Shadow and Indura walked side by side through one of the elevated promenades of Crimson Reach.
The wide stone walkway overlooked the lower districts, where the red sunlight painted everything in shifting shades of blood and fire. Floating lanterns drifted lazily between the bridges, and the distant roar of training arenas mixed with the constant hum of the city. Vendors called out from stalls selling everything from enchanted cloaks to vials of distilled monster essence, but the crowd here was thinner — mostly higher-ranked hunters and well-dressed merchants moving with purpose.
Indura kept his hands clasped behind his back, crimson cape swaying gently with each step. His golden eyes scanned the surroundings with quiet curiosity, taking in the scale of the floating architecture and the way mana flowed visibly through crystal veins embedded in the streets.
Shadow walked slightly ahead, guiding him without being obvious about it. He had grown more comfortable in the dragon's presence, though a constant undercurrent of awe still lingered in his thoughts.
They passed a large public square where a crowd had gathered around a massive glowing crystal board. Bright red runes scrolled across it, displaying upcoming events, bounty updates, and tournament brackets.
Indura's gaze lingered on the board.
Shadow noticed and slowed his pace. "That's the public announcement crystal. It updates every hour with major events across the southern region."
Indura stopped walking entirely, eyes fixed on one particular announcement that dominated the center in bold, flaming text:
THE GRAND BOUT – 10TH ANNIVERSARY EDITIONThree days from now. Central Arena. Open to all Slayers and above.Prize pool: 50,000 gold, a personal audience with Lady Phoenix, and one artifact from the Phoenix Vault.Special rule this year: No team limit. Solo participants welcomed.
Indura read it silently, then tilted his head slightly. "They fight for sport… and prizes."
Shadow nodded, watching Indura's reaction carefully. "The Grand Bout is the biggest event in the south. Fighters from every corner come to test themselves. Some seek glory, others the rewards. Lady Phoenix herself attends the finals. It's said that the winner gains more than just gold — they gain her favor, which can open doors that normally stay locked."
Indura's expression remained calm, but a faint spark of interest flickered in his golden eyes. Fighting for entertainment… in a world this strong. Interesting. They gather the strongest just to watch them bleed for spectacle.
Shadow continued, voice lowering. "This year is special. The 10th anniversary. Rumors say Lady Phoenix is offering something truly rare from her personal vault — an artifact that can permanently increase one's mana capacity. Many Destroyers are sending their champions. Even some from the other regions have quietly entered under false names."
Indura gave a small, almost lazy smile. "People risk their lives… for a chance to stand in front of one ruler and impress her."
Shadow chuckled softly, though inside he was carefully studying Indura. He sounds amused, not tempted. But there's something in his eyes… curiosity?
They continued walking along the promenade, the announcement crystal glowing behind them like a beacon.
Indura spoke again, voice casual. "Have you ever participated?"
Shadow shook his head. "Once. Years ago. I reached the quarter-finals before a Knight-level opponent ended my run. The pain was… educational."
Indura let out a quiet laugh — short and genuine. "Educational. I like that."
They reached a quieter section of the walkway where the crowd thinned out. A soft breeze carried the distant roar of the central arena, where fighters were already training for the upcoming event.
Shadow glanced at Indura again. "If you were to enter… the entire south would notice. A new face with your level of strength would shake the brackets. Lady Phoenix would definitely pay attention."
Indura didn't answer immediately. He simply looked out over the city, crimson cape fluttering, golden eyes reflecting the red skies.
Fighting in front of thousands… for a prize and an audience with their ruler. The thought lingered, not with greed or ambition, but with that familiar, quiet curiosity.
He finally spoke, tone light but carrying weight. "Tell me more about this Grand Bout. Not the rules. The feeling of it."
Shadow smiled, sensing the shift. He began to describe the atmosphere — the roaring crowds, the tension before each match, the way even Destroyers watched with genuine interest, the rare moments when an unknown fighter rose through the ranks and changed their fate overnight.
Indura listened without interrupting, the faint smile never leaving his face.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, a new thought took root.
Not a desire to rule. Not a need for glory.
Just the simple, dangerous question:
Would it be… entertaining?
The red skies continued to burn above Crimson Reach, and for the first time since waking, Indura felt the faintest pull toward something that wasn't just food or rest.
The Grand Bout was still three days away.
But the dragon was already listening.
Deep beneath the glittering streets of Crimson Reach, in a smoke-filled underground chamber known only as the Veil Sanctum, a small group of cloaked figures sat around a circular obsidian table.
The room was lit by a single floating crimson orb that cast long, shifting shadows. The air smelled of expensive incense mixed with the faint metallic tang of blood money. These were not ordinary information brokers or black-market dealers. They were the Veiled Hand — a shadow organization that operated in the grey spaces between guilds, rulers, and the true powers of the south. They dealt in secrets, recruitment, and elimination of threats… or opportunities.
A tall, thin man with a silver mask covering the lower half of his face leaned forward, voice low and measured.
"Five dungeons in one night. Multiple boss cores. High-grade materials that even veteran raid parties would struggle to harvest cleanly. The reports are consistent — a new face traveling with the Midnight Slayer."
Across the table, a woman with long black nails and a hood that hid her eyes tapped the surface slowly.
"Midnight Slayer resurfacing after ten years is already strange enough. But this companion… no one has seen him before. No guild registration until today. No known affiliation. Yet he walks in with enough loot to make a Destroyer jealous."
A third figure, broad-shouldered and wearing heavy gauntlets, grunted. "The guild master tried to recruit him on the spot and got politely rejected. That alone is rare. Most new talents fall over themselves for Veyron's offers."
The silver-masked man smiled beneath his mask, though it didn't reach his eyes.
"Exactly. A complete unknown who clears high-tier content like it's a morning stroll. Moves with unnatural calm. Doesn't speak much. And the aura… as if trying to suppress, people in the lobby said it felt wrong. Like standing next to something that didn't belong there."
The woman leaned back, nails clicking. "We've seen prodigies before. None of them clear five dungeons solo on their first recorded night. This one is different. He could be useful… or dangerous. If he keeps rising this fast, he might disrupt the balance we've maintained with Lady Phoenix's circle."
The broad man cracked his knuckles. "So what's the play? Recruit him? Test him? Or remove him before he becomes a problem?"
The silver-masked leader raised a hand, silencing the table.
"Not yet. We watch. We gather more. The Grand Bout is in three days. If this 'Indura' enters — or even if he doesn't — we'll see his true measure. A man who can do what he did last night doesn't stay hidden for long."
He paused, voice dropping to a near whisper.
"But make no mistake… we are not dealing with another ambitious Slayer. Something about this one feels… off the scale. Like we're looking at a sleeping storm and debating whether to poke it."
One of the lesser members chuckled nervously. "He's just one guy. How bad could it be?"
The leader turned his masked face toward him slowly.
"That's what they always say… right before the sky turns red."
The orb above the table flickered once, as if reacting to the words.
In the silence that followed, the Veiled Hand began making their quiet preparations — sending out discreet observers, pulling old favors, and marking the name "Indura" in their hidden ledgers.
They thought they were hunting a promising new talent.
They had no idea they were circling a Calamity who had simply decided to take a walk through their city.
And the red skies above Crimson Reach continued to burn, indifferent to the small schemes unfolding far below.
Shadow and Indura continued their leisurely walk through the upper promenades of Crimson Reach.
The elevated path wound between floating crystal spires connected by elegant stone bridges. Below them, the city buzzed with life — hunters haggling over fresh cores, street performers juggling enchanted flames, and merchants displaying artifacts that shimmered with captured lightning. The red skies above seemed almost playful today, with slow-moving clouds that looked like rivers of molten gold.
Indura walked with his hands clasped behind his back, crimson cape drifting gently. His golden eyes took in everything with that same calm, unhurried curiosity.
They passed a wide terrace where several high-ranked hunters were gathered around a large glowing map projected in the air. The map showed the southern region's major dungeons, color-coded by danger level. A few Slayers were arguing loudly about the best route to the next big payout.
Shadow glanced at Indura and decided to share something new.
"You've seen the surface of Crimson Reach," he said quietly. "But there's another layer most people never notice. The Underflow — a network of underground channels and old ruins beneath the city. It's where the black market truly thrives, where forbidden artifacts change hands, and where information older than the High Order is traded. Even Lady Phoenix's people don't fully control it."
Indura's lips curved into a faint, interested smile. "A city beneath the city. Sounds useful."
Shadow nodded, pleased by the reaction. "Some say the Underflow connects to ancient pathways that predate even the Calamities. There are rumors of lost dragon lairs down there… places where the first calamities might have rested centuries ago."
Lost dragon lairs?! I might have to look into it one day.
They continued walking until they reached a quiet overlook shaded by a massive floating crystal that acted like a natural canopy. Soft red light filtered through it, creating shifting patterns on the stone floor.
Indura stopped and leaned against the railing, looking out over the sprawling city.
Shadow stood beside him, hesitating for a moment before speaking again.
"There's something else I've been meaning to mention. The Grand Bout isn't just a tournament. It's a stage. The three regions send representatives. Winners don't just gain wealth. They gain attention from the Calamities themselves. Some past champions have been… invited to the northern Storm Peaks or the western Abyss Fracture. Not many return the same."
Indura listened without turning his head, his expression relaxed but attentive.
Shadow continued, voice lower. "This year's anniversary edition is bigger than usual. Lady Phoenix is offering an artifact said to contain a fragment of a fallen Calamity's power. Many believe it could permanently elevate someone to Knight or even Destroyer level."
Indura gave a soft, almost amused hum. "People fight for a piece of a dead dragon's power?!...I feel drawn to it now."
He was quiet for a long moment, then finally asked the question that had been lingering in his mind.
"These three dragons you mentioned… the Calamities. Which one is the weakest? Or at least… the lowest among them?"
Shadow stiffened slightly, surprised by the directness. He chose his words carefully.
"It's not that simple, Great Dragon. Power among the Calamities isn't measured the same way as among mortals. The Storm Dragon in the north is said to command the fiercest storms and has the most destructive raw strength. The Obsidian Wyrm in the west is the most cunning — his domain warps reality itself. The Ember Queen in the east… she is the most mysterious. Her influence is slower, deeper, like roots spreading through the land. Some say she is the 'lowest' only because she prefers subtlety over spectacle. But none of them are truly weak. Challenging any one of them would mean facing an entire region."
Indura absorbed the information slowly, golden eyes distant.
Three dragons ruling different parts of this world… each with their own domain and style. One day I might meet them. Not to fight… but to see what they are like...only to see... yes, only seeing and nothing else...
Shadow watched him carefully, an internal thought flashing through his mind. He asked about the weakest one first. Not out of fear… but curiosity. As if he's measuring the board before deciding whether to play.
The two stood in comfortable silence for a while, the red skies above shifting slowly as another day in Chaos unfolded.
Indura finally broke the quiet, voice light but carrying that effortless weight.
"Tell me more about this Ember Queen. She sounds the most… patient."
Shadow smiled faintly, sensing the dragon's growing interest in the larger game of Chaos.
And somewhere far to the east, in a swamp that never truly slept, a silhouette stirred slightly in her ancient throne — as if feeling the faint gaze of something new and dangerous turning toward her direction.
In the eastern outskirts of southern region, Jin moved like smoke across the floating crystal bridges, heading toward the Eternal Scar.
The journey took him beyond the safe zones of Crimson Reach, across narrow mana-bridges suspended over endless crimson chasms. The red skies grew darker the farther he traveled, as if the world itself was warning him. Below, distant storms raged, lightning the color of old blood cracking across floating islands.
He traveled light — twin swords at his hips, mask firmly in place, black tactical gear blending with the shadows. His silver eyes scanned every horizon, searching for any trace that might lead him closer to the dragon he had followed through the gate ten years ago.
After two days of relentless movement, he finally reached the outer edge of the Eternal Scar.
It was a desolate floating wasteland — a massive fractured plateau drifting in the sky, its surface cracked and blackened like burned glass. Ancient ruins jutted out like broken teeth, half-buried under layers of crimson dust. The air here felt wrong, heavier, as if reality had been stretched too thin.
Jin landed lightly on the edge of the plateau and began walking deeper into the scar.
The silence was oppressive. No monsters. No wind. Just the faint hum of unstable mana.
He moved cautiously, senses on high alert, until he reached a sunken crater in the center of the wasteland.
There, half-buried in the crystal ground, was something that made him stop cold.
A massive, perfectly circular gate frame — not the chaotic tear he had fallen through ten years ago, but a deliberate, ancient structure made of dark, rune-etched stone. The runes were still faintly glowing with a cold, violet light. Around the base of the frame, the ground was scorched in a perfect circle, as if something enormous had been pulled through it by force.
Jin approached slowly, crouching beside the frame.
This wasn't a natural gate. Someone built this… or tried to open it.
He brushed dust off one of the runes. The symbol pulsed once under his fingers — a familiar, nauseating energy that made his core twist.
Of my memories are correct...this is the work of the Dark Haven…
The realization hit him like a blade.
This gate carried the same signature as the dark divinity he had felt during the final battle in Varta — the same corrupt, oily power that had tried to possess and twist everything it touched. But it was older. Much older. This wasn't a fresh wound. This was a scar left by something that had been attempting to invade, or had already invaded Chaos for a very long time.
Jin's silver eyes narrowed behind the mask.
He moved around the frame and found something even more disturbing.
Carved into the inner ring of the gate were faint but unmistakable symbols — stylized wings and broken halos. The same iconography he had seen on records of the divine order.
Sky Palace… and Dark Haven. I already know they're working together. But did they fight over the same gate?
A cold chill ran down his spine.
This wasn't just a random ruin. This was a connection point — a deliberate attempt to link the lower realms to higher powers. And if Dark Haven had managed to plant something like this in Chaos…
Jin stood up slowly, heart steady but mind racing.
They're not done. As far as I know, they are in this very world. This gate...it could definitely lead back to the Sky Palace...or "that" world. Their home world. No...this is too risky for now.
He reached into his pouch and pulled out a small recording crystal. He activated it, capturing the gate frame from every angle, including the scorched circle and the mixed runes.
This is currently bigger than me. But if I can understand how they're doing this… maybe I can find a way to stop them before they move...well, once I regain my power.
Jin stood before the ancient gate frame, the violet runes still pulsing faintly like dying veins.
He had recorded everything — the scorched circle, the mixed symbols of Sky Palace wings and Dark Haven corruption, the way reality itself seemed thinned and scarred here. This wasn't just a ruin. It was a wound that had been trying to open for a very long time.
As he turned to leave, something caught his eye.
Faint trails on the crystal ground — almost invisible unless you knew exactly where to look. They weren't footprints. They were… absences. Places where the dust had been disturbed in a way that didn't make sense, as if something had been there but not quite there. The trails led away from the gate, deeper into the Eternal Scar, then vanished completely.
Jin's silver eyes narrowed behind the mask. A cold tension coiled in his gut.
Whatever made these trails… it wasn't fully here...oh shit...a gatekeeper?! It must be coming back.
He decided it was time to go.
But the moment he took his first step away from the gate, he felt it — a presence.
Not strong. Not loud. Just… watching. Hiding in the blind spot of his senses, somewhere just beyond the edge of the crater. The feeling crawled up his spine like icy fingers. It wasn't hostile. Not yet. But it was deliberate. Someone — or something — had followed him all the way out here.
Jin's hand moved to his sword without thinking.
In one smooth motion, he drew and slashed — a clean, horizontal Flame Technique: Ash Severance. The flaming arc tore through the air, slicing through several crystal outcrops and exploding a small ridge of rock into dust and shards.
The slash revealed a figure that had been crouching behind the broken stone.
A young man stepped out slowly, raising both hands in a peaceful gesture. He looked to be in his early twenties, with sharp, energetic features — short, windswept dark hair that fell messily over his forehead, bright amber eyes that burned with clear intensity, and a lean, athletic build honed by constant movement. He wore practical but well-crafted dark leather armor reinforced with lightweight metal plates, a long scarf wrapped around his neck, and twin short blades strapped to his back. There was nothing comical about him — he carried himself like a warrior who had seen real fights and come out sharper for it.
The young man smiled, though it didn't reach his eyes completely.
"Impressive," he said, voice steady and confident. "Most people wouldn't have noticed me at all. You really are the Void Reaper."
Jin didn't lower his sword. His silver eyes studied the stranger carefully. He followed me all the way out here without me sensing him until the last moment. He's not normal. Not a regular hunter.
"Who are you?" Jin asked, voice cold and flat behind the mask. "And why are you following me?"
The young man lowered his hands slightly, still smiling. "My name is Hanz. And I'm not here to fight you… at least not today. I just wanted to see what the famous lone wolf was doing all the way out in the Eternal Scar. This place isn't exactly a tourist spot."
He glanced at the ancient gate frame, amber eyes narrowing with clear interest.
"So… what is this place? It feels wrong. Like something that shouldn't exist is trying to push through."
Jin remained silent for a moment, sword still ready. The stranger's presence felt off — too clean, too controlled for someone who had just been hiding in a wasteland full of ancient dangers.
Hanz tilted his head, still smiling, but there was a sharper edge to it now.
"You don't have to tell me. But whatever you're looking for here… it's bigger than just one hunter chasing old ghosts, isn't it?"
The red skies above the Eternal Scar seemed to press down heavier, as if the wasteland itself was listening.
Jin didn't answer.
But the tension in the air thickened — two predators sizing each other up in the ruins of something far older and far more dangerous than either of them.
And somewhere deep in the scar, the faint violet light of the gate pulsed once more… almost like it was letting something know that there were trespassers.