The continent where this story unfolds is called Illumina—a vast stretch of land that hosts clashing races, beliefs, and powers. But beneath the neat maps and golden-inked borders drawn by royal cartographers, this world is veiled in bloody history, ancient hatred, and unquenchable ambition.
To the north stands the Alzareth Empire, the birthplace of Arzael. In that empire, only humans are acknowledged as civilized beings. Other races? They're tools. Slaves. Animals with names. In Alzareth's system, power is passed down through blood and dogma. Books are sealed. Libraries are for humans only. And the other races are left to drown in ignorance—by design. Arzael once lived among them—not as a prince bathed in privilege, but as a living curse. Forbidden to read. Forbidden to dream. Forbidden to become more than what they dictated.
To the south lies the Eterna Kingdom, the antithesis of Alzareth. A kingdom that embraces many races and upholds cooperation. Ruled by a wise human king, they believe in harmony—though not without flaws. The city of Kareth, where Arzael now resides, is one of Eterna's cities—though he has only recently cleansed it of the rot that had infested its city guards.
Meanwhile in the east, stretches the Valiant Alliance. Governed by the elves and home to many other races—dwarves, beastkin, dryads, even succubi and dragons in humanoid form. In these lands, discrimination is forbidden, and equality is an unwritten law. Not without conflict, but the closest thing to "utopia" in a fractured world.
These three powers stand in a fragile balance. A peace that exists only on the surface. Tension between Alzareth and Eterna continues to simmer, and Valiant watches closely—ready to act when the scales tip too far.
---
Dawn crept in.
The shadows of night slowly withdrew from Kareth's rooftops like a blanket being folded away by time. Morning winds stirred faded banners in the unopened marketplace. But at the highest point of the city, above a half-collapsed three-story building, stood a still figure.
Arzael.
His black cloak fluttered gently, not entirely following the direction of the wind—as if the fabric chose its own path. He stood motionless, gazing east—toward the capital of Eterna.
> "This city isn't my destination. It's too early for the capital. Before that… I must grow stronger. In the one place that gave me everything—suffering, power, and freedom."
His eyes narrowed—not from the sunlight, but from the weight hardening inside his chest. The surface world gave him targets. But hell… gave him the tools to reach them.
A system notification flickered in the corner of his vision:
> [Gatewalk – Ready in: 2 minutes]
Time for a short rest.
He sat at the edge of the roof, legs dangling above the empty street. Flashes from the previous night's battle played in his mind—splashes of blood, the crack of bone, the city guard captain's face twisted from arrogance to horror in a single second before Shadow Pierce ended everything.
Death wasn't new.
But killing by choice—not out of necessity—that felt like true power.
Two minutes passed in silence.
A new notification blinked:
> [Gatewalk – Ready]
Arzael rose slowly. His movements were nearly silent.
He raised a hand to the air, index finger piercing the empty space. At that point, the world cracked—responding to an ancient call that was no longer human. The tear widened, forming a dark circle pulsing with unnatural energy.
A gate to Underworld – Layer 1.
The air pressure shifted instantly. Leaves once still began to swirl in chaotic currents. A raven perched nearby flapped its wings wildly, fleeing with a shriek.
Below, the townsfolk still slept. But for those sensitive enough—children waking from nightmares, dogs suddenly barking at the sky—something had indeed opened.
Arzael looked into the gate.
Inside, there was no light.
Only thick crimson mist, like blood suspended in shadow.
A sound echoed from within—not language, but suffering twisted into frequency.
Screams.
Mad laughter.
Endless sobbing.
He knew those sounds.
He remembered them.
And he did not flinch.
He stepped to the rooftop's edge.
One deep breath. One last second in the surface world.
Then he jumped.
Arzael's body descended into the gate.
And the moment he touched the black circle, the world slowed.
Shadows from the portal wrapped around his skin like roots from an alien being.
His eyes glowed faint red—like embers barely holding back rage.
His system activated.
His body trembled faintly—then vanished into the throbbing darkness.
...
The air calmed.
The gate slowly closed like a wound sealing shut.
The cracks in space healed, leaving behind only a pale sky and silence.
No one saw it.
No one knew.
But the world had changed.
And someone had returned to the place where monsters are not just creatures… but systems.
[Status – Level 10]
Name: Arzael
Race: ???
Level: 10
EXP: 71 / 200
HP: 790 / 790
MP: 520 / 520
STR: 37
AGI: 32
VIT: 41
INT: 28
LUK: 8
Available Stat Points: 1
Active Skills:
Shadow Pierce (Lv. 1)
Gatewalk (Lv. 1)
Blood Reaving (Lv. 1): A strike that absorbs enemy blood, healing a portion of HP (5% of damage). Cooldown: 30 seconds.
Passive Skills:
Cursed Blood
Pain Conversion (Lv. 1)
"Arzael's path does not lead to salvation. But into depths that await—shaping power from pain. Hell is not his prison. It is his second home. And now, he returns."