(Marvel, DC, images, manhuas, and every anime that will be mentioned and used in this story are not mine. They all belong to their respective owners. The main character "Karito/Adriel Josue Valdez" and the story are mine)
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Author's Note:
I've had to fix this chapter like 5 time because whenever I saved and closed Webnovel and returned to continue where I left off, the writing just becomes crazy. The narration is separated, disorganized and all over the place for some reason. This is the first time happening and holy shit, it's annoying. I'm not sure what Webnovel did but I can't save it unless I want my writing to just break. I had to copy and paste it before it gets broken so I could publish it how it's supposed to look. It's so strange. Anyways, enjoy the chapter!
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Welcome to Madan no ou to Vanadis.
The moment the Guardian's presence was noticed on the battlefield, the clash of steel and cries of war came to an abrupt halt. Soldiers from both sides ceased their battle, turning their heads toward the massive crater where the mysterious figure lay unconscious.
Among them, Eleonora Viltaria was the most intrigued. She couldn't help but feel drawn to the enigmatic man who had, in what felt like a mere second, turned the battlefield into the aftermath of a nuclear explosion test site. The sheer magnitude of his arrival defied logic, and that only made her more curious.
While she examined the fallen stranger, a commanding voice broke through the stunned silence.
"This man will be taken into our custody."
It was Prince Ludwik of Brune, who had wasted no time in asserting his authority. With an air of confidence, he stepped forward, his eyes locked onto Eleonora.
"His intrusion has cost both sides significant losses. For that reason, I propose a ceasefire."
He spoke as if he expected her immediate agreement—as if his decision was final.
But Eleonora merely scoffed, her lips curling into a smirk.
She saw right through him.
To her, it was obvious—the prince wasn't concerned about fairness. He merely saw an opportunity to claim something—someone—far beyond his understanding.
Her gaze hardened, her stance unwavering.
"You actually think I'll allow you to take this otherworldly man into your hands?" she challenged, tilting her head slightly.
A confident shake of her head followed before she delivered her verdict:
"No. I don't think so. If you want a ceasefire, you will let me have him. He's mine."
A tense silence fell between them as their gazes locked in a battle of wills. The prince, however, remained undeterred.
He smirked, as if he had already won.
After all, his army still outnumbered hers by an overwhelming margin.
Even before the battle, the Brune forces boasted a staggering 25,000 soldiers, while Zhcted's forces had barely 2,000 warriors. A massive disparity in sheer numbers—a gap so wide it was almost laughable.
And the prince knew it.
"I'm not sure if you're aware, Vanadis," he began, his voice filled with condescension, "but my army vastly outnumbers yours.
You cannot hope to compete against such overwhelming manpower."
Eleonora didn't flinch.
She didn't blink.
She simply stared at him, unimpressed.
The prince's arrogance was tiresome. He had no idea.
This battle had been a massacre from the start—and not for the reasons he assumed.
Before the stranger's arrival, she had already butchered his forces. She had cut down thousands effortlessly, barely breaking a sweat. The battle, as one-sided as it seemed on paper, had been nothing more than a dull, predictable affair.
And that bored her.
Deeply.
And Eleonora Viltaria despised boredom.
She had hoped for excitement, prayed for a challenge.
Instead, she had been forced to wade through fodder, her blade cutting down soldiers who never stood a chance.
And now, this prince had the audacity to lecture her about numbers?
Her smirk widened.
A flicker of mischief danced in her icy blue eyes.
Fine.
If the Gods wouldn't grant her an exciting battle...
She'd make one herself.
With a sudden burst of movement, she raised Arifar, her Dragonic Weapon, and pointed it toward the prince.
"Enough talk."
Then, in a blur, she swung her sword.
A howling storm erupted.
A torrential barrage of wind blades ripped through Brune's forces, slicing through their ranks like a hurricane of death.
Soldiers screamed, torn apart before they could even raise their weapons. Blood and steel scattered across the battlefield, the very earth trembling beneath the might of her power.
The prince barely managed to block a knight's incoming sword as the battle erupted once again.
"WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING, VANADIS?! ARE YOU MAD?!"
His furious roar was lost in the chaos of war.
Eleonora simply grinned, twirling Arifar with ease.
"Nope."
Her sword pulsed, another storm of blades forming around her.
"Just... bored."
With a single swing, she sent another whirlwind of destruction toward his forces, the wind carving through soldiers like a scythe through wheat.
She looked back at the crater, her expression set in stone.
"And that man will be mine. Over my dead body will you take him from me!"
And with that, the battlefield was drenched in chaos once more.
The Vanadis had made her decision.
...
A few minutes later...
The battlefield was a sea of blood and steel, the once-ordered ranks of Brune's army now nothing more than scattered remnants of broken men.
Eleonora's forces surged forward, cutting down the disorganized Brune soldiers with deadly efficiency. Zhcted's cavalry moved like ghosts through the chaos, their speed and precision outmatching the heavier, slower Brune warriors. Torn banners flapped in the wind, drenched in the blood of the fallen.
Despite the overwhelming odds, a single warrior still stood his ground.
Tigrevurmud Vorn.
The young archer, barely more than a commander in name, now fought like a man possessed. His breath was heavy, muscles aching, but his grip on his bow never wavered.
With a practiced motion, he loosed another arrow.
It whistled through the air, piercing the throat of a charging knight before the man could swing his blade.
Tigre moved, never staying in one place for long. His instincts screamed for him to run, to surrender— but he refused. He fired again, an arrow striking a Zhcted cavalryman through the eye slit of his helmet.
A Zhcted knight, sensing an opening, lunged.
Tigre spun at the last second, his bow snapping outward like a club. It struck the knight's arm, sending his sword flying into the mud. Without hesitation, Tigre knocked another arrow—at point-blank range—and fired. The knight fell.
It wasn't enough.
For every enemy he felled, two more took their place.
His quiver was emptying, his body growing slower. The weight of battle pressed down upon him, his movements just a fraction of a second too sluggish.
And then—he saw her.
Eleonora Viltaria.
The Silver-Winged Vanadis stood atop the battlefield, her silver hair billowing in the wind. Her blade, Arifar, pulsed with arcane power, glowing with aetherial radiance.
She saw him.
And she smiled.
In an instant, she was upon him.
Tigre barely had time to react. His instincts took over—he dropped low, barely dodging her first swing. He retaliated, twisting his bow in his grip, trying to counter with a strike to her ribs.
She sidestepped effortlessly.
Her second attack was faster than the first—a horizontal sweep impossible to dodge.
Tigre barely managed to raise his bow as a makeshift shield—
CRACK!
The impact sent him flying, his bow shattering from the sheer force.
He hit the ground hard, rolling across the mud.
He tried to rise—but a boot pressed down on his chest.
Eleonora stood above him, her sword at his throat.
"You lasted longer than I expected," she admitted.
Tigre gritted his teeth, his breath ragged.
"Do it."
Eleonora's smirk widened.
"No."
Her gaze flickered to the side—where the Guardian lay, still unconscious in his crater.
"You're too interesting to kill."
She raised Arifar, and the battlefield was decided.
The Brune army was defeated.
The last warrior remaining and the strange man from the heavens—Tigre and the Guardian—were now prisoners of Zhcted.
Dream Realm.
Adriel POV.
I felt sick.
I didn't expect Sentry to counter-hack me the way he did. Usually, the Darks wouldn't expect me to hack their character. I'm pretty sure it's because they're the ones always manipulating the narrative—so when they finally come across a Guardian who can counter them and do the same, they're either caught completely off guard or they just forget that we can fight back.
One or the other. Not sure.
Well... this is Death Seed Sentry we're talking about. He's strong. Stupidly strong. Even more than in the comics. No wonder heavy hitters like Thor and the others had so much trouble with him.
His healing factor is a serious problem. He's quite literally immortal.
I'm going to have to think of something when I see him again—a way to disable that immortality. I also need to figure out how to avoid getting countered the way I just did.
Having Dark energy injected into my system was like being eaten alive from the inside.
I managed to vomit most of it out—explains the black blood—but I still feel sick.
...And he did something else to me.
I don't know what, but I'll worry about that later.
I have a feeling I'm about to have a chat with the gods of this realm.
This would be so much easier if the ones at the top of the hierarchy actually knew we existed and didn't just interrogate us every time we appeared in their world.
They should learn from the League characters—at least their gods know when they need us.
...Damn, I sound arrogant saying that.
I'll stop.
Anyway... I wonder when they'll show up. The gods, I mean.
I only ever watched the anime of this series, not the novel.
Meh. I should be fine.
Once I fix whatever Sentry did to me, my Passive Knowledge Skill should kick in again.
Though... I do have a feeling I altered the plot a bit.
And when that happens, I'm practically flying blind.
No knowing what comes next.
But that's alright.
It's better to create a What-If story... than let the MC die and have this entire reality cease to exist.
Ahh... I wonder when these gods will finally show up...
And as if on cue, the world around me shifted instantly.
The endless void vanished, replaced by a grand throne room.
The sheer scale of it was beyond mortal comprehension. The ceiling shimmered with celestial constellations, each star pulsating with divine energy.
The walls were engraved with ancient inscriptions, depicting legends and myths long forgotten.
Everything was adorned in gold and obsidian, a fitting seat for the gods of this world.
And there—seated upon colossal, ornate thrones—were the Ten Gods.
Each one radiated unimaginable power, their presence distorting the space around them.
At the center of them all sat Perkunas, King of the Gods.
His golden armor shimmered like a miniature sun. His gaze was sharp, filled with undisguised suspicion.
His aura of absolute authority made it clear—he was in charge.
To his left, Triglav, the God of War, sat with his arms crossed. His battle-worn armor was stained with the echoes of countless battles.
His crimson eyes bore into me, filled with silent judgment.
Further down, Radegast, the God of Fame and Deals, smirked from his seat, his expression filled with amusement rather than concern.
And on the farthest throne, Tir Na Fal, Goddess of Night, Darkness, and Death, leaned forward slightly.
Unlike the others, she seemed… intrigued.
The air was heavy.
I could tell what they were doing.
They were trying to intimidate me.
But it wouldn't work.
Their combined presence, while overwhelming to any mortal, demi-god, or even high-tier cosmic beings, was nothing I hadn't seen before.
I kept my hands in my pockets, completely unfazed, as I met Perkunas' gaze head-on.
Alright. Let's get this over with.
A golden radiance pulsed from Perkunas' throne, sending waves of divine energy rippling through the room.
His voice was deep, like the rumbling of an approaching storm.
"Mortal. You stand before the Pantheon of this world. You bring chaos, war, and power unlike any that exists in our domain."
His golden eyes narrowed as his presence bore down on me.
"You are an anomaly."
His voice hardened.
"What are you? And why have you invaded our world?"
I exhaled.
"I'm not your enemy," I said, my tone calm but firm. "I was dragged into this world while hunting something far worse than anything you can imagine."
Silence.
Then—
Triglav, the God of War, finally spoke, his voice a low growl.
"You speak boldly, outsider. As if you believe yourself above our judgment."
A crimson, war-fueled force flared around him, rattling the throne room itself.
"You arrive here, shaking the very foundation of our reality, and now you claim to be a savior?" His burning eyes bore into mine.
I held his gaze, unbothered.
"If I were your enemy," I said slowly, "you'd already be dead."
Triglav's fist clenched. A flicker of anger crossed his face.
Radegast chuckled.
"Bold words, outsider. But words mean little without proof."
Perkunas raised a hand, silencing them.
"You claim to be hunting something worse," he said, his voice steady. "And yet, it is you who fell upon our world like a catastrophe."
He leaned forward, his golden aura intensifying.
"How do we know you are not the true threat?"
I rolled my eyes.
"Seriously?" I muttered. "You're playing the 'Foreigner = Enemy' card? How original."
A few gods bristled at my lack of reverence.
The tension in the throne room thickened. Divine auras pulsed, crackling against the fabric of reality, yet I remained still, unfazed.
It was almost amusing how predictable this was.
The same old formula.
An unknown force enters a realm, and the so-called gods puff out their chests, demanding answers, expecting submission.
Too bad I wasn't in the mood to play along.
Triglav's crimson aura flared brighter.
The God of War rose from his throne, his massive form towering over the others.
His bloodstained armor gleamed, a testament to countless battles fought and won.
"Watch your tongue, mortal," he growled, voice thick with fury. "You tread in the presence of the divine. Arrogance will only quicken your demise."
I tilted my head.
"Arrogance?" I asked, feigning confusion. "No, that would be assuming that I owe you an explanation in the first place."
That did it.
Triglav vanished—a blur of divine speed.
He reappeared directly in front of me, his hand reaching for my throat.
Fast.
But not fast enough.
Instinct took over.
My Spider-Sense screamed, and I twisted at the last second.
His fingers brushed the air where my neck had been, but I had already shifted, stepping to the side.
Hmm, he's quick.
I flicked my fingers, preparing to counter, but before I could—
A golden force erupted between us.
Perkunas' divine intervention.
"Enough!"
The King of Gods' command shook the throne room, his authority rippling through the divine space.
Triglav halted, his glowing eyes locked onto mine, his muscles tensed in frustration.
"Triglav," Perkunas continued, his voice unwavering, "we do not strike before we understand what we face."
I huffed.
"Took the words right out of my mouth."
Triglav snarled but stepped back.
Radegast chuckled, lounging back in his seat.
"Now this is entertaining," he mused. "An outsider, unfazed before the gods, dodging the mighty Triglav like a dancer in the wind. I must admit, I'm intrigued."
His eyes gleamed with opportunistic interest.
"Perhaps," he continued, tapping his chin, "we are approaching this the wrong way. If this outsider is as powerful as he claims... then perhaps he is more useful than dangerous."
Triglav glared at him.
"You would make a deal with an unknown force?"
Radegast smirked.
"We make deals with warlords and kings every day, brother. What's one more gamble?"
Perkunas' golden eyes remained on me, sharp and unyielding.
"You still have not answered my question, outsider."
His voice carried the weight of a thousand suns.
"If you are not the threat, then who is?"
I exhaled.
Finally.
"It's a Dark," I said. "One of the worst. A Death Seed Sentry, corrupted beyond saving."
The room shifted.
A ripple of divine unease passed through the pantheon.
Even Tir Na Fal's eyes flickered.
Perkunas' expression darkened.
"You speak of the Corrupting Ones."
I nodded.
"Yeah. And one of them is here, right now, in your world."
A deafening silence followed my words.
The weight of my statement pressed against the divine chamber, twisting the very air around us.
Perkunas' golden aura dimmed—just slightly—but I caught it. A flicker of hesitation.
Even a King of Gods had reason to fear.
Triglav's fists clenched, his crimson energy surging violently.
"You speak of a creature akin to a walking calamity, an entity beyond mortal comprehension—"
His voice burned with accusation.
"And you brought it here?"
I rolled my eyes.
"Like I had a choice," I muttered. "He followed me, and let's be real—even if I wasn't here, he would have arrived eventually. That's just how the Darks work."
Tir Na Fal's gaze darkened.
"The Corrupting Ones…" she murmured, her voice low.
"They are an anomaly even among the divine. They are not born, nor do they fade into the cycle of creation."
Her violet eyes locked onto mine, sharp and piercing.
"If such an entity has truly arrived, then why have we not seen its effects?"
I scoffed.
"Oh, you've seen them," I said, crossing my arms. "You just don't realize it yet."
I tilted my head slightly, letting my words settle in.
The gods exchanged uncertain glances, clearly reluctant to acknowledge my meaning.
So, I decided to spell it out.
"Tell me," I said, my voice laced with quiet amusement, "when was the last time you checked your reality's flow?"
No immediate answer.
Good.
"I'll tell you what's happening," I continued.
"Right now, your fate is already changing. Your history is shifting. Existence is mutating in ways you don't even notice."
Perkunas' brows furrowed.
"Explain."
I smirked.
"Simple. Your so-called divine foresight?" I let the words sink in.
"It's been compromised."
I paused before delivering the final blow.
"Sentry is rewriting all of existence's foundation from the inside. Right now. Even as we speak."
A ripple of shock spread through the pantheon.
"You lie!" Triglav snarled, his war aura flaring violently.
I shrugged.
"Do I?" I raised an eyebrow.
"Then tell me... why hasn't your all-seeing eye detected his presence?"
Silence.
Perkunas' gaze hardened.
Tir Na Fal, however, was the first to understand.
Her eyes narrowed.
"If the Corrupting One is capable of altering fate... then it has already begun dismantling our reality's structure."
Bingo.
I snapped my fingers.
"Exactly. He's already inside your script, shifting space-time. That's why you haven't noticed him yet. He's threading himself into your world, burying himself deep into its fundamental laws—where even gods like you can't reach."
A heavy silence followed my words.
The divine chamber dimmed, its once-buzzing power suddenly subdued.
Even the gods—beings of incomprehensible might—could feel it now.
Something was wrong.
Perkunas' golden aura flickered.
Not out of weakness, but out of deep, unsettling realization.
Triglav's fists clenched, his crimson war energy crackling with violent resistance.
"You speak of a force that rivals the foundation of existence itself. How? How does a single being alter what is absolute?"
I exhaled.
"Alright," I muttered, rolling my shoulders. "Let me break it down in a way you guys can actually understand."
I stepped forward, meeting their gazes without fear.
"You see reality as something static—an unshakable structure, like an eternal fortress. A thing that simply exists."
I raised a finger.
"That's your first mistake."
I waved my hand, conjuring a golden thread in midair.
It shimmered, pulsating like a living entity.
"Reality isn't a fortress—it's a web.
A constantly shifting network of laws, connections, and principles that govern everything.
The physics, the causality, the flow of time—all of it is part of a massive, ever-moving system."
The golden thread began shifting, weaving, expanding.
I let it morph into a complex lattice of interwoven lines, vast and infinite.
"This," I gestured to the intricate network, "is what you call existence. Every action, every law, every moment is woven into this system. It adapts, it grows, it maintains itself."
The gods watched, fascinated despite themselves.
"But now…" I continued, my voice darkening, "imagine something foreign invades this system."
I flicked my wrist.
A dark tendril shot through the web, slowly wrapping around the golden threads.
Tir Na Fal's eyes sharpened.
"It's not breaking them," she murmured.
I nodded.
"Exactly. It's rewriting them.
Instead of shattering your reality, Sentry is inserting himself into its very foundation, modifying the equations that govern your world.
He isn't fighting your laws—he's becoming part of them."
Perkunas' jaw tightened. "And because he exists within those laws..."
"You can't detect him," I finished.
The golden lattice continued shifting, now pulsing with streaks of black—corruption, coiling like an infection.
"This is what's happening to your world," I said, letting them feel the weight of it. "Your laws, your histories, your physics—all of it is being subtly rewritten in ways you can't perceive until it's too late. That's why your foresight failed. That's why you didn't sense the change."
The gods exchanged uneasy glances.
Radegast's usual smirk was gone.
Even Triglav, ever the war-driven brute, looked… unsettled.
"You mean to tell me," Vors, the god of livestock, finally spoke, "that this entity is… infecting reality itself?"
I tilted my head.
"More like integrating with it. Like a virus that rewrites your genetic code instead of outright killing you."
A ripple of understanding passed through the pantheon.
Perkunas, despite his overwhelming presence, looked deep in thought.
Tir Na Fal, however, was already piecing things together.
"If what you say is true," she murmured, "then we are already… compromised."
I nodded.
"You're catching on."
Triglav scowled.
"Then why have we not felt it?"
I gave him a knowing smirk.
"Because," I said simply, "Sentry's smart. He knows better than to trigger divine alarms. He isn't just brute-forcing your world like some mindless beast. He's subtle. He's adapting. He's making sure that by the time you notice… it's already irreversible."
The air in the chamber thickened.
Even gods could feel fear.
Perkunas exhaled slowly, his golden gaze sharp.
"You claim to have fought this being," he said. "And yet you stand before us. How?"
I chuckled dryly.
"Not without a price," I admitted.
"I barely made it out. He countered my attack, corrupted my systems, and nearly erased me from existence. If I wasn't built to adapt… I wouldn't be here."
Tir Na Fal's eyes gleamed with cold calculation.
"You survived. That alone is proof that you are not to be underestimated."
Perkunas nodded.
"Then we cannot afford hesitation. The Corrupting One must be eradicated before its influence spreads beyond our reach."
I raised a hand.
"Slow down there, Zeus wannabe," I said, making a few gods bristle. "If you go in blind, you're going to die."
Triglav's aura flared.
"You dare—"
I cut him off with a sharp look.
"Yes, I dare. Because you're thinking of fighting Sentry like a normal cosmic threat. He's not. You can't kill him with divine power alone. You need a plan. You need me."
Perkunas studied me for a long moment.
"And what would you propose, outsider?"
I cracked my neck, smirking.
"First?" I grinned. "You let me go."
A tense pause.
Then—
Radegast chuckled.
"I like him," he said. "He has a spine."
Tir Na Fal gave me a long, calculating look.
Perkunas remained silent.
Then, finally—
He nodded.
The air crackled with divine tension.
Perkunas' piercing gaze remained locked onto mine, the weight of a thousand suns pressing down on me.
But I stood my ground, utterly unmoved.
Behind him, the rest of the pantheon watched silently, some with skepticism, others with growing intrigue.
Tir Na Fal was the only one whose expression remained neutral.
I could tell she was already thinking ahead—calculating.
She wasn't like the others.
While they let their divine egos cloud their judgment, she understood.
She knew I wasn't lying.
She knew Sentry was already deep within their world, weaving himself into the very fabric of its existence.
And she knew… that I was their only chance to stop it.
Perkunas exhaled slowly, as if weighing the scales of fate.
Then, finally—
"It is decided," he declared.
His voice boomed through the throne room like a celestial decree, shaking the ethereal space around us.
Triglav crossed his arms, his war-god pride still burning.
"Tch. We shall see if your actions match your arrogance, outsider."
Radegast smirked, a glint of amusement in his divine eyes.
"This should be fun."
Tir Na Fal said nothing, but her calculating stare told me everything I needed to know.
They wouldn't stop me.
But they would watch.
I felt something shift in the air around me—like an unseen force loosening its grip.
The oppressive presence of divine scrutiny receded, just enough for me to recognize what was happening.
The dream realm was collapsing.
Good.
I had what I needed.
Perkunas' voice echoed in my mind.
"Then it will be us who judge you next."
I smirked.
"Fair enough."
Not like you can do shit to me, though.
A ripple of distortion cracked through the air—
Then, darkness.
The sensation of falling hit me like a freight train.
My body plunged through layers of reality, the dream realm fading behind me as the physical world snapped back into place.
It was like being forcibly slammed back into existence—painful, disorienting, and annoying as hell.
And the first thing I noticed?
Everything hurt.
A dull, throbbing ache pulsed through my body, my nerves screaming in protest as I slowly regained consciousness.
Cold.
That was the second thing.
The air around me was stale and frigid,
the scent of damp stone filling my nose.
My eyelids felt like bricks, but I forced them open.
And when I did—The dim light entered from outside the reinforced window barely reached the small room, casting faint flickers against the smooth stone walls. It wasn't a damp, rat-infested prison cell like some medieval dungeon—no chains, no foul stench of decay—but rather a compact, spartan living space. A simple wooden bed was pushed against the wall, the mattress stiff but at least clean. A small wooden table with an unlit candle sat in the corner. The iron-reinforced door was thick, sturdy—definitely built to keep people in rather than out.
Not the worst cell I've woken up in.
"Oh, you have got to be kidding me."
I exhaled sharply, rubbing my temple as the last remnants of my dream realm interrogation faded. My body still ached, a deep, unnatural pain lingering from Sentry's attack.
"Well, shit. First, I get my insides turned into a Dark energy rave, then I get interrogated by a bunch of arrogant gods, and now I wake up in medieval Japan's version of a studio apartment."
Fantastic.
I stretched my fingers, testing my body's response time.
My healing factor was still active, albeit sluggish.
That corruption Sentry left in me was still gnawing at my insides, making my system work overtime to purge it.
I grunted.
"Fucker really didn't hold back."
I could still feel the "echo of his attack—"as if phantom claws were still latched onto my core. That counter-hack wasn't just a defense mechanism.
Sentry had anticipated me. He'd evolved.
And that meant—
"Next time we fight, he's gonna be even worse."
I sighed, shaking the thought away.
Later. I'd deal with that later.
Right now, I needed to figure out where the hell I was.
I sat up, scanning my surroundings. The architecture
felt medieval but refined—definitely Zhcted. Even the craftsmanship of the stone walls and furniture screamed high-class captivity.
"Great. So I'm being held somewhere important."
And then—
A voice from the other side of the iron door.
"It seems you've awoken, otherworlder."
The voice was calm yet firm, carrying an air of authority. A woman's voice.
I blinked, slowly lifting my hand from where I had been tracing my stomach, still checking for any lingering traces of Sentry's corruption. The residual Dark energy was still there, dormant but festering.
Great. Another problem for later. For now, I focused on the visitor. "I have," I replied evenly, pushing myself upright.
The heavy iron door creaked open, revealing a young woman in silver and blue armor, a long sword sheathed at her hip. Her presence radiated discipline—sharp eyes, straight posture, and an aura of strict composure that screamed do not mess with me.
Limalisha. Let's call her, Lim, for short.
Elen's right-hand woman. Her most trusted bodyguard.
Ah. That explains the authority in her voice.
And Jesus Christ, she's hot.
My Spider-Sense wasn't tingling, but my "Damn, she's fine" sense sure was.
I almost let out a low whistle, but self-preservation kicked in just in time. Something told me that if I so much as blinked the wrong way, she'd introduce my skull to the business end of her sword.
Yeah, best not to get stabbed today.
Instead, I gave a lazy smirk. "Well, hello there, gorgeous."
Her eye twitched. For a second, I swore I saw a vein pop in her forehead, but she didn't react beyond that.
Professional. Unshakable.
Scary.
Lim exhaled through her nose, her expression remaining cold and unamused.
"You're lucky," she said flatly. "Lady Elen wished to speak with you personally. Otherwise, you'd still be unconscious."
I leaned back against the wall, grinning.
"Oh? She interested in me already? Damn, I must have made quite the impression."
This time, I was certain she was considering stabbing me.
Instead, she narrowed her sharp blue eyes and simply said,
"Move."
Yep. Definitely terrifying.
Without another word, she turned on her heel and motioned toward the door.
I chuckled, shaking my head.
"Tough crowd."
From the other cell, Tigre let out a sigh like he was dealing with a damn fool. "You might want to take this more seriously."
I didn't bother looking at him. "Dude, I got drop-kicked through reality and locked up in medieval fantasy prison. Let me have this."
Lim wasn't waiting.
She was already heading out, her grip on her sword firm.
No Pov
Tigre sat on the small wooden cot in his own cell, arms crossed, his expression unreadable as he listened to the exchange between the mysterious otherworlder and Limalisha.
He had woken up just moments ago, his body aching from the brutal battle, only to hear the distant clinking of armor approaching. That was when he heard him.
The so-called "otherworlder."
And just like that, all of Tigre's carefully built composure had to work overtime not to sigh.
The guy had been cracking jokes since the moment he woke up, as if getting thrown into a cell was just another Tuesday for him. Tigre didn't know whether to be impressed or worried.
Meanwhile, the Guardian casually stretched his arms, rolling his shoulders before glancing toward Tigre's cell with mild curiosity.
"Well, well," the Guardian mused. "The main character himself."
Tigre raised an eyebrow at the strange phrasing. "What?"
"Ah, nothing." The Guardian smirked, leaning lazily against the bars of his cell. "You just have that look, y'know? The kind that says, I didn't ask for this, but here I am anyway."
Tigre narrowed his eyes slightly. The man's tone was light, playful even, but there was something else underneath it—a knowing edge.
Before he could respond, Limalisha cleared her throat.
"You can save your chatter," she said firmly. "Lady Elen has requested an audience with both of you."
Tigre's brows furrowed slightly, though he wasn't entirely surprised.
Elen was a woman who knew what she wanted and took it. That was how she had crushed Brune's forces so easily in battle, and now she had a strange otherworldly warrior in her grasp. Of course she would want answers.
Limalisha turned her sharp gaze to the Guardian.
"And you. Do not test Lady Elen's patience."
The Guardian simply grinned, tilting his head slightly.
"Oh? And what happens if I do?"
Lim's hand subtly tightened around the hilt of her sword.
"You'll regret it."
Silence hung in the air for a moment.
Then—
The Guardian chuckled, raising his hands in surrender.
"Alright, alright. No need to stab me, Miss 'Definitely-Doesn't-Have-a-Teddy-Bear-Collection'."
Lim froze.
A visible twitch formed in her eye.
Tigre blinked. What?
Limalisha inhaled slowly, clearly keeping herself from drawing her sword and cutting him down on the spot.
"You will follow me. Now."
The Guardian smirked but didn't push his luck further, casually stretching as he stepped toward the cell door.
Tigre, still processing what the hell just happened, decided to remain silent.
As the cell doors swung open, Tigre took a deep breath, straightening himself.
Whatever was about to happen... he would face it head-on.
And as for the Guardian?
Well... at least he doesn't seem boring.
The heavy iron doors of the castle creaked open, revealing the lavish yet fortified halls of Eleonora Viltaria's palace. Sunlight poured in through stained glass windows, illuminating the polished stone floors and casting colorful reflections across the room. Servants bustled around, their expressions a mix of curiosity and cautious awe.
Two prisoners were escorted into the hall.
Tigre, his posture composed yet tense, walked steadily despite his injuries. His first time in a war and he is already captured by the enemy faction. His mind, however, was on Alsace—his people, his home.
The other prisoner?
Adriel, The Guardian.
Unlike Tigre, he walked as if he owned the place. His hands rested casually in his coat pockets, his posture loose, confident, like he wasn't a prisoner at all. His brown eyes flicked around, scanning the architecture, the faces, the weapons at the guards' hips—everything cataloged in a second.
He whistled. "Well, you guys sure know how to make a guy feel welcome."
Tigre sighed internally. He had only known this man for a short time, but already, he could tell—Adriel was someone who would make waves wherever he went.
Lim, walking ahead of them, tightened her grip on her sword. "Try not to act so casual, prisoner. You are in the presence of Eleonora Viltaria, Vanadis of Zhcted."
Adriel raised a brow but didn't respond. Instead, he turned his gaze forward.
At the center of the throne room, seated with effortless grace, was Eleonora Viltaria.
She was leaning back in her chair, silver hair flowing like liquid moonlight over her shoulders. Her piercing crimson eyes locked onto them with amusement and curiosity. One leg was crossed over the other, her hand resting on the hilt of her Dragonic weapon, Arifal.
The moment Adriel laid eyes on her, he had two thoughts.
First: She's powerful.
Her aura was something fierce—refined, commanding, almost predatory. He could tell she wasn't someone to underestimate.
Second: She's fucking hot.
Before he could voice either thought, she smirked.
"You took longer than expected," she mused.
Lim stepped forward and bowed slightly. "Eleonora-sama, I have brought the prisoners."
Tigre inhaled deeply, bracing himself for what was to come.
Adriel?
He simply tilted his head. "Man, you're really leaning into the whole 'powerful warlord' aesthetic, huh?"
Elen blinked.
Tigre froze.
The guards in the room tensed, gripping their weapons.
Lim turned, eyes widening in disbelief. "You dare speak to Eleonora-sama in such a way?!"
Elen, however... laughed.
A genuine, amused laugh.
Tigre looked between them, confused.
Adriel smirked.
Oh, she's got a fun side. How fun.
Elen rested her chin on her palm, her eyes twinkling with intrigue. "And you're the 'otherworlder' I picked in the battlefield."
Adriel stretched his arms. "Guilty as charged."
Tigre sighed. "You could at least pretend to be serious."
Adriel gave him a playful shrug. "Where's the fun in that?"
Elen leaned forward slightly, her smirk deepening. "You're an odd one."
"Hey, I've been called worse."
Lim was fuming. "Eleonora-sama, I must insist we—"
Elen raised a hand, silencing her.
Her crimson eyes remained on Adriel.
"You and the redhead over there caused quite a stir," she said. "And I'm sure you both have your reasons. But let's be clear about something."
The room's atmosphere grew heavier.
Adriel felt the shift in her presence—her warrior's instinct, her authority as a ruler.
"You are in my territory," she stated. "Until I say otherwise, you belong to me."
Tigre tensed. He had already accepted his status as a prisoner of war, but hearing it spoken so plainly still stung.
Adriel, on the other hand, just chuckled.
"Careful," he said, flashing a grin. "You're gonna make me think you're flirting with me."
Silence.
Lim looked like she was about to explode.
Elen, however?
She laughed again.
This time, louder.
"You're bold, I'll give you that," she admitted. "And a little reckless. I like that."
Tigre closed his eyes, exhaling.
Why does this guy have no sense of self-preservation?
Elen then turned her gaze to Tigre. "And you. Tigrevurmud Vorn."
He stood straight. "Yes?"
"In other words," she continued, resting her hand back on her sword's pommel, "you, too, are mine."
Tigre nodded stiffly. He had no choice in the matter.
"Now then," she said, standing up, her tone shifting back to command. "You both will be treated as prisoners of war. However, your value is... unique."
She turned to Lim. "Prepare the ransom demands. Let's see if Brune considers their archer worth anything."
Lim nodded and left the room.
Elen then looked back at Adriel.
"You, however... are a different matter entirely."
Adriel raised an eyebrow. "Oh? Special treatment already?"
Her eyes gleamed. "You arrived like a storm, turned a battlefield into a disaster zone, and possess power I've never seen before. Of course, you're special."
She stepped closer, stopping just inches away from him.
"I want to know exactly what you are," she said, her voice softer yet filled with intent.
Adriel held her gaze, his smirk fading slightly.
For a moment, the playful demeanor in his eyes flickered into something serious. Something... unreadable.
"You might not like the answer," he replied.
Elen tilted her head. "Try me."
The room fell silent.
Tigre watched, sensing something unspoken between them.
But before Adriel could respond—
"I want to test you," Elen spoke with a faint smile on her lips. "Why don't we go to the training grounds?"
Adriel sighed. "Beats being questioned every 5 seconds, thanks for changing her mind, plot," he thought before speaking. "Guess story time will have to wait."
A few minutes later...
The training grounds of Eleonora Viltaria's castle were vast, well-maintained, and filled with the murmurs of soldiers watching from the sidelines. The midday sun cast long shadows over the stone flooring as Eleonora, also known as Elen, stood with her arms crossed, an eager grin forming on her lips.
"Alright, otherworlder," Elen said, her crimson eyes gleaming with amusement. "Since you're apparently a warrior, let's see how well you can handle yourself."
Adriel, standing opposite her with his hands still casually in his pockets, raised an eyebrow. "Really? You want to spar with me?"
Limalisha, standing nearby with her usual strict composure, narrowed her eyes. "You should take this seriously, otherworlder. Eleonora-sama is one of the strongest warriors in Zhcted."
Adriel chuckled, shaking his head. "Oh, I am. It's just that this feels a little... unfair."
Elen's brow twitched at that. "Unfair? You think you're stronger than me?"
"Well... yeah," Adriel answered bluntly. "But sure, let's do this. Just don't cry when you realize I'm holding back."
Gasps spread through the gathered soldiers. A challenge like that, spoken so casually, was practically blasphemous. Some chuckled in disbelief, while others murmured, wondering how long the outsider would last before Elen put him in his place.
Elen grinned, eager to wipe that smug confidence off his face. "Oh, now you're really asking for it."
She drew her Viralt, Arifar, the powerful Dragonic weapon that allowed her to control the wind itself. The air around her shifted as gusts swirled to life at her command, her long silver hair billowing in the sudden turbulence.
Adriel sighed dramatically. "A magic sword? I was hoping for a good old-fashioned brawl." He stretched his arms above his head before cracking his knuckles. "Alright, fine. Just don't be surprised when this ends faster than you expect."
Limalisha raised her arm. "Begin!"
Elen moved first. With a burst of wind, she closed the distance in a blink, her blade arcing through the air at a speed no normal human could react to.
Adriel didn't move.
The blade whistled through the air—and stopped just short of his face.
A gust of wind shot past him, rustling his hair as if mocking the very notion of an attack. His expression remained utterly bored as he simply stared at Elen.
Elen's eyes widened. She had aimed precisely, striking with a force strong enough to carve through steel. And yet—nothing. It was like her sword had simply refused to cut him.
"No way..." Lim murmured, her disciplined demeanor cracking for a moment.
The watching soldiers shifted uncomfortably. That was Eleonora Viltaria's fastest strike—one that had cut down entire platoons. Yet it had amounted to nothing against the outsider?
Elen grit her teeth and swung again—this time from a different angle, her sword slicing in a beautiful, controlled arc. The very air bent to her will, amplifying the force behind her swing.
Again—nothing.
Adriel remained perfectly still, not even bothering to dodge as the wind howled around him.
"Well, the barrier is completely unfazed," Adriel thought.
Elen jumped back, gripping her sword tightly. This wasn't normal. He wasn't just fast—he wasn't reacting at all.
Adriel sighed. "Alright, my turn."
He stepped forward—and suddenly, he wasn't there.
Elen's instincts flared, but it was too late. A breeze tickled the back of her neck—
He's behind me?!
Before she could react, a gentle tap landed on her shoulder.
"Tag."
A wave of shock coursed through her body. Her entire being screamed that she should move, but she couldn't. It wasn't fear. It wasn't paralysis.
It was realization.
I lost.
The soldiers watched in stunned silence. The mighty Vanadis, bested in less than a second.
Adriel stepped back, hands still lazily in his pockets. "So, are we done?"
Elen turned to face him, her heart pounding. Her pride wanted to argue, but there was no point. "Tch... Damn it. Fine, you win."
Limalisha exhaled through her nose, masking her astonishment. "Unbelievable..."
Adriel grinned. "Don't feel bad. You did better than most."
Before Elen could respond, a shrill whistle cut through the air.
Adriel's expression darkened instantly. His gaze flicked toward the castle wall.
"Tigre," he said, his voice suddenly serious. "Shoot the assassin's leg."
Tigre, who had been watching the match from the sidelines, blinked in confusion. "What?"
"Now."
Tigre didn't question it. His instincts as a hunter told him to trust the urgency in Adriel's tone. He grabbed his bow, nocked an arrow, took a deep breath, and fired.
The moment the arrow left the string, a shadow on the castle wall shifted.
A cloaked figure leaped from their hidden position, a crossbow in hand—aimed directly at Eleonora.
Before anyone could react, the arrow struck true, embedding itself in the assassin's calf.
The man cried out, his aim faltering. The bolt that should have pierced Elen's heart instead clattered harmlessly to the ground.
Soldiers sprang into action, tackling the injured assassin before he could escape.
As the assassin was apprehended, the tension in the air slowly dissipated, but an uneasy curiosity remained. The soldiers, despite their discipline, exchanged glances at Adriel, their expressions a mixture of intrigue and apprehension.
Elen, standing with her arms crossed, her silver hair swaying slightly, eyed Adriel with an unreadable expression. "That was... something. You knew where he'd be, how he'd move."
Adriel simply offered a nonchalant shrug. "Experience."
Tigre looked at him skeptically. "Experience, huh? And you just so happened to know the best way to incapacitate him?"
Adriel smirked. "It's useful to understand people, their limits, their strengths." His gaze flickered toward the captured assassin. "Especially those who mean harm."
Elen studied him carefully. "You're not just a warrior, are you?"
Adriel held her gaze for a moment before finally speaking. "Let's just say I've been through enough battles to see how things play out."
Limalisha, after ensuring the assassin was secured, rejoined them, her expression still wary. "We'll interrogate him later. For now, we should discuss the events that just unfolded."
Elen nodded before turning back to Adriel and Tigre. "Both of you—come with me."
The grand halls of Eleonora Viltaria's castle loomed as they walked, the air thick with uncertainty. Soldiers stood at attention as the trio passed, their gazes flickering toward Adriel before returning to their duties. The whispers among them were inevitable.
Who was this man?
Why did he move with such confidence?
And more importantly—why was he here?
Upon reaching her chamber, Eleonora took her seat behind her desk, her presence commanding yet inviting. She rested her chin on her hand, eyes sharp with curiosity.
"You two are quite the interesting pair," she mused.
Tigre, ever composed despite his situation, took a breath before speaking. "If I may ask, why did you have me shoot the assassin's leg? It was too precise, as if you knew exactly what he would do."
Adriel leaned against a nearby stone column, his expression unreadable. "Because I did."
Tigre furrowed his brow. "That's not an answer."
Elen chuckled. "He's not wrong, though." She shifted her gaze toward Adriel, scrutinizing him. "I haven't forgotten your introduction—or lack thereof. You move like a seasoned warrior, think ahead like a strategist, and even my best soldiers can't decide whether to beimpressed or wary of you."
Adriel straightened, his presence subtly shifting—not in aggression, but in weight.
"Then let me make things easier for you." His voice was calm, deliberate. "I am Adriel, a traveler of sorts. My purpose? Let's just say I go where I'm needed."
Elen drummed her fingers against the wooden surface. "A traveler, huh?"
Tigre, however, was less convinced. "That doesn't explain anything."
Adriel smiled, but there was no warmth in it. "Nor was it meant to."
A beat of silence followed before Eleonora sighed, a small grin forming on her lips.
"Fine. Keep your secrets—for now."
Her expression turned serious as she shifted her attention fully to Tigre. "That aside, can you be a bit more conscious of the fact that you're a prisoner of war?"
Tigre's expression remained firm. "I am aware."
The blonde noblewoman leaned back, crossing one leg over the other. "Then act like it."
The atmosphere in the room grew tense. Adriel merely observed, his sharp gaze flickering between them, unreadable. He could tell Elen wasn't cruel—her words carried weight, but not malice.
Elen's crimson eyes narrowed slightly before she spoke again.
"I called you here for another reason." Her tone shifted, the amusement fading. She tapped her desk, studying Tigre carefully. "Your skill with a bow is exceptional."
Tigre blinked. "What does that have to do with anything?"
A smirk played on Elen's lips. "Simple." She leaned forward, her piercing gaze locked onto his.
"I enjoyed myself."
Tigre's breath hitched. "Enjoyed... yourself?"
Elen's voice softened slightly, carrying a strange sense of nostalgia.
"That battle was supposed to be difficult. The enemy outnumbered us five to one. And yet, in the middle of it all... I met you."
She tilted her head slightly. "When I blocked your first arrow, I felt my heartbeat quicken. You weren't just some noble with a bow—you were a true marksman."
She let out a soft chuckle. "If you had loosed a third shot, I might not be sitting here now."
Tigre swallowed. He had known she was strong, but hearing it directly from her felt surreal.
Then, her eyes shifted, sharp and calculating, toward Adriel.
"But then, there was you."
Adriel tilted his head slightly. "Me?"
Elen's gaze darkened with thought. "I remember that moment vividly. We were in the heat of battle—arrows flying, steel clashing... And then, suddenly—" She hesitated. "Reality cracked."
Tigre furrowed his brow. "Cracked?"
Elen nodded. "The battlefield itself felt distorted, as if something had twisted the laws of this world for a brief moment. And then, out of nowhere—" Her voice hardened. "You crashed into the ground, inside a crater."
Tigre's gaze flickered toward Adriel, who smirked. "Now that's an entrance, wouldn't you say?"
Elen exhaled, running a hand through her silver hair.
"Nothing about you makes sense. You appear in the heart of battle, wake up without a scratch, and then move through my camp as if you belong here."
She leaned forward, eyes sharp. "And to top it all off, you knew about the assassin before he even struck."
Adriel exhaled, crossing his arms. "I suppose I'm not an ordinary warrior."
Elen didn't look amused. "That much is clear."
She folded her arms, her gaze piercing. "Then let me ask you directly. Who are you really?"
Adriel met her gaze without hesitation. "Adriel. A traveler. Nothing more."
Tigre narrowed his eyes. "That's not an answer."
Adriel's smirk returned. "And yet, that's all you're getting."
A thick silence settled between them.
Elen finally sighed, shaking her head. "Fine. Keep your secrets—for now."
But then, her eyes flickered with something calculated. She turned her attention back to Tigre. "Still, you're not the only one full of surprises today." She let the words sink in before her signature smirk returned. "I want you to work for me."
Tigre inhaled sharply. "What?"
"I thought it'd be a pity to kill you." She stood, stepping closer, her crimson gaze piercing into his soul. "Your talent is wasted in Brune. Work for me, Tigrevurmud Vorn."
She extended her hand.
Tigre hesitated, his mind racing. His gaze flickered toward Adriel, but the man simply watched, an amused glint in his eye. He wasn't going to intervene.
"You'd retain your title as an Earl," Elen continued. "And Brune's blood wouldn't change that." Tigre clenched his fists. "I decline."
Elen's expression flickered with mild surprise, but then... curiosity. "Oh? And why is that?"
Tigre took a deep breath." Alsace is my home. It's my father's land. I have a duty to return and protect it."
A brief silence stretched between them. Then, Elen sighed.
"I see. You're quite stubborn."
Adriel tilted his head slightly, watching the exchange. He had expected this response, but he was more interested in how Eleonora would react.
Instead of anger, she smirked. "At least you're interesting."
Her expression grew contemplative as she turned toward Adriel.
"And you?" She leaned slightly against her desk. "What exactly is it that you want?"
Adriel's lips curled into a subtle smile. "To watch."
Elen raised an eyebrow. "Watch what?"
Adriel's smile deepened. "History unfold."
Elen studied him, searching for some deeper meaning behind his words. But in the end, she chuckled.
"Fine. I'll leave it at that—for now."
As the tension in the room settled, Eleonora leaned against her desk, her gaze flickering between the two men before her. "That being said... we'll be keeping an eye on you both. Whether you like it or not."
Adriel's smirk widened. "I wouldn't have it any other way."
Tigre let out a slow breath. The conversation had taken turns he hadn't expected—first the battle, then Adriel's mystery, and now Elen's offer.
Elen finally stepped back, returning to her desk with a composed expression. The playful smirk on her lips did little to mask the sharpness in her crimson gaze. She twirled the quill in her fingers before tapping it against the wooden surface.
"Let's change the topic."
Tigre, still feeling the weight of the conversation, shifted slightly. He knew there was something about Adriel that neither of them understood yet, but for now, he focused on what mattered. "Who was the person I shot yesterday?"
Adriel remained quiet, standing off to the side, arms crossed. His posture was relaxed, but Tigre could tell he was watching everything carefully.
Elen tilted her head slightly, her smirk deepening. "Oh, him?" She exhaled as if recalling a minor inconvenience. "An assassin aiming for my life."
Tigre stiffened at the casual way she said it. "Is that okay? Not knowing who the enemy is?"
Elen let out a dramatic sigh, leaning forward. "Would've been nice to interrogate him, but..." She rolled her shoulders. "He killed himself soon after."
Tigre's brows knitted together.
"After all the trouble I went through to catch him alive?" His frustration was clear, though he kept his voice even.
Elen's expression didn't change. "Yes. Sorry about that." Her tone was light, but her eyes held a deeper sharpness, like a predator weighing her prey.
Adriel, who had been quiet until now, let out a small hum. "Sloppy work on their part. Whoever sent him is getting desperate."
Tigre's gaze snapped toward him. "You knew he'd be here?"
Adriel simply shrugged, as if the answer was obvious. "I had my suspicions."
Elen turned her attention toward Adriel, her crimson gaze narrowing slightly.
"Oh, really?" She rested her chin on her hand. "And how, exactly, did you come to that conclusion?"
Adriel tilted his head, the corner of his lips quirking up slightly. "Call it intuition."
Tigre wasn't buying it. "Intuition doesn't explain how you reacted so quickly. " He took a step forward, his voice firmer. "Back on the battlefield, you appeared out of nowhere—in the middle of a crater, no less. And before that, something...happened."
Elen's expression flickered for a second before returning to normal.
"Ah, yes. The moment reality seemed to shift," she murmured, recalling the strange sensation
she had felt. She turned fully toward Adriel now, the amusement in her expression replaced with something more analytical. "That's right. It was subtle, but for just a second, the battlefield itself felt...wrong. Like everything twisted out of place. "
Adriel remained silent, his smirk fading ever so slightly. Tigre clenched his fists. "And then you were just...there. Unconscious, lying in the middle of the battle." He exhaled sharply. "Who are you, really?"
A thick silence filled the chamber.
Then—
Adriel chuckled. It wasn't a mocking laugh, nor was it one of amusement. It was a sound of understanding—of expectation.
"You ask a lot of questions, Tigrevurmud Vorn," he said, his voice as smooth as ever. "But let me ask you this—would knowing change anything?"
Tigre didn't answer immediately.
Elen, however, grinned. "Hah. Quite the mysterious one, aren't you?"
She stood up again, walking around the desk until she was right in front of Adriel. "You're either an incredibly good liar, or someone who's far more interesting than you let on."
Adriel inclined his head slightly. "Why not both?"
Elen laughed. "Oh, I like you."
She turned back to Tigre.
"And you, Tigre, are just full of surprises yourself."
Tigre let out a breath, still processing everything.
Elen stretched her arms behind her head before stepping back.
"Well, I'll allow you to roam freely within these grounds during the time you serve as my prisoner." Her smirk returned. "Besides, if you're curious about that assassin...look it up yourself."
Tigre exhaled but nodded.
Adriel merely tilted his head.
"How generous of you."
Elen winked. "I try."
To be continued...