A soft hum, like wind passing through glass, greeted them first.
The transition into the new space was neither step nor blink — reality simply folded, and Wolf and Lamentia found themselves standing inside a vast, impossible archive.
Rows upon rows of shelves curled into the endless horizon, bending like ancient trees in a forest without sky.
Every book shimmered faintly, some breathing, others vibrating as if holding the heartbeat of memories trapped inside.
Ether drifted like dust-motes, each particle humming with whispered voices — laughter, screams, prayers, regrets. The air tasted of old paper, incense, and faint static, as though the world itself charged with emotion dense enough to suffocate or exalt.
Lamentia's purple hair floated weightlessly around her, strands waving like they were underwater, her expression a mixture of awe and impatience — a child in a forbidden temple who knew she wasn't supposed to touch, yet wanted everything.
She extended her hand; her nails gleamed like polished obsidian, and one book twitched — trembled — then slowly lifted from its place on the shelf. Its cover swirled with symbols neither alive nor dead, shimmering in a spectrum her eyes alone could command. It drifted through the ether like a reverent ghost until it finally landed in her palm.
Wolf, however, didn't look at the book. His gaze swept the infinite walls, his steps slow, shoulders slightly tensed — not out of fear, but curiosity sharpened to predatory keen.
A world built on minds and secrets?
He could feel his pulse stir, hungry.
Then — a sudden tug.
Lamentia tightened her grip on his hand, fingers digging in like a mother clinging to a child about to run into traffic.
"Aw, what?" Wolf drawled, his voice a low, flat statement, completely devoid of genuine inquiry or surprise.
"Don't wander around and take as much information as you can, Wolf."
Lamentia's voice echoed, half stern, half airy, the book in her hand opening with a flutter.
She didn't even physically touch the pages; they turned themselves for her.
"There's a time limit," she said, tone light but gaze serious. "My ether isn't infinite."
Wolf hummed, eyes narrowed with a glint of calculation.
Hm, that much I figured.
His nostrils flared slightly, like a beast catching scent.
"Alright," he said, rolling his shoulders, "I'm going to explore those hallways."
"Heh?... Wait, wait, wait!"
Lamentia's protest cracked like a snapped thread — Wolf had already begun walking, his stride long, confident, dragging her behind him like a child pulled away from candy.
The moment his foot crossed some invisible boundary, the floating book jerked back to its shelf — slammed in by unseen force — as though reality itself corrected a rule.
"You should tell me since the start!" Lamentia whined, stomping once in the air, pout deep as her voice pitched into childish frustration.
Wolf's mind flickered.
Oh? It seems that the library and the hallways are two separate domains, it seems... Since I left the library domain, the book returned to its own place. An interesting limitation.
He glanced back at her, his lips curving into a careless, mocking half-smirk.
His voice was light, dismissive, and utterly unapologetic.
"Well, you didn't ask me to. Think about that."
"Hmph!"
She puffed her cheeks — actually puffed them — then refused to answer, swaying dramatically behind him, still holding his hand.
They crossed fully into the Hallway Domain.
The shift was immediate — silence crawled in, thick and reverent. Four hallways manifested before them in quiet grandeur, each one a different world breathing behind its door.
Wolf's gaze fell on the first:
The Pristine Glass Hallway.
The hallway glimmered, every inch made of immaculate crystal, no crack, no dust, no taint — like innocence sculpted into architecture.
Soft yellow ether drifted gently around it, warm, like sunlight settling over a new morning. Quiet chuckles echoed from somewhere far within; whispers of dreams, plans, the foolish brightness of beginnings.
There was a subtle scent — new parchment, fresh herbs crushed under hopeful steps.
Wolf didn't hesitate. He exhaled once — calm, decisive — and moved.
His palm pressed on the first door.
A quiet click.
Reality tilted.
And then—
He stood not in glass, not in memory-realm, but on dirt and grass.
The camp.
Smoke curling from fire pits. Strangers pacing, shouting, laughing — that raw bewilderment before terror shapes destiny.
The moment countless lives still believed they might be able to survive.
Wolf blinked — and panic surged through him like lightning. His fingers curled, desperate to check something—
He didn't hold Lamentia's hand anymore!
His pulse spiked sharp.
Where—
A laugh echoed like silver bells and blood droplets falling on silk.
"Don't panic for no reason, haha."
Lamentia's voice rippled straight into his skull — teasing, wicked, comfort and chaos entwined.
"Your physical body is still with me, holding my hand," she sang smugly.
"Your mind is just swimming in his memory. I can't see what's happening, so tell me when you come back."
Wolf let out a breath — one he didn't realize he'd held.
Hyung-woo's lungs shuddered with it, but the relief was Wolf's entirely.
He steadied, shoulders lowering half an inch. Eyes narrowing, adjusting to borrowed vision, borrowed heartbeat, borrowed flesh.
His gaze sharpened — predatory now, tasting the scene like blood on tongue.
Good…
The corners of his lips tugged — small, dark, hungry.
Then let's see how your first life ends, Hyung-woo.
The world returns like a breath exhaled through an open wound.
Hyung-woo's eyes fluttered—no, trembled—as memory seeped in like cold mist creeping through cracked stone. At first there was only sound: wind threading through leaves, shivering them like anxious fingers… the distant, fractured echoes of metal clanging against bone… a heartbeat thumping too fast, too human in a world that no longer was.
Then sight returned.
—A forest clearing, soil churned and darkened by blood, grass bent as though bowing to ghosts. Dawn's light had not yet broken; everything hung under that bluish, pre-morning pall, the air thick with a strange reverence and dread.
Hyung-woo inhaled sharply, a stuttered breath rushing in like someone drowning and desperate for the first gasp. His shoulders rose, tense, then slowly relaxed as realization settled: this wasn't Wolf's body.
These hands… these trembling fingers… were his.
Wolf, somewhere behind the vision, only watched.
He did not steer. He did not whisper.
He only observed, satisfied, almost amused.
"Well then," Wolf murmured faintly—more sensation than sound—"let the story play as it truly did."
And Hyung-woo's mind slipped backward—weeks, no, a lifetime, into the first day.
The Union Camp.
He remembered standing before everyone—his boots digging into damp soil, his heart punching against his ribs like it wanted to break free from the stage.
"So…" he had said, voice cracking before steadying, his hand rubbing the back of his neck in that awkward I'm-not-used-to-attention way.
"…I'll go first."
People watched him: skeptics, hopefuls, those clinging to the idea of order. He swallowed, then willed it.
The translucent blue pane appeared.
Name: Jang Hyung-woo
Gender: Male
Race: Human
Age: 19
Height: 177
Class: —
Title: —
Lv.1
Stats:
STR: 19 | SPD: 15 | AGI: 18 | STA: 15 | END: 13 | POW: 18 | LUCK: 17
Mental Stats: Hidden
Active Skills: —
Passive Skills: —
Gasps. Murmurs.
Someone whispered, "That high? At level one?"
Hyung-woo felt his ears burn.
He forced a laugh—small, shy, the kind that tried not to sound proud but couldn't hide the light flickering in his chest.
"I-I just… uh… hope this helps us trust each other. So no one has to be scared."
A few people nodded. A few straightened with hope. Someone even clapped. And more people joined the Union that day—because of him.
Wolf's presence rippled faint amusement.
Hornmaw Field.
The vision flicked like a torch flame in wind—jumping forward.
The field was chaos: earth torn, fur scattering, roars rumbling.
Hornmaws swarmed—their horned skulls twisting, sniffing, lunging in eerie unison. Their blind faces lifted to scent blood and fear.
Hyung-woo ran, panting, legs screaming, breath scraping his throat raw. His eyes wide, reflecting moonlight and carnage.
"Go—! Keep moving! Don't stop—!"
He remembered the terror.
The certainty of death snapping at his heels.
Yet somehow… he survived.
And then — that insane decision.
The boss lair.
Everyone told him not to.
His hands had shaken as he gripped a crude spear. Sweat sliding down his brow. Fear sat in his stomach like a stone.
But he went anyway.
And he won.
Just barely.
The screen appeared, floating before him like holy text.
[Choose your reward]
Stat Boost: +3 Speed, +5 Agility
Passive Skill: Blessing of the Hornmaw
Fingerbone Talisman
He picked the talisman. Held it tight. Whispered thanks to whatever allowed him to live.
Wolf, now watching that choice again, exhaled slowly.
Shame softened his features.
Right… I gave mine to Lenmi. And forgot.
If he had a body in that moment, he would've dragged a palm down his face, muttering curses at himself.
Hyung-woo didn't see Wolf; he only continued.
Days passed. Weeks. Months.
He watched the Union grow, Ardent earning trust, the Haven's numbers dwindling, tension rising. Pride flickered and faded into worry. Plans formed, rivalries deepened.
No one went south. No one learned the way out.
And then—
Last day of the tweleve Month
Blood. Screams. Desperation.
Hyung-woo's heart lurched remembering it; he swallowed a sob that threatened to claw out. His knuckles whitened around a spear shaft. He ran, struck, yelled until his voice tore raw.
Klion had told Ardent.
They prepared this time. And Wolf struggled.
Sill—Lamentia came.
Her body sang death. Bodies broke like porcelain.
Hyung-woo shook, staring up at that towering executioner, his breath frost in terror.
He whispered, in disbelief—
"…Is this… really it?"
Lamentia lifted her blade.
And then—
Time… stopped.
Everything froze mid-motion. Blood droplets hung in air like ruby stars. Wind halted, leaves suspended as if the world held its breath.
Hyung-woo blinked.
His pulse screamed in the stillness.
A shadow stretched across scarred earth… thick and slow, like a tide of night.
Thud.
Stone grinding like mountains waking.
Then it emerged.
The Veridian.
A perfect sphere of obsidian-black stone, surface etched with glowing veins—runic lines pulsing like molten lifeblood. Its hovering block-arms shifted with a weightless gravity, edges hard, ancient, unyielding.
No face. No mouth. Yet presence — crushing, divine, absolute.
Hyung-woo's breath caught in his chest. It felt like kneeling before a god he did not worship but instinctively feared.
The creature hummed—a low vibration that thrummed through bone more than air, as if reality itself acknowledged it.
Hyung-woo's fingers twitched, trembling. He wanted to speak. He wanted to scream.
His throat barely worked.
"…w-what…?"
The stone giant turned—slow, inevitable—as though eternity itself chose to look at him.
Runes brightened.
Something ancient watched.
And then—
The world held its breath—time frozen in a trembling hush as Hyung-woo instinctively staggered backward from Lamentia's halted form. Her blade was still poised mid-swing, ether swirling around her like violet moonfire—yet unmoving, caught in some unseen divine pause.
His chest rose and fell sharply. Breath hurt. Bones felt ground into dust, but survival did not ask permission—it simply commanded.
Move. Stand. Breathe.
He braced a hand against the dirt, pushed himself upright with a grimace, dust and blood streaked down his jaw. His gaze swept across the frozen massacre—like a painting of violence mid-stroke.
There were survivors.
Him. Teddy. Leo. A girl he didn't recognize—kneeling still, stunned.
Klion slumped against a tree—laughing, shoulders shaking, his laughter broken and hollow like a man gnawing madness.And—Wolf.
Wolf.
Barely breathing. Laid out like a corpse that forgot to finish dying, silver hair smeared with earth and blood. Ether like smoke-threads clung to him—Lamentia's will holding him from slipping into death's open palms.
Hyung-woo's heartbeat spiked—rage crawling up his throat, boiling over.
He's alive? He's—alive?
His hands curled, his body trembling with fury and exhaustion. A deep, animal snarl nearly left him as he forced his battered legs toward Wolf. Each step was agony—bones grinding, lungs crackling, vision flickering at the edges—but hatred gave him momentum.
Then—
A voice rumbled like cliff-stone sliding.
"Stop your action, human."
Hyung-woo froze mid-step. His jaw clenched. Breath hitched.
The Veridian's voice. Cold. Monolithic. Command layered in inevitability.
"The vetting will begin soon."
A system screen flared to life before his eyes, pale gold light washing across his face.
[Congratulations! You are the chosen human!]
[You are the 2nd rank in the ranking board of this area!]
His breath stumbled. Mouth slightly open. It felt… unreal. Wrong. Insulting.
Veridian's gravel-tone reverberated.
"Hm. It seems I do not need to kill any of you since someone already did it for me. Hahaha."
Hyung-woo's fists shook. His throat tightened.
Veridian continued, voice like stone scraped raw:
"Take your time. Relax. Gather yourself or say goodbye to your friends. The other areas still ongoing. When they finish, I will send you all to separate locations, totally random."
"…What?" Hyung-woo's voice cracked, disbelief bleeding through.
Confusion. Rage. Hope and despair knotted together like broken wire.
"What is this?"
"We can't… kill this monster? We— we have to let him go?"
Veridian's gaze shifted. A slow turn of that impossible stone head—carving silence as it landed on Hyung-woo, then Wolf.
The answer fell like a judge's hammer:
"Yes. For he is one of the chosen humans, like you all. Now silence, if only stupid questions fall from your mouth."
Hyung-woo's head shook violently—hands gripping his hair, breath ragged. He looked like someone drowning on dry land.
No. No. No!
He swallowed. Hard. A lump of iron.
But he didn't move again. Couldn't. The world was a cage and Veridian the lock.
He staggered back instead, legs giving out until he slid down the base of a nearby tree. Bark pressed against his spine. His eyes were hollow, burning like cracked glass in the dark.
He sat. Silent. Seething. Breaking quietly beneath his skin.
Teddy knelt beside unconscious Leo, arms tight around him, shoulders trembling but determined. Protecting what little he had left.
Klion laughed softly to himself—head leaned back, fingers digging into the dirt like he needed to hold on to something that wasn't slipping away. His laughter was more sob than mirth.
The unknown girl sat beside Wolf like a shadow. Silent. Stiff. Her presence strange but steady.
Wolf recognized her instantly.
Zhao Xinglian.
Once under his command.
Briefly a blade at his side.
How are you alive here…?
But that didn't matter—not now. Just a quiet note in the storm.
Veridian clapped—stone on stone, echoing like thunder eating the sky.
"Testing! Testing! Are you ready to go out there and see the new world now?! If not, then you better be now!"
Reality dissolved.
Hyung-woo's vision blurred—colors smearing, light collapsing—his breath caught, and then—
A blink.
He stood in a narrow alleyway. Wet cobblestones glimmered under lantern light, air cool with evening dew. Somewhere distant, laughter and the clink of metal. His body—
Whole.
He touched his chest. No pain. No blood. No fractures grinding in his bones.
Healing… full restoration?
His shaking steadied—slightly.
He exhaled once, steadying nerves, then stepped out of the alley into the bustling street.
Voices.
People of different races—horned folk, scaled skin, human faces, pointed ears, broad-backed warriors.
A sign caught his eye:
"Adventurer Guild."
He hesitated. Swallowed. One breath. Two.Then entered.
Wooden doors swung open—warm light spilled across his face.
The smell of roasted meat, ink, parchment, sweat, and steel. Laughter, clashing mugs, footsteps across polished timber.
Adventurers gathered in clusters—armor clinking, weapons resting at hips and backs.
Hyung-woo approached the front desk. His steps quick, awkward, nerves coiling tight.
A receptionist lifted her gaze—a calm, practiced smile.
"Are you here to register as an adventurer?"
"Uh—yes. Yes." His answer stumbled out too quickly. He straightened, cleared his throat.
Paper slid across the counter toward him. Crisp. Neat. Columns of text already familiar.
He blinked.
Korean? Again?
His brow furrowed. Thoughts spiraled—quiet, sharp.
Is it translating automatically? Like the camp? Everyone understood each other—even from different countries. So language is… not ours anymore? A system? But my brain sees Korean.
A small chill crawled down his spine.
Everything we know—warped. Remade. Rewritten. Even language…
He filled the form deliberately:
Name: Jang Hyung-woo
Alias Name: —
Species: Human
Age: 19
Gender: Male
Main Class: warrior
Primary Weapon: Sword
Special Skills: —
Reason for Registration: For gold.
His handwriting trembled once, then steadied. He slid the form back.
The receptionist nodded politely, disappeared into a back room. Moments passed. Murmurs of other adventurers, blades scraping, casual laughter—life so normal it felt artificial after blood and death.
She returned—and handed him an adventurer card.
Her tone turned formal, crisp:
"Please remember that this card will represent you in all association activities. You are currently at Beginner level."
Her voice flowed, patient and practiced:
"Once you've proven your skills and earned enough achievements, you may request a Promotion Quest. And never allow this card to fall into someone else's hands. If lost or stolen, notify the association immediately. Reissuing is expensive and complicated."
A final polite smile.
"Welcome to the Adventurers Guild."