Nearly 20 years later;
Death Clan;
The halls of the palace were silent as always, carved from obsidian stone that neither age nor time could touch.
High above, in the deepest chamber beneath the cliff-city, stood the grand throne room. The air was steeped in centuries of history — shadows that breathed, whispers that lingered, and power so thick it bent the light.
Upon the throne sat Dawn.
She is no longer the 8-year-old who entered this clan more than a decade ago.
Now, she is a 7-star Spirit Warrior, standing at the peak of the Eastern continent of Xynnar.
Her figure was tall, wrapped in black robes embroidered with glowing runes. Her hair, long and as dark as the void between stars, flowed behind her like ink on silk. Around her, the clan Elders gathered, each one older than the oldest libraries in the world, each one a legend whispered among nations.
However, her eyes, which people say are as sharp as time itself, carry a sense of loneliness. She was 28, but she wasn't married. She had no relationship in her life. She also had no friends. What she had was the immense knowledge of Alchemy, medicine, and cultivation techniques that none could rival her potential against.
One Elder stepped forward with bowed respect, voice echoing through the grand chamber. "Your Majesty, the southern borders report an unusual phenomenon. A strange dungeon has erupted at the pole of frost. Its entrance is sealed by unknown forces. No matter the strength applied, no one has been able to breach it."
Another added gravely, "Scholars believe old magic survives within its runes. The seals are not of any known origin. Our spies claimed it pulsed with… something ancient."
Silence followed.
Dawn's gaze didn't change, but something flickered in the depths of her eyes — curiosity. A slow exhale, like a whisper born before history began, slipped from her lips.
"A dungeon that resists entry?" she mused. "Interesting."
The Elders stiffened. Something about the tone was not casual. It was intent. Purposeful.
"I will investigate it alone," she said, rising from the throne. The runes on her robes glowed faintly, as if waking from a long dream. "Prepare the Ice Passage."
Minutes later, Dawn walked alone across the scarred plains of the Ice Continent. Eternal snow stretched like restless waves, unending and silent. The wind carried no warmth — only memory and ice.
At the bottom of an ice mountain, nestled deep within a frozen valley, stood the dungeon.
It was not tall. It was not grand. It was simply… there.
An entrance carved into the ice itself, smooth and unnaturally still.
Dawn stepped forward, boots crunching against ancient frost, eyes fixed on the sealed doorway.
Runic inscriptions pulsed upon the surface — strange symbols etched with precision no mortal hand could replicate. The air around them hummed with dormant power — cold, vast, and unknowable.
As Dawn reached out with a single gloved hand and placed his fingers upon the runes, the door suddenly reacted to her mana and opened on its own.
Dawn blinked in surprise. "Hmm?"
Taking a breath, Dawn then stepped inside, and the doors closed.
*
After an unknown amount of time;
Pain hit her like a hammer the moment she stirred. It was sharp, burning, and bone-deep.
It felt as if her body had been crushed under a carriage. Every breath scraped through her chest. Dawn lay there for a long moment, waiting for the agony to fade. When she finally forced her eyes open, the ceiling above her was unfamiliar. There were old wooden beams, dim lantern light, and a smell of strange incense drifting in the room.
Her heart tightened. "Where am I?"
The last thing she remembered was entering the dungeon and going through the trials of Demigod Amethys, and that strange, ancient ring she'd dug out from his tomb.
She remembered how her blood had accidentally dripped onto it, how the wind suddenly howled, and then how the hourglass of hers emerged, going wildly on its own before darkness swallowed her whole.
A fresh wave of pain surged through her skull. She hissed, clutching her head as fragments of memories, hers and someone else's, crashed together.
Faces she did not know.
A house she had never lived in.
A life that was not hers.
The flood lasted only a minute, but by the end, her forehead was covered in cold sweat, and her breathing turned shaky.
When the pain finally subsided, clarity returned, and shock followed.
"I crossed?" she whispered under her breath while her heartbeat rose. "I actually crossed and landed in the Holy Mystic Continent from a thousand years ago?"
She immediately tried to connect with the Grim Reaper. She couldn't feel anything.
"Of course, this is not my body… What a fate this is… Ugh..."
She used to be the youngest clan head in the Xynnar Continent, blessed with rare talent and unmatched potential. Everyone hoped that she could even become a demigod. Yet because of a single ring that interacted with her hourglass, her soul crossed over a millennium and was dragged into the body of a useless young lady from the General's Manor, of a small Empire in another continent.
And that girl seemed to have a similar name to hers. Zora, which also means Dawn.
But the similarities stopped there. This body's original owner had been ignored since birth. Her mother died early, the General barely cared for her, and the only thing that protected her status was a marriage contract with the crown prince.
That thin protection vanished three months ago, right after she suddenly went blind. Yesterday, the emperor officially annulled the marriage.
And behind every misfortune stood the same person: her so-called good sister, Luna.
The memories were clear as day. Fake comforting words, hidden sneers, and the same girl encouraging her to calm down before she swallowed gold in despair.
Even becoming temporarily blind probably had Luna's hand in it. Who knows...
Zora clicked her tongue and sighed at the gush of memories. "Some ring what a mess you dragged me into."
Her irritation froze when she glanced down at her hand. The ancient black ring gleamed faintly on her finger, exactly the same ring she'd touched before she crossed.
"Neither Grim Reaper nor his weapons followed, but you managed to follow me?"
Before she could examine it, footsteps clicked in the hallway. Soon, a man and a woman walked in, leaning into each other. Even without the memories, Zora would've recognized them instantly.
Luna and Crown Prince Philip.
Luna's beauty was delicate and bright. Her posture was also quite graceful, everything the original Zora lacked. Philip kept a hand shamelessly on her waist, with his eyes filled with mocking disdain, the moment they landed on the girl lying on the bed.
So they'd come expecting to find a corpse. Too bad for them.
"Good sister," Luna said sweetly, though her eyes glinted with disgust, "why were you so stubborn? Swallowing gold like that, really... how foolish."
Her tone sounded caring, but every word was dipped in toxicity. She looked at Zora the way one would look at trash lying in the street.
Prince Philip tugged her back and snorted, roaming his hands freely over her waist. "Don't waste time worrying about her. A useless girl like that dying is a blessing. We should've ended that engagement long ago."
He didn't even bother lowering his voice. The contempt in his eyes was thick enough to choke on as he continued. "If you hadn't wanted to come check her body, I wouldn't have stepped foot near her."
Luna giggled softly, pretending to be kind and pretending to care, even as satisfaction shimmered in her eyes because of his words.
But to keep her act, she replied in her usual gentle tone, "Your Highness, she is my sister. How could I just watch her do something so stupid?"
Meanwhile, on the bed, Zora lifted her eyes, watching the two with a calmness that seemed as if this had nothing to do with her. Her voice came out weak on purpose. "Sister I"...
But inside, her thoughts were cold and sharp.
Good. Keep talking.
Let's see how far you two can dance before I cut the strings.
"Luna, you are so kind. I really love you."
Philip's voice dripped with sweetness, but his bright smile was aimed straight at Zora, as if hurting her brought him some twisted joy. He pressed closer to Luna, with his hands wandering without care while maintaining an expression full of smug pleasure.
Luna, meanwhile, lowered her lashes, pretending to shy away while secretly enjoying every second. Her voice trembled with false gentleness. "Your Highness, if you say things like that, Zora will be sad."
"Sad?" Philip snorted, turning to look at the girl lying on the bed as if she were dirt under his shoe. "If it weren't for the General's face, I'd never have agreed to that engagement. I've always liked you, Luna."
The two of them stood there like actors performing a cheap lovers' drama in front of the girl they thought had killed herself. Zora watched in silence, letting a slow sneer inside her heart.
What a pair.
Two people with less shame than beasts.
If the original girl were still alive, this alone might've pushed her to swallow gold all over again. But that girl was gone. And the one watching now was someone who had no patience for weak hearts.
She studied Philip calmly. The original owner once admired him... how laughable. The man was nothing more than a lustful, brainless parasite who strutted around like royalty. Just looking at him made her want to wash her eyes.
If her body weren't still weak, she would've sent him flying out the door already.
Philip, drunk on his own arrogance, pulled Luna closer and kissed her neck loudly as they slowly walked toward the bed, clearly doing it on purpose so Zora could see every disgusting detail.
He wanted to humiliate her.
He wanted to enjoy her pain.
Too bad she wasn't the original Zora. She was Dawn, the leader of the Death Clan.
Her gaze flicked downward. A small bead blossom ornament lay beside her pillow. Without changing expression, she lifted her hand slightly and flicked it toward the floor, letting it roll to exactly where Philip would step.
A heartbeat later...
Bang!
Philip stepped on the bead and shot forward like a launched chicken, arms flailing. The momentum ripped Luna from his embrace, and she flew ahead of him...
"AH!"
Her face slammed straight into the bed frame. Blood spurted from her nose instantly, and her delicate face swelled up on the spot.
Philip didn't fare any better, either. He crashed onto the floor with all four limbs in the air, looking like a crushed frog.
Zora widened her eyes slightly and put on a perfect mask of shock. "S-sister? What happened?"
Philip scrambled up, twisting his face from embarrassment, and tried to step forward, only for his foot to slip a second time.
THUD!
He smashed face-first into the bed frame beside Zora with a loud crack.
"AAAH!"