Even as the knights stood paralyzed by fear from the horrifying scene, Renar's thoughts swirled in chaos. "Can't they see it?!" His sharp eyes caught the faint movements of the strange thread's "black silk, almost alive, writhing in the air as they vanished into nothingness.
They only look like threads on the surface... but...!"
The atmosphere was thick with dread. No one dared to meet Mervos' gaze. Yet Renar's instincts screamed at him, warning of something beyond comprehension.
"They only try to act cocky! What a pity,I thought I'd kill more, Mervos muttered, his voice laced with irritation. His eyes shifted to Renar, who stood motionless, drenched in sweat and confusion.
Three guards approached hurriedly, gathering Polto's s mangled remains. The sight was revolting, even for seasoned knights, and the nauseating stench filled the air.
"Wanna come with me?"Mervos voice broke through Renar spiraling thoughts.
Renar blinked. "Who... are you?" he stammered, instinctively gripping the hilt of his sword. His stance was perfect no openings for an attack. Yet the fear gripping him wasn't just from Mervos strengthâ€"it was from the unknowable power that had just unfolded.
Mervos raised an eyebrow. What? Where did that come from?His tone turned impatient. Do you want to or not?
Renar hesitated, his mind racing. If I go, will I get answers? Can I even trust him? He's strong... but not as strong as him.
Why are you spacing out?Mervos snapped. "If you don't want to, just say so" With that, he turned away, his calm stride taking him toward the resting area.
Wait!" Renar shouted, jogging to catch up. "ll go...
As Renar fell in step beside him, ready to ask his questions, a man in full armor intercepted them. His face was calm, his presence commanding.
Are you Renar? the man asked.
Mervos barely spared a glance before continuing on his way, leaving Renar to handle the interruption.
"-Yes, that's me," Renar replied, his voice tinged with caution.
The man handed him a sealed letter. Without another word, he turned and left, his purpose fulfilled. Renar stared at the envelope in his hands, unsure whether to feel relief or dread.
Mervos, now sitting in the resting area, watched him from a distance. His gaze wasn't just casual, it was curious, sharp, and probing.
Renar tore open the envelope. Inside were three words that sent his mind spinning:
Come to my office.
=The Duke
His eyes widened in disbelief. "The Duke? Me? Why...?"The imposing castle loomed in the distance, its towers stretching high into the sky. Renar had passed by it countless times, always marveling at its grandeur. Now, he was being summoned to its heart.
Huh...? He blinked, reading the letter again. "The Duke... wants to see me?"His thoughts churned with unease. What could the Duke possibly want from someone like him?
Sighing heavily, Renar began the long walk to the castle. The knights around him resumed their training, though their stolen glances betrayed their curiosity. Two guards accompanied him, escorting him past the towering gates and endless halls of the palace.
After what felt like an eternity of walking, they reached a grand door. The guards stood aside, gesturing for him to enter. Renar hesitated, glancing back, but the guards offered no words of comfort.
He swallowed hard and stepped through the door.
What!..I can't breathe..
Renar hadn't even stepped fully into the room, yet his breath hitched so violently it felt as though he was suffocating. It was as if an invisible force gripped his lungs, squeezing the life out of him. Instinctively, he clutched at his neck, his fingers trembling as he tried to catch a breath that refused to come. His vision blurred; his surroundings faded. He hadn't even realized he had dropped to one knee.
Before him stood two figures: the Duke, seated on his imposing throne, exuding an air of absolute dominance, and Islrack, leaning casually against the left wall. Though he seemed relaxed, his presence radiated an oppressive weight, suffocating and inescapable.
Behind Islrack hung a towering portrait of a lone man, his face stern, his gaze piercing. The painting's sheer size demanded attention, as if even in its stillness, the figure could see straight through Renar.
To the right, another portrait loomed, larger and even more commanding than the first. This one was a family portrait: a man and woman seated proudly in the center, three young daughters standing close to them. Their expressions were regal yet warm, contrasting starkly with the room's overwhelming intensity.
Renar's breath finally returned in shallow gasps, but the air in the room felt heavy, almost suffocating. His body trembled—not from fear, but from the weight of the moment. His eyes darted between the Duke and Islrack, who hadn't spoken a word. It was then that Renar realized something terrifying: he wasn't standing before mere men; these were forces of nature, embodiments of power, and he, for all his strength, was nothing more than a flickering candle in their storm.
"Ah... sorry, I didn't know you were this weak," Islrack said, his voice laced with mockery, as he laughed softly. Renar barely managed to lift himself from the floor, his body still trembling, yet no hand was offered in assistance. Islrack didn't seem to care; if anything, he looked like someone toying with a helpless prey rather than offering any semblance of aid.
"Enough, Islrack," came a firm, commanding voice.
Renar, stunned and still gasping for breath, turned his head sharply toward the source of the voice. It wasn't fear that gripped him now—it was confusion. The voice belonged to none other than the Duke himself, seated regally in his chair, his sharp eyes locked onto Islrack.
At once, Islrack straightened. With a small, almost playful smirk, he stepped back, retreating into the shadows near the wall. The room fell silent. Not the comfortable silence of rest, but the suffocating kind that pressed against one's chest, making every breath a challenge.
Renar, knees still shaky, forced himself upright. Each movement felt monumental, as though lifting an impossible weight. Islrack watched him closely from the corner, his piercing blue eyes gleaming with a curiosity that bordered on amusement. He said nothing, but the faint smirk on his lips spoke volumes.
The tension in the air hung thick, yet no one spoke. Even the sound of Renar's labored breathing seemed loud in the otherwise oppressive stillness.
"That was... unexpected," Islrack mused internally, his eyes narrowing as he studied Renar. I was merely testing him, but this… This was beyond anything I anticipated.
He folded his arms and leaned against the wall again, his expression contemplative. Just a slight pressure—nothing more—to see how far he could endure, to gauge his resistance... but this? He didn't break.
Cleven slowly rose from his chair, his movement deliberate as he turned toward the table in front of him. With each step, he approached Renar, who had been standing in silence since entering the room. Renar's mind was swirling with unanswered questions: Why me? What does he want from me? Why now?
Islrack, leaning casually against the wall, watched the scene unfold. His eyes briefly followed Cleven before he rubbed them, almost dismissively, and rested his head back against the wall. Cleven stopped in front of Renar, standing close enough for the difference in their height to become apparent, though it was subtle—just enough that most wouldn't notice unless they paid close attention. Renar looked up, his eyes betraying a mix of curiosity and unease, though fear faintly lingered beneath his calm exterior.
Cleven tilted his head slightly, his gaze sharp, unwavering, and full of authority as he spoke:
"Do you want to become my knight?"
The room seemed to freeze for a moment.
Islrack, who had been leaning comfortably against the wall, stood upright in one swift motion. His height now became evident, towering over the other two in the room. His expression was one of pure disbelief, as though he hadn't truly heard what Cleven just said. "Am I hearing this right? Did he really just say that?" he questioned internally, his brows furrowing as his gaze shifted sharply to Cleven.
Cleven, however, was focused entirely on Renar, their eyes locked. Islrack squinted slightly, studying Cleven's face, but found no sign of hesitation or regret in his expression. If anything, Cleven's striking blue eyes seemed to pierce through Renar, his intention clear and unshakable. "He knows exactly what he's saying. There's no doubt about it."
Islrack's thoughts raced. "If he's asking to make someone his personal knight, he's copying the king's tradition. That's outright forbidden in this kingdom. And if anyone dares to imitate the king, there are only two ways forward. The first is to seek the king's approval directly, which is rare, almost unheard of. The second... match to the death. You'd have to defeat one of the king's knights in a fight, and no one has ever won that battle!"
For the first time, Islrack shifted his gaze to Renar, scrutinizing him carefully. Renar stood motionless, his face pale, with fear now unmistakably etched into his features. He looked as though he had just realized the weight of the situation—or perhaps the impossibility of it.
A sudden realization struck Islrack. His eyes widened, his lips parting slightly as he stared at Renar and then back at Cleven. "He doesn't know… If he did, there's no way he'd stand here so calmly. No one could face this and remain that composed unless..."
Cleven was looking at Renar, his gaze sharp as his thoughts raced, "What will Renar say? For someone to approach me and ask for help with 'The Vision,' what could possibly drive them to do so? Hmm... well, you'll tell me anyway. So, choose: do you need my help or not? If yes, I'll agree. If no, then we'll wait for your answer." Cleven assessed the situation internally, carefully observing Renar. The answer, after all, depended solely on him.
Renar's Home – Noel's Room
The day was coming to an end; only one hour remained until evening fell, yet the thing before me refused to leave.
—Status Window—
[Remaining Time: 1 hour]
Noel lay on his small bed, wearing a baby onesie with pastel colors and tiny raindrop-like patterns scattered over it.
"Hey, what happened to you!?" Lenora shouted suddenly. Noel, who was staring at the status window, turned his head towards the commotion but found it far away, distant.
"Did I hear Mom shouting, or was it my imagination?"
He muttered to himself, visibly puzzled, his face reflecting his confusion.
"It's nothing serious, Lenora. Calm down,~" Renar said as he walked into the house. Lenora, however, rushed to his side, concern etched on her face, while Renar's expression remained calm, though the cuts on his arms and traces of a sword on his waist hinted otherwise. They weren't deep wounds, but they were still worrisome—Lenora, dressed in a simple yet elegant gown that highlighted her beauty, and her hair cascading gracefully, hurried to him.
She grabbed his arm, inspecting the wounds and cleaning off the dirt from his face with clear agitation. "Why did you come back?! and What's with these wounds?" she said angrily, her voice sharp yet laced with worry. She then ordered, "Come with me. I don't want to hear another word about it. We'll discuss it later!" She tugged him away without waiting for a reply.
"She's really stubborn," Renar thought, amused.
Meanwhile, Noel, who had been silently observing, turned his gaze back to the status window. A slight smile played on his lips as he thought, "It's nothing big; Mom just overreacted." Little did he know how far off his assumption was.
"Status window?" Noel calledout.
[Yes.]
"Seriously? What's with the short answers? Are you mocking me?!" Noel asked again, frustration evident in his voice. "Whhere is the punishment it' night already? If you're bluffing, just say so!" His tone was filled with sarcasm and annoyance.
[It's not time yet, and therefore, it's not my time to act.]
"Oh, so you're stalling? You can't even do anything to me!" Noel shot back. His words weren't mocking; they came from resentment. To him, the status window was a cursed gift. If someone else had it, their life would have transformed—they would've flourished. But for Noel, it was a chain that shackled him, robbing him of peace.
The ideal he once held—that the heavens chose him and gave him this opportunity to rest—was now a shattered dream, leaving only bitter reality.
"It's been in front of me all day. Can't you at least move aside and let me rest?" Noel muttered, annoyance still in his voice. Finally, he waved the status window away. It vanished into thin air as if it had never existed.
"I learned how to make it disappear yesterday, after being fed up with all the questions I kept asking it. It's useful, though. At least now I can sleep." Noel lay down, closing his eyes to rest.
The sun's light faded as the evening set in, leaving the room bathed in shadows. The house was quiet—until...
[Time Remaining: 0:00]
[Mission: Incomplete]
[The punishment will now commence as per the conditions.]
[The host may experience pain equivalent to his last recorded experience.]
[You may rest in peace.]
At that moment, Noel was peacefully asleep, unaware of the status window's ominous words.
The room remained silent, the twilight giving way to complete darkness, until…
[We will begin by severing the vertebral arteries.]
Suddenly, Noel felt a surge of unbearable pain, as though his entire body were being crushed. "Ah! My arm—my arm!" he screamed, his cries filled with agony. His muscles seized, and blood vessels across his limbs stiffened unnaturally, halting his blood flow.
His mind screamed, "What's happening?! Why can't I move?!"
Energy surged through his body like fire, stopping only at critical junctions—his brain, spinal cord, and heart. Noel writhed in agony, unable to move, tears streaming down his face. His cries echoed through the house.
Lenora rushed in, alarmed by his screams. She found Noel thrashing in bed, his small frame trembling with pain. She stood frozen for a moment, uncertain of what to do, before gently placing her hand on his forehead to comfort him.
[Now, for the final step: crushing all blood vessels.]
"Wait! Please stop! I'm begging you!" Noel screamed internally, his voice raw and desperate. "I don't want to die! Please forgive me! Just once—please give me another chance!"
[Request denied. The final act will continue.]
Noel's vision blurred, his surroundings fading as the pain intensified. His breaths grew shallow, his thoughts disjointed. His body felt heavy, his mind foggy.
[If the host wishes to live, it's already too late.]
Despair gripped Noel as he read the words, his heart sinking further.
[However, there is one way to survive.]
[Will the host agree to all the terms provided?]
Without hesitation, Noel answered, "Yes! Whatever it is—just stop this
pain!" His voice was hoarse, his desperation palpable.
[All the host's abilities will be locked.]
[The host will be unable to refuse any quests.]
[Lastly, the host must set a life goal to achieve within the next 10 years.]
"What?! What kind of terms are these? I already have a goal—to live in peace and rest!"
But Noel had no choice. The status window's terms were absolute, and the alternative was death. He reluctantly agreed, whispering weakly, "Fine… I accept."
Lenora picked him out of his bed and took him to there room afraid something may happen to him renar was sleeping that time so she waited untill her son to sleep and he was in between of his parents.
It has being four years–and today I'm in front of a dungeon damn you system!!!