Once, the sky had been a cheerful expanse, bringing warmth and comfort to all who gazed upon it. Now, it was painted in crimson hues, crying blood-red rain.
The academy—once alive with laughter, camaraderie, and treasured memories—was now reduced to an unrecognizable wasteland.
The vibrant cheers of spectators who had gathered to witness the tournament and celebrate triumphs were now replaced by anguished cries and hopeless sobs.
Bodies littered the grounds—broken remnants of what were once students, teachers, and warriors.
The destruction stretched as far as the eye could see, a grim testament to the devastation that had unfolded.
Among the chaos, a few survivors remained. Their forms were trembling, their tears a reflection of despair.
They, too, felt it—that suffocating aura of death, heavy in the air, drawing closer with each passing moment.
The boy, his left hand mangled and hanging useless at his side, forced his gaze upward.
Pain wracked his battered body, but his crimson eyes burned with defiance.
Hovering above the ruins was a towering black figure. Its two curved horns and gleaming war armor exuded an eerie, otherworldly light.
The aura of dominance around it was overwhelming.
This was an Umbral Soldier—a nameless destroyer of worlds. The destruction it had wrought stretched more than ten miles. Its power was unlike anything the boy had ever encountered.
His breath came in ragged gasps, his body trembling as he stared at the figure. Reincarnated into this world, he had believed he understood its rules.
With the system's help, he had become the youngest Specialist in history, a title no one had ever claimed before.
Yet, in the face of this monster, all his accomplishments felt meaningless. One blow had been enough to break him.
What good was his strength if it amounted to nothing in the end?
A sharp pang shot through his chest, but the boy clenched his teeth, refusing to fall. He pushed himself to his feet, each movement agony, each step a struggle.
But he kept moving. The sword in his hand trembled as he raised it, unyielding.
The Umbral Soldier watched him, amusement flickering in its glowing crimson eyes.
It descended slowly, settling on the shattered earth before the boy. Its voice, sharp and resonant, made the very air tremble.
"You're an interesting human, aren't you?" it said, its tone dripping with mockery. "To think a mere Specialist could block my strike… If word spread, my reputation as an Umbral Soldier would be tarnished."
A chilling smile spread across its face. "But there will be no one left to tell the tale when I'm done here."
The boy let out a bitter laugh, dry and broken. "You think so?" he said, raising his trembling sword. "Try me, monster."
"How rude," the Umbral Soldier replied, feigning offense. "Calling a great Umbral Soldier a monster. You certainly lack manners, Lucian Eryndral."
The sound of his name echoed through the ruins, as if the soldier's words carved them into the earth.
The Lucian's heart skipped a beat. The soldier knew his name.
His crimson eyes locked onto the creature's, his resolve hardening.
"I hate that look in your eyes," the soldier growled, its voice thick with disdain.
The Lucian's lips curled into a sneer. "Will you keep talking, or do you plan to fight?"
The soldier stepped forward, menace in every movement. "Very well," it said. "If you're so eager to die, I'll grant your wish."
His eyes narrowed, the weight of the battle settling into every fiber of his being.
With a final, defiant breath, he tightened his grip on his sword, his voice low but resolute: "Chrono's Blessing."
Then—
His black hair turned stark white, glowing faintly, as though kissed by moonlight. His crimson eyes faded into a piercing gold.
Above his head, a halo resembling a clock materialized, radiating pure power.
The Umbral Soldier's eyes narrowed, unimpressed by the boy's change. Its aura darkened, an oppressive force gathering as it prepared for the clash.
They stood face-to-face, two opposing forces, ready for battle.
And then the havoc began.