Evan summoned the Tide Halberd.
A weapon abandoned in the depths of a dungeon.
A tool he never cared to master.
A relic that had never tasted true battle.
Now, it felt heavier than a mountain.
He tightened his grip and stopped just before the collapsing void.
The world went mute.
Wind died mid-motion.
The trees no longer rustled.
Even the void seemed to hesitate.
His eyes sharpened.
His breath slowed.
The air turned still.
"Soul Core Release — Requiem Blade."
The halberd erupted in white ashen fire, not ordinary flame, but living soul-ash that crawled like a breathing creature.
A single, pulsing core bead formed at the weapon's heart.
And then it burst.
Fragments of the core were swallowed into the blade.
The weapon screamed.
A pressure unlike anything in this Expanse slammed down.
The ground beneath Evan's feet fractured across dozens of meters.
Cracks spider-webbed outward as his legs were driven into the earth.
His bones cried.
Muscles locked.
The blood vessels felt like they were being pulled apart, thread by thread.
But there was no time to care.
The chains were pulling his sword away.
He moved.
One step.
The world cracked.
He swung.
The halberd carved through space itself.
Thin rifts of torn reality opened along the edge of his strike.
His hands ruptured at the joints.
Skin split.
Ligaments strained to their breaking point.
But the blade met the first chain.
It snapped.
The second chain.
Severed.
The third.
Shattered.
The last chain stood before him, thicker than the rest.
A pillar of the Expanse's will.
The halberd struck.
Bit into it.
Stopped.
Reality howled.
Friction ignited the air.
The void pushed back.
Evan stepped forward.
Half his foot crossed into the open rupture of nothingness.
"JUSTBREAKFORMEEEEEEE!"
He forced his soul into the swing.
Blood sprayed.
Bones cracked.
And the final chain split.
The Crimson Edge fell.
Straight into the void.
And Evan could not move.
His fingers were torn open.
The halberd was seconds from shattering.
The flames peeled away.
His body was locked in place.
Paralyzed.
Useless.
He could only watch his sword fall.
"...Maybe… it wasn't meant to be mine."
He closed his eyes.
Then—
"You really are insane."
Arven manifested before him.
"So desperate… to defy the rules of a World… for a mere sword with an ego."
The chains of Veyr'Zhal erupted from Evan's existence.
They pierced the void itself.
Wrapped around the falling blade.
And dragged it back.
Evan felt the pull in his bones.
The void screamed as it tried to close.
Arven yanked him backwards.
He slammed into the ground.
The world lurched.
His talent activated automatically.
Healing surged through cracked bones and shredded muscle.
His talent, Supreme Adaptation, twisted his flesh, forcing it to recover faster than it should.
The blade landed in his hands.
Still burning.
Still alive.
It hissed against his skin, burning through flesh.
He didn't flinch.
He laughed.
"I got it back."
Burning metal pressed against his chest.
It hurt.
But he didn't care.
Arven's voice turned sharp.
"Don't celebrate yet."
Evan looked up.
The sky distorted.
Spectral chains descended again in silence.
This time, dozens.
The Expanse wasn't finished.
Evan raised the sword, ready even in his broken state.
And then—
Nothing happened.
No impact.
No crash.
No scream.
He lowered the blade slowly.
The chains hovered centimeters from his face.
Shaking.
Trembling.
Crushed.
By pressure.
He felt it.
It wasn't the air.
It wasn't the sword.
It was from within him.
The chains warped inward, bent, snapped apart under invisible strain.
"…Did you do this, Arven?"
Silence.
Then laughter.
Real laughter.
Not controlled.
Not fake.
Unrestrained madness.
"Hahahahaha!"
Arven floated above him, almost rolling in the air.
"Idiot… idiot… idiot…"
"Did you really think you were fighting a World's Rule alone without anyone's help?"
The chains shrivelled.
Collapsed.
Turned silent.
"No… this isn't just me if you think so. You're also one of the major factors in this."
Arven pointed at Evan's chest.
"You forgot what you are."
Evan's eyes widened.
"The Proof of Authority."
"The Proof of Ruler."
"You are the successor of the Abyss."
"A fragment like this pathetic Expanse can't devour its own master."
His laughter cracked through the ruined air.
"I let you struggle. I let you suffer."
"I wanted to know."
"Would you kneel?
Would you cry?
Would you promise to come back later like a coward?
Or…
Would you take what was yours by force?"
Evan clenched his fists.
"...You absolute monster."
"If you could do this… why let me suffer like that?"
Arven wiped imaginary tears of laughter.
"Because strength born through safety is worthless."
"Fear sharpens resolve."
"You needed to feel the World trying to take something from you."
Evan flexed his shaking fingers.
"...I almost lost my hands."
"That part surprised even me," Arven admitted, glancing at Evan's mangled palms.
"You used souls wrong this time; you were lucky otherwise your whole hand may have been turned into pieces."
"Before, you distributed the soul pressure through your body using both abilities as a medium.
This time, you concentrated it into a single conduit.
It nearly erased you."
"Soul is not power."
"It is a mystery."
"And mystery bites back."
"Even my master chased its truth and never fully grasped it, even on that peak.
And yet…
You're here, swinging it like a weapon."
Evan stared at his hands.
Still shaking.
Still numb.
"...At least they're still here."
He slipped the sword into his inventory without looking at it.
The land was ruined.
Void fractures lingered.
Bone forests cracked and warped.
The sky felt heavier.
And at the center—
Kael.
Still unconscious.
Still breathing.
Evan walked toward him slowly.
His legs dragged.
Nerves screamed.
And the world fell silent again.
"Hah… look at this idiot."
Evan looked down, staring at Kael's unconscious face.
"Still sleeping like he owns the world, after what just happened here."
"What if I just punch him straight into his face." He stepped forward to do so.
"Stop joking around," Arven muttered. "I can feel groups moving in. Multiple signatures. Armed."
Evan's Edge Sense flared.
Dozens of hostile presences crawled across his awareness.
"Yeah… I feel them."
He snapped his fingers.
Chains wrapped tighter around Kael.
The Great Eagle screeched and shot into the clouds.
Below, the battlefield faded into distance.
Minutes later, the sound of hooves shattered the silence.
A group of riders burst into the ruined forest.
At the front sat a man wrapped head to toe in blackened armor.
His name was Aldwin.
A man whose eyes burned with quiet madness.
"Halt."
The horses skidded to a stop.
"Scan this area," he commanded. "Check the mana residue. If Kael was here, I want to know."
Three mages stepped forward.
Their hands glowed.
Circles spread across the ground.
Runes flickered in the air.
Minutes passed.
A man ran back.
"Sir," he said, lowering his head. "Two signatures remain. One is definitely Kael. The second… unknown. But strong. Possibly a headhunter."
Aldwin's jaw tightened.
"So others are hunting him too."
His killing intent swelled.
"Good," he muttered. "That traitor won't escape forever."
The group moved on.
The hunt continued.
...
Miles away.
Above jagged peaks far from town.
Evan was still flying.
Kael dangled from the chains like discarded luggage.
Evan's body was healing.
But his mind was not.
His HP had recovered.
His bones had reformed. But something deeper felt… worn thin.
His limbs trembled.
The pain now lived inside memory.
He didn't understand.
Why go this far?
Why strain his body?
Why burn his soul?
And then… it surfaced.
A fragmented memory.
A broken oath.
A promise he once failed to keep.
Something his soul remembered even when he refused to.
That was why.
His soul wouldn't allow him to break another one.
"…Damn it."
He ordered the Great Eagle to descend.
A nameless mountain.
Silent.
Isolated.
Hidden from the world.
They landed.
Kael fell first, face-down toward the stone.
Evan reacted instantly, grabbing him before he smashed the ground.
He laid him gently.
He hesitated.
Then activated his talent.
The healing drained his mind more than his body.
But he didn't stop.
He watched Kael breathe.
Still alive.
Still warm.
"Sorry, kid," Evan muttered softly.
"You're alive, but the world won't be kind to you anymore."
He glanced at the sky.
"Your luck… yeah… that's mine now."
He opened the system.
And it answered.
Cold.
Silent.
Unfeeling.
[Through Host Relic, Host has devoured the Luck of the Destined One {Blue – Deep}.]
[Host has gained 439 Luck.]
[Luck: ? (Self) + 1,797 (Plundered) {+439↑}]
Evan frowned.
"…That's it?"
Arven chuckled.
"Sylen devoured a third of his fate. You shattered the rest by dragging him into this mess."
He paused.
"And be grateful. Without me, you'd only get scraps."
Evan exhaled.
"…Even dead, Sylen keeps haunting me."
But he didn't care.
Now came the real moment.
He turned toward his inventory.
He summoned the blade.
The one he nearly lost to the World itself.
"Come forth… Crimson Edge."
Silence.
Nothing happened.
He froze.
"…Crap."
He cleared his throat and manually pulled it out.
The moment it appeared—
The mountain shook.
The air screamed.
Mana detonated outward like a newborn star tearing reality.
The ground cracked.
The sky trembled.
The weapon hovered before him.
And it was no longer the original.
The blade was etched with ancient runes glowing faintly like breathing veins.
The hilt had transformed into a divine bird's wings, forming a guard around the grip.
The metal didn't look forged.
It looked alive.
A thin membrane of semi-condensed flame drifted along the edge, moving like liquid consciousness.
Evan reached to touch it.
Pain.
Heat.
Danger.
He pulled back instinctively.
"That's… not normal."
Even the mountain groaned beneath its weight.
He let out a shaky breath.
"Looks good."
Then forced a laugh.
"But looks don't win battles."
He opened the system.
The panel appeared.
Cold.
Merciless.
And when he saw it…
Only one word left his mouth.
Quiet.
Honest.
Terrified.
"…Damn."