colleagues. But Julian struggled to mask the fury bubbling beneath his calm facade. "I am here for a reason. There is a loose end that requires tying," she declared. Setting down her porcelain cup, she brought up the recent incident at the village, the very place where he had slaughtered a demon. Julian nodded slowly. It was a humanoid demon, was it not? The bishop pressed her eyes, locking onto his. In that split second, the warrior realized her true intent. She was probing to see exactly how deep his knowledge of human demonization went. "Precisely, Elellanar," the young man replied, figning nonchalants. "One moment, a man stood there. The next he twisted into a monster. However, Julian quickly noted that these horned beasts were vastly different from the true terrors he had faced before. Caught off guard, the mage leaned in, asking him to clarify. His voice steady, he explained that the creature resembled nothing more than a crude, amateur-ish replica of a true demon. The bishop narrowed her eyes, questioning the depth of his insight, but our cunning hero simply shrugged, admitting his ignorance. With a graceful bow, she signaled the end of the interrogation. The protagonist offered a sarcastic smile, asking if her suspicions had been quelled. She confessed they had and that the lethal test she had prepared was no longer necessary. "It seems you understand enough about the workings of the Aurora Society," the bishop whispered, turning her back to him. "So, you know exactly what must be done. Let us not shed blood needlessly." And with that chilling warning, the dangerous woman vanished from our hero's palace. The moment she was gone, Julian collapsed, the adrenaline draining from his body. He realized he stood at a crossroads, swear loyalty to Aurora or be hunted by them. "The hero knew one thing for certain. His home was a sanctuary no more. He had to act." "Are you certain you wish to leave this burden with me?" Heron asked, his voice trembling. He had assumed, "Julian had returned to exact vengeance on Joshua for his transgressions. Yet our protagonist simply laughed, dismissing the past conflicts as trivial dust. Curiosity taking over the young man asked what lay within the box. But when the truth was revealed, he screamed, terror, seizing his heart at the mention of their mother's inheritance. "Have you lost your mind?" he shouted, retreating. "You would leave." Lady Melena's sacred momento with the likes of me. But Julian knew better. His brother would never use the stone for evil. The nobleman was the only soul pure enough to entrust with such a treasure. Heron clutched the box, paralyzed by the sheer weight of the colossa. Responsibility thrust upon him. "For now it is safer in your hands than mine," the protagonist declared. his brother stood frozen like a statue, unable to fathom how Julian could trust him with their mother's legacy. To him, this was more than an object. It was her soul. Heron became convinced that for Julian to take such a drastic step, the warrior must be preparing to sacrifice himself for the empire. Julian stared at him blankly, utterly confused as his brother muttered dramatic nonsense to himself. Days later, Joshua's arm still throbbed with agony. It was a humiliating reminder of the wedding where his own brother had nearly snapped it in two. A maid approached timidly to change his bandages, but Joshua roared at her to move faster. Rage consumed him. He could not believe the audacity of a mere secondary son. Despite being a bastard, Julian possessed the silver hair of the main Cryot bloodline. And Joshua could not stomach his brother's arrogance. When they had clashed, Joshua hadn't even seen the strike coming. He hadn't just been defeated. He had lost the war before he even drew his sword. Suddenly, a cold drop of water splashed onto the man nobleman's face. The maid stammered an apology, her body shaking like a leaf in a storm. Paralyzed by terror, she couldn't even reach up to wipe. Bring it away. She bowed head to the floor, begging for mercy. The young tyrant rose, raising his hand to strike her down, but his blow was halted by a deep voice. I came the moment you called, announced Alphas, the boy's personal guard and vice captain of the Order of the Blue Lion. Joshua sneered, signaling the girl to vanish before his mood darkened further. He thrust his injured arm toward the soldier, screaming at the guard for allowing a member of the main family to be humiliated. The man tried to explain he was bound by the patriarch's command, but the boy cut him off with a guttural shriek. "Your only duty is to protect the main cry at bloodline," his master bellowed. "Alphas offered a quiet apology." As the nobleman screamed that a failure like him would never find employment again, Joshua turned his back, scoffing that even if Alphas had been present, he would have been too cowardly to intervene. stooping down the young man, snatched the wet towel from his arm and hurled it into the guard's face. Panting with exertion, the boy told the man to silence himself, spitting that apologies from a worm were worthless. Calmly, the soldier wiped his face and addressed the boy. His personal warrior asked a single dangerous question. Did the noble crave vengeance against Julian, desperate for power? Joshua asked, "How?" Alphas replied that a path existed as long as he was willing to embrace the darkness to walk it. The guard explained that even the mightiest soldiers could not enter. To clash head-on against the monstrous mana reserves of his brother, Julian's mastery of the aura blade was the holy grail for every warrior. The boy grew impatient, demanding the bottom line. The soldier grinned. If a warrior cannot wield that overwhelming advantage. He is nothing but prey. With trembling care, the soldier unveiled a relic from his armor. A fractured spirit stone. This artifact does not block the demonic corruption, he warned. It allows the darkness to flow. The moment the cursed object touched the boy's hand, Joshua staggered. The pressure was suffocating. Alphas revealed the grim truth. This device severs the flow of mana within a human body. Angrily, the boy spat back. Then, I cannot use my own mana to kill him either. The soldier approached with a chilling laugh, his presence looming. You won't need magic to claim victory. Not if you use this. He extended a jagged demon's horn toward the young noble. A weapon made for slaughter. Meanwhile, deep within his sanctuary, Julian tended to his orchids with the grace of a saint. For Seahoo, this simple peace was the ultimate healing for his weary soul. But tranquility is fragile. Lazarth crashed in like a storm. Master. The Aurora faction is plotting an ambush. The warrior laughed, but it was the hollow laugh of despair. His precious moment of zen ruined. Asterisk. Snap. Asterisk. In his shock, he crushed a priceless stem. He swallowed his rising fury inside. "Please drop the act and speak normally," he scoffed at the threat. "An ambush! Let them try! It certainly isn't the bishops behind it." His spy urged caution, but the noble's eyes danced with amusement. "Why spoil the surprise? Let us see what rats come out of the woodwork." The young subordinate stared utterly baffled by this reckless confidence. "Was his master insane?" Julian took a deep breath. He barely restrained the urge to defenestrate the intruder for ruining his mood. With an eerie calmness, he turned. Tell me, do you appreciate the art of botany? Lazarth blinked, confused by the sudden lecture. Our protagonist plucked the damaged flower. He chuckled, exposing a dark truth. Look closely. Even beautiful things can have rotten roots. Luckily, the rot hasn't spread deep. The warrior mused. The young man struggled to grasp the hidden meaning behind the metaphor. Seizing the silence, the agent pivoted. Sir, your duties as an academy instructor await, and the cabinet is hosting a grand banquet soon, the mention of Hayden attending the party. It made Julian's eyes shine with a predator's gleam. But then a twist. I desire simplicity today, the young master declared. I will skip the banquet and attend the academy. Lazarth stood frozen, thunderruck by the decision. Was this a ploy? Will the protagonist use the cabinet's distraction to blindside the Aurora faction? His mind raced with worry by placing himself at the gymnasium right in the jaws of the ambush. He turns the hunters into the hunted. The agent trembled with realization. Unknowingly, Julian had revealed the mind of a tactical god. Flustered, the old man smiled, sweat pouring down his face like rain. Julian's smile, however, was a blade of pure confidence, serene, untouchable. Wiping his brow, the official stammered. I I did not expect the swordmaster to grace us in person. With the victory anniversary looming, everyone assumed the young lord would be too busy for mere students. A suffocating purple aura began to leak from the old man. He fumbled through his script. The students, they must be starving for your wisdom. A special lecture delivered by the legendary Julian himself. Did you not know? The man asked fear in his voice. The young master closed his eyes, centering his spirit. I knew and I'm ready. But internally, see who was screaming with excitement. He never dreamed he'd actually get to teach a class. Moments later, in the grand first auditorium of V Academy, a short-haired girl whispered to Reena. The lecturer is late. Reena sighed in relief. Thank the gods. I almost missed roll call. She was drained. Her training had pushed her body to the breaking point. She prayed this lecture would be her chance to nap. You look like a corpse, her friend teased. Reena groaned. I'm just glad it's a lecture. All I have to do is sit there and breathe. They gossiped about the guest list. Usually, it's those high and mighty shut eyes members. Today must be different. Probably some boring commoner scholar. Suddenly, a voice boomed from the podium. The guest lecturer has arrived. The air in the room shifted instantly. Faces went pale. Reena's friend gasped, her voice shrill. No way. It's one of the shut eyes. Still fighting off sleep, Reena squinted at the stage. Her vision cleared and her heart stopped. Standing there radiating dominance. It was none other than Julian. The young master bowed with elegant precision. It is an honor to stand before you today. Recognition hit Reena like a physical blow. Her eyes widened, staring as if death itself had walked into the room. Sensing the terror rippling through the hall, the protagonist smiled warmly. "Please, there is no need to be so nervous." He announces with casual indifference that he is merely here as a guest examiner for the upcoming practical test and that the lesson he is about to impart is nothing extraordinary. A wave of confusion washes over the students at his lackluster introduction. To start, Julian poses a simple yet profound question demanding to know the burning reason why they have dedicated their lives to the way of the sword. Silence falls as not a single soul dares to offer an answer. Julian had hoped this would shatter the icy atmosphere, but seeing their hesitation, he decides to point his blade of inquiry directly at Miss Renee. The young noble woman is caught off guard by such an abrupt interrogation. She barely catches herself in time nearly, snapping back with the venomous disrespect she usually reserves for Julian. Although he is a man she despises to her core today, he stands as a pard distinguished guest lecturer and protocol demands she show proper etiquette. With a sharp wit, the girl deflects, turning the question back on him, demanding to know what drives his own blade. Julian replies without a shred of hesitation that he seeks only fame and absolute status. The raw honesty shocks Renee, who had expected a generic speech about eternal loyalty to the Imperial family, or perhaps a facade of patriotism. With the spotlight returned to her, the girl declares her goal is to temper her mind and body to reach her ideals. Though in the shadows of her heart, she is driven solely by a thirst for blood and revenge. The lecturer nods, praising her resolve, and reveals that the purpose of his question went far deeper than mere pleasantries. He continues his voice, taking on a serious weight, stating that no matter how many secrets of swordsmanship, he reveals it pales in comparison to the harsh lessons life has already etched into their souls. Furthermore, it would be impossible to ascend to a higher realm of strength in such a fleeting moment. Therefore, he decides to discard the talk of steel blades and instead speak of the ethereal power of auras. Renee keeps her expression colder than ice. But deep inside, she admits that receiving guidance on such a profound art from Julian is an opportunity she cannot ignore. Every human possesses spiritual veins channeling energy to enchant their bodies or their weapons. This aura is the ultimate measuring stick of the power gap between two warriors. With a knowing smile, the lecturer challenges the class to gaze upon him and identify the color of his aura right now. Suddenly, the pieces of the puzzle click into place for Renee. She finally grasps what Julian meant about perceiving the difference in power between adversaries. The students begin to murmur that his aura is a dull gray, but cutting through the noise, a single voice declares that it is shining silver. The female voice repeats the color with absolute conviction and unveils a shocking truth. The aura possesses a second hue, a brilliant light cobalt. The swordsman is manipulating two distinct aura colors simultaneously. The silver aura wraps around the teen scabbard. While the cobalt energy is dangerously concentrated in his palm, the depth of your ability to perceive an aura is directly equivalent to your ability to gauge the deadly gap between yourself and a foe. The girl had trained until her bones achd to close the distance between their levels. But escalating the tension, Julian reveals there is still one more color hidden from their sight. This revelation strikes Renee like a physical blow, leaving her utterly speechless. The lecturer concludes grimly that not a single student possess the eyes to see the third color. If your opponent stands before you, and you cannot fathom their true aura, the gap in power is as wide as the heavens and the earth. In other words, it is a certainty that you will be crushed effortlessly. biting her nail in frustration, Renee realizes her own arrogance has blinded her, and she still has an endless road to travel. The moment the lecture concludes, Julian is showered with applause for his profound insight. The students seem genuinely captivated, their respect earned despite him being an outsider. With a nervous sweat, the headmaster approaches, admitting he had harbored doubts about Julian's ability to command the room. The protagonist smirks, noting he isn't surprised, as no one expected a man of his reputation to deliver such wisdom. Since the event was a triumph, the headmaster confirms that the fate of the practical exams now rests in Julian's hands. After the headmaster departs, Julian decides his role here is finished and prepares to leave. But as he pauses, a sense of dja vu strikes him. He has seen this very hallway within the game world before. Fragmented memories begin to deja flicker through his mind like a broken reel. Words like black knight, forgotten hero, and the fallen star Hayden Rich burst into his consciousness. Straining against the headache, Julian attempts to decode the meaning of the black knight and recalls the tragic scene from the games trailer where the holy swordsman faces a brutal assassination. The boy swears a silent oath that such a tragedy will never come to pass as long as he holds the reigns of destiny. Meanwhile, at Julian's estate, an impatient finger taps rhythmically against the sofa. It is Joshua lying in wait. As time ticks by, he scrutinizes the room's decor, his eyes lingering on the grotesque and bizarre sculptures. The young man abandons any attempt to understand Julian's twisted artistic taste. Nor can he fathom why the room is choked with so much botanical life. Suddenly, a servant approaches, trembling as he informs the young master that the suppression barrier has been installed as commanded. This barrier is designed to sever the flow of mana completely and awaits only Joshua's signal to activate. Noticing the servant shaking like a leaf, Joshua sneers, asking if he actually fears Julian, a notion he finds laughable. Lying in ambush within the house are two knights who have slain dualhorned demons, six elites from the Kryart private army, a high circle mage, and a monoseling barrier. It is a force mighty enough to crush an army, let alone a single person. Sweating profusely the boy, the knight trembled as he explained that their target was no mere mortal. To him, facing Julian felt like walking into a dragon's maw. Even with their preparations, it wouldn't be enough. Joshua scoffed at the fear, but the boy insisted the mansion's energy was wrong. An ominous silence hung over the estate. It was too quiet. He suspected Julian had predicted their arrival and laid a trap. The silver-haired noble rose from the sofa, eyes burning with contempt. With a vicious backhand, he struck the fearful youth across the face. "You pathetic fool!" Joshua roared his face, twisted in rage, he demanded to know if the boy had the spine to serve the Cryard family. Shaking like a leaf, the young knight stammered a broken apology. But Joshua's gaze remained cold and unforgiving. "You don't need to fight him," Joshua spat. "Your only job is to activate the barrier when I give the command." Disgusted by his subordinates weakness, he reminded him once the barrier was up, Julian's terrifying aura would be sealed. A malicious grin spread across Joshua's face. Possessing the power of the ancient horn, he was certain Julian would crumble before him. Suddenly, two soldiers burst in with urgent news. Intruders had breached the perimeter. Joshua immediately ordered battle stations. Meanwhile, in the shadows outside, hooded figures emerged from the bushes like phantoms. One whispered that their prey must be sleeping. William Highlands, a high-ranking member of the Dawn Society, clenched his fist. He could barely contain his thirst for the protagonist's blood. But behind him, the other members muttered in resentment. William had skyrocketed to the rank of bishop too quickly, ignoring their ancient laws. Every member of the Dawn Society gathered there shared one common desire, a burning hatred for Julian. Tonight would be his end. For William, this was personal. He was here to wash away the shame of the Highlands family with Julian's life. One of the acolytes noticed William's hands trembling and asked if fear had taken hold. The man quickly composed himself, admitting his excitement had momentarily overcome him. He drew his wand, eyes narrowing. Commanding the squad to prepare for infiltration, he began to weave a complex spell right before their eyes. A massive barrier expanded, enveloping them in a shroud of silence. Now Julian would neither hear nor sense their murderous intent. The mansion was deserted. The staff had fled before sunset. The empty corridors echoed with an eerie stillness as they advanced. William ignited his wand to pierce the darkness, but abruptly the atmosphere shifted. "Something was terribly wrong." "What is happening?" a member whispered. The mana flow in the area was chaotic, as if the very environment had been twisted by a god. Simultaneously, Joshua's knight shouted a warning. Julian wasn't alone. Multiple highle signatures were breaching the mansion. These were no simple servants. They were elite mages with overwhelming power. Joshua's expression darkened. He was convinced Julian had discovered his scheme. Across the hall, William came to the exact same conclusion. His magic sputtered and failed against the suppression field. Both invaders realized the terrifying truth at the same instant. They had walked straight into a trap set by the devil himself. "What do we do?" cried one of Joshua's terrified knights. But the young master only felt his ego bruise. He needed to teach this coward a lesson in humility. With an arrogant smirk, Joshua declared he didn't care about traps. Fate had already decided Julian would die tonight. Even with the ambush, the barrier would drain their target. The only change was that his knights would have to slaughter Julian's lackey first. His men gripped their sword hilts until their knuckles turned white, stealing themselves for the coming storm. Joshua took the vanguard, eager for bloodshed. With a violent kick, he threw the double doors open. The two groups locked eyes. Despite sensing the enemy's strength, Joshua didn't hesitate to unleash his verbal venom. "You fools!" he shouted. "Imagine throwing your lives away for a piece of scum like Julian." William retorted instantly, his voice dripping with disdain. I could say the same for you. "Have you no shame, boy?" A knight warned Joshua. Sir, that mage is casting spells inside the suppression field. He must be at least third circle. He is still just a fragile caster, Joshua scoffed. With a battlecry, he charged and steel clashed against magic in a spark of violence. As the chaotic melee unfolded, Joshua noticed something unsettling. Where was Julian? Suddenly, a blood curdling scream pierced the air. Azure lightning tore through the sky outside, illuminating the night. Joshua leaned out the window, his eyes widening in shock. A man lay charred and defeated on the scorched earth. Even inside the barrier, someone had unleashed devastating power. That useless coward Joshua thought furious. Someone was displaying god-like strength while his own men were fumbling. William gripped his wand, sweat beating on his forehead. The barrier was making every spell feel like lifting a mountain. Joshua analyzed the enemy mage. Even on the brink of collapse, the man fought with the ferocity of a demon. He considered using his secret weapon, but hesitated. That trump card was reserved for Julian, not these small fry. The silver-haired boy scanned for a weakness. Spotting a momentary gap, he grabbed a heavy plant pot and hurled it as a dirty distraction. Diversion tactic, the heavy pot cuts through the air, leaving William paralyzed by the sudden assault. But before the projectile can make contact, Joshua closes the distance in a flash of steel. The desperate mage attempts to channel a defensive spell, but his casting speed is woefully insufficient. With a smirk of superiority, the swordsman snatches the wand, disarming his prey in a single motion. Seizing the initiative, he delivers a devastating kick to William's chest. The impact sends the mage flying, slamming his spine against the cold stone wall. Now the helpless spellcaster finds himself staring down the cold edge of a blade. Joshua sneers, mocking that even third rate mages are powerless within the suppression barrier. Eyes burning with contempt, he demands to know how a piece of trash like William dared to stand in his path, accusing him of being a hired dog for Julian. He throws out a guess at the bribe amount, leaving the battered mage utterly bewildered. But patience is not Joshua's virtue. He hurls his opponent into the dirt with renewed brutality. Scrambling for survival, the mage clutches at Joshua's boot, screaming that Julian isn't his master. Joshua scoffs at the lie, but the desperate man swears on his life, revealing that he too came here to assassinate the protagonist. This revelation strikes Joshua like a thunderbolt, leaving him momentarily frozen as he processes the irony. However, his cold nature quickly returns. Ally or not, the man was an obstacle, and for that he must perish. Cold sweat drenches William's back as he realizes his fate is sealed. The sharp tip of Joshua's sword hovers mere inches from his heart. But just as the reaper prepares to swing his sythe, a chilling presence interrupts the execution. This chaotic knight has yet another surprise guest. When Joshua lifts his gaze, shock paralyzes his very soul. It is Julian drifting closer like a ghost. His arrival completely undetected by their senses. Instinctive fear forces Joshua to retreat, shifting into a defensive stance. Meanwhile, the the protagonist ignores the threat entirely, crouching down to inspect the shattered remains of the clay pot on the floor. Joshua's knuckles turn white around his sword hilt. He tries to suppress his trembling, placing all his faith in the anti-magic barrier to neutralize Julian's power. Julian runs his fingers through the spilled soil, his voice trembling as he whispers that this loss cuts him deeper than any blade. The silver-haired intruder watches in disbelief. The suppression barrier is functioning perfectly, yet Julian's aura is rising like a suffocating tide. The protagonist slowly stands, declaring that for this crime, death is too kind a punishment. Let us rewind the clock. A short while ago, Julian had returned to his estate. The air hung heavy with a disturbing pressure. To the naked eye, it seemed peaceful, but his mana sensitivity picked up chaotic fluctuations. One thought immediately surfaced the ambush Lazareth had warned him about. It was logical. The fox-eyed villain had made countless enemies, and it was only a matter of time before vigilantes sought their own justice. But they had miscalculated. Julian was no longer the useless trash of the past. He had tempered his body and mastered the lethal arts of the moonlight sword. Returning to the present, the the protagonist strolls through the carnage of his mansion. Bodies litter the hallways, painting a clear picture of the violent struggle that occurred in his absence. Suddenly, his gaze locks onto a tragedy that makes his blood run cold. A destroyed masterpiece on the floor. The invaders had smashed everything in sight. The original Julian would have exploded in a tantrum, but our protagonist is made of sterner stuff. Material possessions hold no sway over his heart. However, that indifference vanishes the moment he recognizes the shattered pottery. It was his favorite plant, his silent partner, loyal companion. Seeing the ruins of Angelica sends a shock wave of pure grief through his system. He kneels before the tragic scene. Angelica was the first life he had nurtured and named in this new world. As he grinds his teeth, a first dark primal rage begins to boil within his dantion. He decides with absolute conviction that he will avenge his fallen comrade. In honor of Angelica's memory, the moonlight sword shall drink the blood of every intruder tonight. For a brief second, clarity returns. He realizes that unleashing a massacre over a house plant is eccentric. There was a possibility that the remnant fragments of Julian's soul were corrupting his logic. He attempts to suppress his killing intent, refusing to let trivial emotions dictate his actions. But then, memories of nurturing Angelica's soil flood his consciousness. The daily rituals, the careful watering, moving her to catch the perfect ray of sunlight, wiping dust from her delicate leaves and feeding her premium nutrients. She was his pride, his Angelica. The realization that these savages dared to hurt her ignites a fury that transcends reason. These insects do not deserve the mercy of a quick death. With a voice dripping in sarcastic venom, Julian asks what their next move is now that their cowardly assassination plot has crumbled into dust. Closing his eyes, he runs a quick tactical simulation, dealing with Joshua is child's play, but the mage represents an unknown variable. Julian is blind to the man's specific magical affinity. If the two enemies coordinate their attacks, the battle could become troublesome. He decides to employ psychological warfare. The protagonist scoffs, declaring with supreme arrogance that even if they attack together, they are nothing before his might. He knew well that enemies who dared to bear their fangs at him would never be forgiven. Yet in his twisted mercy, he decided to grant them a fleeting chance at salvation. They would fight to the death. The invaders froze, unable to comprehend, as Julian declared that only the sole survivor would walk away with their life. Joshua's blood ran cold, realizing this sadistic tyrant was merely seeking entertainment at the cost of their lives. Even though these intruders had breached his domain, to Julian, they were nothing more than insignificant ants. Joshua calculated his odds if he eliminated the mage and used the artifact. He might just survive this nightmare. But beside him, William trembled violently, terror consuming his sanity. Suddenly, the mage lashed out, aiming a surprise attack straight at Joshua. The swordsman shouted desperately, pleading for an alliance against the true monster before them. But fear had already rotted William's mind. He saw only betrayal. Driven by a primal will to live, the mage unleashed his magic. Deaf to the warning that they were dancing in Julian's palm. Mana gathered for a lethal spell, but Joshua reacted on instinct, he dashed through the corridor, dodging the blast and launching into a lethal counteroffensive. His blade sang through the air and buried itself deep within William's chest. The impact was devastating. The mage collapsed, his life force draining rapidly away. Joshua gasped for air, staring down at his defeated comrade. But the victory was hollow, for the true trial had just begun. Now he stood alone against Julian, the smiling executioner who crushed all defiance without mercy. A cold sweat mixed with blood, trickled down his face as the crushing reality of death loomed over him. Standing before this monster was like staring into the abyss, like placing his neck beneath a falling guillotine. Knuckles white on his hilt, the boy's mind raced for a sliver of hope. How could he possibly survive? Then memory sparked the horn bestowed by Alpha's legend whispered of its dark potential to grant the wielder the overwhelming power of a demon. With that forbidden strength, he might stand a chance against Julian. But as his hand sought the artifact, he grasped only emptiness. A hole in his pocket, panic seized him, his eyes darting wildly until he saw William, the dying mage, crawled through the dirt, clutching the horn like a lifeline. He muttered deliriously about survival, that he would trade his very soul just to draw another breath. begging the Archbishop for absolution in his final moments. William swallowed the artifact instantaneously. Mana surged, twisting his flesh as a grotesque horn erupted from his forehead. Joshua stood paralyzed, witnessing the unholy metamorphosis. Meanwhile, Julian's mind drifted to alphas, silently cursing the schemer. The knight promised the power of a demon, not that one would become a monster. With supreme arrogance, arms crossed, Julian casually inquired about the artifact's origin. Trembling, Joshua confessed it was a gift from the knight known as Alphas. Julian's eyes narrowed. One of the leaders of the Dawn Society, a faction sworn to destroy him. Luckily, this artifact rire of impurity. It wasn't a true ascension, but a crude imitation similar to the lesser demons he had slaughtered in the slums. It matched the side effects Ellaner described a corrupted transformation, yielding power far inferior to true darkness. As Julian analyzed the threat the creature that was once William unleashed a blood curdling screech, Joshua shielded his face, terror gripping his heart. Desperate, the spiky-haired boy turned to his only hope and begged for salvation. He implored the protagonist to slay the beast, claiming it was Julian's responsibility to protect the weak. The demonic abomination ignored the plea and locked onto Joshua. Digging its monstrous claws into the floor, it launched itself forward with explosive speed, a mindless beast driven by rage, it swung its razor-sharp talons. Intending to shred the young man to pieces. Julian watched dispassionately, noting that without intervention, Joshua was a dead man. Abandoning all dignity, the swordsman cried out. Brother tears streamed down his face as he begged his big bro to save him. This shameless shift in attitude actually caught Julian offg guard. Meanwhile, the demon closed the distance. But then a twist, the beast surged past the trembling boy. Julian realized the monster's target had shifted, drawn like a moth to a flame by Julian's overwhelming killing intent. Indeed, the protagonist's instincts were screaming to send this hell spawn back to the abyss. It was almost ironic Julian loathed demons more than anything. Yet, the world constantly forced their power upon him. As the creature lunged, Julian gripped his blade. A mocking smirk played on his lips. He wasn't afraid. To a king like him, this rampaging monster was nothing more than a bug crawling toward its death. In a flash, before the attack could connect, William shrieked in agony and collapsed face first into the concrete. Julian's blade had already severed through muscle and bone. Cold eyes watched the creature writhe in pathetic agony. But something caught his eye, regeneration. It seemed the human desire for survival had manifested in the demonic form, amplifying the mage's desperation into a rapid healing factor. Witnessing the unholy resilience, Joshua stammered, wondering how anyone could possibly slay a beast that refused to die. Monster before him. A twisted grin curled on Julian's lips. The thrill of the hunt was beginning to intoxicate him. To think a human, once blessed with divine skills and complex spells, had devolved into a mindless beast reliant solely on brute regeneration. Stroking his chin, the protagonist found the irony delicious. It was a tragic comedy, and he was the lead actor. Thanks to his ranks perception, the world slowed down. It didn't matter how fast the beast healed. He simply needed to shatter the source of its power. His hunter's gaze locked onto the creature's vital point, and a crimson target marker flared on the demon's forehead. He saw it instantly, the core. It pulsed there as if William's trapped soul was screaming for release. But the fallen mage refused to yield. Bones cracked and flesh knitted together as the monster prepared for round two. Julian watched the wounds vanish, his eyes gleaming. The beast was evolving, reacting to his every breath. Collie Julian asked if the monster was ready for the encore. The demon answered with a chaotic roar that shook the walls. Excited, the protagonist beckoned. The beast to bring its absolute best. In response, the moonlight sword erupted with celestial brilliance. Fearless, the abomination that was once William launched itself forward like a runaway train. As the behemoth closed the distance, the duh protagonist blurred into motion. A flash of silver cut the air, a horizontal slash that connected with devastating precision, obliterating the monster's left arm instantly. Black blood sprayed across the room, some of it speckling. The protagonist's cheek, but he barely blinked. Disgusting, but necessary. The demon, fueled by rage, didn't even flinch, forcing Julian to parry the follow-up strike with the flat of his blade. His voice dropped to absolute zero as he questioned the creature's audacity to strike at him the apex predator. Suddenly, with a vertical flick of his wrist, the swordsman shifted the momentum entirely. The blade sang a song of death, and the monster's remaining arm was severed from its torso, drenching Julian in another shower of gore. Unfazed, he shifted into his finishing stance, his eyes locking onto exposed core within the beast's skull. Seeing the fatal opening, the boy launched himself into the air, using the boy, the bode, enemy's chest as a stepping stone. He drew his arm back, a reaper's smile stretching across his face, ready to drop the curtain on this tragedy. With a single thunderous thrust, the protagonist's blade pierced the core, shattering it like fragile glass. The towering body went limp, crashing backward as Julian gracefully back flipped off the corpse. The red glow in its eyes faded into nothingness. The regeneration had failed. William's twisted visage was finally at rest, skewered by the holy blade. The silence returned as the demon hit the floor with a heavy thud. The protagonist surveyed his kill, casually wiping the blood from his immaculate suit. He yanked the sword from the skull with a sickening squaltch, seemingly proud of his triumph, and shouted at the top of his lungs, declaring his name to the heavens, "Julian the demon hunter." Internally, however, he was cringing at having to act so dramatic. Meanwhile, the sole witness stood frozen in terror. Joshua's jaw was on the floor, his body unable to stop, shaking like a leaf. The victorious swordsman strode down the hall, radiating an overwhelming aura and approached the trembling Scion Creart, who had collapsed to his knees. Touching his chin thoughtfully, Julian noted the sheer horror in the boy's eyes. The kid deserved punishment for trespassing, sure, but this young master was a key figure in the powerful Kryheart family. He was a chest piece too valuable to discard. Julian lowered himself to eye level, gripping the boy's shoulder with an iron clutch. In a voice dripping with menace, he congratulated him for managing to stay, breathing in the presence of death. As his intimidating aura flooded the room, the scene shifted. Later, our protagonist sat pondering the replica of the demon horn. He never expected to find a chaotic artifact here after discovering the first one in the Fergeller slums. According to the original timeline, these replicas shouldn't have caused chaos until the Dawn society had fully corrupted the empire. Tapping the cursed stone against the table, the boy realized the butterfly effect was moving far too fast. This event was supposed to be triggered only after Reena's graduation. The timeline was accelerating because the artisan behind these replicas shared a blood debt with the target of her vengeance. As the gears turned in his mind, Julian deduced the mastermind behind the horns could only be the black knight. This mysterious figure who conceals his identity behind a mask of darkness wages a solitary war against the dawn society with god-like power. The true identity of this vigilante is none other than the holy swordsman Hayden Reich. But if the black knight had already awakened, why had the replicas surfaced so early without any rumors? The silence in the information network was deeply unsettling. Perhaps Pintel hadn't made his move yet. The Black Knight's legend only truly begins after he prevents Pintel from seizing the soul stones. As a warrior destined to stop the demon god's resurrection and dismantle the Dawn Society, this knight should technically be Julian's ally. Yet, the main character refused to blindly trust that the Black Knight had not yet descended content to observe the brewing catastrophe from the sidelines. The boy remained calm, bolstered by his absolute trust in Hayden. It wasn't just the story line. That man was the true protagonist of this world. But in any event, the boy had to zero in on the objective. The most vital task was to step up and set an impeccable example right