"My story doesn’t end here."
There were no worries in his heart—not even a flicker of fear, only confidence as he awaited whatever lay behind the dark portal.
No time traveling. No complex advancement. They simply stepped out of the portal as if walking through a door, the environment shifting beneath the motion of one step.
The sun had nearly dipped beyond the horizon, and the moon had begun its ascent. Yet the air remained hot—not from the sun’s warmth, but from aura tension and the pounding hearts of the Merges.
Allen scanned the terrain as the clay ground welcomed him with a strange, warm touch. His gaze first landed on a group of Elves—about ten in number, all male. They were strong-looking and composed, though the thunder of their hearts said otherwise. They stood in loose formation, not wielding weapons, but clearly relying on the elemental abilities that surged in their blood.
Just behind them rose the grand wall of the kingdom. From this closer view, Allen observed its magnificence with awe. The wall wasn’t sculpted—it had emerged from the ground, smooth and massive, as though carved by a god wielding an SSS-ranked earth ability.
This area held no buildings, since it bordered the outer wall that blocked—but could not withstand—the chaos of monsters. With his eyes closed, Allen could feel the currents of the wind and the subtle tremors in the earth—their sources and intent.
"Heyyy, boss!" one of the Merges called, waving at Derrick.
The group’s attention snapped toward the three arrivals.
"Why does he look like he just lost his dick?" another snorted, mocking Derrick’s grim expression.
Derrick didn’t reply. He simply studied the faces of the gathered men—most of them from his own gang, of which he was the leader.
"Finally. Something these fools can be useful for," he muttered, side-eyeing Allen.
Allen smiled, fully aware of his plan. He could read Derrick’s mood, breath vibrations, and heartbeat rhythm with disturbing clarity.
"We’re complete," Ravien said, stepping forward as Derrick and Allen took their places at opposite ends of the group.
"What’s the matter, bro?" one of Derrick’s crew asked, eyes locked on him.
Derrick didn’t respond. He didn’t even look at the elf. Instead, he cast a sidelong glance at Allen and drew his thumb slowly across his neck.
The message was clear. The elf’s brown, pitch-dark eyes shifted toward Allen. Without a word, he mimicked the same cutthroat gesture and silently shared it with five others—just enough to match the number of Derrick’s loyal gang members.
’You’ll pay, Allen... and Kia will fall back to me,’ Derrick thought with a smirk, hands folded behind his back.
"Who’s the pretty boy?" one of the gang members teased, eyeing Allen’s calm figure. Allen’s gaze, however, remained fixed skyward.
Something—no, someone—crashed into the ground with chaotic force, sending dust spiraling through the area. Attention was demanded without a word.
"That’s your leader for this mission," a voice announced from within the dusty veil. The authority, the presence, the finality in his tone—it was undeniable.
"King Kealion—" Ravien grinned.
"Allen will be taking command of this mission," Kealion repeated, as the dust cleared to reveal his monstrous, commanding form. His immense frame and colossal presence were like an eclipse between the warriors and the moon.
"But I’m the strongest here! I have an SSS-ranked ability, remember? Or is he stronger? I can’t even feel his aura," Ravien rasped, shaken by the confusion and disbelief rippling through the group.
He was right—Allen’s new ability, Blind Predator, masked his presence almost entirely.
"No, Ravien. He’s not stronger. I don’t even know if he has an ability. But there is something inside him that I seek."
"What... you seek weakness, I’m sure!" Ravien screamed, losing his composure. The others tried to calm him, but he shoved them aside and pointed at the king. "We’re putting our lives on the line, and that moron gets command?"
Allen’s heart pounded, as if burden were stacked upon burden. It wasn’t the leadership role that frightened him, but the king’s breath vibrations and heart rhythm. Something deeper.
What’s going on? What does the king want from me?
He stepped back slightly, sweat creeping down from his temple.
"ENOUGH!" Kealion roared.
The shout sent a sudden gust of wind tearing through the area, slicing Ravien’s cheek open with sheer force. Blood dripped down silently. Ravien’s rage turned into unreadable silence.
"I’m sorry, my king," he murmured, head bowed.
Damn, Allen thought, reading Ravien’s breath vibrations and heartbeat. Now an SSS-ranked Merge is after my life too. Kealion and this system keep stacking the odds... or is that his plan?
"Allen," Kealion called.
Allen swallowed hard, avoiding the praying eyes of the Elves—his supposed allies. Then he grinned.
"Your mission is to investigate the monster evolutions. No combat unless necessary. No retreat without results. Failure is synonymous to death."
"Understood," Allen replied with a deep breath, forcing cool air into his burning lungs. What a breathtaking situation... what now?
Kealion twisted his stance like the hand of a clock.
Allen trailed the tremor that ran from the king’s foot to the great wall.
A massive section of rock—roughly the size of a compound gate—turned to sand in an instant, falling under gravity’s pull and opening a cave-like passage through the wall. The air beyond was thick, rancid, and desecrated. Darkness blanketed everything beyond.
They couldn’t see what awaited, but they could feel it—chaos, dread, and the scent of endings.
"This mission has begun," Kealion said with a smirk.
Allen peered into the dark maw beyond the wall, took a deep breath, and stepped forward with a single thought:
What do I fight first—the monsters in front of me, or the ones behind me?
His steps were slow and measured as he tracked the vibrations of those who followed.
Derrick’s eyes were locked on him with fury. A thousand ways to kill Allen played in his mind. But he waited until they were out of the king’s sight. His fist clenched, teeth grit, eyes darting to his brothers in arms—even now more united in hatred.
Ravien passed Kealion with a devilish grin.
"Just because you look different then you think you can overthrow me? Let’s see if your blood looks different too," he whispered, his aura surging.
Kealion watched them disappear into the night, satisfaction gleaming in his eyes.
"If you survive this, Allen... then it will mean nothing than the copy system has found its new wielder."
He shifted again, and the wall sealed itself like a perfectly healed wound.
"If that’s true... then soon, he’ll be my rival."
Allen had stepped into the territory of chaos, with bloodthirsty barbarians behind him. The air reeked of decay. He remained alert, scanning every detail.
The terrain was a forest of dread—pitch black beneath the shadows of towering trees with massive, sparse branches that blocked the moonlight like a twisted canopy.
The trees nearest to the walls were naturally large and lush, as if it fed on something perpetual.
Allen halted a few steps in and crouched, studying the ground.
"The vegetation’s rich, even with the wall’s shade," he muttered, too familiar like what happens behind the wall stays behind the wall.
He pointed at the soil. "The rot’s thick here... and the grass is low. It’s constantly walked on. That means—"
Ravien roared, Allen’s calm analysis biting into his nerves.
"Drop command now—or be rotted, just like the flesh that roots in this soil."