Chapter 3
Silence returned to the city — the kind that only follows absolute chaos.
Ark stood in the middle of the wreckage, breathing hard, staring at the fallen body of the dragon. The creature's corpse stretched across the plaza like a mountain that had decided it was tired of being vertical. Smoke rose from its wounds. The air shimmered faintly with leftover mana.
He slowly holstered his pistol, his hand still shaking. "Right… so I just killed a dragon. Totally normal day."
The words echoed back to him through the empty ruins. He looked around — cracked walls, shattered towers, smoldering rubble. Nothing moved. No more monsters, no more roars. Just him and the broken world.
"Well," he mutters, wiping sweat and soot from his forehead, "if this is how my gambling luck pays off, I think I'll stick to poker next time."
He wandered back into the ruined streets. The adrenaline was fading, replaced by an overwhelming sense of exhaustion and hunger. His stomach growled in protest, as if reminding him that near-death experiences did not, in fact, count as meals.
The city looked different now that he wasn't running for his life. What once appeared to be an endless maze of rubble now felt like a graveyard — quiet, heavy, and full of stories buried beneath the dust.
He pushed open a broken door and stepped into what remained of a house. Mold crawled up the walls, the furniture was half-rotted, and the air smelled faintly of ash. But in the corner stood a dusty wardrobe, and inside, miraculously, he found clothes.
Black trousers, a worn shirt, a long coat — all tattered but intact. He dressed quickly, looking at himself in a cracked mirror.
He tilted his head, studying the reflection. "Huh," he murmurs. "Not bad. Kind of gives off that mysterious demon hunter vibe. Now all I need is a cool nickname… or maybe just a bath."
As he rummaged around, he found other items: a ring with a small blue gem, a dagger with a black blade etched in purple, and a plain white mask. He slipped the ring on his finger, feeling a faint warmth pulse through it. A system window appeared instantly.
[Item Equipped: Ring of Mana Recovery]
[Effect: Regenerate 1 Mana per minute when not using mana.]
Ark raised an eyebrow. "Free mana? Finally, some good RNG."
He picked up the dagger next, giving it a few experimental swings. It was surprisingly light. The purple etching glowed faintly when he gripped it tightly.
"Alright, not bad," he mutters, slipping it into his belt. "Mana pistol and magic knife. I'm basically a fantasy cowboy now."
The mask, however, he held up for a long moment. It was smooth, white, expressionless. No eyes, no mouth, just emptiness.
He turned it over in his hands. "Creepy," he says. "Perfect."
When he put it on, a faint notification appeared.
[Item Equipped: Plain White Mask. No effects.]
He snorted. "Figures."
After gathering a few coins from scattered drawers and a brown leather bag to hold his finds, he stepped outside again. The streets were still and gray under the heavy sky. But now that he wasn't panicking, he began to notice something else — traces of writing carved into walls, old symbols, and faded banners fluttering weakly in the breeze.
Curiosity got the better of him. He followed a winding road until he came to the remains of a large mansion. Its front gate hung open, one half bent out of shape, and the once-grand staircase inside was cracked but still climbable.
"Big house usually means big loot," he mutters. "And hopefully no more dragons."
Inside, the mansion was half-collapsed, dust and debris covering the floor. Yet, in one intact wing, he discovered a massive library — rows upon rows of old books, scrolls, and notes.
He brushed off a desk and found something that caught his eye: a journal bound in black leather. The handwriting inside was messy but legible.
He read a few lines aloud. "The ritual must succeed… The souls are ready… Drago will return…"
He frowned. "Drago? Wait— the dragon?"
As he skimmed through the pages, the story unfolded.
A cult had once ruled this city, worshiping the black dragon Drago as a god. The city's lord himself had led the rituals, driven by a desperate wish to resurrect his wife. But the summoning had gone wrong. The ritual drained the souls of the citizens, leaving behind only husks. When Drago appeared, it wasn't the benevolent deity they expected. It was madness incarnate, corrupted and tormented by power.
The final entries were smeared, written in trembling ink. "He's not our savior. He's suffering. He devours us to silence the pain…"
Ark closed the book slowly. For a moment, he just stood there in silence, surrounded by the ruins of obsession and tragedy.
"Well," he says at last, "I guess that explains why the welcome party was so… intense."
He put the journal into his bag. The world around him felt even emptier now, haunted by the ghost of what used to be. But he couldn't stay here forever.
He followed a broken brick road leading out of the city. The wind howled through the ruins, carrying faint echoes of the past. As he walked, he noticed the horizon ahead — or rather, the lack of one.
The ground simply stopped.
He stepped to the edge and looked down. His jaw went slack.
Below him stretched an endless void, swirling with blue flames. Massive fragments of land floated in the air — whole pieces of cities and forests suspended like islands adrift in the sky.
He took a deep breath. "Okay… that's definitely not how gravity is supposed to work."
He looked back at the ruined city one last time. "Right. No going back."
A flickering blue notification appeared beside him.
[New Quest: Explore the Unknown Lands.]
Ark glanced at it, then at the floating continents. He sighed. "Figures. Of course, the only direction available is 'jump into the death abyss.'"
He stepped back, stretching his legs. "Alright, Ark Sky. You've fought monsters, killed a dragon, and still haven't found pants that fit right. What's one more stupid leap?"
He sprinted forward and jumped.
The wind roared in his ears. His coat whipped behind him as he fell, free and weightless, between shards of a broken world. For a brief moment, he laughed — not because it was funny, but because it was the only sane reaction left.
And as he soared toward the nearest floating landmass, the world below shimmered with that strange blue light — like the universe itself was daring him to keep playing.