Two weeks.
Two weeks since Pandemonium began its raids. Two weeks since they carved a name for themselves in the depths of the rifts, battling through waves of monsters and harvesting the rewards of their relentless efforts.
And in those two weeks, Ray had come to one undeniable truth—
With the Authority of Flame, the monsters stood no chance.
Fire had always been a force of destruction, but Ray's flames were something more. They didn't just burn—they erased.
Most monsters, especially in lower-tier dungeons, lacked proper elemental resistance. They had no fire resistance, no water resistance—nothing. That kind of adaptation only developed later, when the stage changes.
But right now?
They were completely vulnerable.
And Ray had been exploiting that fact relentlessly.
Marching Pandemonium had come a long way in a short time.
From fresh F-Ranks to an average of E+. A meteoric rise.
Zara's claws had become sharper. Her instincts, already terrifying, had only grown more lethal with each battle. She was faster. More precise. She fought like a beast unleashed, an apex predator ruling the dungeons.
Finn's aim had improved. He no longer hesitated. His arrows found their mark every time. He was learning to read the flow of battle, taking angles that others would never consider.
Gregory had refined his magic. His golems were sturdier, lasting longer in fights. His mana control had improved. He had even begun experimenting with new materials—anything he could use to craft stronger constructs.
And Ray?
He still wasn't strong enough.
Yes, they had improved. Yes, they had grown stronger. But in the grand scheme of things? They were still at the bottom of the food chain.
E+? That wasn't enough.
E wasn't enough to fight Chronogravitus.
E wasn't enough to survive what was coming.
So Ray had decided to break the law.
Or, more accurately—exploit the system.
A guild could get access to rifts in three ways:
Assignment by the Hunter Association. The safest, most regulated method. Guilds received rift allocations based on their ranking and contribution. Too slow. Too inefficient.
Bidding. Wealthy guilds could purchase exclusive rights to a rift, securing it for their own use. A cutthroat system, monopolized by the elite. Not an option for them.
First Claim. The first to discover and enter a rift gained priority over it. This was the wild card—the method that only the fastest and the most informed could exploit.
Ray knew exactly where and when every rift would spawn.
He had seen it before. He had memorized them.
In his previous lives, he had spent years learning the rhythm of rift formations. It wasn't random. It followed a pattern—subtle, but predictable.
Most guilds relied on scouts, constantly monitoring for new rifts. They reacted to them after they appeared.
Ray didn't need to wait.
He could be there first.
There were two major advantages to his plan.
First: He would grow stronger, faster.
Speed was everything. The longer he delayed, the more the future solidified. The more chances he lost to stop Chronogravitus. He couldn't afford to waste time.
By monopolizing rift entries, he could push his limits at an unnatural pace.
Second: He could prevent dungeon growths.
This was the real reason why the system was broken.
Most people didn't realize that dungeons could evolve.
A rift wasn't just a hole in reality—it was a living thing. If left alone, it healed. It mutated. It adapted.
A common strategy among higher-ranked guilds was to leave dungeons partially intact.
They cleared the mobs but left the boss alive, allowing the rift to slowly rebuild over time. The next time they returned? It was stronger. That meant better rewards, tougher fights, and a controlled way to increase their power.
A dangerous method, but one that worked—if managed correctly.
But some guilds didn't manage it correctly.
Ray already knew what was going to happen.
In a few weeks, one of these pre-purchased rifts would spiral out of control.
The guild responsible? A high-ranked one that got greedy.
They would push a dungeon to its limit, expecting it to remain stable—except it wouldn't. The boss would mutate beyond their control, the rift would expand, and the dungeon would break containment.
And when that happened?
Thousands of people would die.
An entire city would be lost.
Unless he changed things now.
By taking control of these rifts before they had a chance to grow out of control, he could do two things:
Deny the guilds their "farm." Stop the dungeons from mutating before it was too late.
This wasn't just about his own growth.
This was about cutting off a future catastrophe before it happened.
Ray exhaled, standing before the next rift—the first of many.
Pandemonium MUST keep growing.
He would keep growing.
And if it meant exploiting his knowledge of the future to carve a new path forward?
So be it.