My fate was more twisted than any other. Because in the end, I had to kill—or be killed by—my only friend.
"Do you still think about her?" I asked.
He stopped walking. "…Yes. Not a day passes without her in my thoughts."
"Don't forget," he said. "This place—it's all an illusion. Don't lose to it before I kill you with my own hands."
I didn't wanna answer but I smiled anyway. "You know it won't ever happen. But if it does... don't hold back." My eyes narrowed. "Because I won't."
He walked away—this time, without looking back. A thought echoed through me, cold and sharp. Rion... will you walk with me— Or will you be the one to end me?
I moved through the quiet hall of the Gate. It was like stepping inside a dream held together by tension and silence. The path opened before me—a twisted spiral passage, carved between realms. This was the dangerous part of Gates: They felt infinite.
[Divine Light]
Light surged around me as I leapt forward.
[You have reached the Second Layer of the Gate.]
[All Abilities Are Greatly Strengthened.]
I felt it in my limbs—like the pulse of a sleeping god stirring in my bones. The air changed. The realm around me unraveled into something beautiful and unreal. An ocean spread wide beneath a silver moon. The water shimmered like it was stitched from liquid glass. And standing there—at the edge—was a single spawn.
I recognized it instantly. The same spawn that left me behind. But things had changed.
I downed another bottle of the blood fruit.
[Frenzy has been gained]
[Abilities are strengthened greatly]
I didn't wait. I struck forward—each blow carved the air like it could tear through a twilight beast's armor. But even as my blade moved, the cloak I wore shifted, forming false openings—bait for a deadlier trap. The cleaver slipped from my hand. The spawn lunged.
But I didn't panic. I smiled. The cleaver moved on its own, surging with will, piercing the spawn's side.
The true power of the Puppeteer's Finger wasn't just controlling the shroud.
It was bending anything to my will.
The spawn recoiled, its eyes glowing with wrath. The moonlight shot into its body like a divine offering. And suddenly—fear crawled into my heart. It activated its trait.
It moved. Too fast to see. Too sharp to follow. My body screamed. Cuts opened all over me. Each time it moved, I bled.
I had no choice.
Shuriken fell to the ground. Shadow-mist crawled across them, fusing with the metal. They rose—alive, moving in rhythm with me, twisting into whatever form I imagined. I hadn't wanted to use shadow powers. But now? It was useless to hold back.
I wasn't ready to unlock the Authority anyway. Not yet.
Blood poured down my arms. Even with everything—shadows, cleaver, the blade of the Forgotten King—I couldn't land a true blow. The spawn had small injuries. I was worse.
My flames—were still being suppressed.I hadn't called on them in so long, I forgot what they felt like. I hated them. No matter how strong they grew—no matter how many I burned— They devoured me from the inside. I couldn't be free until I mastered the Authority. Until then, the fire wasn't a gift. It was a curse.
The shuriken crashed to the ground. The cleaver followed. And even the Forgotten King's blade dropped beside me. I stood there. Broken. Cut. Dripping.
But there was something strange. Something wrong. I wasn't afraid. I wasn't even angry.
I was bored.
That pressure in my chest— it wasn't fear. It was emptiness. And I knew what that meant.
This was the calm…
Before the storm.
---
Standing on equal ground with that spawn was impossible in my current state. Even with the injuries I managed to land, its eyes told the truth.
I was too weak to be prey.
There was something wrong about the spawns here, something unnatural. In normal regions, they attacked without reason—especially those below the class of a demon. But here… from the siren, to the guardian, and now this thing… they felt like they were training me.
Why?
Why did it feel like the veil itself was shaping me?
The spawn stared at me from the edge of the ocean. Its glowing eyes locked with mine—then without a sound, it dove into the water. Slowly, the unbearable pressure pressing down on me disappeared.
I collapsed to one knee, panting hard, lungs burning. Exhaustion invaded every corner of my body.
I felt someone approaching—but I didn't have the energy to process it. I turned toward the presence. There she was.
The strange girl I met at the academy. Light purple hair. Light purple eyes. Her aura was disturbing—twisted, corrupted—but there was also something divine beneath the surface. It didn't make sense. Her presence repelled me and drew me in at the same time.
Her lips moved. I couldn't hear what she said—but I could read her mouth.
"Who are you?"
A longsword materialized in her hand, surging with some kind of energy I didn't recognize. Before I could move, she stepped forward, pressing the blade gently but firmly against my neck.
"Don't make me repeat myself again. Who are you?!"
She wasn't bluffing. That sword held purpose. It wasn't just to intimidate—it was waiting to be used.
Then, a rune lit up in the air between us—etched in spiraling, violent strokes.
The hex spoke again:
[Found you.]