The next morning, Jeather did not hesitate.
He left before the city fully stretched awake, before Scholar's Row filled with self-important scholars pretending they didn't eavesdrop on gossip.
The gates opened with their usual indifference, and he stepped beyond Ardent District without looking back.
No summons.
No retaliation.
No dramatic rooftop confrontation from Jefferson.
Honestly? Slightly disappointing.
"Fine," he muttered. "If no one wants to chase me, I'll just go make myself expensive."
The northern outskirts greeted him with jagged rock formations and stubborn trees growing out of places trees had no business growing.
The wind carried a dry scent of stone and distant mana currents.
He rolled his shoulders once.
"Alright," he said quietly. "Verdant."
The card at his side pulsed.
Green-black light spilled outward—not explosive, not chaotic, but heavy.
Controlled.
The Verdant Abyss Demon manifested in a surge of twisting vines and shadowed branches, its form tall and regal, crowned with antler-like extensions of hardened wood.
Its presence bent the air faintly, like the forest itself had decided to stand upright.
Jeather grinned.
"That's better. If I'm hunting, we're doing it properly."
He had decided something simple: no more half-measures.
If he was stepping into uncertain territory, he would bring his strongest card every time.
A rumble interrupted his thoughts.
From behind a fractured stone ridge burst a Bronze-tier Boulder Ram, its horns jagged and crystalline, hooves cracking the earth as it charged.
Jeather stared at it.
"…You could have at least introduced yourself."
The Ram did not care for manners.
"Verdant."
The demon moved without hesitation. A single sweeping motion of its vine-limbs erupted from the ground, thick roots snapping upward like whips.
The Boulder Ram slammed into them with full force—
—and immediately regretted existing.
The roots coiled around its legs, lifting it mid-charge. The demon's aura flared, dark green light pressing down like gravity had opinions.
Jeather walked casually closer.
"You know," he said thoughtfully, "in my old life, I used to fight things head-on. Very dramatic.
Very sweaty."
The Ram struggled uselessly.
"I've evolved."
With a tightening command, the Verdant Abyss Demon constricted.
Crack.
The Boulder Ram dissolved into particles.
Jeather flicked a blank card forward, sealing it cleanly.
He exhaled.
"That's efficient. Minimal cardio. I approve."
As the demon faded back into card form, silence returned.
And with it a memory.
It rose slower this time.
Not fragmented.
Not violent.
Just steady.
A different skyline.
Concrete instead of carved stone.
He had been an underground fighter.
Illegal rings beneath abandoned buildings.
Crowds chanting over bloodstained floors.
He remembered the taste of copper in his mouth.
The burn in his lungs.
The strange satisfaction of winning because winning meant eating.
He fought because it was the only thing he was good at.
Because growing up an orphan meant you learned quickly: nobody was coming.
No family.
No safety net.
Just fists.
He became known in certain circles.
Not famous.
Not important.
Just dangerous.
Then one night, after a match where his opponent didn't get back up quickly enough, something inside him shifted.
He remembered staring at his own hands in a cracked bathroom mirror.
They looked… tired.
He didn't quit immediately.
Change never happens dramatically.
It leaks in.
He drifted toward a small chapel that offered free meals.
At first for food.
Then he stayed for the quiet.
He met a priest who didn't judge his bruises.
"Strength isn't proven by how much you can destroy," the old man had told him.
"It's proven by what you refuse to."
He hadn't believed it.
But he listened.
Months passed.
He stopped fighting underground.
Started helping with outreach programs.
Counseling teens who were angry at the world the way he used to be.
He wasn't suddenly holy.
He was still blunt. Still rough.
But he tried.
He found something like peace.
He had no family there either.
Still alone.
But no longer violent by default.
The wind shifted sharply across the ridge, dragging him back to the present.
A screech tore through the air.
Two Bronze-tier Razorwing Hawks dove from above, feathers metallic and slicing the air like blades.
Jeather didn't even look stressed.
"Verdant, we have flying appetizers."
The demon exploded outward again in a burst of dark foliage.
Vines shot skyward with terrifying precision, intercepting the hawks mid-dive.
One was skewered outright; the other was slammed into the ground hard enough to reconsider its life choices.
Jeather shielded his face from falling dust.
"I appreciate enthusiasm," he coughed, "but maybe less collateral next time."
The demon's aura pulsed faintly, which he chose to interpret as indifference.
He sealed both beasts efficiently.
As the green glow faded, the final memory surfaced.
A balcony.
Twenty floors up.
Rain-slick concrete.
A girl standing on the rail.
He remembered speaking calmly.
Not preaching.
Just talking.
He remembered her eyes—exhausted, furious, hopeless.
He stepped closer.
Too close.
She panicked when he grabbed her wrist.
He underestimated her strength.
Or maybe overestimated his footing.
She shoved him in fear.
He grabbed tighter.
For a moment, they were both suspended between gravity and desperation.
He felt his shoe slide.
He had a choice.
Pull harder.
Risk dragging her with him.
Or let go.
He let go.
He still remembered the wind rushing past.
Strangely peaceful.
His last thought wasn't regret.
It was relief that she was still on the balcony.
Then darkness.
Then—
This world.
This body.
Jeather stopped walking.
The northern horizon stretched wide before him.
"So that's it," he murmured softly. "That's how I got here."
He flexed his fingers.
He had died once.
Trying to save someone.
Alone.
No family to mourn him.
No headlines.
Just another quiet fall in a loud city.
A growl interrupted him.
This one heavier.
From beyond a split canyon wall stepped a Silver-tier Thornhide Bear. Its fur bristled with hardened spikes, each tipped with faintly glowing toxin. Its presence pressed down on the air, stronger than the beasts before.
Jeather blinked.
"…Okay. That's new."
The bear roared and charged.
He didn't hesitate.
"Verdant."
The demon erupted with full force this time.
The ground split as massive roots burst upward, colliding with the bear mid-stride.
The impact shook the canyon walls.
The Thornhide Bear tore through the first wave of vines, roaring again, toxin sizzling where it touched demonic wood.
Jeather stepped back.
"Alright, you're stubborn. I respect that."
The demon's aura deepened, green darkening toward black. Thicker vines erupted from beneath the bear, wrapping around its torso, forcing its limbs outward.
The bear thrashed violently, spikes shredding through layers of foliage.
Jeather narrowed his eyes.
"Less hugging. More crushing."
The vines obeyed.
They tightened—not around the spikes—but between them, exploiting gaps in armor. Roots forced into joints. Into exposed muscle.
The bear's roar turned into a strangled bellow.
With a final surge, the Verdant Abyss Demon lifted the massive creature off the ground entirely—
—and slammed it down.
Hard.
The canyon trembled.
Silence followed.
Particles rose.
Jeather exhaled slowly and sealed it into a card, hands steady.
When it was done, he stood alone in settling dust.
He looked down at the new Silver-tier card.
Then up at the open sky.
He had been an underground fighter.
He had been a priest.
He had died trying to save someone.
Now he stood in a world of beasts and ranks and hidden Gold-tier threats.
He laughed softly.
"Alright," he said to the empty canyon. "Second life, huh?"
The wind brushed past him.
He rolled his shoulders.
"I will now live my life to the fullest," he declared calmly. "And I will not let anyone get in my way."
He paused.
"Except maybe gravity. We have history."
He tucked the Silver card away carefully.
Jefferson could scheme.
The Academy could hide secrets.
Gold-tier anomalies could lurk in fog.
He had already fallen once from twenty floors.
This world?
It would have to try harder than that.
"Come on," he muttered, turning toward deeper territory.
"Let's go make terrible decisions responsibly."
And with the Verdant Abyss Demon resting at his side, ready to manifest at a thought, Jeather walked forward—stronger, steadier, and slightly more sarcastic than fate had probably intended.