He boarded a train and headed straight for Luxor. The city lay under the early morning sun, its streets buzzing with the usual chaos, but the undercurrent of panic had grown undeniable. By the time he arrived, the world was already in turmoil.
News screens blared nonstop—reports overlapping, anchors struggling to maintain composure as footage of empty streets, overturned vehicles, and frantic survivors flashed across the screens. More than a hundred million people had vanished overnight, without warning, without explanation. Governments scrambled, military forces were mobilized, and the international media erupted into unrelenting speculation. Entire nations were in an uproar, each trying to claim authority in the absence of the missing.
Players were being dragged into interviews everywhere. Some resisted, some complied reluctantly, and some simply vanished from public view, seeking anonymity in the chaos. Then, three names appeared repeatedly on the global feed.
Kaiser.
Baron.
Herald.
"So that's how famous I've become," Kaiser thought calmly, observing the flashing images and scrolling statistics. "Pointless for now… but in the Silver League, this kind of publicity will be useful."
He pulled the mask from his coat and put it on before moving again. The moment the matte-black surface covered his face, his presence felt muted—his expression erased, his identity sealed away. No one would recognize him. No one would connect the face behind the mask to the chaos, the deaths, or the incredible feats of the first Trial.
Without lingering, he made his way toward a nearby church. Its tall, ancient stone walls rose imposingly, yet the distorted energy at its center called to him like a beacon. The moment he stepped inside, the air changed noticeably, thickening as if the atmosphere itself had been charged by unseen power.
At the center of the hall, a small, distorted space hovered silently, glowing with a mixture of blue and white light. It warped the surroundings subtly, bending the edges of reality inward as if the laws that governed the world outside had been paused, rewritten.
"I'm right on time," he muttered. The words barely rose above a whisper, calm and deliberate. "But where the hell did the guard go?"
He walked closer, his steps echoing faintly across the cavernous hall. Every sound seemed amplified, yet strangely muted, as if the distorted space absorbed the echoes selectively. The statue atop the stone pillar shuddered the instant he crossed a certain distance, small vibrations echoing along the floor.
Cracks spread across the surface of the statue, fine fissures spiderwebbing across its carved features as stone ground against stone. Then, without warning, the statue lunged. Its hollow eyes locked onto Kaiser, the movement impossibly swift for something seemingly inert.
Kaiser twisted his body aside just as the attack came down. The stone claws tore through the air where his head had been barely a heartbeat earlier. Dust and fragments of stone rained down from the ceiling as the force of the strike shattered tiles and sent shockwaves across the hall.
He landed lightly on his feet and looked up, his tongue clicking in mild irritation.
"…Tch."
The gargoyle crouched atop the broken tiles, fully revealed. Its massive body was carved from dark, weathered rock, as if forged from the very stones of the mountains themselves. Cracks ran across its frame like ancient scars, each movement sending faint clouds of dust into the air. Its wings, heavy and jagged, scraped against the pillars as they unfolded, shedding fragments onto the floor.
Its face was frozen in a perpetual snarl, fangs chipped but sharp, eyes glowing with dull yellow light that carried neither emotion nor mercy. Its movements were stiff, unnatural, as if the creature resisted its own awakening, yet the weight behind its steps made the ground tremble beneath every motion.
Runes flickered faintly across its body, glowing intermittently as if powering the gargoyle with an unholy energy. Stone Gargoyle #1000199, the Record had labeled it, and it moved with lethal precision.
"So the guard's gone," Kaiser thought coldly, his calm voice masked by the interior hum of his thoughts. "Eaten… or killed. Figures."
The gargoyle lunged again—this time faster, more erratic, its wings propelling it forward in short, explosive bursts. Kaiser twisted, dodging just in time as the stone claws scraped past his coat. Sparks flew from the friction where talon met stone floor.
"Not weak," he admitted, his voice low. "But I don't have time to drag this out."
His eyes sharpened, pupils narrowing beneath the mask.
The Eye of Judgment activated.
In an instant, the gargoyle's next movements unfolded before him—fractured paths of intent, overlapping trajectories revealing where it would strike, where it would land, how its wings would impact the air. Every motion predicted, every strike preempted.
Kaiser stepped forward instead of retreating. Confidence. Precision. Calculated lethality.
The gargoyle entered the radius.
"Now."
Gravity bent.
The air thickened violently, compressing inward as the Rune of Gravity asserted its authority. The surrounding space seemed to warp around the gargoyle, each molecule of air pressing against its stone frame with unseen but immense force. Density ×3 tons.
The gargoyle shuddered mid-motion, its wings snapping first under the weight. Cracks spiderwebbed rapidly across its torso, splintering ancient stone that had endured centuries without giving way. Dust clouds erupted with each fracture.
Then—
It collapsed.
The crushing force finished its work, the gargoyle shattering into fragments that exploded outward before collapsing into lifeless rubble. Tiles rattled, dust filled the air, and the acrid scent of stone and debris stung the senses. Silence returned, heavy, punctuated only by the faint settling of rubble.
"As expected of a Legendary Rune," Kaiser thought, unimpressed. "Still… it's nothing compared to the Level 7 version Aster used."
He turned toward the distorted space. The prize waited. His reward.
"Let's claim my reward."
As he stepped closer, the air trembled subtly, reacting to the latent energy within him. Then a familiar presence asserted itself, almost reverent in its intensity.
Record Notification:
Congratulations. You have obtained:
→ [Rune of Fear] {Unique} .Lv.1
• Sharpens killing intent
• Forces enemies into a fear-induced immobilization for 2 seconds
• Decreases opponent's stats by 10% for 1 minute
Kaiser stared at the message in silence, letting the information settle into his mind. The Rune of Fear. Simple. Efficient. Terrifying.
"…Not bad," he muttered quietly. The power to instill fear, control hesitation, manipulate the mind of an opponent—this would be invaluable in the coming Trials.
The effects were subtle yet profoundly strategic. He could immobilize his enemies, sap their strength, and create openings wide enough to manipulate battles on a scale few could counter.
And in the coming Trials—
Terrifying.
Kaiser's fingers traced the edge of the Rune interface, feeling the pulse of potential energy coursing beneath his skin. The air in the hall, still warped and alive from the fight, seemed almost reverent now. The silence carried weight—the weight of inevitability, the calm before the next storm.
Outside, the city remained unaware of the battle that had taken place, of the power that had asserted itself within a forgotten church. The sun's rays filtered through stained glass, painting colored patterns across shattered tiles. Dust motes danced lazily in the light, oblivious to the violence that had just occurred.
Kaiser took a measured breath, letting his senses stretch outward. The mask muted his presence, the Runes hummed quietly within him, and the thrill of calculated violence lingered like a low, constant flame.
Two Runes. Legendary and Unique. Gravity to bend the very world, Fear to bend the will of his enemies.
He exhaled, a small smile touching his lips. The Trials were far from over, but the first steps had been made. And this time… he would not be waiting for anyone else. He would define the battlefield, define the pace, and define the rules.
He walked forward into the church's distorted space, each footstep measured, controlled, precise. The energy around him responded subtly, the interface humming faintly in resonance with his intent. Every instinct, every calculation, every latent muscle memory from the previous Trials prepared him for what was next.
The heat of anticipation coiled low in his chest. His grip tightened on the mask, adjusted the flow of his energy, and in that moment, he became more than just a participant. He was a force the Trial had yet to account for.