The throne room lay in tense silence, vast pillars stretching high toward the arched ceiling. Shadows flickered across the golden inlays of the marble walls, where dozens of candles burned in iron sconces. Their flames trembled violently, shaken by the distant clash of steel and the rumble of magic that seeped in from outside.
At the far end, on a throne of obsidian trimmed with gold, sat the knight. His armor gleamed as though hammered from the sun itself—every plate reflecting the restless candlelight. Upon his head rested a great helm crowned with two crimson crests of hair, flowing down like a Spartan's plume. The figure sat unmoving, gauntlets resting against the throne's armrests, exuding an aura both regal and terrifying.
Though still, he was no statue. His presence was alive, heavy enough to suffocate the air of the chamber. The clash of battle outside did not disturb him; if anything, each vibration seemed to echo through his armor, as if the chaos itself bowed to his will.
Beyond the sealed doors, the sound of Sihara and Galia's struggle grew nearer—swords clanging, cries of soldiers, and the crack of rupturing stone. The candles along the wall bent with each impact, their flames bowing as though fearful of what approached.
The knight finally raised his head.
The knight finally raised his head.
"...So," his voice rumbled beneath the helm, cold and measured, "they have made it this far."
His gaze tilted upward, the flicker of candlelight sliding across the golden plates of his armor. A low breath escaped him, heavy as iron.
"Will this… be where the curse ends?" he muttered, as though speaking to the throne room itself.
The scene shifted. Beyond the sealed doors, a stone bridge stretched out from the shadows, trembling with every distant clash.
—BAM—
A single footstep struck the stone like a drum. Sihara emerged first, his spear dragging at his side, crimson droplets spattering the floor. With a sharp twist of his wrist, he spun the weapon in a full arc, flinging the blood away in a scarlet spiral that painted the air. Floating beside him was Galia—her small feline body drifting effortlessly above the ground, her tail swaying lazily as her eyes glowed faintly in the dark.
"Uuuuaaaagghhh~… really exhausting," Sihara groaned, rolling his shoulders. "They're way stronger than those villagers back there."
"They were soldiers," Galia answered, her whiskers twitching as she lifted one paw like a teacher raising a finger. Her voice was calm, echoing faintly despite her small form. "Even in undeath, their bodies retain the skill and experience they honed in life."
Sihara scratched at his cheek with the butt of his spear and sighed. "Eeehhhhh… hmm… Looks like we're gonna burn the whole city down once this is done." His gaze swept over the destruction he had left behind—shredded corpses of undead littering the bridge, some torn apart so violently that fragments of armor and bone still clattered in the wind.
But Galia's ears flicked sharply. She turned, golden eyes narrowing toward the far end of the bridge. Her tail stiffened as she raised a paw and pointed.
"Hey… look there."
At the edge of the guardrail, something caught their eyes.
A fallen figure lay slumped against the stone barrier—little more than a skeleton clad in rusted armor. Dust and time had nearly consumed it, yet its form still carried the dignity of a warrior. The breastplate bore a jagged hole punched straight through the chest, the wound carrying clean through the back of the armor.
Sihara stepped closer, boots scraping against the bloodstained bridge. He crouched, his sharp eyes scanning the remains.
"Who's this guy…?" he muttered, tilting his head at the gaping hole. "To get pierced like that… he must've been cut down by someone powerful."
Galia floated nearer, her tail curling as her golden eyes studied the corpse. Her ears twitched.
But Sihara's attention drifted lower. The skeleton's right hand still clutched something tightly—a lantern, strange and eerie, its frame twisted with unfamiliar markings. Despite its age, the glass chamber glowed faintly, a weak shimmer pulsing like a heartbeat.
Sihara narrowed his eyes, leaning closer. "Oi, Galia," he said, pointing at the lantern. "What's with this thing? Looks… different."
Sihara squinted at the lantern, the faint glow reflecting in his eyes. "Oi, Galia… what's with this thing? Looks… different."
The floating cat drifted down beside him, her tail curling as she stared at the eerie light. For a moment, she said nothing, her whiskers twitching.
Then, softly, she spoke.
"That's no ordinary lantern. It's… strange. I don't know why, but I know what it does."
Sihara raised a brow. "You know?"
"Yes." Her voice carried a low echo, as though the bridge itself was listening. "It's a vessel. When lit, it reveals the memories of the one who held it. Their past, their final moments… all of it, played back before your eyes."
Sihara tilted his head, staring into the flickering glow. "Hmph. Sounds like some storybook magic. So how do you light it?"
Galia's golden eyes narrowed. "Channel your mana into it. Steady and focused. Let the energy flow as if you were casting a spell—but don't force it. The lantern responds to intent, not strength. Do that, and it will awaken."
The warrior gave a low chuckle. "Hah. Sounds simple enough."
Without hesitation, Sihara reached forward and wrapped his hand around the cold iron frame. The skeletal fingers crumbled into dust at his touch, leaving the lantern resting in his grip. At once, the faint glow pulsed stronger, like a heartbeat racing beneath glass.
He closed his eyes and let his mana flow. A stream of energy coursed through his arm and into the relic. The lantern quivered, the glass flaring brighter with each pulse of power. Then—
FLASH.
Light burst outward in a sudden bloom, drowning the bridge in ghostly radiance. For a heartbeat, Sihara staggered—his vision shaking as the world bent and twisted around him. The ruined bridge dissolved, the sound of battle fading into nothing.
When he opened his eyes again, he wasn't standing on bloodstained stone. He was somewhere else entirely.
Instead, he found himself under the bright noon sun, the sound of distant chatter and laughter echoing faintly from the schoolyard. He blinked in disbelief.
A school.
His school.
Junior high.
The scene unfolded behind the building, where few teachers ever came. His younger self was there, slumped against the wall, his uniform rumpled and dusty. Bruises covered him from head to toe.
Galia hovered silently nearby, her golden eyes softening. Her tail lowered, ears twitching in sympathy.
"So… this is your past?" she whispered to herself, voice tinged with pity. "Beaten like this, all alone… he must have had a rough day every second."
She drifted closer, as if to comfort the boy.
But then—
"DON'T LOOK!!" present Sihara's voice rang out, panicked.
Galia froze, startled. "Eh?"
Young Sihara suddenly shifted. His hand moved, not toward his bruises, but under his shirt. He pulled out a small, dog-eared book, clutching it tightly against his chest.
Galia tilted her head. "Eh…? What's that…?"
Her eyes fell on the cover.
And she froze.
The pity in her gaze vanished instantly. Her golden eyes dulled into the lifeless stare of a betrayed soul. Her fur bristled, tail stiff, as if every ounce of hope inside her had just been murdered on the spot. Because there he was—reading an ero manga, cheeks red, smiling like a pervert.
Slowly—very slowly—she turned her head toward present Sihara. Her voice was soft, trembling with disbelief.
"…What is this."
Sihara turned his head awkwardly, refusing to meet her eyes, scratching his cheek. "Uhh… well, back then I used to… y'know, hide and read that stuff during break time. No one could find me back here, so—"
SMACK!
Her tiny paw struck his cheek with surprising force.
"YOU ABSOLUTE WASTE OF AIR!!" Galia shrieked.
SMACK. SMACK. SMACK.
She grabbed the collar of his shirt, yanking him down to her height, and slapped him again and again with furious speed.
"You got beat up by bullies while clutching THIS?!" smack
"You hid your shame like it was treasure?!" smack
"DISGUSTING!! HOPELESS!!" smack smack smack
"W-wait!!" Sihara yelped, arms over his head. "What bully are you talking about?! Those bruises—I didn't get them from a fight!!"
The vision warped again—
A younger Sihara appeared, walking to school while lazily munching bread from his bag. He wandered near the football field… and then froze, his gaze locking on a woman jogging nearby in tight, bouncing shorts. His mouth hung open, cheeks red with shameless awe.
Then—
CRACK—PING!
A truck rumbled past the road, one tire striking a loose stone. The rock launched like a bullet and smacked Sihara right in the forehead.
"GAH!!"
The boy toppled backward, rolling helplessly down the sloped football field, bouncing off narrow stairs before landing headfirst in the dirt with a loud THUD.
The memory froze on his dazed body sprawled like garbage, bread still in hand, ero manga clutched protectively to his chest.
Back in the present, Sihara crossed his arms with a straight face. "…That's the story. No bullies—just bad luck." He closed his eyes with a proud little smile.
Galia floated in silence, her eyes half-lidded, her voice flat with pure disappointment.
"…Uh-huh. Then that must have been your divine punishment."
She flicked her tail, turning away. "Okay, let's stop it here before I lose the will to live."
Sihara and Galia stood over the skeleton slumped against the guardrail. Rusted armor clung to its frame, and in its bony hand the strange lantern still flickered faintly.
"…Try it," Galia whispered, her tail curling low. "Use the lantern on him. Let's see… what he left behind."
Sihara crouched, pressing his palm to the lantern's cold surface. Mana poured into it, and the glow swelled—until the world around them dissolved into light.
They stood on a battlefield drenched in blood and fire.
At the center walked a man no older than thirty. His long white hair whipped wildly in the burning winds, his battered armor caked with dirt and ash. His face was smeared with blood, his eyes hollow yet fierce.
In his hand gleamed a one-handed broadsword, scarred and dulled from endless slaughter. With each step, he struck down another foe.
But these were no enemies.
They were his comrades.
Brothers who had marched beside him in life.
Now, twisted into undead, their eyes glowed with hollow light as they fell one after another to his blade.
"…He's cutting down his own…" Sihara muttered, gripping his spear.
Galia's ears flattened. "…No… they were his friends, his family in arms. And now he's forced to fight them."
The man's breathing grew ragged as he slew another, bloodied hands trembling around his sword hilt. Then—
"Talion!!"
The battlefield thundered with the shout.
From the smoke emerged a golden knight, towering and radiant even in the hellish fire. His armor shone like sunlight hammered into steel, his helm crowned with two crimson plumes flowing like banners of blood. In his hands, a gleaming spear carved through the air as he strode forward.
Sihara's eyes widened. "…That's him…"
Galia's tail bristled. "…The Golden Knight…"
The white-haired man froze, his sword lowering. His lips parted, disbelief flooding his face. "…Commander Agnar?!"
The golden knight stopped, his aura suffocating, his spear aimed straight at him.
Talion's expression twisted, a bitter laugh tearing from his throat. "So the rumors were true… you fell to the Lich King. And yet here you stand, undead… still talking like a man."
Agnar's voice rumbled like iron, yet sorrow weighed every word.
"This body is no longer mine. I am only a corpse that remembers what I was." His spear glinted as he leveled it. "But you, Talion—you are no longer yourself either."
Talion's teeth clenched, fury and shame flashing in his eyes. "Don't you dare say my name like you still know me! I fought for this kingdom while you basked in glory! I clawed for recognition while you sat on a throne of honor! What do you know of starving? Of bleeding unseen?!"
"You think this is honor?" Agnar's voice thundered, the battlefield itself trembling. "You think I chose this curse? I lost myself to the Lich King's darkness—but you, Talion…" His voice cracked. "…You threw yourself into it."
Talion roared, lifting his sword. "I wanted more! For my family, for my blood! I wanted to give them everything I never had! Fame, wealth, glory—"
"And yet what did they truly want?" Agnar cut him off, his words piercing sharper than steel. "Gold? Or you, alive, standing at their side?"
The words struck like a spear to the heart. Talion faltered for a breath, his sword trembling.
"Silence!!" he bellowed, surging forward, blade flashing in wild arcs.
Steel rang against steel. The duel erupted.
Talion's broadsword screamed through the air, each swing fueled by desperation and regret. Sparks burst as Agnar's spear deflected, countered, thrust. The ground cracked beneath their blows, fire swirling around their clash.
"You abandoned them, Talion!" Agnar roared, parrying a vicious strike and spinning his spear in a deadly arc. "For greed! For ambition!"
"I did it for them!!" Talion's voice broke as his sword locked against the spear. "To lift them from misery! To build them a future!"
"Then why are you here, drowning in the blood of your brothers?!" Agnar shoved him back, their weapons shrieking.
Talion staggered but swung again, wild, broken. "Because it's all I had left!! My sword—my ambition—it was all I had!!"
Their blades clashed once more. Agnar twisted, stepping in close—his spear darted like lightning.
"Then forgive me, brother."
The spear pierced through Talion's chest.
Blood burst from his lips. His sword slipped from his grasp, clattering to the ground. He staggered back, long white hair falling over his bloodstained face as he collapsed against the guardrail.
His breath rattled, shallow. His eyes, once burning, now dimmed with painful clarity.
"…My family…" he whispered, tears mixing with blood. "…I left them… chasing fame… chasing gold… And now…" His hand trembled, reaching weakly forward. "…nothing remains."
Agnar stood over him, spear shaking in his grasp. His voice broke as he whispered, "…Talion…"
But Talion's gaze lifted beyond him—to the unseen future, to whoever might watch through the lantern.
"…If you see this memory…" his voice rasped, each word trembling, "…I beg you… end this kingdom's suffering."
His head fell, and the battlefield dissolved into shadow.
Sihara and Galia blinked back into the present. The skeleton slumped silently before them, lantern dimming in its grasp.
The silence was crushing.
Sihara placed a hand on the skull, lowering his head. His voice came soft, almost reverent.
"Comburere…"
The word ignited like a prayer.
A thin flame sparked where his palm touched bone, then spread gently, consuming the corpse in quiet fire. No smoke rose, no stench of burning filled the air—only a silent, cleansing blaze.
Galia floated closer, her golden eyes narrowing. "…You're sending him off?"
Sihara didn't look away from the fire. His voice was steady. "…He deserves at least that much."
The last fragments of Talion crumbled into ash, carried away by the bridge's cold wind. Nothing remained—no skeleton, no lantern, only the memory of a man's regret.
Sihara rose, gripping his spear, his gaze cutting toward the looming castle. His voice hardened.
"…Let's go."
They walked together, step by step, until the bridge opened up to the towering gates of the throne hall. Sihara halted, staring at the dark fortress ahead. His voice dropped, calm but sharp, as if he could feel the weight of destiny pressing on him.
"To the climax of the story."
The gates loomed before them.
Inside, Agnar sat silently upon the obsidian throne. His golden armor shimmered in the restless candlelight, his spear resting at his side. He did not move, did not speak. The echoes of distant steel and shattering stone crept closer with every heartbeat.
And still, he waited.
Closer. Louder. The clash of battle reverberated against the chamber walls—then fell into silence.
"Grrrrruuuuuunnnch…"
The throne room doors groaned as they slowly swung open. Shadows stretched long across the marble floor.
Sihara stepped through first. His shirt was torn, soaked with streaks of black blood that still dripped from his wounds. Each breath came ragged, chest heaving as he dragged his spear along the floor with a scraping hiss.
Beside him floated Galia, her fur bristled, her golden eyes locked on the figure ahead. Her voice was quiet, heavy. "…There he is."
On the throne, Agnar did not rise. His helm tilted just slightly, the crimson plumes swaying as if stirred by a breath no mortal could hear.
On the throne, Agnar did not rise. His helm tilted just slightly, the crimson plumes swaying as if stirred by a breath no mortal wind carried.
At last, he moved.
The golden knight rose from his seat, each step echoing like a tolling bell. His gauntleted hand stretched outward, and with a shimmer of dark light, a massive sword manifested in his right hand, a spear in his left. The air shook beneath the weight of his aura.
His voice rumbled low, not in command but in a plea—soft, like a man long broken.
"…Are you the one… who will end my fate?"
Sihara's grip tightened on his spear. He lowered his gaze, then raised a hand, summoning forth the shimmering light of the system's menu. A cold, metallic chime rang out as his weapon materialized.
"Agnar, the lost one…" Sihara's voice was calm, though it carried a sorrowful edge. "I would say you deserved this, but…"
The air around him cracked with blue light as silver armor wrapped over his body, forged from mithril. A long blue robe unfurled, embroidered with golden threads, and upon its back shone the emblem of a roaring lion.
"…For the people who tried, and failed, to end this agony…" He leveled his spear, his stance steady, his eyes unwavering. "…I will be here—the one to end this misery."
Agnar's helm tilted slightly, the crimson plumes swaying as if stirred by a storm inside him. Slowly, he raised his weapons, pointing the tip of his blade at Sihara.
"Then fight me," his voice thundered, echoing across the vast throne hall. His steps shook the marble with each approach, the spear in his other hand dragging sparks across the floor.
"Fight me… and prove that you are truly the descendant my father once believed in." He gripped tighter to his spear, and with terrifying speed hurled it straight at Sihara.
"—AND SHOW ME THE TRUE DESCENDANT POWER THAT I BANISHED!"
The weapon screamed through the air.
Sihara twisted his body midair, narrowly evading the fatal strike. The spear slammed into the marble floor, cracking it wide open with a deafening impact.
Landing in a crouch, Sihara sprang into motion, sprinting across the hall, his spear gripped low. His boots pounded against the fractured stone as he began circling Agnar, searching for an opening.
The golden knight's helm tracked him with unyielding focus. Slowly, he wrenched his spear free from the floor with one gauntleted hand, spinning it into a ready stance as if it had never left him. Sparks burst as the weapon scraped against the marble, his voice booming once more.
"Your blood carries the old line… but BLOOD ALONE IS NOT ENOUGH!"
Sihara's eyes narrowed, teeth gritted as he closed the distance. With a burst of mana, his spear ignited in a blaze of blue light, searing arcs trailing behind his charge.
He lunged forward, thrusting with all his strength.
CLANG!
Agnar met him with his sword, the impact rattling the entire chamber. Sparks rained in showers of gold and blue.
But Sihara twisted, spinning his spear in a low sweep. Agnar caught it with his own spear, locking the weapons together. The shock of their clash sent a quake rippling through the throne room.
Neither yielded.
The golden knight's voice growled from behind the helm. "If you truly wish to end my fate—then SHOW ME."
The golden knight's voice growled from behind the helm.
"If you truly wish to end my fate—then SHOW ME."
Sihara's eyes sharpened. He lowered his stance, spear glowing faintly as mana surged through his veins. "Don't worry… I will."
The two lunged at the same time.
BOOOM!!
Their first clash tore through the marble floor, cracks webbing out like a spider's web. The shockwave rattled the chandeliers above and sent dust raining down.
Agnar pressed forward, his strength monstrous, his sword cleaving down with earth-splitting force. Sihara barely slipped aside, his body twisting like a serpent. He countered instantly—
"Comburere!"
A wave of fire erupted from his hand, engulfing Agnar in a sudden inferno. The flames roared, swallowing the golden knight whole.
But the towering figure marched through the blaze unfazed, his spear cutting a clean path as if the fire were nothing but mist.
"Tch—!" Sihara leapt back, thrusting his hand to the ground.
"Paries Lapidis!"
Stone burst upward, forming a massive wall between them. The knight's spear struck it a heartbeat later, shattering the wall into rubble. Shards of rock blasted across the chamber—
Only for Sihara to leap from behind the falling debris, spear drawn back.
"Slash Strike!"
His weapon cut through the air in a blinding arc, a streak of blue light splitting forward.
Agnar caught it on his blade. Sparks detonated outward, scorching the walls. The golden knight slid half a step back—just half a step—before his aura flared even darker.
"Not enough." His voice was like thunder.
He swung his sword, releasing a shockwave that split the floor apart. Sihara crossed his spear and chanted quickly—
"Ventus Impellere!"
A violent gust of wind burst forth, redirecting the shockwave just before it reached him. Dust and stone blasted into the air, clouding the throne hall in a choking haze.
From within the storm, Agnar's crimson plumes surged forward. His golden spear thrust through the cloud like lightning—
"Shit—! Barrierum!"
A shimmering wall of force flared into being. The spear struck, bending the magical shield until cracks spiderwebbed across its surface.
"Crimson Divider!!"
Sihara's counter roared out in a red arc, cutting across the knight's chestplate. Sparks and bloodless light scattered, forcing Agnar back a step. The knight glanced down at the shallow mark on his armor.
For the first time, he let out a low chuckle. "…Better."
Sihara panted, sweat dripping down his face, but his grin didn't waver. "Don't relax yet, old man."
With a burst of mana, he charged. His spear gleamed with energy, thrusting again and again in a relentless storm. Agnar parried each strike, the rhythm of their weapons striking faster and faster—until Sihara roared:
"Breaking Rush!!"
The final thrust shattered Agnar's guard, the spear plunging into his side and hurling the golden knight backward into a pillar. The stone cracked, dust raining from the ceiling.
But Agnar did not fall. Slowly, he pulled himself free from the rubble, planting his spear into the ground to steady himself. His helm tilted, crimson plumes shaking as he growled:
"…You truly carry their blood."
Sihara spun his spear, stance tightening again. His chest heaved with every breath, but his eyes burned brighter.
—THUD—
Agnar planted his golden spear into the ground, his massive frame trembling. For a moment, the chamber went eerily still, the only sound Sihara's heavy breathing.
Then the knight's voice rumbled low, like a quake beneath the earth.
"…Let's make this interesting, kid."
His gauntlet clenched. His helm tilted back ever so slightly. And then—
"ORDER… AWAKE!!"
The throne hall shook violently as Agnar bellowed a war cry that split the air. A surge of black-red energy exploded from his body, rippling across the marble like a storm. His already towering frame swelled larger, the golden armor distorting, pulsing with veins of crimson light. His crimson plumes snapped violently in the storm as if they were on fire.
A crimson aura poured off him in waves—rage, despair, and raw power manifesting like a living flame. The ground beneath his boots cracked with every step he took forward.
Sihara staggered, squinting through the violent gale, the wind cutting at his face. "…The hell… is this power…"
From the far side, Galia's fur bristled, her golden eyes wide. She hissed, tail puffed. "This is bad… this is BAD! SIHARA, LOOK OUT!!"
"Eh—?" Sihara's eyes narrowed, the wind battering his face. He turned just as the golden knight raised his massive arm.
"Then let's begin again…"
Agnar's aura erupted, his body like a demon cloaked in molten armor. His voice was a roar that shook the pillars:
"OUR DEATH BATTLE!!"
The knight's arm swung forward with devastating force.
Sihara thrust his hand out, chanting desperately—
"Barrierum!!"
A shimmering dome of light expanded just in time to intercept the blow.
But the instant Agnar's strike connected—
CRAAAAASH!!
The barrier shattered like glass, the force ripping through it as though it were paper. The shockwave blasted across the hall, hurling Sihara's body through the air.
"GHHHHH—!!"
He slammed into the floor, skidding across broken marble, blood spraying from his lip. His spear clattered beside him.
"SIIIIHAAAARAAA!!" Galia shrieked, her voice cracking as she zipped after him, hovering desperately over his fallen frame.
Sihara coughed, spitting crimson onto the stone, his vision spinning. Still, his hand groped for his spear, dragging it back into his grip. His knuckles were white, but his grin returned—bloody, defiant.
"…Heh… I knew you had another phase in you."
The throne hall groaned as Agnar advanced, every step a death sentence, every breath radiating a monstrous aura that seemed to claw at Sihara's chest.
The golden knight's voice thundered through the chamber.
"Stand, boy. Stand and fight. Or drown in my rage like the rest."
And Sihara, panting, bloodied, rose again. His spear lifted, trembling only for a moment before it steadied.
—THUD—
Agnar planted his golden spear into the ground, his massive frame trembling. For a moment, the chamber went eerily still, the only sound Sihara's heavy breathing.
Then the knight's voice rumbled low, like a quake beneath the earth.
"…Let's make this interesting, kid."
His gauntlet clenched. His helm tilted back ever so slightly. And then—
"ORDER… AWAKE!!"
The throne hall shook violently as Agnar bellowed a war cry that split the air. A surge of black-red energy exploded from his body, rippling across the marble like a storm. His already towering frame swelled larger, the golden armor distorting, pulsing with veins of crimson light. His crimson plumes snapped violently in the storm as if they were on fire.
A crimson aura poured off him in waves—rage, despair, and raw power manifesting like a living flame. The ground beneath his boots cracked with every step he took forward.
Sihara staggered, squinting through the violent gale, the wind cutting at his face. "…The hell… is this power…"
From the far side, Galia's fur bristled, her golden eyes wide. She hissed, tail puffed. "This is bad… this is BAD! SIHARA, LOOK OUT!!"
"Eh—?" Sihara's eyes narrowed, the wind battering his face. He turned just as the golden knight raised his massive arm.
"Then let's begin again…"
Agnar's aura erupted, his body like a demon cloaked in molten armor. His voice was a roar that shook the pillars:
"OUR DEATH BATTLE!!"
The knight's arm swung forward with devastating force.
Sihara thrust his hand out, chanting desperately—
"Barrierum!!"
A shimmering dome of light expanded just in time to intercept the blow.
But the instant Agnar's strike connected—
CRAAAAASH!!
The barrier shattered like glass, the force ripping through it as though it were paper. The shockwave blasted across the hall, hurling Sihara's body through the air.
"GHHHHH—!!"
He slammed into the floor, skidding across broken marble, blood spraying from his lip. His spear clattered beside him.
"SIIIIHAAAARAAA!!" Galia shrieked, her voice cracking as she zipped after him, hovering desperately over his fallen frame.
Sihara coughed, spitting crimson onto the stone, his vision spinning. Still, his hand groped for his spear, dragging it back into his grip. His knuckles were white, but his grin returned—bloody, defiant.
"…Heh… I knew you had another phase in you."
The throne hall groaned as Agnar advanced, every step a death sentence, every breath radiating a monstrous aura that seemed to claw at Sihara's chest.
The golden knight's voice thundered through the chamber.
"Stand, boy. Stand and fight. Or drown in my rage like the rest."
And Sihara, panting, bloodied, rose again. His spear lifted, trembling only for a moment before it steadied amidst the rumble of shattered stone.
The clash resumed.
The throne hall roared with their fury.
Steel screamed against steel. Sparks cascaded in showers as Agnar's spear carved across Sihara's cheek. Blood streaked down, hot and sharp. Another thrust came, faster, heavier—
SCRRRRHHHKKK!!
The spear slashed across Sihara's chestplate. The mithril groaned under the pressure—until it split.
"…What?!" Sihara's eyes widened in shock. Mithril… cut apart?!
But the strike's force was too great, even for the golden knight's weapon. The spear's shaft cracked under its own power—
KRRRRAAKKK!
It snapped, shards scattering across the hall.
Agnar did not falter. His gauntlet seized his sword with both hands, and with merciless force, he drove it forward—
SHHRRRKKK!!
The blade pierced through Sihara's chest. His body shuddered, blood pouring down the length of the weapon.
"Sihara…" Galia whispered, her golden eyes wide, her voice trembling into silence.
The golden knight stood still, helm tilted down at the warrior pinned on his blade. His voice rumbled low, almost… reverent.
"…Even in death, you do not yield. You have my respect."
But then—
SLAAAAASHHH!!
A spear cleaved into his right arm. Metal and flesh tore apart in one brutal motion. His gauntlet and sword fell with a crash.
Agnar staggered back, stunned. His helm turned—
From the rubble, a spear jutted out. A bloodied hand gripped it.
Sihara.
The one impaled dissolved into mud, collapsing into nothingness.
The real warrior rose from the debris, panting, blood-soaked but smirking. A fireball burst from his hand, detonating against Agnar's chestplate and driving the knight several paces back.
"That was… quite the gamble," Sihara muttered, dragging his spear free from the rubble.
He straightened slowly, his eyes never leaving the golden knight.
"I slipped away the moment my barrier shattered. Hid in the rubble—waiting for the opening."
The spear's edge glowed faintly, black resin dripping like venom.
"You won't regenerate from that wound."
Agnar froze—then hissed, a burn tearing through his severed arm. "Aghhh… what is this?!" He clutched the wound with his left hand.
"Charcoal resin," Sihara answered coldly. "An item that gives flame to the blade… and slows healing. It burns from the inside out. Every second, it eats at you."
Agnar's stance wavered. His once overwhelming aura faltered.
Sihara leveled his spear, his voice rising with grim resolve. "This ends now."
With a roar, he rushed forward.
Agnar growled, seizing his sword with his remaining arm. He swung in a desperate wide arc—
But it was too late.
Sihara blurred forward, mana blazing through his veins. His voice cracked the air like thunder:
"DEATH STRIFE!!"
The spear howled as it struck—
BRRRAAAAACCCKKK!!
The blow punched straight through Agnar's golden armor, tearing a massive hole in his right chest. Crimson light burst outward like a dying star.
The golden knight staggered, his towering body trembling, his sword slipping from his hand.
Slowly—so slowly—he fell to one knee, then onto his side.
His helm tilted toward Sihara. His voice, faint but heavy with pride, rasped through the silence:
"…This descendant… is truly strong."
A ragged breath escaped, almost like a chuckle.
"…Just like… he said, huh…"
And with that, the golden knight collapsed, his crimson plumes falling still at last.
A ragged breath escaped Agnar, almost like a chuckle.
"…Just like… he said, huh…"
Sihara stepped closer, his boots echoing against the fractured marble floor.
The golden knight lay on his side, chestplate cracked open where the spear had struck. His breaths were heavy, each one dragging like a dying storm. Slowly, his helm tilted toward Sihara.
"For many years…" His voice was low, hoarse, yet proud. "…I have not been defeated by any knight in my life." He paused, then raised his head slightly, crimson plumes trembling weakly. "Boy… tell me your name."
Sihara hesitated, his spear lowering. "…Sihara. Shinya Sihara."
Agnar repeated the name under his breath, as though engraving it into memory. A faint, almost nostalgic hum escaped him.
Then, his voice grew heavier. "Sihara… in life, I was proud. Too proud. I chased glory, wealth, and triumph in battle. I betrayed comrades, abandoned the weak, and turned my blade on those I once called brothers." His gauntlet clenched the stone floor. "These sins, I carried until death claimed me. And even in death, I was bound to my pride."
Sihara stood silent, listening.
Agnar's helm tilted slightly upward, catching the pale moonlight filtering through the broken ceiling. "That hair… blue as the coldest sky. Those eyes… gold, burning like the sun. Tell me, boy…" His voice softened with a strange longing. "…How did you come to bear them?"
For the first time, Sihara did not answer. His jaw tightened, his gaze shifting away.
The knight chuckled weakly. "…So you don't know either." His helm lowered again. "Then let it be. Not all burdens need answers."
His gauntlet slowly reached toward his waist. With shaking hands, he pulled forth a small emblem—no larger than Sihara's palm. Its design was simple, but at its center gleamed the head of a spear, etched in silver.
"This…" Agnar placed it into Sihara's hand, his grip faint but deliberate. "…A gift. Use it better than I did. Not for pride, nor for blood… but for something worth protecting."
His voice was fading, each word weaker than the last. "And thus… I hope the gods, and the goddesses… protect you from evil dwellers…"
Agnar's armored body shimmered faintly, then slowly broke apart into motes of golden dust. His crimson plumes scattered into nothingness. In moments, only silence remained.
Sihara stood beneath the moonlight streaming through the shattered roof. His chest heaved with exhaustion, but his eyes stayed fixed on the emblem in his palm.
"…What is this thing…" he muttered.
He pressed the small mechanism at its back—
KRRRRRSHHHHHHH!!
Light surged outward. The emblem unfolded, expanding with the brilliance of living metal. In a burst of radiance, it lengthened and reshaped—until a gleaming spear rested in Sihara's grip.
Its shaft was forged of pure mithril, cold and unyielding, and between the spearhead pulsed a flawless magic stone, glowing faintly with azure fire.
Sihara's breath caught. "A… mithril spear."
From behind, Galia floated closer, her golden eyes wide, the reflection of the weapon shimmering within them.
"…Amazing…" she whispered. "That's not just a spear. That's… a relic. A knight's legacy."
Sihara gripped it tighter, the weight perfect in his hands. For a moment, he said nothing, standing tall in the moonlight—his blue hair swaying in the wind, the weapon gleaming like a flame that refused to die.
Sihara gripped the gleaming weapon, its mithril shaft cold and steady in his hand. The azure light from the magic stone pulsed like a heartbeat, casting ripples across the moonlit hall.
For a long moment, he simply stared at it, feeling the weight—not just of the spear, but of the will left behind by the knight who had entrusted it to him.
"…A spear born from pride, remade as hope," he whispered.
His lips curved faintly, breath catching as though the name had risen from the weapon itself rather than his own mind.
"…Astralis."
He lifted the spear, its azure glow flaring brighter under the moonlight. "From this moment on… I'll call you Astralis."
The light of Agnar's fading form had barely vanished when—
DIIIING!!
A heavy notification slammed open before Sihara's eyes.
📜 System Notification
⚔️ Boss Defeated!
You have slain Agnar the Lost One, Guardian of the Throne.
🎖️ Rewards
Experience Points: +1,200,000Item Acquired: Astralis – Spear of Hope (Unique / Bound)Title Unlocked: Breaker of PrideAchievement: Fate Severed
✨ Special Reward – Weapon Mastery Reset
Previous: Rank XV – Master Lv.100New: Rank XIV – Beginner Lv.1
Sihara's eyes lingered on the words. His hand tightened around Astralis, the azure glow pulsing faintly in sync with his own heartbeat.
"…It's not a loss," he muttered, a faint smile breaking across his battered face. "…It's an evolution. Hah. Fine."
He lowered his spear, turning toward the broken gates of the throne room.
"It's time to leave. Galia… come on."
The floating cat drifted down beside him, her golden eyes soft yet proud. She smiled faintly. "…Right behind you."
Together, they walked side by side beneath the pale moonlight seeping through the ruined ceiling, their shadows stretching across the cracked marble.
When they stepped through the shattered doors and crossed the grand hall toward the outer gates, Sihara stopped in his tracks.
There—waiting for him—were countless faint figures.
Spirits. The people of the lost city. Men, women, children—faded but smiling. They lined the broken streets and courtyard, watching him with eyes that glimmered like starlight.
One by one, they lowered themselves to their knees. Silent. Reverent. Thankful.
Sihara's chest tightened. His hand trembled slightly on the shaft of Astralis.
He did not speak.
Sihara only smiled at them—those countless spirits watching with eyes of fading light—and gave a gentle nod.
The wind stirred. Slowly, gently, the spirits smiled in return… and began to fade, their forms dissolving into motes of light that drifted into the night sky. The breeze carried them away like petals, scattering across the moonlit ruins.
Sihara closed his eyes, then planted Astralis into the ground. He raised his hand, voice steady.
"Terram Excitare… Golem."
The earth rumbled beneath his feet. Stone heaved upward, shaping into a towering golem that rose behind him, its form etched with glowing runes, its eyes burning faintly with life.
Sihara's other hand lifted, his voice deepening as mana surged.
"Comburere."
Flames burst outward, sweeping through the ruined city. One by one, the undead villagers and soldiers that had wandered aimlessly were engulfed in silent fire. No screams. No struggle. Only peace as the corruption burned away to ash.
The golem stood sentinel behind them, like a guardian watching over a solemn rite.
Sihara sank to one knee, lowering his head.
Beside him, Galia floated down, her golden tail wrapping close as she pressed her paws together, eyes closed.
And there—under the vast, broken moonlight—they prayed together in silence.
While the flames burned out corruption, while the golem kept watch, while the last echoes of the lost kingdom faded quietly into the night.
Sixteen years later.
The flames, the prayers, the lost kingdom… all of it was long past.
Now, in the timeless silence of the Training Realm, footsteps echoed faintly.
Kaelis strolled through the endless field of pale grass, his coat swaying in the artificial breeze. He checked his watch with a frown.
"…Twelve hours already," he muttered. "Time runs differently here, but still… tch. Hope that brat didn't croak. Guess I'll have to find him myself."
He followed the path into the simulated forest, boots crunching softly. Soon the trees opened into a clearing—
—and Kaelis froze.
In the middle of the field… stood a house.
"…A house?" His brow twitched. "That damn kid… built himself a home in here?"
He walked closer, still muttering, but then the sound hit his ears.
THWACK.
THWACK.
The steady rhythm of an axe biting into wood.
Rounding the corner, Kaelis stopped again.
A man stood there, half-naked, wearing only worn cargo pants. His upper body was bare, muscles carved hard from years of relentless work and battle. Sweat gleamed across his skin as he swung the axe, splitting log after log with effortless precision.
Kaelis's eyes narrowed. He stepped forward, calling out.
"…Oi. I'm looking for Sihara. You seen him around?"
The man stopped mid-swing. Slowly, he lifted his head.
And Kaelis's eyes widened as he finally saw the face. Older, sharper, framed by unruly blue hair that now brushed his shoulders. Golden eyes burned like molten fire beneath the shadow of the training realm's .
Kaelis blinked. He rubbed his eyes. Then he pointed.
"Y-yes, sir… um… have you seen a kid? Blue hair, glasses, total bookworm vibe. Name's Sihara. Looks like a nerd."
The half-naked man tilted his head, then reached into his cargo pants pocket. He pulled out a pair of glasses, slipped them on, and smirked.
"…Like this one?"
Kaelis's jaw dropped. "Y-yeah! Exactly like th—"
His words froze in his throat. His face paled. His entire body stiffened like stone.
"…Eh… eh… eh… wait a minute…" His finger trembled as he pointed at the man.
"…EEEHHHHH??!!! EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH?!?!"
The scream shattered the quiet field, birds scattering into the sky in a chaotic flock.
The man chuckled, adjusting the glasses casually.
"Yo, Doctor. Long time no see. Give me a sec—I'm still chopping this log. You can wait inside if you want. Hungry? I'll cook something."
Kaelis staggered, his hands flailing like he'd just seen a ghost.
"Bu—bu—bu—"
"Haaaaaawaaaahhhhm…"
A yawn broke the tension.
From the doorway of the house floated a familiar figure—Galia, rubbing her golden eyes, her tail curling lazily as if she'd just woken from a long nap.
"…Who the hell is screaming like that…?" She blinked at Kaelis, then at the man. "…Ah. Glasses. You came, huh?"
Kaelis spun toward her like a drowning man grabbing a rope.
"G-Galia! What's going on?! Is this… is this really…? Tell me this isn't Sihara! This guy's completely different from the brat I met earlier—"
Galia rubbed her eyes again, her ears twitching in annoyance.
"…What are you talking about? Of course it's him. Perfectly him."
Kaelis froze, his mouth hanging open. He looked at Sihara. Then at Galia. Then back at Sihara.
And then he collapsed onto his knees, clutching his head.
"…The hell did this kid do for twelve hours in here?!"
Sihara rested the axe against the stump, wiping sweat from his brow.
"Twelve hours, huh? For us it's been twenty-seven years. Remember—time works different in here."
Kaelis twitched. "Y-yeah, but look at you! You went from C-boy… to another C-boy! From cherryboy to Chad boy!"
Sihara only shrugged. "Well, I'm finished. Galia, breakfast is ready. Let's eat. Doctor, you wanna join?"
Inside the big house, the scent of roasted meat and simmering broth filled the air. The dining table was stacked with plates—meatballs, grilled fish, bread, soup, vegetables.
Kaelis sat stiffly, still shell-shocked, while Galia happily devoured everything within reach.
"Munch… munch… gulp… ahhh. Doctor, you okay? You haven't touched anything."
Kaelis blinked, dragging himself back to reality. "H-huh? Oh… ah… sorry."
He picked up a fork and tasted one of the meatballs. His eyes widened.
"Uh… it's delicious…"
And then, almost unconsciously, he began to eat. Slowly at first… then faster… until he was devouring the food with the same intensity as Galia.
After the last bite of dinner, Kaelis leaned back, still staring at the vastness of the room. The chandeliers glinted in the warm glow of the hearth, reflecting off the polished floors.
"So… all this," Kaelis began slowly, his voice full of awe, "this mansion… you built it yourself? Here… in the training realm?"
Sihara tilted his head, a faint smirk on his lips. "Not exactly by myself. The system handles most of the work—layout, decoration, even furniture placement. I just manage it. Tweak the design, decide what goes where, give instructions. Everything is automated from there."
Galia floated over to the window, golden eyes narrowing as she observed a massive stone figure tending the garden outside. The golem moved with deliberate precision, pruning shrubs and carrying baskets of soil and saplings.
"Is that… a golem?" Kaelis asked, blinking.
"Yeah," Sihara replied casually, leaning back in his chair. "Terram Excitare… Golem. He's my gardener and general handyman. Can maintain the grounds, repair damages, even help with training if needed. Obedient, precise… scary if he wants to be."
Kaelis's jaw dropped. "You… made a mansion with a golem gardener… in a training realm. And you're just… living here?"
"Living, training, experimenting… basically all of the above," Sihara said, shrugging. "I wanted a place that's self-sufficient. A place that can exist without chaos, at least here."
Galia's tail flicked lazily. "I never thought I'd see a rock golem pruning flowers."
Kaelis shook his head, still stunned. After a moment, he cleared his throat. "…Alright, Sihara. Enough about the mansion. I need to see something… your status. I want to know how strong you are now."
Sihara's grin widened slightly. "Status, huh? Sure. Just… be ready. You might be shocked."
He tapped the back of Astralis, and a faint glow expanded from the spear. The system menu appeared before Kaelis, suspended in the air like a hologram, shimmering with arcane energy.
Sihara's system menu hovered in the air, displaying his stats:
📊 Shinya Sihara – Current Stats
Level: 190
Strength (STR): 2,220
Agility (AGI): 1,850
Intelligence (INT): 2,000
Endurance (END): 1,910
Vitality (VIT): 1,580
Luck (LCK): 1,800
Weapon Proficiency:
Polearm: Rank XIV – Master Lv.100Sword: Rank XIV – Master Lv.100Bow: Rank XIV – Master Lv.100Caster: Rank XIV – Master Lv.100Gauntlet: Rank XIV – Master Lv.100Dagger: Rank XIV – Master Lv.100
Special Skills: Comburere, Ventus Impellere, Paries Lapidis, Barrierum, Death Strife
Titles: Breaker of Pride, Fate Severed
Kaelis leaned back, arms crossed, eyes scanning the stats. "Heh… not bad for a new user. Looks like you need to up your rank proficiency again." His voice was calm but teasing.
Sihara tilted his head, a little annoyed. "Actually, that's the problem." He tapped the menu, highlighting the mission description.
"This mission… is one I don't really understand."
Kaelis leaned forward, reading the objective: "Continue your own story." A smile crept across his face. "Huh… what do you think, Galia?"
Sihara glanced at her. Galia's golden eyes looked up between bites of meat. "…I don't know. How about you figure it out yourself? I don't really remember every detail of the mission in the system." She shrugged, popping another chunk into her mouth.
"…Are you not the system core itself?" Sihara asked, slightly annoyed.
Galia merely chewed and gave him a faint shrug.
Kaelis chuckled. "Then if that's the case… it's about time you get out now."
Sihara raised an eyebrow. "Huh… really?"
"Of course," Kaelis replied. "The cheat system is meant to be used in the real world. Besides, you can fight, right?"
Sihara hesitated, then spoke thoughtfully. "Doctor… can I ask you something?"
"Hmm?" Kaelis glanced at him, brow slightly furrowed.
"While I was fighting those monsters… they all looked like high-rank enemies, but they were surprisingly easy to defeat. And yet, I was still Rank 15 back then."
Kaelis's eyes twitched in amusement. "…Are you saying you think all of them were actually Rank 14, but should have been Rank 8 or 7?"
"…Yeah. Something like that." Sihara's expression was serious, but a hint of a smirk lingered.
Kaelis smiled knowingly. "Well, for now… you need to get out and enjoy your life. One day, you'll discover the answer."
Sihara exhaled and nodded. "Alright."
They all stepped toward the house's entrance. Sihara raised Astralis, the portal shimmering into existence before them.
With a nod to each other, they passed through the portal, leaving the mansion and training realm behind—ready to face the world outside.
The portal shimmered, the light rippling like water. Sihara, Astralis in hand, stepped into the real world. The air felt different, heavier, yet alive with possibility.
Kaelis followed close behind. "Once you're outside, you'll be back to normal," he said, voice calm. "Though… there will be some physical changes that won't return to their previous state. You'll need the glasses and the hairstyle you had at the beginning for now."
He handed Sihara a sleek, black phone. Its screen glowed faintly as he opened it. A detailed map of the world spread across the display, with markers Sihara didn't recognize. Alongside it were other special functions, items, and hidden system commands.
"Use this," Kaelis said firmly. "And this time… believe in yourself. You've earned it."
Sihara nodded. "I will."
Before anyone could say another word, Kaelis turned, stepping into the portal behind him.
"WAIT!"
He spun around. Galia hovered in place, golden eyes sharp, not following Sihara through. Her tail flicked, a subtle agitation in her posture.
Kaelis's gaze met hers. "How do you know Sihara has a cheat system? And why wasn't it a surprise? How do you even know some of these systems work? And… what exactly are you up to?"
The air grew tense, charged with unspoken questions. Galia's ears twitched, her body floating steadily, her voice tight.
Kaelis tilted his head, voice calm but probing. "Then let me ask you—"
"HEY!" Galia snapped, cutting him off, annoyance lacing her words. "I'm the one here! Why did you only choose Sihara to use the cheat system?"
Kaelis's lips curved into a faint grin. "Huh?"
Galia's eyes widened. "Why… why don't you even remember how to use the system yourself, yet somehow you know what it is? And the last… why does the cheat system have to exist in this world?"
Kaelis chuckled softly, shrugging. "See, our questions are the same, Galia. We're both still searching for answers ourselves. And do you really think it's wise to ask someone who's still looking for their own answers?"
Galia blinked, frustration and thought warring across her expression. Kaelis's grin remained, calm and teasing, as he finally stepped fully into the portal, leaving the question hanging in the night air.
The wind stirred around her, the remnants of the portal's light fading, leaving Galia suspended mid-air—floating silently, alone with the weight of Kaelis's words.
Then, she paused, golden eyes narrowing. "…Galia… search your answer, and somehow, you already know the truth."
She hovered, half-lit by the portal's fading glow, a flicker of resolve in her gaze. Without another word, she propelled herself forward—floating gracefully into the portal, following Sihara
ihara leapt onto the rooftop of a nearby house, landing with a solid thud. He balanced on the edge, the city sprawling beneath him.
"GALIA!!!"
For a long moment, nothing stirred. The wind whipped his hair and clothes, carrying his shout across the streets. Swallowing hard, he tried again, louder this time.
"GALIA!! I SAID—ANSWER ME!"
A faint click echoed from his phone. He glanced down—her voice now came through the line.
"Sihara…? I'm here… in your phone," she said calmly, a hint of mischief in her tone.
He blinked, frowning. "…There you are. What are you doing in there?"
Galia's golden eyes appeared, floating beside him as she stepped out of the phone, her tail flicking lazily. "…You forget—I can slip into any hardware if I fit. Now, let's go home."
Sihara exhaled sharply, a mix of relief and exasperation. "Haaahh~… all right. Let's go home."
With a nod, the two of them stepped off the rooftop, landing gracefully on the street below. The city hummed around them—cars, pedestrians, and the distant sounds of daily life—but Sihara and Galia moved as if the world had slowed just for them.
end of chapter 5