Priest Martin sprinted through the damp dungeon corridor, wrenching open cell doors one by one. When he reached the end of the hallway, he gathered all his strength and struck the wall with the technique he called Holy Punch.
The impact was catastrophic.
Stone and metal shards exploded outward with a thunderous roar, and a rush of freezing night air flooded the dungeon. Martin turned toward the cells and shouted with a voice overflowing with hope.
"You're safe! Run get out of here, now!"
After a brief moment of paralyzing fear, the children burst into motion, scrambling toward the light pouring in through the shattered wall. Deep within his soul, Martin felt it the overwhelming wave of pure gratitude emanating from them.
Ryan awoke to the sound of the explosion.
Screams echoed through the dungeon, chaos erupting all around him. As he tried to stand, he realized his foot had gone numb. He stumbled forward and collapsed face-first onto the cold stone floor.
"Damn it…" he muttered, irritation flashing across his face.
When he lifted his head, he froze.
The cell door was open.
That made no sense.
Didn't they say they were going to sacrifice me?
Then why… let me go?
The numbness in his foot hadn't faded, so he began crawling toward the exit.
The scene outside the cell was complete madness.
Children were running blindly toward a massive breach in the dungeon wall. Ryan stared at the opening in confusion How could something like that even exist? When his eyes caught sight of a burly man standing calmly at the center of the room.
The man wore magnificent steam-powered armor engraved with religious symbols. Manometers were mounted across his back, pressure valves releasing faint hisses of vapor. It was unmistakably the armor of a high ranking priest.
So there are still clergymen who haven't been corrupted… Ryan thought.
But his sluggish body didn't allow him to dwell on it. He continued crawling toward the breach.
Suddenly, an enraged voice echoed from the far end of the dungeon.
The blonde priest appeared seventeen Paladins marching behind him.
Ryan's eyes locked onto their weapons.
Their swords hissed constantly, steam leaking from pressure valves embedded in the blades. His scientific instincts kicked in immediately.
Those aren't normal swords…
They're portable hydraulic cutters.
The blonde priest raised his hand, fury twisting his face, and dozens of arrows made of pure light formed in mid-air.
They fired.
In a single fluid motion, the armored man dodged every last one.
Ryan felt a flicker of admiration but there was no time to linger.
Forcing his body forward with everything he had, Ryan reached the shattered wall and threw himself through the opening.
Another explosion thundered behind him.
The tingling in his foot slowly faded, and
Ryan pushed himself upright.
Now came the real problem.
He had no idea where to go.
He had tried to memorize the route here, but the trauma had blurred his memories. Worse still, his trust had been completely destroyed.
They were the ones who brought me here.
Who am I supposed to trust now?
The distant, emotionless gaze of his father from his previous life surfaced in his mind.
Morgan's past was casting a long shadow over Ryan's present.
He wasn't hungry but his lips were dry with thirst.
Night had fallen, and most of the shops were closed. As he wandered the dark streets aimlessly, he bumped into a hooded, medium built man.
"Watch it, brat!" the man snapped.
Ryan immediately bowed his head in apology but the man suddenly froze, staring at him intensely.
"I found it!" he shouted.
Before Ryan could react, the man formed a fireball in mid-air with movements too fast to follow.
Pure mana.
And he did it effortlessly.
"Would you like to do that too?" the man asked.
Ryan was mesmerized.
Despite his instincts screaming danger, the desire to learn magic overwhelmed every fear.
The man lowered his hood, revealing pink hair and sharp purple eyes.
"I am Jacob Clark, a mage of the Tower of Magic," he said.
"Would you like to join us?"
For Ryan, this was a shortcut straight to his dreams.
Letting his family believe he was dead was the perfect chance to grow powerful in secret.
"Yes," Ryan said without hesitation. "I want to join."
Jacob took his hand.
Light exploded around them.
In an instant, the city vanished.
Before Ryan stood a colossal purple tower, piercing the heavens.
"Is this… magic?" Ryan stammered.
Jacob smiled. "Teleportation."
Inside the tower, spiral staircases stretched endlessly upward.
The sight sent a chill through Ryan it reminded him of the place where Morgan had died.
As they climbed, he noticed something strange.
No young mages.
Only silence.
This place… is for elites.
When they reached the top floor, Jacob knocked on an ornate door.
Knock. Knock.
"Come in."
The moment they entered, Ryan felt it.
Overwhelming pressure.
The Tower Master, Nathan Murphy, spoke in a calm yet authoritative voice.
"How are you, little one? Tell me your name."
"My name is Ryan, sir."
Nathan froze.
Magic Power and Holy Power coexisting within a single child.
Impossible.
And yet… exactly as the High Mage's prophecy described.
The old man stood and bowed slightly.
"I greet the hero."
Ryan's mind went blank.
Hero?
Me?
In his previous life, he was a fraud who caused his friend's death.
And now he was only two years old.
"Mr. Murphy… there must be a mistake," Ryan whispered.
Nathan met his gaze calmly.
"There is no mistake," he said.
"I will train you personally kid."