After Noxeea vanished into the shadow like mist fading at dawn, Dirga stood there for a moment—silent.
What a strange creature.
Weird, yes. But not untouchable.
He had felt it when his blade touched shadow. Noxeea could be hurt. Could be reached. Could be killed.
The Apex Nine weren’t gods.
Their mythos meant nothing now. They bled like everything else—if you struck the right chord. If you hit with purpose. With gravity.
With that thought simmering in his mind, he turned and began walking through the forest. The burnt-black leaves rustled overhead as crimson light filtered between the canopy.
Three days had passed since he buried his backpack—he found the landmark, a crooked tree with two trunks—and began digging.
He retrieved the gear, brushed off the dirt, and slung it over his shoulder.
The return trek through the Dusk Forest took him three days.
A few ambushes from beasts that now felt slow and obvious. He cut them down without effort. Not even worthy of being remembered.
It had been eight days since the quest began—two of them spent inside a Spirit Realm.
That meant four days remained before the Hell Roulette Tournament.
But time wasn’t a luxury—it was a forge. And Dirga had no intention of wasting even a second.
When he finally approached the outer wall of Ortheva, the automated gate hummed awake. A flicker of light scanned his face, and—
"Level 8 ID detected. Welcome back, Dirgantara."
His ID card lit up again. Access restored.
The moment he crossed through the gate, he didn’t even pause to breathe the city air. No detours. No sightseeing.
Straight to Sector X.
There was only one thing on his mind now.
Test himself against real fighters.
Sharpen his new power until it carved through anything in its path.
The Black Star was no longer just burning inside him.
And Dirga intended to feed it.
Sector X greeted him like a neon fever dream.
Nothing had changed—same pulsating lights, same mix of blood, music, and vice. The nightlife roared, a thousand deals whispered in alleyways, laughter stitched with knives, eyes watching from shadows.
All for sale. All for spectacle.
Dirga walked through it all like a ghost through smoke, ignoring the noise, heading straight toward the Gemspire Ring.
The arena doors parted with a hiss of hydraulics, revealing the familiar marble floor and gemstone light fixtures. Inside, the reception desk pulsed with soft holographic glow.
This time, the receptionist was a bubbly cat-woman, her ears twitching with excitement as she leaned forward.
"Hello, Mr. Dirga~ nya!" she chirped, her tail curling behind her.
Dirga nodded. "I want to fight."
Her golden eyes lit up. "Oooh, we’ve been waiting for you, nya! After your last performance, we’ve lined up something special. How about a bout against Rank Ten?"
"Make it tomorrow," Dirga said calmly.
"Tomorrow night it is, nya!" She tapped something on the screen with a purr of satisfaction.
Dirga slid 300 gold across the counter.
She blinked, impressed. "Oho~ confident, nya. I like that."
He didn’t care who was watching anymore.
Whether it was Noxeea, or the other Apex Nine, or the legions of devils playing their secret games.
He was the Black Joker’s patron.
Let them stare into the dark flame burning behind his eyes.
He’d show them all why fear was the proper response.
Dirga found a quiet inn tucked between a bar and a weapons dealer—decent, clean enough not to smell like blood, but not expensive enough to draw attention.
He paid in gold. No questions asked.
The room was small: bed, sink, mirror, a tiny window overlooking Sector X’s neon underbelly. He didn’t lie down.
He sat cross-legged on the floor, back straight, palms resting on his knees. The chaos of the city dulled into background static as he closed his eyes and slipped inward.
Into the core of himself.
A consuming singularity forged in isolation. Grants increasing gravitational dominance and existential pull as it evolves.
Physical enhancement initiated. Reinforced durability, reaction time, and adaptation under gravitational pressure.
"Punch Style : Collapsing One Point."" Sword Style : Black Sword" Gravity (Lv. 5)Gravity Pull : Creates a gravity field within 20 -meter radius that draws targets toward a central point. Gravity Sense : Detects objects and lifeforms based on gravitational disturbance, even without sight. Gravity Surge : Generates a gravity core within 15 meters that exerts pull on everything in a 5-meter radius.Telekinesis (Lv. 5) : Fine-tuned mental manipulation of matter within sensory range. Weight limit increases with Concept resonance.Black Fire ( Lv.1) : A fire that doesn’t burn the world—only the wielder. It enhances body, mind, and power as it consumes weakness.
Dirga opened his inner senses.
Suspended in the dark of his soul like a second sun—
Now, at Stage 2, it radiated heat.
Not literal heat, but a metaphysical fire that curled like corona flares from a dying sun. It pulsed with gravity, with mass, with meaning. It was becoming more than just a Concept.
It was becoming a center of gravity.
The star no longer just devoured—it burned. A black flame spiraled from it, threading into his telekinesis, his punches, his thoughts.
Dirga’s entire soul orbiting this singularity.
He realized something else.
His soul power had grown. +10 Soul Points. But he hadn’t killed anything particularly strong since then.
So this is what it meant—
When your Concept evolves, your soul expands.
Maybe that’s why he felt larger now. Not in body.
The fire of the Black Star wasn’t meant for the world. It was meant for him.
And now, he would learn how to wield it.