Far from the festival, Count Shiba stood at the edge of ruin. His body was already broken, his power fading—but his ambition remained. With what little life he had left, he invoked a forbidden technique: the Comet of Justice.
The sky split open. A burning light descended, tearing through land and structure alike. Shiba's final act was not survival, but destruction—dragging everything within reach into annihilation.
And then, silence.
Jhonathan awoke inside a cage.
Iron bars surrounded him. Nearby, Sylviana was also trapped, along with dozens of villagers and residents from the region. The air smelled of damp stone and fear.
They had been taken to the Giant Goblin Villa.
A place built for suffering.
Jhonathan did not hesitate.
"Dexcalibur."
The blade answered instantly, appearing in his grasp. With a single swing, the cages shattered like brittle wood. Metal rained across the floor as freedom returned in fragments.
Panic erupted—but not from them. From the goblins watching above.
The battle began.
Hordes poured in.
Goblins swarmed from every corridor, screaming and clawing, overwhelming in number. Jhonathan stood at the center of it all, cutting through them without pause. Sylviana moved beside him, striking with speed and precision, her presence like a blade of wind guiding through chaos.
But something changed in the air.
Shadows gathered around Jhonathan.
They whispered. They clung.
And in that moment, something inside him awakened.
Undying Soul.
He died.
And returned.
Again.
And again.
Each death only fueled his movements further, each revival carving deeper into the endless swarm. Slowly, the goblin army began to fall—not all at once, but piece by piece, as if the night itself was being erased.
He fought like a man who wanted death… but could not afford it yet. Not now. Not while someone stood beside him who still needed saving.
Sylviana noticed it. She didn't speak. She simply stayed close.
And that was enough.
The night stretched on endlessly.
Goblins fell. Shadows broke. The villa burned under the weight of battle.
Jhonathan and Sylviana fought until exhaustion became their only companion. Even then, he refused to stop. His blade moved on instinct alone, cutting through anything that came near.
By dawn, the survivors emerged.
The residents, trembling and broken, looked at him differently now. Not as a wandering knight. Not as a rumor. But as something far more impossible.
A member of the Hero's Party.
The Undying One.
The one who would not fall, even when the world demanded it.
With one final motion, Jhonathan raised Dexcalibur.
A single slash.
The entire Goblin City was erased in an instant.
Silence returned.
Yet as the dust settled, one question lingered among the survivors:
If the city was gone…
Then who would rebuild what remained?