I had spent an inordinate amount of time avoiding Alyssara, not just physically, but mentally and emotionally. She wasn't someone you simply faced without consequence—she was a force of nature, a storm that could rip apart the unwary. And for the longest time, I had been afraid of her.
Afraid of her obsession. Afraid of the way she looked at me, as though I were something to be consumed. Afraid of how she wielded power so effortlessly, how she bent the world to her whims. But mostly, I feared the helplessness I felt in her presence.
Even now, standing here with my mana thrumming just shy of peak Immortal-rank, that fear hadn't entirely disappeared. It clung to me like a shadow, a reminder of the yawning chasm that separated us.
Alyssara Velcroix wasn't just strong; she was monstrously powerful. She didn't merely stand atop the world—she owned it, her strength unmatched by anyone else alive. Facing her head-on was suicide for anyone beneath Radiant-rank. I had always known that.
But fear was a strange thing. It could paralyze you, make you run from the inevitable. Or, if you embraced it, it could propel you forward.
Now, I was done running.
Why couldn't I use Alyssara?
That question had been gnawing at me for weeks. Alyssara wanted me to grow stronger—not out of some altruistic desire for my success, but because of her own twisted form of love. She wanted to mold me into her equal, her adversary, her obsession. She wanted me to reach a height where she could fight me with no holds barred and, in her words, "break" me in every way imaginable.
That kind of devotion, warped as it was, could be leveraged. And I intended to do just that.
After all, why shouldn't I use her obsession for my own benefit? She was the strongest being in the world, capable of laughing in the faces of the four other Cult Leaders, even if they attacked her together. Her power was the stuff of legends—terrifying, unstoppable, and utterly indispensable.
Of course, I had no intention of letting her fight my battles. That was my job. Even if she offered to destroy the other Cult Leaders, I would refuse. Not because of pride, but because I needed to stand on my own. This wasn't just about winning—it was about sharpening myself against the impossible, gaining the experience I needed to push past my limits.
Art had made me strong enough to fight Radiant-rankers despite not yet crossing the threshold myself, but raw power wasn't enough. I needed to refine that strength, to forge it into something indomitable. And for that, I needed to face them head-on. I needed to experience their strength, their cunning, their desperation.
I needed to learn.
And it all began with the West.
The Western continent, with its labyrinthine politics and the ever-present threat of orcs and ogres, was the perfect stage for my gamble. It was a land rife with chaos, and chaos was fertile ground for change. It was where I would take my first step in toppling the Cults.
"Right, Luna?" I asked through our bond, my thoughts brushing against hers.
Her response came as a soft hum, a sound that carried both exasperation and reluctant amusement.
'You really are crazy,' she said, her voice echoing in my mind.
'But it's possible, right?' I pressed.
She didn't respond immediately, and her silence was all the confirmation I needed.
A smile tugged at my lips. This plan was reckless, audacious, and fraught with danger—but it was necessary. The Cults had ruled unchecked for too long. Their time was over.
I turned my gaze to the horizon, the Western continent looming in my mind like an uncharted frontier. This was where it began.
"Let's go," I said softly, the words carrying more weight than they should have.
I felt Luna's presence steady me, her confidence bolstering my own. There was no turning back now.
The West awaited. And with it, the first step in reshaping the world.
__________________________________________________________________________________
Jin swung his daggers in precise arcs, the sharp hum of astral energy crackling through the air as they collided with invisible barriers. Sweat dripped from his brow, the weight of both his physical exertion and his thoughts pressing heavily on him.
Two years.
It had been two years since the hyperfragment, since they had all been thrust into a world of chaos and survival.
And two years since Arthur had left.
Without Arthur, the weight of responsibility had shifted, leaving Jin with more work than ever before. The management of Noctalis, the Guild that dominated the adventuring world, had been taxing enough, but his obligations as the heir to the Ashbluff family and the Western continent compounded the pressure. It was relentless, a tide that never receded, and yet Jin had borne it all without complaint.
He had no choice.
Strength, after all, was not merely about astral energy and combat prowess. It was also the ability to carry burdens others couldn't.
The sharp buzz of his phone jolted him from his thoughts. Jin stopped mid-swing, frowning as he wiped his hand on a cloth before pulling the device from his pocket.
The screen displayed a priority number.
Jin's heart skipped a beat.
The name displayed made his breath hitch.
Arthur Nightingale.
For a moment, Jin stared at the screen, an uncharacteristic hesitation gripping him before he pressed the call button and brought the phone to his ear.
"You're back," Jin said, his voice even, though a tinge of something unspoken lingered beneath the surface.
"I am," Arthur replied. His voice was calm, steady, and yet it carried a weight that Jin couldn't quite place. "I want to come to the Ashbluff estate."
"Why?" Jin asked, his grip tightening slightly on the phone.
"I'll explain when I'm there," Arthur said, his tone offering no room for negotiation. "Can I?"
Jin sighed. "Sure."
"When?"
"Tonight," Arthur said. "See you then, Jin."
And just like that, the call ended.
Jin lowered the phone, staring at it as though it held answers to the questions swirling in his mind.
'He's back.'
Arthur's absence had been a void—an absence felt by the entire world, but especially by those closest to him. During that time, Jin had done everything he could to strengthen himself, pushing past limits he hadn't even known existed. But now that Arthur was back, Jin couldn't help but feel a gnawing sense of unease.
'Just how big is the gap between us now?' Jin thought, his gaze drifting to the daggers in his hands.
The image of Arthur creating living eyes for Rachel came unbidden to his mind. Jin still remembered that moment with vivid clarity, the sheer impossibility of what Arthur had done. To manipulate an Ancient-grade artifact to such a degree wasn't just unheard of—it was the stuff of legends.
There was no doubt in Jin's mind.
Arthur was stronger than him.
The question was: how much stronger?
Jin exhaled deeply, his fingers brushing the edge of his blade as he mulled over the upcoming global rankings. They were due to be updated soon, and Jin's name was sure to be among them.
Last time, he had been ranked 38 in the world—a position he had worked tirelessly to achieve. But now, he wasn't content to simply hold his place. He was aiming for the top 30.
And it wasn't just him. Every member of the former Class A had grown immensely in Arthur's absence. Lucifer, the ever-relentless prodigy, was already on the cusp of breaking into the top 20, sitting at Rank 22.
But Arthur?
'Where will Arthur rank now?' Jin wondered, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips. Arthur had always been the unpredictable one, the one who shattered expectations and left others scrambling to keep up.
And tonight, Jin would finally see him again.
'Let's see just how far you've come, Arthur.'