The mist still lingered like breath over still water.
Kel stood at the lake's shore long after they had finished dressing, the damp hem of his coat tracing small arcs across the ground each time the faint mountain breeze stirred. A thin curl of vapor rose from the Scarder Lake behind him, its surface quiet, indifferent—like it had never held the burdens it just released.
He inhaled.
The cold air slid through his lungs effortlessly.
No grinding ache.
No resistance.
Just air.
A slow breath escaped his lips. He reached up with gloved fingers and brushed aside the stray strands of hair clinging to his cheek. It felt… lighter than before. His body felt lighter. As if some invisible chain looped deep inside him had finally fallen away.
His gaze drifted toward the lake reflection—still showing nothing. His own face did not appear in the water.
But he could feel the change.
"…Status."
The word left him barely louder than a whisper.
But the world answered.
Not with sound.
With presence.
A translucent panel shimmered into existence before his eyes—faint at first, like memory, then solidifying into legible script. It hovered in midair, flickering with clarity.
Kel's eyes slowly widened.
His breath caught—not from pain this time.
From disbelief.
[STATUS WINDOW]
Name: Kel von Rosenfeld
Age: 13
Race: Human
Titles:
— Cursed Heir — REMOVED
— Walking Death Flag — REMOVED
— The Doomed One — REMOVED
House: Rosenfeld (One of the Seven Pillars of the Empire)
Condition:
— DEATH CURSE (LIFTED)
— MANA SYSTEM: UNSEALED (AWAITING INITIAL ACTIVATION)
— AURA CHANNELS: STABILIZING
— PHYSICAL GROWTH: RELEASED (UNRESTRICTED)
Vitality:62
Strength:58
Agility:60
Endurance:57
Mana:41
Aura:[CORE ACTIVE – ANOMALOUS TYPE: RED IRREGULAR]
Resistance:65
Luck:??? (Unreadable – External interference)
Charisma:49 (EXCEPTIONAL)
Skills:
— "Essence of Breath: Foundational Form" (Lv. 2 → Lv. 5)
— "Basic Swordsmanship – Rosenfeld Style" (Lv. 3 → Lv. 4)
— "Noble Etiquette & Courtly Bearing" (Passive)
— "Strategic Discourse – Low Tier" (Lv. 1 → Lv. 3)
— "Cold Requiem – Bowmanship" (Lv. 1 → Lv. 3)
— "???" (Locked — Requirements unknown)
Blessings:
— None
Traits:
— "Will Alignment – Iron Thread" → "Iron Thread – Ascended Weave"
— "Strain Adaptation (Dormant)" → Awakened
— "Anomalous Aura Core: Red Irregular"
— "Inherent Charisma – Sovereign's Echo"
Kel stared.
For the longest moment, he simply stared.
His heartbeat surged—not with weakness, but with something sharp and alive. His fingers curled slowly into fists, gloves stretching with the movement. The cold wind brushed past, and this time it stirred something like exhilaration instead of exhaustion.
…This is impossible.
It wasn't just higher.
His stats weren't merely "better."
They were breaking the chart.
These values—this level of physical and energy-based growth—it wasn't merely above average.
It was bordering on legendary protagonist class.
No… His thoughts raced.
This is higher than any early protagonist. Higher than most mid-game bosses.
He exhaled unevenly.
"Charisma…?" he whispered.
That stat—hardly mentioned in main combat builds within Destiny. A passive influence measure. Almost all NPCs and players had it, but very few ever excelled. It affected persuasion, negotiation, presence, reputation gain, talent influence—nothing directly combat-related.
But his value was almost fifty.
Fifty at age thirteen.
Average trained noble kids had around fifteen.
Most main characters didn't cross thirty until mid-game.
"...So I had it all along."
He closed his eyes.
He saw again the earlier version of his window in memory:
Vitality: 10, Strength: 9, Agility: 10… Death Curse (Active), Mana Sealed, Aura Locked… Titles: Cursed Heir, The Doomed One…
He opened his eyes to the present.
Vitality 62.
Strength 58.
Titles gone.
Curse gone.
Charisma 49.
A small laugh left him.
Shaky.
Disbelieving.
Not mocking.
Almost… breathless with realization.
"So Kel…" he whispered to himself, "…was a hidden character all along."
He lifted his gaze toward the mist above the lake.
"All this time."
He lowered his head slightly, running his hand through his hair.
"If Kel didn't have the curse in the original game…" He smiled faintly. The concept finally settled in his chest like a stone dropped into calm water.
"…He would be the most powerful character in Destiny."
He felt Landon's quiet presence approach from behind, solid as always. Reina stood perhaps ten paces away, arms folded loosely, watching him with stillness that hid quiet satisfaction. Sera stood farther back, eyes closed, one hand still over her chest where her curse had once pulsed.
Kel didn't turn to them.
He whispered his thoughts, not to them—
—to himself.
I played Destiny twenty times.
Twenty full runs.
And I never knew.
He let out a rueful sound between words and laughter.
Of course I didn't know. Kel dies after Chapter One. Every. Single. Time.
No flags.
No events.
No survival conditions.
Kel von Rosenfeld was scripted to be tragic backstory material.
A forgotten heir.
A corpse that shaped no future.
Even if someone tried to save him, Kel would still perish. His stats were too low. Curse too strong. No cure accessible early.
"To even reach Scarder Lake, you'd have to play over a year in-game…" He glanced at the water. "…I've spent almost the same time here."
He slowly exhaled.
"…As a player, I could never have reached it in time."
He tilted his chin upward.
"I couldn't have saved Kel."
A faint smile formed.
"But now…"
He turned slowly.
Reina's eyes met his first.
Her expression softened.
Then he looked at Landon.
The big warrior simply nodded once.
Sera watched him, and for the first time, there was no bitterness in her gaze.
Only acknowledgment.
But now I am Kel.
And I have saved my life.
He felt a pulse inside his aura core.
Not pain.
Power.
Unfamiliar.
Untamed.
But growing.
"…And now," he said softly—
no, he declared—
"I am the strongest in this game."
A breath.
Quiet.
Deep.
True.
"In the early play."
Wind brushed past him, lifting the edges of his coat.
A ripple crossed Scarder Lake's surface.
The mist-lady was gone.
But something in the water felt like it had heard him.
Kel looked back one last time.
Snowflakes began to fall again.
Soft.
Slow.
He lifted his hand and caught one on his glove.
He smiled.
This time without restraint.
"…I think," he murmured—
and the thin frost around them seemed to listen—
"I just hit a jackpot."