He took another quest with Reginleif to the Ruins
The ruins were dead quiet.
Not the peaceful kind of quiet — the kind that hums just before something decides to bite your face off.
"Yo, Reginleif," I muttered, tapping the hilt of my new sword. "You sure this is the right ruin? 'Cause I ain't seeing any treasure — just dust and regret."
Reginleif turned to me, brown hair tied up, cloak fluttering in the wind. "Quit whining. The quest said 'eliminate undead presence.' That means we clear out everything that moves. Simple."
"Simple, huh" I grumbled, stepping over a cracked tile. 'That's what people say before they die._
She smirked, drawing her dagger. "Then don't die."
Figures.
We pushed deeper into the ruins — cracked walls, mossy pillars, the smell of old stone.
And then the rattling started.
Clack. Clack. Clack.
I turned the corner — and three skeletons were already coming our way, bones creaking like bad jazz.
"Guess the welcoming committee's here," I said, raising my sword.
Reginleif didn't reply — she was already moving, wind swirling around her like a whisper. Her Mythic energy shimmered faintly green.
I grinned. _Alright, time to try mine out again."
I focused, like she'd taught me. Darkness isn't evil. It's control. Pressure. Focus.
The air bent around my hand, shadows crawling along my arm.
The first skeleton lunged.
I sidestepped and slammed my sword into its ribs — the impact burst it apart like dry twigs.
Another came swinging, but Reginleif was faster — she dashed past me, slicing clean through its neck, her movement sharp and precise.
One left.
She nodded.
I charged forward, feinting left. She darted right. The skeleton tried to block, but I grabbed its skull, crushing it against the wall with one hand. The bones scattered, clattering to the ground.
And just like that, silence again.
I exhaled. "Damn, this world's version of pest control is wild."
Reginleif chuckled softly. "You're getting better with Mythic."
sheathing my sword. "Still feels weird, though. Like the air's heavy when I use it."
"That's normal," she said. "Mythic flows differently for everyone. You'll get used to it."
We looted a few trinkets — rusted rings, broken gear, nothing much — and headed back toward town.
That night at the inn, I leaned back on the couch, stretching my legs while Reginleif cleaned her blade by the window.
"Hey, Reginleif," I said, swirling a mug of ale. "You ever heard of… dungeons?"
She glanced over. "Dungeons? You mean those ancient labyrinths that appear randomly across the land?"
"Read about it in a book earlier. Says they're full of monsters, treasures, and death. Sounds… familiar."
She tilted her head. "Familiar how?"
"Eh" I shrugged. "Just something I heard from… someone."
She didn't press, which was good.
Because my head had already drifted somewhere else.
Flashback — Tokyo, Late Night
The room smelled like cheap ramen and weed.
Kenji, the nerd from my Kendo club, sat cross-legged on the floor, eyes glued to his TV.
"Yo, Azazel," he said, pushing his glasses up. "Ever heard of isekai?"
I was half-asleep, munching on chips.
"Is-what?"
"You know, the thing where a guy dies and gets sent to another world? Magic, monsters, harems, all that."
I squinted. "Sounds dumb."
Kenji grinned. "You say that, but you'd totally be liking it"
"Man, please" I laughed. "If that ever happened, I'd probably punch the devil and steal his wallet."
He threw a manga at me. "Here. Read Rebirth of the Shadow Tyrant. Maybe you'll learn something."
I never really took him seriously — only read that stuff when I was high and bored.
But now?
Standing in a world full of monsters and myths, I couldn't help but laugh a little.
"Guess you were right, Kenji," I muttered under my breath. "You bastard."
"Azazel?" Reginleif called.
I blinked. "Huh?"
"You spaced out."
"Oh. Yeah. Just… thinking about an old friend."
She smiled faintly. "Must've been a good one."
"Yeah" leaning back in my chair.
Outside, the wind howled softly, carrying the smell of rain.
For once, everything felt… calm.
But deep down, I knew it wouldn't last.
Morning light spilled through the window of the inn room, cutting through the lazy air like a blade.
Azazel groaned, sitting up and rubbing his face. "Man… my back hurts. These beds feel like they stuffed 'em with rocks what am I back in juvenile detention.
Across the room, Reginleif was already up, tying her hair into a short ponytail. Her brown hair shimmered slightly in the sunlight. "That's because you're not used to proper rest, Azazel. You sleep like a bear that fought a wagon."
"What"
Azazel stretched, his muscles popping. "Yeah, well… I did fight 6 kobolds, and one bandit boss last week. Don't act like you're not impressed."
Reginleif rolled her eyes. 'Please. You nearly tripped over your own sword during that bandit fight."
Azazel smirked. "Still won, though.'
"Pure luck."
"who knows"
Their usual banter filled the room with light tension — the kind that somehow made the air between them feel alive.
After a quick breakfast, the two made their way to the Adventurer's Guild. Fortress Cong's streets buzzed with merchants and adventurers, their armor glinting beneath the sun. The smell of grilled meat and dust hung in the air, mixing into a strange perfume that screamed fantasy city life.
Inside the Guild, the receptionist — a fox-eared woman with tired eyes — greeted them with a forced smile. "Welcome back, Miss Reginleif. Mister Azazel. How may I help you today?"
Reginleif stepped forward. 'We're preparing for a dungeon expedition. We'll need potions, rations, and possibly a magic bag."
The receptionist raised a brow. 'A dungeon, hmm? You're either brave or stupid." She shuffled through her paperwork and handed them a parchment. "Here's the current list of essentials and prices."
Azazel leaned over the counter, scanning the numbers. "Damn. These potions cost more than my rent back in Tokyo."
"What Tokyo never mind that"
Reginleif crossed her arms. "Do you even pay rent?"
"Technically. Sometimes."
After purchasing a few health potions, mana draughts, and basic rations, Azazel pointed to a small, glowing pouch displayed behind the counter. "Hey, what's that?"
"That" said the receptionist, "is a Magic Bag. It allows you to store hundreds of items without adding weight. Perfect for dungeon runs."
Azazel's eyes lit up. "That's sick. We'll take one."
Reginleif frowned. 'How much?"
"One hundred gold."
Azazel froze. "…Bro No"
"One hundred. Gold."
He turned to Reginleif. "How much do we have?"
She flipped through their shared coin pouch. "Thirty-five gold, four silver, and some pocket lint."
"…Damn."
The receptionist chuckled. "You two might want to take on more quests before storming into a dungeon. Especially if you plan on coming back alive."
Azazel sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Guess we gotta grind side quests first, huh?"
Reginleif smirked. "adventurer's life."
Later that day…
The duo picked up two smaller quests: one to clear out a pack of forest wolves attacking trade routes, and another to escort a merchant wagon halfway to the neighboring village.
The first quest was messy — fur, teeth, and adrenaline.
Azazel, covered in dirt and blood, grinned as he leaned against a tree. "Yo, that's three wolves down. I'm starting to like this whole 'fantasy combat' thing."
Reginleif sighed as she cleaned her blade. "You enjoy violence too much."
He shrugged. "Where I'm from, it's kinda how you survive."
The escort quest went more smoothly — except for the merchant constantly bragging about his "rare imported spices" and trying to sell them every ten minutes.
By the time they got back to Fortress Cong, the sun was dipping below the horizon. Their pockets were a little heavier, though still far from enough for the magic bag.
That night, back at the inn…
Azazel sat cross-legged on the floor, eyes closed. The room was dim — the candlelight flickered, shadows crawling up the walls.
Reginleif sat on the bed, watching him curiously. "What are you doing?"
"Meditating."
She raised a brow. "You meditate? Why"
He inhaled deeply, trying to focus."I'm tryna connect with this Mythic thing. Ever since I used it in that kobold quest, I can feel something… like a pulse under my skin."
"Same thing," he muttered.
Azazel concentrated. Inside his mind, he saw a vast black void. A massive tree rose before him — twisted and magnificent, its roots sprawling like veins through the darkness. Each branch pulsed faintly with dark energy, whispering faint voices that were neither words nor sounds.
The Tree of Qliphoth, connected to his Darkness Mythic.
He reached out — and the air rippled. A faint shadow flickered behind him in the real world, stretching like smoke before vanishing.
Azazel opened his eyes, a faint glimmer of power swirling in his irises. "Okay… that's new."
Reginleif leaned forward. "Did it work?"
"Yeah. I think so."He smirked. "But I think the tree's similar to something I saw in a book"
Back in my world inner fort
She chuckled softly. "That makes two of you."
He shot her a grin. "Ha-ha. Funny."
Reginleif smiled, resting her chin on her hand. "Still, you're improving fast. Maybe you'll be strong enough to survive the dungeon."
Azazel stretched, cracking his knuckles. "That's the plan. Once we get that magic bag, we're heading straight in."
The candle flickered, their shadows dancing on the wall.
"Hey, Reginleif?* Azazel said after a pause.
"Yeah?"
"…Thanks. For having my back you know for being a thief"
She smiled faintly. "Don't die before I can collect on the reward, alright?"
He laughed quietly. "Deal."
As silence settled between them, Azazel closed his eyes again, diving once more into the darkness within — the Mythic's pulse syncing with his heartbeat.
Outside, the night in Fortress Cong stretched endlessly — slow, calm, and patient.
Time itself seemed to move differently here, slower than the world he once knew.
But for Azazel, that was fine.
Because for the first time in a long while…
He felt like he was exactly where he needed to be.