I stood over the kneeling City Lord of Kilmrat, his shoulders slumped in submission. He was decently strong—his mana quality and quantity were on par with mine. But strength was more than just raw numbers, and in that regard, he was leagues behind me. The weight of my presence bore down on him, and he seemed to know that resistance was futile.
"So," I began, my voice calm but laced with steel, "this is the City Lord who thought it wise to imprison my friends?"
The man flinched but didn't dare meet my eyes. I could see the conflict in his expression—a man caught between duty and the realization that he had chosen the wrong side.
"Now," I continued, "do you have any news of a half-elf?" My words came out sharper than intended. The image of Seraphina, Rachel, and Cecilia in danger was a constant churn in the pit of my stomach. Information was my lifeline, and the City Lord—being the head of a major city like Kilmrat—was a wellspring of it.
The man hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "Yes, I've heard rumors. The High Sovereign himself recalled the Sword Saint from the frontlines for that matter. Three women have been captured and brought to the capital compound."
My heart pounded like a war drum, each beat driving the icy claws of worry deeper into my chest.
"Three women," Lucifer echoed, his verdant eyes narrowing as he stepped forward. "Seraphina, Rachel, and Cecilia?"
"Likely," I said, keeping my tone steady despite the turmoil within.
Jin, ever the strategist, folded his arms. "Who is this Sword Saint?"
The City Lord's voice trembled as he responded. "He is… the strongest."
Before he could elaborate, Lillian—still bound but no less venomous—cut in with a scoff. "That monster of a man." Her crimson eyes burned with disdain as she glared at the ground. "If only he wasn't the High Sovereign's dog, my father and I would have conquered this entire land."
"Stronger than you?" I asked, noting the bitterness in her voice.
"For now," she admitted, turning her head away as if the words tasted vile. "But strength is fleeting, and loyalty to the wrong master is a weakness."
The tension in the room thickened. The Sword Saint. A name that carried the weight of fear and respect, even from someone like Lillian. My thoughts raced. If the High Sovereign had recalled him from the frontlines for this task, then the situation was graver than I had imagined.
"Tell me about him," I pressed the City Lord. "What makes him the strongest?"
The City Lord hesitated again, his gaze darting to Lillian as if seeking confirmation. "He has nine mana stars," he began, his voice a whisper. "But it's not just that. His mastery over the blade… it's unparalleled. They call him the Sword Saint for a reason. His strikes are said to split mountains, his defenses impenetrable. Even armies falter before him."
Lillian snorted. "Impressive, isn't it? But don't mistake brute strength for invincibility. The Sword Saint is a slave to the High Sovereign's whims. He fights not for honor or justice, but because he's been trained to obey."
Her words carried a strange mix of derision and respect, as though she hated him but couldn't deny his prowess.
"And the three women?" I asked, my voice dropping lower.
"They are alive," the City Lord assured me quickly. "For now. The High Sovereign values them, though I don't know for what purpose."
Lucifer clenched his fists, his calm demeanor giving way to a flicker of anger. "We can't waste time. If the High Sovereign is involved, then this isn't just about politics. He has a plan."
I turned back to the City Lord, my eyes narrowing. "You're coming with us."
He blinked, startled. "W-what?"
"You know the city's layout, the defenses, the weak points," I said, my voice leaving no room for argument. "You'll guide us."
"And if I refuse?" he asked, though his trembling hands betrayed his bravado.
I leaned closer, my voice dropping to a whisper. "Then I'll leave you to explain to your High Sovereign why you're alive and your city isn't."
The City Lord swallowed hard and nodded.
"Good," I said, straightening as I adjusted the grip on my blade. "Let's move. We don't have time to waste."
Seol-ah walked beside me, her brows furrowed in a mixture of worry and resolve. She glanced at me, her voice dropping to a whisper as we made our way toward the city gates. "Do you not worry about the city? About the people?"
I shook my head, a faint sigh escaping my lips. Turning to her, I channeled a thin thread of mana to project my voice directly to my companions, keeping the words hidden from prying ears. "Remember, this is a fake world—a space-time hyperfragment. These people are nothing more than echoes, recreated images of those who lived over a thousand years ago. They're not alive. Their lives… they don't matter."
Seol-ah's expression wavered for a moment as my words sank in. I could see the flicker of doubt, the hesitation born of her innate compassion. But then, she squared her shoulders, her golden eyes hardening. One by one, the others gave me a nod of understanding.
"And as for that so-called Sword Saint?" I said, my voice resolute but edged with irritation. "He won't stop us. He can't."
I wasn't being arrogant—just honest. By now, I had pieced together the power dynamics of this hyperfragment. The strongest among them might barely rival Li Zenith, and that was a generous assessment. No Radiant-rankers, no Gifts to augment their strength, and their antiquated mana management methods left gaps we could exploit. They were formidable in their time, certainly, but they were relics. And we were anything but.
Our group was composed of high and peak Ascendant-rankers, each of us wielding techniques, arts, and Gifts that redefined what strength could be. We had honed ourselves in a world far beyond theirs, a world where power wasn't just raw, but refined.
And then there was Lillian, the supposed daughter of the Demon King. Though sealed by Art, her potential and latent power made her an asset—albeit a volatile one. I cast a wary glance her way. She walked slightly apart from the rest, her crimson eyes darting over the group with a mixture of disdain and curiosity, her movements shackled yet precise.
'What are you planning, Art?' I wondered, my thoughts circling back to the enigmatic regressor who had granted me this life. There was a purpose to everything he did—of that, I was certain. But trying to untangle his motives felt like wrestling shadows in a storm.
I shook my head, banishing the thoughts for now. There was no use in overthinking. Not when my immediate goal was crystal clear: to save them. To save the three pieces of my heart.
Seraphina. Rachel. Cecilia.
They were my anchors in this world, the ones who had given meaning to my existence here. Their safety was non-negotiable. Everything else—the mysteries of Art, the purpose of this hyperfragment, even the threat of the High Sovereign—could wait.
For now, all that mattered was finding them.
I tightened my grip on Eclipse Blade, feeling the hum of its eleven elemental sigils beneath my fingers. The blade seemed to echo my resolve, its energy thrumming in tandem with my heartbeat.
Jin moved to my side, his dark mana swirling ominously as he summoned a phalanx of skeletal warriors, their bones gleaming with faint astral energy. "You look like you've got this all figured out," he remarked, his tone half-jesting but his eyes sharp.
"Not all of it," I admitted. "But enough."
"And after we get them out?" Ian asked, his spear resting casually on his shoulder though his gaze was anything but casual.
"Then," I said with a faint, humorless smile, "we figure out how to escape this nightmare alive."
Ian snorted, a faint chuckle escaping his lips. "Simple as that, huh?"
"Simple never means easy," I replied. "But it's a start."
The road ahead was perilous, fraught with uncertainties and dangers we couldn't yet comprehend. But as long as I had a blade in my hand and a purpose in my heart, I would carve a path through anything.
Because if there was one thing I had learned in this world, it was this:
Even in the darkest of places, there is a way forward. You just have to make it.