Raven's muscles tensed. His instincts, honed through countless battles, screamed at him to move—to flee, to fight, to do something. But he didn't.Not yet.The voice had come from everywhere and nowhere all at once, resonating through the ruins like a whisper carried on the wind. It wasn't the mechanical tone of the system. It wasn't some pre-recorded event trigger.This was something different.Something alive.Raven slowly turned, scanning the shadows that curled around the crumbling stone structures. His grip on Shadow's Edge remained firm, his stance balanced—ready.Then, movement.A ripple in the air, just beyond the edge of his vision. The moment he focused on it, it was gone, like a mirage dissolving in the heat. But the weight in the air only grew, pressing against him like an unseen force.Then—laughter.Low. Amused. Cold.
The Watcher's Revelation
The ruins stood silent. The weight of the Watcher's presence pressed down on Raven, but it wasn't just power this time.
It was knowledge.
Then, the Watcher laughed.
Not a soft chuckle. Not an amused scoff.
A deep, hollow laugh, like an abyss echoing its own amusement. It reverberated through the shattered stone, sinking into the very air itself. The shadows that clung to the ruins seemed to ripple in response, as if they too found amusement in whatever the Watcher had just realized.
---
"Ha… Ha ha… Ah, now this is interesting."
---
Raven's grip tightened around Shadow's Edge. His instincts screamed at him—this wasn't just some ancient being testing him. This wasn't just another powerful entity hidden within the system's rules.
The Watcher knew.
It tilted its head, its void-like face unreadable, but Raven could feel the gaze piercing through him.
A cold, suffocating certainty settled in his chest. This wasn't just an encounter—it was a revelation. A shift in the very foundation of his existence.
---
"Tell me, little shade—why did the gods send you back?"
---
Raven felt his breath hitch for the first time.
How? How could it know?
The words sank into him like daggers, each syllable unraveling the fragile certainty he had built around his purpose. His mind raced. He had never spoken of it. The system had never acknowledged it. Even he had barely begun to piece together the truth of his own existence.
Yet, this thing—this ancient Watcher—had seen straight through him.
He didn't answer.
The Watcher hummed, as if amused by his silence. The sound carried a strange weight, like the shifting of an unseen cosmos.
---
"Ah… do you not know? Or do you simply fear the answer?"
---
Raven didn't move. Didn't react. But the Watcher leaned closer, its massive form looming over him.
Its presence was suffocating. Not in the way of an overwhelming enemy, but in the way of something far beyond his understanding.
Something that had seen truths he had yet to grasp.
---
"What terrible fate awaits that they would break their own laws?"
---
Its voice was filled with mockery, as if the very idea of divine intervention was laughable.
Raven's fingers twitched around the hilt of his blade. It wasn't a conscious motion—just the body's instinct to ready itself when confronted with something that should not be.
Then, the shadows around them stirred. The ruins seemed darker, the air heavier. The weight of unseen knowledge pressed against Raven's thoughts.
And yet, the Watcher did nothing.
It only watched.
---
The Watcher straightened, shaking its head, as if the conversation had already begun to bore it.
But then, something changed.
A single thought burned into Raven's mind.
The gods sent him back.
He had assumed it was for a purpose—his purpose. Some grand destiny, a second chance, a test of strength or will.
But what if he was wrong?
The realization struck harder than any blade. His entire journey, every battle, every near-death experience—was it all just a game to them?
A pawn.
That's all he was in their eyes. A piece on their board. Moved, sacrificed, returned only when it suited them.
His breath came slower, his grip on Shadow's Edge loosening.
He had fought. He had bled. He had suffered.
And for what?
His voice, when it finally came, was hoarse.
---
"How do I escape from them?"
---
For the first time, the Watcher stilled.
Its amusement did not fade, but something else flickered beneath its void-like gaze.
Interest.
The shadows around it shifted unnaturally, curling and twisting, as if the very fabric of reality warped in response.
The Watcher narrowed its eyes.
---
"You are interesting."
---
Its voice held something new. Not just mockery, not just amusement—curiosity.
It leaned in, the weight of its presence suffocating, pressing down like an unseen force. The air around them crackled, like something ancient stirring.
Raven held his ground, but his heart pounded.
The Watcher studied him for a long moment before speaking again.
---
"Escape? Oh, little shade… do you think it is so simple?"
---
Its voice was almost amused. Almost pitying.
The air seemed to tremble. The ruins, once merely ancient, now felt like they existed in two realities at once—one in the world Raven knew, and one in the world beyond.
---
"The gods have bound you. Your fate is written. The system itself bends around their will."
---
The shadows rippled again. A cold whisper crawled against Raven's mind, something deeper than the Watcher's voice alone.
A truth.
A horrible, undeniable truth.
---
"You are already trapped."
---
Raven's stomach twisted. He had expected an answer. Some hidden path, some loophole.
But this?
He clenched his fists.
---
"There has to be a way."
---
The Watcher let out a slow, amused hum.
It raised one massive hand, and the air itself cracked.
Not visibly, not in any way the system would recognize, but Raven felt it.
A crack in something greater.
A crack in fate.
---
"Perhaps."
---
The Watcher's form began to dissolve, vanishing back into the ruins. But before it disappeared entirely, its voice echoed once more.
A whisper that carried the weight of something inevitable.
---
"The gods stand at Level 300. You, little shade, have never surpassed Level 200."
---
Raven's breath caught in his throat.
His highest level before death had been 200.
A limit he had never broken. A ceiling he had never even thought to question.
The gods… they were at 300?
His chest tightened.
It wasn't enough.
Even if he clawed his way back to his former strength, even if he reached his peak again… it wouldn't matter.
At Level 200, he was still a pawn.
To survive, to break free…
He had to reach 300.
The weight of that realization settled over him like a crushing tide.
But then—
The Watcher's voice cut through his thoughts.
---
"You misunderstand, little shade. The gods are not just Level 300.
They are Tier 7."
---
Everything stopped.
Raven's heart. His breath. His very thoughts.
Tier 7.
His mind struggled to process it. To comprehend it.
He had always thought Level 200 was the peak of mortals. That was where the strongest stood, where he had stood before his death. He had believed that the gods were just… stronger. A step above.
But Tiers were something else entirely.
Each Tier wasn't just a power increase—it was a fundamental shift in existence. A complete restructuring of reality itself.
Tier 1 mortals struggled for survival.
Tier 2 warriors ruled kingdoms.
Tier 3 legends shaped the world.
Tier 4 beings defied natural law.
Tier 5 entities controlled forces beyond comprehension.
Tier 6 figures could create.
And Tier 7?
Tier 7 was divinity.
A vast, uncrossable gap.
Raven stood at Tier 3.
Even if he reached Level 300…
It wouldn't be enough.
The Watcher's Gift
The ruins remained silent long after the Watcher had vanished, but its presence still lingered. The weight of its words pressed against Raven's mind like chains of knowledge he could never unlearn.
Tier 7.
He had never truly understood what it meant to defy the gods. Until now.
But as the silence stretched, something shifted.
A ripple in the air. The shadows stirred, coiling and unraveling, and before Raven could react—
A notification appeared.
---
[The Watcher has acknowledged you.]
You are seen. You are marked. You are interesting.
A trickster has no fixed face. A shadow has no true form. The gods may watch, but even they cannot track what does not exist.
You have received: [Trickster's Mask]
---
A small, weightless object materialized in his hands.
The Trickster's Mask.
Raven lifted it, studying the smooth, dark surface. It had no distinct features, only a blank, shifting void where a face should be. A mask without an identity—because it could become any identity.
---
[Trickster's Mask]
Type: Relic
Effect: Grants the ability to assume a false identity, including altering name, class, and appearance. Can bypass certain system tracking features.
Cooldown: none
---
Raven's grip tightened around the mask.
This was more than just an item.
This was freedom.
If the gods had marked him as a pawn, then this was his first step in breaking their control. With this, he could disappear.
But before he could fully process the implications, another notification flashed.
---
[System Reward Granted]
Rare Chest (1x) obtained
EXP gained: +30,000
Level Up!
LVL 1 → LVL 3
---
Raven's eyes widened slightly.
30,000 EXP.
In a game that had just launched, most players were still struggling to hit Level 2. Some had been grinding nonstop for hours and had barely gained enough experience to reach the next stage.
Yet in an instant, Raven had jumped from Level 1 to Level 3.
If an average player needed four days of grinding to gain that much EXP, then what he had just received was nothing short of game-breaking.
And yet, the system had given it to him without hesitation.
Because of the Watcher.
Because he was different.
He exhaled slowly, his mind racing.
The gods had already stacked the game against him. If they found out what the Watcher had given him, would they intervene? Would they strip him of his rewards?
No.
Not yet.
If the system had accepted it, then this was real.
And he wasn't going to waste it.
His gaze drifted back to the Trickster's Mask, the weight of his next move settling over him.
The gods had their plans.
But now?
He had his own.