A burst of magic split the earth like a thunder spear crashing from the heavens.
In an instant, a five-meter-wide crater opened in the middle of the already-devastated battlefield, hurling dust and shattered stone into the air. Hot wind swept through, spiraling into a miniature storm that chewed through the debris around it.
And in the center of that scorched earth... stood a woman.
Her silhouette was steady and unshaken, even as the swirling currents of arcane wind raged around her. Her jet-black hair flowed down her back, gleaming like freshly-forged obsidian. In her hand, she held a long staff tipped with a multifaceted crystal, pulsing with a deep violet rhythm—like the heartbeat of magic itself.
"Will you keep dodging forever, Kaelen Virelith?"
Her voice rang out, cold and sharp, with the aristocratic tone of someone who had long seen the world as her personal stage.
Her name was Eresh, a prodigy from the Archmage Academy and one of the highest-ranked spellcasters of the new generation. Her power wasn't just talent—it was the product of blood-soaked education and endless experimentation in the realm of reality-altering magic.
But the one standing across from her wasn't some ordinary young man.
Kaelen stood calmly, one hand gripping the hilt of a worn short sword. His gray cloak was torn in countless places, as if it had been through hell and back, yet his face showed not a trace of worry.
His eyes were flat. His breath, steady. His body, unmoving.
As if the raging storm around him was nothing more than a passing night breeze.
Within the silence of the outside world, a soft voice flowed into his mind—a voice only he could hear.
"That time-binding spell just now... it didn't come from this world. It reached through the gaps in reality, touching the foundations beneath it."
It was Aetheria, an entity that dwelled between the will of the world and the whisper of fate—now bearing silent witness to a battle that should never have taken place on this land.
Kaelen stepped to the side with effortless grace, and Eresh's spell—[Void Arcana: Cosmic Binding]—exploded into empty air, missing him by inches. The space behind him cracked, like glass shattering in silence, before sealing itself again under the laws of a world not yet consumed by chaos.
"And you resisted it... without tapping into even a single thread of your 'other self.'"
Aetheria's tone shifted slightly—not admiration, but curiosity… tinged with concern.
"You know she's testing you... but she doesn't even know who she's testing."
In the sky above, ancient magical sigils began to materialize. A cosmic mandala spun slowly above Eresh's head, forming layer upon layer of complex incantations. The air grew heavy, as if reality itself was bending to her will.
And yet, Kaelen still didn't move.
No reaction. No counterattack. Only a cold stare that carried with it something that almost resembled... veiled pity.
Eresh felt it. And she hated the way it felt.
Her teeth clenched. Her focus started to slip.
"Answer me!" she shouted, raising her staff high as it gathered energy for the next ritual.
"Who are you, really?! There's no way—a normal human can't endure a top-tier Archmage spell without paying a price!"
But all she received in return... was silence.
Kaelen moved—swift as a whisper on the wind. He leapt, not to strike, but to slip through the waves of mana that should have pierced his body. In midair, he twisted once and landed behind Eresh—close enough to drive a blade into her back. But he didn't.
He just stood there... in silence.
If he wanted to, a single whispered word could've shattered Eresh's focus in an instant. But Kaelen stepped back instead—one step, then another—until a safe distance lay between them once more.
His silence... was a threat.
Eresh spun around, face flushed with confusion and rage. But the man before her showed nothing. No triumph. No satisfaction. No sense of victory.
And that—that was what unsettled her the most.
On Earth.
In a stone-walled underground chamber, eighteen people sat in a loose semicircle. They were the newest recruits of the Household of Ruin—former soldiers, rogue researchers, dungeon survivors, even Awakeners who had given up being Hunters.
They didn't know each other, but one thing bound them together: a deep suspicion of a world that seemed too perfect.
Tension filled the room. Idle chatter faded into anxious whispers.
"It's been an hour… Are they testing us?" muttered a man with a spear.
"Or it's a trap," whispered a woman in explorer's garb. "The Household of Ruin isn't exactly known for its transparency."
Footsteps echoed from the main hallway.
A young woman entered—dark brown hair, an unreadable expression, wearing light combat gear under a gray cloak. Her movements were calm, her gaze sharp.
She stopped before them, scanning each face before speaking.
"Before I continue, know this: the decision you make in the next sixty seconds will bind you for the rest of your life."
A few of the recruits shifted uneasily, but none spoke.
She raised her left hand, revealing an intricately engraved silver ring on her finger. She slowly turned it.
Her hair changed.
From dark brown to shimmering golden blonde, gleaming like morning light over a lake. The air around her shifted—suddenly dense, heavy with pressure… and regal.
Someone gulped.
"I-Is that... transfiguration magic?" one of them muttered.
The woman gave a slow nod. Her voice now echoed deeper, fuller.
"I am Velia Syn Ravnall, rightful daughter of the Kingdom of Nythera.
And this ring—an artifact from another world, Little Garden—was entrusted to me by my guardian."
Silence fell over the room.
"This ring isn't just for disguise. It blocks tracking and appraisal.
You never truly knew who I was."
Velia stepped forward. The aura of nobility around her was now undeniable.
"The Household of Ruin isn't just an organization.
We're a movement.
And this—this is your ticket to the upper world."
Her voice sharpened.
"Anyone not ready to face the truth is free to walk out now.
But if you choose to stay… then you've chosen your side."
"And from this moment on, there's no turning back."
Silence gripped the room. Seconds ticked by. No one moved.
Velia nodded, then gave a subtle signal.
Footsteps echoed from a side corridor.
Heads turned. Some recruits even stood.
Althea.
Golden hair, clear eyes, and a presence impossible to ignore.
Leader of The Last Survivors, symbol of the first generation of Awakeners.
The woman who stood on the front lines when the world nearly collapsed.
"Althea…?"
Whispers of awe filled the room, but Althea simply gave a faint smile as she stood beside Velia.
"Relax," she said. Her voice was gentle, but unmistakably clear.
"I'm not here as a symbol. Today, I speak as a member of the Household of Ruin."
The recruits fell quiet.
"Some of you think we're radicals. We're not rebels—at least, not yet."
"And if your only goal is to save this world… you're in the wrong place."
She raised her hand, revealing a rune-etched bracelet from Little Garden.
"As official members, you'll receive limited access to otherworldly tech: magic shields, energy modules, weapons embedded with resonance enchantments.
And of course, compensation: 100 Nyth per month—roughly 5,000 world dollars."
A few people gasped. Althea continued, firmer now:
"But make no mistake."
"Anyone who betrays us or leaks this information… will be rejected by that world itself."
"You'll wish you were never born."
Silence. Heavy and unmoving.
Then—a hesitant hand rose from a bespectacled man.
"Sorry… five thousand dollars? Seriously?"
Other recruits glanced his way—some with hope, others with doubt.
Velia raised an eyebrow.
"If you think we're selling dreams, the door's behind you.
But yes—that's the minimum. Bonuses scale with contribution."
Then, another voice spoke up.
A young woman with short hair and an athletic build. Siera. A former martial artist—not an Awakener.
"But… I'm not Awakened," she said softly.
"Can this training really put me on par with people born with a System?"
Althea looked at her for a long moment, then gave a faint smile.
"Siera… power isn't a monopoly of the System."
"In this world, the System is the stage. But in the 'upper world' and other dimensions, there are those who operate beyond it—Naturals.
They wield the forces of nature, soul, even pure concept.
And they're far stronger than S-Class Hunters."
The recruits exchanged looks—confused, uncertain.
Althea continued:
"True strength doesn't come from the System.
The System is a tool. Awakening is just one path."
"You saw that clip—six figures fighting off a city-level monster?
None of them were Awakeners.
And all six… are part of the Household of Ruin."
Velia followed up, her voice cool but firm:
"You think 'power' is just numbers on a status window?
The world is far wilder than what the System lets you see."
The recruits now looked around—not in hesitation, but with something else.
Eager. Frightened. Hopeful.
Siera lowered her gaze. Her hands clenched into fists.
For the first time, she felt…
Maybe she wasn't lost after all.
Meanwhile, in the dying world…
The sky shattered.
Shards of light rained down like pieces of a broken mirror, falling from a sky split open. The ground beneath Kaelen's feet lost its texture—rippling like water, then melting into a false landscape, a fading illusion of a once-coherent universe. Reality itself… was collapsing. Folded and replayed, not by time, but by a will far greater.
Eresh floated above the chaos like a rebel goddess, black hair whipping wildly in the wind. Her emerald eyes burned—not merely observing, but devouring the world below. Behind her, another dimension opened. A small, artificial world—flawless in construction. A god-tier spell made manifest, pressing into the primary reality, slipping through its laws like a virus rewriting the very fabric of existence.
Kaelen staggered, then dropped to one knee among the debris. Blood trickled from his temple, staining a ground that no longer was. His breath was ragged, his body trembling, his black cloak torn in too many places. In his hand, his magic weapon—once radiant and elegant—was cracked, on the verge of breaking.
Then, Aetheria's voice echoed in his mind.
Not as a guide this time.
But as the final voice of a dying world.
"Kaelen, listen to me. That's not an illusion… it's an alternate reality. A pocket world she's built—an extension of her ego."
"If she fully integrates its laws into this one… she will become a goddess here."
"And remember… the World Will of this realm is dead. A world without a master is a world waiting to be claimed."
Kaelen closed his eyes. His heart pounded, defying the fear clawing into him.
"If she succeeds, this world won't belong to us anymore.
She will enthrone herself… as its true goddess.
The sole ruler of a world with no hope left."
Silence.
Then Aetheria spoke again, softer, more urgent.
"Kaelen. That's enough. This body won't last much longer."
"It's time you fight… as The Empress."
Kaelen remained still.
His hand clenched—not from pain… but from something deeper.
He bowed his head, staring at the ground that was no longer ground.
And then, slowly… he stood.
He trembled. His wounds didn't heal. But his steps—were steady.
The world held its breath.
Eresh narrowed her eyes, watching. Waiting. Cautious.
Kaelen raised his head.
His gaze pierced the broken sky.
And in that instant, the world understood—
This was no longer a wounded boy.
This… was a will that had chosen to stop being human.
In a whisper, barely audible—like a confession to no one but himself—Kaelen said:
"That's enough."
"This body… is no longer suitable."
"Experiment, concluded."
"Now it's her turn."
He lifted his hand, staring at it—bloodied, storied.
"Switch."
The world… halted.
In a second that felt eternal, Kaelen's body was engulfed in a light not of this realm.
Black-gold aura erupted like a divine maelstrom.
The sky trembled.
Reality—already unraveling—jerked back in shock. In fear.
A new figure stepped forth from the light.
Not Kaelen.
Not human.
Silver hair fell like curtains of starlight.
A white cloak trimmed in gold danced on invisible winds, as if the laws of nature bowed in her presence.
Violet eyes blazed—scorching fate itself.
The long blade at her side—resonant.
Ancient magical broadcasts awakened around her, forming arcane symbols in the air.
The Empress… had descended.