Chapter Two Hundred and Thirty-Nine – "A Name Etched in Memory"
Crow stood quietly, the collar still in his hand, as Rose looked up at him with hopeful, trembling eyes. The moment hung in silence before something stirred within him—not the chaos of the present, but a memory long buried beneath layers of time.
"Rose..."
That name echoed in his thoughts with a weight that didn't belong to the current game world. It came from another life. Another timeline.
The Past Life.
Back when the world was fractured, before the system had descended. When power was scraped for, fought over, and players rose and fell like sparks in a storm. Crow—once nameless and low-ranked—had watched the ascent of titans from the shadows. Among them had been one whose blade never dulled, whose will never wavered: Rose, the Crimson Gladiatrix.
She had been ranked 87th worldwide, a monstrous solo player who rejected guilds and alliances. She didn't follow anyone.
Until now.
In this life, Crow was different. Reborn. With knowledge, advantages, and a terrifying force behind him. And Rose—the very same Rose—had unknowingly become bound to him through the automatic activation of Divine Contract.
He looked at her again.
This wasn't some copy or clone.
This was her. Reincarnated too? Or just fate?
She blinked up at him, confused by his silence. "Master...? Did I... do something wrong?"
"No," he said, voice low. "You did everything exactly the same."
He turned slightly and opened a tear in space—his personal pocket dimension, glowing with ethereal light. The realm he built as his sanctuary, a dimension that held the strongest of his forces: divine heroes, primordial gods, dragons, and now… Rose.
"You're not ready to be around the others just yet," he said simply. "They'd tear each other apart."
She frowned slightly, then smiled with understanding. "Then I'll wait… until I'm worthy to stand at your side."
He gave a small nod and, with a flick of his fingers, stored her safely in his pocket dimension.
The gate sealed.
Alone now, Crow looked at the empty auction ground, the whisper of wind around him, and the collar still in his hand. The weight of destiny… was getting heavier.
But he was used to it.