It wasn't a mere physical drop; it felt as if my very soul was being shredded as it was dragged through the fabric of reality. When I finally forced my eyes open, the lush greenery of Oakheaven was gone. In its place was a world dominated by deep purples and obsidian blacks. The walls seemed to breathe with a heavy, physical pressure—a weight that pressed against my chest, making every breath feel thick, as if I were inhaling metallic dust.
"Tch... this fragile body," I hissed, spitting out blood tainted with unstable mana.
I looked around. These were the Abyssal Ruins of the Dual Monarchs. A place existing in the void between the "Mortal Side"—that colorful, weak world I just left—and the "Martial Side," where power is the only law. To a seven-year-old child, this tomb was a death sentence. But to a mercenary like me, this was the "Field" I had missed.
A memory from my early days as a rookie mercenary clawed its way to the surface—the first time I tasted the consequence of arrogance.
[A Bitter Memory: The Rookie's Pitfall]
The stench of rot had been overpowering, and the darkness absolute. I was young, drunk on my own physical strength, until I felt that thin tripwire brush against my ankle. Spears thrust from the shadows, and in that moment, raw muscle didn't save me; only a primal instinct to survive did. That day, I learned a cold truth: The world does not respect effort or titles; it only respects the Absolute Power to dictate life and death.
Here, in these ruins, the stakes were infinitely higher. The mana in the air was "hostile," stinging my skin like a thousand needles.
CRRRRR-ACK! The stone floor behind me groaned, and a section of the wall ground open. A mechanical beast with jagged, bladed limbs lurked within, dripping a viscous black fluid that hissed as it dissolved the stone. This wasn't the master of this place—not yet—just a sentinel of the corridors.
"Do you think you can test me?" I let out a harsh, jagged laugh, despite the agony flaring in my lungs. "The oceans are too shallow, the sun's light too dim, and this colorless world has no right to pass judgment on me."
I gripped my broken blade. I began to navigate the dark labyrinth, encountering monsters with stone heads and glowing purple eyes. Traps triggered beneath the floor tiles: rotating blades, hissing toxic gases, and visual puzzles that demanded a mercenary's sharpened focus to unlock the heavy stone gates.
Every encounter drained the "Dual Core" energy I was struggling to balance. I moved cautiously, learning the attack patterns of the beasts and memorizing the trap placements. I wasn't just fighting; I was adapting. I used my experience to bypass what my current body couldn't yet kill.
I have no idea how long I will be trapped in this darkness. But with every beast I fell and every trap I overcome, I taste the power that was once stripped from me. I will carve my path through this abyss, and I will make the heavens that watch from above tremble at the mere thought of my return.