"Ahhh, screw it!" Erison cursed loudly, sprinting away from the river—branches slapping against his legs as he pushed through the thick brush. Leaves and twigs whipped his face while he desperately tried to find his way back to the narrow trail.
But just as he reached it, his body froze. His eyes widened. His breath hitched.
"Oh, … crap."
He lowered his head, gripping his hair in frustration.
"This damn trail only goes one way! Which means if I want to get out of here… I'll have to go through that noise again!"
He punched the nearest tree, teeth clenched.
"Why can't this world be a little nicer to new people, huh!?"
Before he could calm himself, a deafening explosion shook the air—
BOOM!
A blinding flash tore through the sky, lightning splitting the air like a divine strike.
The ground trembled beneath his feet, and birds scattered in panic, screaming into the distance.
"HIIIIII—! What the hell was that!?"
Erison stumbled back, face pale. His heart hammered in his chest.
"Lightning!? But the sky's clear! There's not a single cloud up there!"
He looked up, sunlight streaming through the canopy. No clouds. No sign of rain.
But the faint, metallic tang of ozone stung his nose—the unmistakable smell left by raw electricity.
"Could that… be magic?" he muttered, scratching his head though it wasn't itchy.
"Arghhh, I don't get any of this! What do I even do now!?"
He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself.
"Okay, okay… calm down, Erison. "Inhale… exhale…
Erison exhaled slowly, refusing to let another heart attack nearly kill him.
"Huuuuh…" He sighed long and hard, and when his nerves finally settled, he snapped his fingers.
"Oh, right…" he whispered."
I'll just wait until all the noise dies down. When it's quiet again, I'll move. Easy! Haha, genius, Erison! Absolute genius!"
He grinned at his own logic—only for the grin to vanish as soon as he heard it:
the sound of footsteps.
Clang… clang… clang…
The steady rhythm of metal clashing echoed between the trees, mixed with the heavy stomp of armored boots.
Erison froze."…Footsteps!?"
They were getting closer. Many of them.
Not one.
Not two. Dozens.
From the same direction where Erison had… come back from the dead.
He crouched down fast, slipping behind a thick tree and into the dense brush. Sweat poured down his temples, his heartbeat pounding loud enough to drown everything else out.
"S–shit, shit, shit…" he hissed under his breath.
"How many are there? Two? Three? No… that's too many metallic sounds… Ten? More?"
He listened carefully. Faint voices began to rise between the clanging—calm, disciplined, like trained soldiers.
"…They're heading this way!?"
He swallowed hard, his hands trembling as he gripped the bark in front of him.
The air around him suddenly felt heavy.
"Okay… calm down, Erison.
Don't panic. Just stay quiet, don't move, don't breathe loud. Let them pass, and everything will be fine…"
But his thoughts spiraled again.
He remembered all the fantasy stories he used to read back on Earth—worlds filled with magic, where people could sense each other's mana.
Cold sweat ran down his back.
"Ehh… wait. If this world has magic, then they can probably sense mana too!" he muttered in panic. "Crap… what do I do!?"
He shut his eyes tight, trying to recall the glowing blue words from earlier.
They echoed perfectly in his mind:
[BODY UNABLE TO EMIT MANA]
"Right!" he whispered, almost laughing with relief. "My body can't emit mana! That means they can't sense me, right!?"
He let out a quiet, shaky laugh, still clutching his chest as his heart pounded.
For the first time, his flaw actually felt like a blessing.
But deep down, fear still gnawed at him.
He didn't know who was coming—maybe the same group responsible for that woman's scream.
The figures finally appeared between the trees: a squad of about a dozen men, all clad in black-collared uniforms. Each wore a half-mask over their faces, swords strapped to their sides, armor glinting faintly beneath the canopy. Their steps were heavy, steady, and disciplined—the kind that belonged to trained killers.
Erison held his breath. His heartbeat thudded so loud he thought they could hear it. He pressed himself flat against the trunk, melting into the shadows.
The group marched past his hiding spot.
He could hear their conversation, muffled but clear enough to catch.
"That lightning earlier… could it be from the Voltheim clan?" That aura was ridiculously strong.
"Eh, probably just some zealot praying to the Thunder God," another replied lazily.
"You sure? That pressure was real. I could feel it from here."
Erison frowned.
Aura? What the hell is aura supposed to mean?
Right on cue, a transparent blue window popped up in front of him.
[Additional Info: "Aura" refers to the pressure released from a person's mana. It is commonly used to gauge the strength of another being.]
He stared at the screen blankly.
"Oh… so it's just a fancy word for mana, huh? No wonder they sound so full of themselves."
He froze when one of the soldiers suddenly stopped walking.
The man tapped his companion's shoulder.
"Hold up. I gotta take a leak."
"Don't take too long!" his friend called out, but the rest just nodded absently.
Erison's face turned white as the man walked straight toward him.
No no no, please, anywhere but here! he screamed internally.
Of course, fate hated him.
The man stopped right next to the bush Erison was hiding in—just a few feet away—and began unbuckling his pants.
"You've gotta be kidding me…" Erison whispered, face twisted between panic and disgust.
While peeing, the man casually chatted with his comrades,
"Hey, are you sure we're fine taking it easy here? I can feel two strong auras clashing up ahead."
"Relax. The captain's there. He's contracted with the Seven Demons of the Abyss."
Great. Just great, Erison cursed inwardly, holding his mouth shut tight.
And his piss is splashing on me!
"Mmm… uhhhh…" the man suddenly stopped midstream, sniffing the air.
"What's wrong?" his friend asked."
Ugh… something reeks. Smells like something dead around here."
Erison's face froze. His heart dropped.
He remembered the nasty side effect from the Absolute luck skill.
That god damn system! he raged silently.
"Yeah… smells like a corpse that's been rotting for days," the man muttered.
"Eh? Really?" another voice called, moving closer.
"Hey! Why the hell are you coming over too!? Just stay put!" Erison screamed internally.
The second man reached the same spot, sniffing around.
"No… this isn't rot. Smells more like someone took a dump here."
Erison's face turned bright red. His soul left his body.
He buried his entire face in his hands.
"Oh for f— just leave already, you idiots…" he whispered, voice trembling with humiliation.
Suddenly the man who was still peeing snapped, his tone full of offense.
"Hey! Where the hell are you looking, huh!?"His buddy blinked, then smirked.
"Why? Feeling self-conscious? About… that tiny thing of yours?"
"What did you just say!?" the man barked, face red.
"My thing's bigger than yours, dammit!"
"Oh yeah!? Say that again, I dare you!"
Oh my god… what am I listening to…Erison, crouched behind the tree, wanted to cry.
And why the hell are YOU getting mad too, idiot!?
BUKK!
A solid punch landed.
"Holy crap—did he just punch him!?" Erison muttered, panicking as he clutched his head.
"Dude, at least finish your business before starting a fight!"
The two men began shoving each other, then throwing punches wildly like children fighting over candy.
The one still mid-piss obviously hadn't pulled up his pants yet—so, yeah, that thing was swinging around freely every time he moved.
"WOIII!!! CUT IT OUT, YOU TWO!!!" someone shouted from afar.
But instead of stopping, the others cheered.
"Hit him harder!"
"Bro, that thing's swinging all over the place—pull your damn pants up!"
The chaos was instant.
Erison pressed both hands over his mouth, tears welling up as he tried not to laugh out loud."
God… these people have no brain cells…" he whispered shakily.
Until—
BRUKK!
A brutal punch landed square on the pissing guy's jaw.
He flew backward, crashing down—straight into his own puddle.
But the tragedy didn't stop there.
His body slid through the bushes… and landed right beside Erison.
Erison didn't even notice—he was too busy trying not to laugh.
Then he felt the man's shadow loom over him.
The soldier froze, eyes widening when he spotted Erison crouched there.
"…Eh?" the man muttered.
Erison's heart stopped.
His eyes trembled.
Slowly—painfully slowly—he turned his head.
"…Eh," he echoed back.
Silence.
Two men.
Two "Eh".
One absurd, divine moment that not even the gods wanted to witness.
-----------------------------------------
Far from the forest where Erison hid — where all the chaos began.
BOOOOMMM!!!
The final explosion ripped through the ground.
Leaves rained down like ashes, and the air stung with the acrid scent of burning earth.
Smoke and dust veiled everything in gray, while toppled trees still smoldered, heat shimmering upward into the orange sky.
In the heart of that ruin stood two figures facing each other.
One of them — a woman — stood tall, chest lifted with unshaken resolve, a sword gripped firmly in her right hand.
The blade pulsed with pink lightning, faint arcs flickering across its surface.
Her long hair, half jet-black and half soft rose, flowed wildly in the hot wind — two colors forever at war in every strand.
Each gust made her locks dance, reflecting the stormlight crackling in the air around her.
Her eyes glowed — pale gray mixed with pink, framed by deep black irises that shimmered red at their core, like embers beneath frost.
She wore a white noble coat paired with tight black trousers.
Pinned over her chest gleamed a golden crest shaped like a crowned thunderbolt — the emblem of House Voltheim.
Her voice was calm, cold — yet beneath that calm lay a pressure of barely contained fury.
"How dare you… attack innocent families within my territory."
As the smoke thinned, another figure stepped forth from the haze.
A tall man clad in a high-collared black shirt.
His hair was pitch-black, his eyes burning crimson with a black dot at their center.
A scar cut across his cheek, and a fang-lined grin spread across his face.
He held a sword that seemed wrapped in writhing black energy.
The air grew heavier, hotter — thick with the stench of darkness, as if hell itself had exhaled through the cracks of the earth.
"Hahahaha…"The man's laughter rolled low and sharp. "I didn't expect to meet you here, Lyra Elvianne Voltheim."
His tone dripped with mockery as he feigned surprise, glancing around lazily.
"Ahhh… so this is your territory? Oh right—this must be near Velthraine, isn't it? The region you nobles love to brag about."
A wicked smile spread across his lips—then, without warning, his body shot forward, tearing through the smoke like a shadow.
Lyra was ready. Her sword rose instantly.
CLANG!!!
The first clash shattered the air, sending shockwaves rippling through the clearing.
"Ohhh… as expected from one of the strongest noble houses that still worship the Seven Gods," he said, pressing his blade against hers.
"House Voltheim never disappoints."
Lyra clicked her tongue softly and leapt back, letting his sword strike the ground instead.
The impact splintered the earth, scattering shards of dirt and stone.
She narrowed her eyes, studying the man through the veil of dust — those crimson eyes gleaming faintly, fangs flashing when he smirked.
Dark aura pulsed from his body, sizzling the air itself.
"So you're the demon worshiper who's been stirring chaos across my lands," Lyra said coolly, her tone sharp as tempered steel.
The man tilted his head, amusement dancing in his gaze.
"Ohhh… what an honor."
"To be recognized by the daughter of Lord Kael Voltheim himself… that's a rare treat."
He took a step forward, and the ground cracked under his heel.
"I've heard they call you the Lightning Light of Velthraine."
"But what I see now…" He eyed her sword, still trembling with residual pink energy."…looks more like a flower yet to bloom. Beautiful—but fragile."
Lyra's lips curved faintly — not a smile, but a threat.
"And I've heard," she whispered, "that demon worshipers like you… never live long in Velthraine."
The man's grin widened, fangs glinting beneath his twisted smile.
"Hahaha… let's see how noble blood fares against darkness, shall we, Lyra?"
He roared, raising his sword high.
The blade erupted in black aura, and with two vicious swings—
WHUUMM! WHUUMM!
Two waves of dark energy shot through the air, curving toward Lyra with enough force to crack the earth beneath their paths.
Lyra's eyes sharpened.
Her body shifted half a step back—then in one fluid motion, her sword flashed across her front.
CRAAK! ZZZT!!
Twin arcs of pink lightning burst from her blade, slicing through the air to meet the incoming blasts head-on.
The collision was deafening.
Darkness and light clashed violently, exploding in a flare of crimson-pink and shadow.
The blast hurled wind in every direction, flinging dust and leaves like a storm.
Through the haze, the man narrowed his eyes, still wearing that infuriating grin.
Lyra inhaled deeply, her gaze steady and fierce.
"That family… I hope they've gotten far enough."
Lightning flared again around her, crackling at the tips of her pink strands.
Amid the roar of explosions and the scent of burning soil, her mind drifted back——to a few minutes earlier.