The light didn't fight back.
It flickered. Twitched. But didn't rise.
I slammed my fist into the cracked core. Once. Twice. Again. The sound echoed across the broken hall.
It didn't die. But it didn't move either.
One thousand strikes. Two thousand. The golden shimmer started dimming.
No resistance. No retaliation. Just the twitch of a dying god beneath my hands.
More.
My knuckles shattered and regrew. Again and again. Elbows. Knees. Whatever I could use—I used.
Ten thousand.
Still breathing. Still standing.
And for the first time, I wasn't dying.
No [YOU HAVE DIED]. No snap back to life.
I was here. Awake. In control.
The Seraph couldn't stop me. Not anymore.
Twenty thousand.
The core pulsed weakly. Light leaking in chaotic bursts. Divine order breaking down.
Thirty. Forty.
Its wings had stopped moving. Dead weight now. They didn't even twitch.
I didn't count each hit. Just milestones. Just pressure.
Fifty thousand.
The light sputtered like a dying flame.
Sixty. Seventy. Still alive. Still intact—barely.
Eighty. It cracked.
Not the armor. Not the mask.
The core.
One fracture, deep and jagged.
A sharp breath escaped my lips. I hit it harder. Again. Again.
Ninety. A hundred thousand.
The ground shook. The dimension groaned. Light burst upward in desperate spirals.
Then—quiet.
The Seraph wasn't just down. It was gone.
All that remained were golden motes, drifting upward like dust in sunlight.
A notification blinked into view.
[TRIAL COMPLETE]
The voice returned.
That same feminine voice.
But it didn't sound the same.
Gone was the condescension. The detachment. What replaced it was… careful. Too careful.
"Congratulations on your victory, O worthy one."
I didn't respond. Not with words.
I was still standing. And they knew what that meant.
"You were never meant to reach this point," she said, gently. "So many before you tried. Thousands of candidates. Across thousands of years."
A pause.
"None of them succeeded. Not one."
Another pause. This one lingered.
"I hope… there are no hard feelings."
It was meant to sound cordial.
But there was something beneath it. Unease. Not guilt. Not shame.
Fear.
The golden motes circled tighter now. Gathering at my chest. Sinking inward—heatless, but heavy.
"You forced open what should have been sealed. That alone is… historic."
Her voice was reverent. But strained, like she was afraid to say too much.
"We did not anticipate you. Not truly."
The light turned darker at the edges. Not corrupted. Just… changing. Becoming something new.
[System initializing…]
[Designation pending]
The notifications were faint. Background noise. I barely noticed them.
Because something else caught my attention.
Thousands of years.
I frowned.
She said it casually. Like it was nothing. But that didn't make sense.
The Collision—the fusion of Earth and the other world—was only a few decades ago.
If they'd been doing this for thousands of years…
"You were here before the Collision," I said slowly.
No response. My eyes narrowed.
"You were watching even then. Testing people—humans—long before the worlds merged."
A flicker. I felt something shift. A hesitation in the air.
And then—
The ground fell out from under me.
Not literally. Just space. Time. Presence.
Something pulled. A snap. The hall vanished.
The voice spoke one last time, faint and hurried, as everything blurred around me.
"We'll be watching."
Then silence. And I was gone.
I didn't even have time to check my reward.
But I would.
Soon.
Because when I reappeared—
—I was back on the bridge.
Same fractured stone. Same rotting rails. Same gray sky.
And the sword? Mid-swing. Not even a second had passed.
I dropped low, shifted left, and the blade hissed past my shoulder.
The Explorer stumbled forward, overcommitted.
He caught himself, eyes wide with confusion.
"Wh—what just happened?" he stammered, backing up. "Where's the kid from before? Were you using some kind of hiding skill?"
I didn't answer. What a pitiful existence this one was.
Such poor technique. No weight behind the swing. No intent. Just a motion. As if the blade would do the work for him.
"I'm busy right now," I said, voice level. "Go do something else."
He blinked. Took a step back.
"So—I can just go? You know I was just kidding when I chased you earlier, right?"
His tone shifted—too casual, too forced.
He was stalling. Watching. Measuring.
Trying to get a read on my strength.
I could see it in his eyes. The tension in his shoulders. The way his hand still hovered near his blade, just in case.
He couldn't figure it out. Couldn't sense where I stood. Because even without a System, I'd already become something more.
And now?
I had one.
I imagined the window opening. It responded.
[SYSTEM INTERFACE]
Hidden Rank: Primordial – Hellbringer
Visible Rank: Legendary – Hellflame
Primordial.
I'd never even heard of it. It was never documented.
A hidden rank.
Why would it need to be hidden?
Then I saw the second line.
Visible Rank: Legendary – Hellflame
Ah.
A mask.
A system-crafted veil—likely automatic. A safety measure. For me. Or for everyone else.
Legendary was the highest rank known to mankind. The apex. The line between feared and worshipped.
Abilities at that tier were astonishingly flexible—gravity collapse, natural disasters, solar absorption.
Limitless in potential—depending on the one who wielded them.
And here I was.
Reading mine like it was just a footnote.
Hellbringer.
But for now, I focused on what the world would see.
What I'd likely be using more.
Hellflame.
Flames that never stop. Flames that burn through everything. No matter the target. No matter the will.
The description was short. But it didn't need to say more.
This was not fire. This was erasure given form. It was going to be useful.
I scrolled down.
Unlocked Skills:
[Hellflame: Ember Step] Ignite the ground beneath you to launch forward in a burst of scorched momentum. Leaves a trail of lingering fire that consumes anything that touches it.
[Hellflame: Brand] Mark a target. Every flame you create will prioritize the marked target, bypassing ordinary resistance.
[Hellflame: Crown] Passive. Your presence ignites the air around you. Flames respond to your intent, even without action.
There were empty slots below. Faded outlines of future abilities.
But this was already amazing.
I will look at the rest later.
"Hey you, instead of looking at me and waiting like a dog, what Tier is your ability—and what rank are you as an Explorer?" I asked.
"...I'm Tier Forged," he said after a pause. "Ability Tier—uh, Stonecall. Earth displacement. Mostly terrain manipulation. Utility-based."
Forged. The second most common Tier after Ashen.
That didn't make it weak.
Tier wasn't about raw strength—it was about potential application. Flexibility. Range. The kind of power that could evolve depending on the user's creativity and mindset.
Even someone with an Ashen ability could become a powerhouse.
But that wasn't the case here.
This one didn't feel like a powerhouse.
"And your Sigil?" I asked.
He hesitated.
"S-Silver Sigil," he replied. "Certified team leader. Level three clearance."
Silver.
Mid-level authority. Meant access to some restricted zones, basic government oversight, and a license to lead small units in lower danger-class environments.
His eyes kept flicking to mine. No—to the space around me.
He was trying to read something. Trying and failing.
"You… you're not registered," he said quietly.
One could be registered, marking its system with tier and sigil.
That way others could see who you were—and what you were. A prerequisite for becoming an Explorer.
I stepped forward. He stepped back.
"I see," I said.
Then I closed the interface.
The Crown was still active. I could feel it pulsing faintly, flames dancing just under the skin of the world, waiting for a thought—waiting for me.
Waiting for me.
His sword lingered, but he didn't swing. He was afraid.
I wanted to test my abilities. Just once. But using a skill as an unsanctioned entity could get me flagged.
Then again... he saw me disappear—and return as something else. All in less than a second.
He wouldn't report this. After all, he killed a man.
I tilted my head. "I saw you. That's why you chased after me?"
He froze.
"That alley. That unawakened man. You ended him like stepping on an ant."
He didn't deny it. Just stood there—silent.
I stepped past him. Not fast. Not slow. Just enough for him to feel it.
Then, over my shoulder—
"Be more careful of your surroundings next time."
The words settled. A reminder.
Then I walked away. The fire walked with me.