They once called themselves Obsidian Dawn—a mid-tier adventurer guild. Ambitious. Proud. Tight-knit.
Before the whispers of the Phantom Ghost...
Before the dungeons echoed with rumors of a masked rogue…
There was only the team.
And at their heart—Zero.
The guild hall was quieter now.
Fewer missions.
Fewer laughs.
Fewer victories.
Kai, the guild's heavy blade and field captain, sat at a battered table scattered with half-finished contracts and a cold cup of tea. His greatsword rested beside him like a sleeping beast.
Across from him, Lyra—rogue, scout, and Zero's closest ally—twirled a dagger between her fingers.
"He cleared a high-level dungeon. Alone," she said, voice low.
Kai didn't look up.
"Even if it's true... it's not our problem anymore."
Lyra's eyes narrowed.
"It was our problem. He was one of us."
Kai leaned back with a sigh, his gaze drifting to the bulletin wall where old photos still hung. One showed a younger version of their team—grinning after a brutal raid on the Glassweb Labyrinth, a spider-infested deathtrap they barely survived.
Zero stood in the back, hood down. Eyes tired. But smiling.
Half of the photo was torn—another figure partially visible in the shadow behind him.
They had cleared six dungeons together before everything fell apart.
The Tomb of Howling Saints—where they learned to fight undead in pitch black.
The Ashen Spire—a tower wrapped in fire and collapsing stairs.
The Shifting Maze of Elthera—where Zero, ironically, was always the one getting lost.
And then—
The Crimson Rift.
That dungeon changed everything.
It was supposed to be a formality.
A C-Rank job.
Quick pay.
Minor danger.
But deep within, they hadn't found a dungeon boss.
They found a sealed curse.
An ancient artifact buried by time—The Infected Core.
When the fourth member touched it—his face obscured by shadow, swallowed by a black void—it fused to him.
And everything changed.
He stopped receiving heals.
Support spells bounced off him.
Magic twisted around him like it feared his presence.
Some guildmates grew uneasy. Others, angry.
"You're making us weaker."
"We can't work like this."
"You're a liability now."
But not Zero swallowed by guilt.
He fought for him knowing he was the cause,his curse must have drawn them to the artifact.
And yet… he still left.
No dramatic farewell.
No final argument.
Just a silent step out of the guild hall one night, cloak drawn tight around him.
Now, months later,the present day...
The name once buried resurfaced—mutated by myth.
"He soloed a Magma Domain?"
"Did you see him in the tournament?"
"I heard he wears a mask that hides his soul,hes now known as the cursed reaper."
Zero looked up at the old guild photo.
His expression unreadable.
"I don't care about the rumors," he muttered. "I want to know what he's really become."
Silence followed.
But his hand slowly clenched into a fist.
Back to the present
"I kept on blaming myself for wat happened,kept on thinking,if i had not fopllowed them to that dungeon,he would'nt have been cursed and our team wouldnt have faced the faith that came after."Zero said gloomy
"they were'nt normal after he left,then i started having dreams of us but it was a dark and dead dream where i kept on seeing each member beside him but they resembled ghosts or fragments of them."
"Afterwhich,thier skills started depleting and they started becoming empty by the day,like thier souls where being drawn out,which they where.and thats when it all fell apart,we went for a normal B rank dungeon that later lead to each member meeting a tragic ending leaving only me to survive."
Far away, in a realm shrouded in shadow, a dungeon pulsed to life. Darkness stirred.
Across its magical seal, ancient runes began to glow.
Target Identified: Subject Zero
Access Level: Legacy Override Required
Status: Return Pending
"The past wasn't buried.
It was rising.
And it was time for both curse to clash."
"The tournament is here"