Inside a dilapidated building, a faint mutter echoed in the dark.
"Urgh, my head hurts so much."
There, a white-haired boy lay on the cold floor, holding his head while trying to make sense of his surroundings.
"Where… am I?"
He froze for a moment.
"Wait—why do I sound like a kid now?"
Suddenly, he feels something is wrong with his body.
"Don't tell me, I got reincarnated and became younger as well?"
Now this is somehow surprising yet expected at the same time.
"This is not the time for this, I should find about myself first."
But, I don't even know my name.
"Now that I think about it, I don't even have a name, do I? I mean, a lot of transmigrators usually pick a new one when they get isekai'd…"
He muttered while tilting his head, looking confused like a child trying to choose his favorite ice cream flavor.
"New name? Alright… If I go with 'Jin', people will think I'm just a low-budget Shadow Monarch."
"And if I pick 'Char'… what's next? A red uniform, a mask, and bragging about being three times faster?"
He crossed his arms, sinking into deep thought.
"Hmm, Knox… short, sharp, and simple."
As for my surname…
"Aznable… a name for someone who leaves their past behind and steps into a new future."
He took a quiet breath, as if sealing his resolve.
"Yeah… From today onward—I am Knox Aznable."
Then, he stood up, dusting off his clothes with a faint smirk.
"Name? Check. Next up—a mirror or anything reflective. I need to verify just how ridiculously handsome I've become."
After searching for a while, Knox managed to find a broken mirror.
"Hmm, this face, isn't this typical isekai MC face in many fan fiction?"
Knox said while leaning toward a dusty shard of glass, examining his reflection.
Short and neat white hair, sharp red eyes, and a youthful yet calm face stared back at him.
"So this is why the Great Goddess said that…"
"Alright… let's get real. The biggest problem isn't the magic, isn't the monsters… it's this face. Judging by it, I'm apparently around ten years old. Ten. Years. Old. And somehow, I'm supposed to just… live like this? Yeah, sure, that sounds totally manageable."
Knox let out a long, frustrated sigh, as if the universe had personally conspired to ruin his day.
"First, let's see where am I now."
Knox left the building, scanned the area, and gathered what information he could. Once done, he returned and organized his findings.
"Now this is explained why this place is so ruined, turn out, I landed in 'Neutral Zone'.
Knox exhaled slowly, letting his mind adjust to the situation. So this is the 'Neutral Zone'.
Officially, it was supposed to be a buffer between the Dark Union and the Holy Federation—a place where neither side had the upper hand. But judging by the tensions lingering in the air, it was clear that neutrality didn't mean peace. Various factions moved here freely, pursuing their own agendas, and one misstep could easily turn the balance into chaos.
He didn't rush, didn't panic. Calm and measured, Knox allowed himself to take in the implications. Observation and patience would reveal the opportunities—and the dangers—this place held.
"Right now, let's review a bit about this world."
Three centuries ago, the world was dominated by mages who commanded mana through magic, and knights who wielded their aura in battle. But everything changed with the rise of the Necromancers.
When the mighty Talheren Empire threatened their freedom, ten powerful necromancers rose against them. Fearing the growing power and influence of necromancers, the Emperor dispatched an army of 50,000 to crush their stronghold, Kizen.
In response, Nefthis Archbold, the Witch of Death, sent the ten necromancers to confront the imperial forces. They easily annihilated the army and raised the fallen as undead to assault the empire they once served.
The Emperor barely escaped the capital and fled to the second-most prosperous city, protected by a renowned swordmaster. To prevent retaliation, Kizen unleashed a military spell on the city, transforming it into the Land of Death.
The Emperor was ultimately killed and transformed into an undead puppet to rule over the fallen empire, forming what is now known as the Dark Union, which controls half the continent.
"In this kind of world, the most important thing to have… is strength.
Especially in the Neutral Zone—where the law of the jungle is the only law."
Knox gulped, a nervous but hopeful spark in his eyes.
Wait… I'm a transmigrator, right? There must be a chance. A system! A status! Some cheat-like golden finger!
He raised his hand dramatically.
"System! Status Window!"
…
Nothing happened.
Not even a holographic pixel.
"…Cough. Cough."
He forced a laugh, face turning red.
Okay… maybe shouting isn't enough? Maybe it's voice-activated but shy?
He tried whispering.
"System…? Pretty please…?"
Still silence.
"…Great. Just great."
He dropped to his knees and grabbed a small rock like he was ready to dig a grave.
"At least no one saw that. If someone did, I'd bury myself right here."
Knox muttered while desperately attempting to hide the overwhelming embarrassment attacking his soul.
"Putting aside what just happened… based on what I remember, I received ten skills:
EX — Shadow Monarch
SSS — Newtype
SS — Magic Mastery
S — Weapon Mastery
A — Holy Magic Affinity
B — Debuff Resistance
C — Music Mastery
D — Cooking Mastery
E — Fast Recovery
F — Perfect Memory
"The problem is… no matter how fancy these skills sound, I need time to truly understand how they work. And above all—EX-rank Shadow Monarch. Depending on how I use it… there's a high chance people will mistake me for a Legion Commander."
If that happens, I'll instantly become a target. One misstep is enough for everyone to turn their blades toward me.
Power is necessary here… but power without caution is the fastest path to destruction.
He clenched his fists lightly.
Before anything else, I must survive. Observe. Learn. Adapt. Only then can I walk my own path in this world.
"Right now, I don't feel anything from this 'Shadow Monarch' skill. No presence, no power… nothing."
He narrowed his eyes, trying to sense even the slightest response.
An EX-rank skill that doesn't activate just like that… figures.
"Maybe there's a requirement. A condition. Something I must fulfill before it awakens."
His voice, calm but laced with caution, echoed faintly in the empty ruins.
Considering how overwhelming this power could be… it would almost be strange if it didn't demand a price or something.
"Then I just need to focus on what I can use right now. Let's start with Magic Mastery and Weapon Mastery." "In this world, there are two primary sources of power—ordinary mana and Jet-Black. Mana is safe and versatile, something anyone can use with enough training."
"But Jet-Black… that's different. It's the power of necromancers. Stronger, denser, and far more dangerous. Without a Core, forcing it through my body might tear me apart from the inside."
Jet-Black is a specialized form of magic energy utilized by necromancers. It is generated by drawing mana from the air through the body's breathing and channeling it into the Core in the heart, thereby replacing ordinary mana with Jet-Black.
"But to harness Jet-Black, I need to open my Core first."
"That's the foundation of every necromancer — the vessel that holds and refines Jet-Black. Without it, this power will only destroy me from the inside."
He exhaled slowly, eyes narrowing with determination.
"So until I manage to open my Core, Jet-Black is completely off-limits. For now, I should stick to mana and build a solid foundation first."
Knox slowly closed his eyes, forcing his breathing to settle.
Mana… If it truly exists in this world, then it should be everywhere.
He extended his senses outward—toward the air, the ground, the faint warmth lingering in his chest. A gentle stream responded, like a breeze acknowledging his presence. It flowed through his veins, serene yet powerful, as if welcoming a rightful owner home.
"…I can feel it."
With a subtle gesture, a faint glow of pure mana gathered on his palm—calm, transparent, harmless.
Then it changed.
In an instant, mana shifted forms—red sparks, cool blue droplets, dancing green winds, solid grains of earth, flickers of pale light, and a faint shadow ripple beneath—all manifesting and fading like passing thoughts.
Six basic elements. All responding to his will.
Knox opened his eyes, stunned.
"…I just tried to feel mana, and I already touched every basic element? Magic Mastery is terrifying…"
His hand trembled—not from fear, but from the overwhelming realization:
Even without Jet-Black…
Even without a Core…
He already surpassed the starting line by miles.
Knox exhaled slowly, the lingering lights fading from his palm.
"Next is weapon mastery."
He looked around the ruined interior—broken walls, shattered furniture, dust everywhere. Not even a wooden stick left behind. Of course… this place wasn't a home. It was a discarded shell in the middle of a lawless land.
"…Right. This is Neutral Zone. Expecting a weapon lying around is too optimistic."
If he wanted a weapon, he had to search for one. Preferably something metal… but even a sturdy wooden plank would do for now.
He stepped out of the building.
The outside air was heavy—dry wind brushing against abandoned structures and cracked roads. Distant shouts echoed, mixed with the unsettling sound of footsteps—too fast, too desperate, too feral to belong to normal citizens.
Knox tightened his fist.
"Strength determines survival here… I have no intention of dying again."
As he wandered through the dim alleys of the Neutral Zone, Knox's steps slowed. A strange pressure filled his chest — like a silent alarm being rung from deep within.
His breath hitched. Something's wrong. It wasn't a sound. It wasn't a shadow. Yet his skin prickled as though unseen eyes were crawling over him.
His heart began to pound, and without realizing it, his stance shifted into a defensive posture — alert, ready.
Why do I feel like… I'm being watched?
The sensation sharpened, guiding his awareness behind him — not to a specific corner, but to a presence. A hostility that slithered closer.
Knox's eyes widened.
This feeling…
Now, he understood.
This wasn't a coincidence. This intuition — sharp, precise, unnatural — was the ability of a Newtype.
"…Someone's there," he whispered.
The moment he turned, three men stepped out from the darkness, hungry smiles on their faces.
"I see you're not lost after all, kid."
Three men stood behind him—rough clothing, foul expressions, blades glinting under the dim light.
"Well well, fresh face. White hair. Pretty enough to sell high."
"Quiet one too. Easy money."
The alley suddenly felt narrower… darker.
Knox turned his head, looking at the three men who stood menacingly before him.
Their grins were twisted — hungry, malicious.
But Knox wasn't focused on the danger. His attention locked onto the hand of the man in the middle. A sword. Old… but unmistakably a weapon. Exactly what he had come out here searching for.
His pulse quickened — not in fear, but in excitement. Almost as if fate had dropped the answer right in front of him. Knox's eyes gleamed, a sharp glint of opportunity flashing within them.
Heh… Perfect.
The men didn't know what to make of that look — a young boy staring at their weapon with such keen hunger instead of terror.
"What's with that face, brat?" one of them growled.
Knox didn't respond.
Because at that moment, something clicked inside him —
not fear, not instinct — but a burning desire:
Weapon Mastery… let's begin.
"Well, hello there… big brothers."
Knox spoke calmly, his eyes never leaving the sword.
"Looking at how kind you three seem… you wouldn't mind if I borrow something, right?"
The men froze for a moment — confused. That wasn't the reaction they expected.
Knox's smile faded, his voice dropping into a cold whisper.
"So… let's begin the experiment."
He raised his hand — open palm directed at them.
The air stirred.
A twisting current of wind condensed in an instant — thin, sharp, invisible until the moment it moved.
Shhk—
A slicing gust shot forward like a blade.
"How—?!"
"Aagh!"
They staggered back, cuts tearing through cloth and skin. Not deep enough to kill — but enough to show that the boy in front of them wasn't normal prey.
"You, since when a mage like you appear here? Why I never heard about you before!!"
One of the men shouted at him, anger and panic mixing in his voice —
But before the sound even fully left his throat, Knox was already standing right in front of him.
"Noisy."
His short remark was followed by a sharp kick to the man's abdomen.
Crack—!
The impact sent the man flying backward, smashing into the wall with a rough thud. Dust scattered.
Knox lowered his leg, eyes assessing rather than celebrating.
"I see… So I can use mana to reinforce my body."
His breathing was steady, unfazed.
"But this body is still that of a child. Even enhanced, there's a limit compared to an adult's raw strength."
His gaze shifted to the remaining two men — their faces pale, disbelief turning into fear. Knox's demeanor didn't change. He was still analyzing. Still experimenting. And to him…
This wasn't a fight.
It was data collection.
"You bastard!!!"
Driven by fear more than courage, the remaining two men lunged toward Knox, their bodies moving on desperate instinct.
And then—
There it is…
A strange clarity washed over Knox's vision. Their movements, their intentions — everything slowed, as if the world itself had given him a moment to think. I can feel it… the path they'll take… before they even move. His heartbeat remained calm. To him, their reckless charge was already over.
His body moved before any thought could form.
Knox stepped forward, slipping past the first man's clumsy swing with almost lazy ease. His small hand chopped directly at the man's throat. A strangled gasp escaped as the man collapsed, clutching his neck, eyes wide with terror.
The second attacker froze for a split second. A mistake.
Knox seized his wrist, twisted, and drove a knee sharply into the man's ribs. A crack followed — short, decisive. The man crumpled, unable to scream.
Knox exhaled quietly.
His crimson eyes glanced toward the fallen sword, gleaming faintly on the ground. Without hesitation, he reached for it. Knox wiped the dust off the sword's dull blade, testing the weight in his grasp. It felt… right. As if his muscles remembered something his mind didn't.
Weapon Mastery… so this is what it means.
He moved with fluid motion — one clean downward slash. The man who was still groaning on the ground never made another sound again. Knox stared briefly at the lifeless body.
No guilt. No disgust. Only calm calculation.
The last man fell backward, trembling, face pale as death approached.
"W-Wait! Please—! I-I'll do anything! Just spare me!"
Knox tilted his head, expression unreadable.
"Oh? You'll do anything, you say?"
His tone was smooth, almost gentle. Too gentle.
The man nodded desperately.
"Money. Weapons. Food. Information."