Gara watched from the sidelines, eyes sharp, breath held.
Leif stood still, cloaked in shadows, his aura pulsing like the quiet rumble before a storm. Across from him, the blue-furred lightning wolf held its ground, crimson eyes locked onto the human who dared defy it. Neither moved. The silence between them was taut—seconds stretched like drawn wire.
Then, Leif moved.
With a deep breath, he poured more Green Cores into his Story—[Masked Threat]—and something began to shift. The shadows that cloaked his figure didn't disperse… they gathered. Swirling around a single point before him, they thickened, warped, and slowly began to take form.
Shape emerged from nothing—dark and deliberate.
A mask.
Slick black. Two horns. Two empty eye sockets, no mouth, no expression. It was the face of something unknowable.
Without a word, Leif reached forward and placed it over his own.
The effect was instant.
It wasn't just his aura that vanished—he vanished. Not physically. He was still there, standing. But his presence, his pressure, the subtle weight that announced a powerful Player's existence... it was gone. Utterly masked.
No killing intent. No fear. No warning.
Like the world itself had forgotten him.
Even the E Ranked lightning wolf flinched, its crimson eyes darting back and forth, uncertain if its enemy still existed at all.
And Gara understood then.
It wasn't just power Leif hid.
It was the very idea of himself.
His threat was… masked.
Just like his Story Name implied.
Gara watched in shock and awe.
He knew about the mask. He had heard the descriptions. He had seen Leif use it in Playthroughs. But that didn't come close to this.
Seeing it in action—in the middle of a real battle, against a real threat—was something else entirely. It was as if the world had blinked and forgotten Leif existed. Even Gara, who knew exactly where he stood, felt his instincts falter trying to track him.
Across from him, the E Ranked lightning wolf stood frozen. Its crimson eyes flickered with confusion.
A second ago, the human was a monster—his aura oppressive, a predator in the dark. Now? Nothing. Just a boy standing quietly in the open with not even a flicker of presence to warn of danger.
The wolf tilted its head.
Then instincts overruled doubt.
Its muscles tensed, and it pounced in a single fluid motion. Lightning surged from its mouth—wild, crackling arcs of destructive force shooting toward Leif mid-leap.
In reply, Leif vanished.
One moment he stood still—an invisible shadow among the lightning—and the next, he reappeared above the wolf, like a phantom descending from the clouds. His movement was so fast, so quiet, the E Ranked monster didn't even register it. Not until it was far too late.
Leif gripped his black odachi with both hands, and struck.
It wasn't a savage blow. It wasn't flashy. It was... slow. Deliberate. The blade sank into the wolf's back with eerie precision, not to tear, not to maim—but to mark.
Then, without a word, Leif pulled the sword free and took a few calm steps back. His mask still on, his presence still veiled, he became a shadow once more.
The wolf landed heavily on the ground.
At first, it felt nothing. But then—something.
A hollow sensation. A strange void where Leif's blade had touched.
Its crimson eyes widened. A small black mark had formed on its back, like a stain cut out of existence. It couldn't feel that part of its body anymore. No nerves, no power, nothing. It was simply gone.
Its strength, too, faded with it. As if a piece of its soul had been carved out and sealed away.
The wolf trembled, staring at Leif—not as prey stares at predator, but as prey stares at something it shouldn't understand.
This human… had just taken part of it.
Gara watched in awe.
'This is his special and strongest technique… The Four Points Technique. He marks four points on a target before…' He trailed off in thought. 'Well, for a creature like this—barely scraping into E Rank—Leif won't even need all four.'
The young man with blonde hair stood motionless, his horned black mask glinting faintly under the ambient light. His gaze fixed on the blue-furred wolf, which now paced uncertainly. It didn't know whether to flee or strike.
Leif vanished once more in the next moment.
The wolf responded instantly—lightning erupted in a crackling storm, tearing into the earth where he once stood.
But he was already behind it.
No fanfare. No sound. Just a sudden presence—and then a second mark. This one landed silently on the beast's leg as Leif stepped back once more, each movement fluid, practiced, like a shadow pulling strings from the edges of reality.
The wolf released a howl—not of pain, but of confusion. Of sorrow. It looked down. Its leg was still there… it had to be there. But it couldn't feel it. Couldn't move it. And then—gone. A black mark shimmered into view, like a stain, and the leg simply ceased to exist.
It limped forward now, off balance, off rhythm.
Leif's masked face betrayed no emotion. He watched quietly, then blurred forward—blindingly fast.
The wolf tried to respond, but it couldn't. With part of its body erased, its power and reaction time had plummeted. The aura that once marked it as an E Rank threat had crumbled with its missing parts.
And then—one clean slash.
The blade severed its head mid-motion.
No resistance. No flare of defiance. Just silence.
The wolf collapsed, lifeless.
Had Leif struck the same blow at the start, it wouldn't have been enough. Even a weakened E Ranker was still too durable for a single clean hit. But this? This wasn't the same creature. Its status had unraveled, strength siphoned away through vanishing limbs.
Now, the strike landed true.
And the monster lay dead.
Leif scanned the terrain, eyes sharp beneath the mask. But no other wolves emerged from the storm-ridden slopes. Silence settled once more, broken only by the distant rumble of thunder. Satisfied, he exhaled softly and raised a hand to his face.
The black mask began to dissolve—melting into a swirling, shadowy aura that coiled around him like smoke before fading into nothing. With that, he deactivated his Original Story: [Masked Threat].
The oppressive weight of his presence returned, subtle but unmistakable.
Gara stepped forward, his face lit up with admiration and a wide, boyish grin.
"That was pretty cool," he said, awe still lingering in his voice. "I won't lie."
Leif offered a small smile in return. "Thanks," he replied simply, then added, "So, do you think you're good to go again?"
Gara gave a confident nod. "Let's get to the top and get you that rank up already."
His gaze lifted to the summit—just thirty or so meters above, shrouded in crackling blue light. Bolts of lightning split the sky, dancing wildly across the stone and clouds. But none touched them. The protective effect of the blue pill they had taken earlier shimmered faintly around their bodies, warding off the storm.
Together, they moved forward.
No more wolves came. No more obstacles rose to meet them.
And then—finally—they reached it.
The peak of the Mountain of Lightning.
Once they arrived, the two immediately began surveying the area.
The summit revealed itself as a wide, open plateau. Jagged boulders dotted the landscape, each one large enough to provide cover—but no movement stirred. No wolves prowled. No lurking Players waited in ambush. The wind howled, but the mountain peak stood still.
They scanned every corner, checked every shadow.
Nothing.
Satisfied, they lowered their guard—just slightly—and turned their eyes upward.
There it was. The true reason Leif had come to the [Rashanz] Fragment in the first place.
The sky above churned with electric fury, clouds swirling in a vortex of crackling tension. And high above, somewhere within that storm, was the thing of legend: the Golden Lightning.
It struck only once every ten minutes.
And, according to Gara's careful calculations, the next one would arrive soon—very soon.
A minute, maybe less.
Eyes upward.
The two waited in silence, breath held, every second stretching into eternity.
Then—it happened.
The sky rumbled, not like thunder but like something older, deeper. The dark grey clouds twisted, pulling apart in slow, grinding motion, as if the sky itself were being torn open. And from that jagged wound came light—blinding, golden, and immense.
The Golden Lightning.
It descended slowly, almost deliberately, as if aware of its own myth. A colossal bolt that split the sky, radiating power so absolute that even an A Ranker would be reduced to ash on contact. Yet its fall was not instant—its motion was just slow enough that even an F Ranker might have a chance to dodge, if they gave everything they had.
Leif didn't move.
He stepped directly beneath it, eyes locked on the burning trail above. From his pocket, he retrieved a small yellow pill and swallowed it without hesitation. Then he stood still, waiting.
Gara took several steps back. He didn't have a golden pill like Leif did. The blue one they'd taken earlier only protected against the standard lightning surging across the mountain—not this. Not the terror descending from above.
So Gara kept his distance.
Eyes wide.
Body tense.
The golden lightning inched closer.
Leif took a deep breath—and waited.
The bolt drew closer—so close now it lit the entire summit in gold.
The air vibrated with raw force. The ground trembled beneath its weight.
And yet, Leif stood unmoving. Blond hair tousled by the wind, mask off, eyes calm.
From the sidelines, Gara watched with wide eyes, heart pounding.
The Golden Lightning was about to pulverize him.
He believed in the pill—had to. The yellow pill was meant to protect Leif. Not just shield him, but help him absorb the strike. If it worked, the result wouldn't be death—but evolution.
Power.
Gara clenched his fists. 'Come on… it has to work.'
Because this wasn't just about surviving.
It was about advancement.
Leif's Inherited Story, [Lightning Dance], originally ranked at SSS, had been forcibly suppressed to F Rank to match his current level. That meant it only needed a fraction of the Golden Lightning's power to jump to E.
And the rest? The rest would go to his Original Story, [Masked Threat].
That was the plan.
Split the impossible energy.
Use one part to unlock the next stage of a legacy built by someone else—and the other to evolve a legacy Leif was building himself.
From F Rank… to E.
A storm's judgment—channeled into growth.
But just before the Golden Lightning could make contact—something intervened.
Gara's body jolted, a shiver crawling up his spine as a surge of energy swept through the field.
An aura.
E Rank.
Sharp and distinct.
A Player had entered the battlefield—uninvited, unwanted, and with purpose twisted against theirs.
Before either of them could react—before Leif could brace or Gara could shout—a translucent blue cover shimmered into existence above Leif's head. It wasn't solid. It wasn't even particularly strong. But it wasn't meant to be.
Water.
The cover rippled faintly, its surface flowing like a suspended current. Water had been infused into it, just enough to act as a conductor—enough to soften the incoming blow.
And then… redirect it.
The Golden Lightning, aimed squarely at Leif, shifted.
Tilted.
And began to fall—toward Gara.
Gara's heart skipped a beat.
Everything froze.
He didn't have time to move. No time to think. No chance to scream. One moment, the Golden Lightning was aimed at Leif. The next—it was coming for him.
It struck.
The world flashed white.
In that single instant, Gara's body was overwhelmed. The searing bolt crashed into him like a hammer, detonating against his chest with a thunderclap that shattered stone. His outline burned into the air, silhouetted in blinding gold.
And then—he began to come apart.
Not in blood. Not in flame.
But in ash.
First, the outer layer of his skin peeled away in flakes of glowing red, lifting into the air like fireflies in reverse. Then muscle, charred and cracked, broke apart in slow motion—his form unraveling from the outside in. Even his bones glowed, fissured, and disintegrated into fine dust.
For one surreal second, he was still standing.
A phantom made of glowing embers.
And then the wind carried him away.
Gone.
Gara... Had died.
...
[Blue Waves] watched from afar as Leif faced off against the E Ranked lightning wolf. His gaze was calm, but there was a flicker of something beneath it—something close to respect.
A little impressed.
He remembered his own days at F Rank—how raw and unrefined his power had been. Watching Leif now, he couldn't help but draw comparisons. The boy had potential.
And it irritated him.
Of course it did.
But he had to admit it—Leif handled the wolf better than he could have at that stage. Faster. Cleaner. More precise. [Blue Waves] would've still won, of that he was certain—but not without effort. Not like that.
His eyes shifted.
Beside him stood the figure known as [Blue Cover], silent and composed.
[Blue Waves] exhaled, shaking his head slightly.
If Leif and Gara worked together against [Blue Cover], it was now obvious to him they'd win.
[Blue Cover] was an E Ranker—and not just any E Ranker. He wielded an Original Story. That alone meant he should've been able to handle at least four, maybe even seven F Rankers with Original Stories. More, if they only carried Borrowed Stories.
But Gara and Leif weren't just any F Rankers.
They were different.
In the Story World, your power didn't come only from Cores or combat skill. The name of your Story held weight—real weight. It defined potential, depth, and sometimes even destiny.
If your Story Name was something like [Candy], you might as well not show up to a fight against someone with a name like [Emperor]. Power recognized power—and names carried truth.
It was no accident that those who stood at the pinnacle of the Story World bore titles like the [Gold Emperor], the [Dragon King], or the [Last Emperor].
Names that demanded respect. Names that shaped reality.
Gara's Story, [Root of All Things], implied origin. Infinity. A force that was the root of all things.
Leif's [Masked Threat] whispered of danger so immense, it needed to be hidden.
Compared to those—[Blue Cover] was just that. A cover. A defense. A name without edge or depth.
And it showed.
[Blue Waves] let out a quiet sigh, low and restrained.
He asked again about [Black Cover]'s current status. It had been too long—and the delay was beginning to grate on him. By now, it was obvious. Without the D Ranker, [Blue Cover] alone wouldn't be enough to handle Gara and Leif.
[Blue Cover] flinched under the weight of the question. He didn't dare meet [Blue Waves]'s gaze—he couldn't. Not when the man before him was an SS Ranker. His eyes dropped, his voice cautious.
"Master... he just contacted me actually. Said he'll need at least fifteen minutes before he can make it."
[Blue Waves] grunted, sharp and annoyed.
Sensing the tension spike, [Blue Cover] rushed to add something—anything—to ease it.
"Master, he at least took care of the D Ranker on [White Space]'s side... So that's good, right?"
There was no answer.
[Blue Waves] didn't speak. He just turned back to the scene ahead, cold eyes focused on the duo now reaching the peak of the Mountain of Lightning.
Gara and Leif had arrived.
And they looked like they were waiting—waiting for the Golden Lightning to fall
"It's time to act," [Blue Waves] said, his voice calm and absolute.
With a subtle motion of his hand, large waves surged into existence—not on the ground, but in the air.
[Blue Cover] stepped forward without hesitation and touched one of the waves. Instantly, the surface solidified beneath his feet, turning firm enough to stand on. He rose with it, steady and silent, now riding the floating water under [Blue Waves]'s control.
The waves moved.
Directed by [Blue Waves], they began drifting toward the Mountain of Lightning, swift and soundless.
But he wasn't done.
With a gesture, he cast out dozens of sharp-edged waves, each slicing through the landscape below. They tore through every spot Gara and Leif had passed since first entering the [Rashanz] Fragment.
Cleansing.
Purging.
He washed the paths clean—like water rinsing filth from stone—erasing the traces the duo had left behind.
Then, he stepped forward.
Another wave formed beneath him—smaller, tighter, yet just as obedient. It rose silently, lifting [Blue Waves] into the air.
He floated effortlessly and began his approach.
The Mountain of Lightning loomed ahead, and now, he too was on the move—gliding toward it with measured inevitable grace.
The moment he advanced, he felt it—subtle, silent, but undeniable.
Space shifted.
He couldn't see it with his eyes, but his senses told him everything. He had stepped into it.
[White Space]'s Domain.
The air itself grew lighter, thinner—his power dipped slightly, like water losing pressure through a crack. But he remained calm. He had expected this. Prepared for it.
It didn't matter.
He wasn't here for a battle. Not truly.
His purpose was singular: keep [White Space] distracted—occupied—while the Cover Club members he'd brought along finished the real task.
Eliminating Gara and Leif.
"It's been a while since I fought against a fellow SS Ranker… and especially one as tricky as you, [White Space]," [Blue Waves] said, his voice calm but edged with amusement. He hovered steadily atop the narrow wave beneath him, one hand stroking the thick blue beard lining his chin.
A chuckle answered him, aged and amused. The voice came from nowhere—and everywhere.
"Hahaha! Young ones these days... How about it? Once we're out of this Fragment, let's have a rematch in the [Training Grounds] and see who's truly stronger."
[Blue Waves] smirked, a quiet laugh rumbling in his throat.
"Good that you chose to enter a Virtual Fragment… Otherwise, I'm afraid if we fought in the Story World, I might end up opening the door of death for you. Seeing as you're already standing at its threshold, old man."
The old man only laughed in response, the sound light and careless, echoing across the invisible Domain.
Then, they appeared.
Dozens—no, hundreds—of white papers drifted silently into view, as if summoned from the air itself. They moved without wind, gliding and spinning like they had a will of their own.
[Blue Waves] remained still.
He didn't flinch. Didn't raise a brow. His sharp blue eyes followed the papers calmly, tracing their path as they converged.
In moments, they aligned and locked into position, forming a perfect white square around him—a prison of parchment.
He gave a small shake of the head and let out a low chuckle.
"C'mon now, old man? You're basically making it easy for me like this," he muttered.
With a casual motion of his hand, a ripple echoed through the air. In the next instant, blue waves surged to life, crashing outward in all directions.
They slammed against the walls of white, testing the trap.
The white paper trap shattered.
Under the crushing force of [Blue Waves]'s surge, the square collapsed, bursting outward in a storm of fragments. But the paper didn't fall.
Soaked and torn, it twisted midair—reshaped by the water pressure. Each scrap sharpened, edges honed to razor-thin blades. In a blink, what once imprisoned now became a hundred deadly darts, curved and jagged, all turning inward with lethal intent.
They came at him from every direction.
[Blue Waves] didn't flinch.
With a second flick of his hand, thick walls of water erupted around him—fluid barriers that moved like living shields. The sharpened paper hit them in rapid succession, striking, slicing, but finding no purchase. The water soaked them again, deeper this time, until their structure weakened, their strength faded, and finally, they crumbled to pulp and dropped harmlessly into the open air.
All around him, wet scraps rained downward.
[Blue Waves], still standing atop a ripple of hovering wave, didn't look impressed.
He stood untouched—surrounded by his element, high above the ground.
[Blue Waves] chuckled low, brushing a drip of water from his beard as his voice echoed inside the domain of white paper.
"Are you testing me or something? Or afraid you'll draw too much attention from the nearby Rashanz? Maybe you're scared of the Reciter?" His smirk was audible even through the rippling waves of tension in the air.
Silence answered first—thick and deliberate—before the familiar voice of [White Space] floated back, almost amused, "Scared? Hah... I've just learned to enjoy watching pups bark before they realize the leash is already around their neck."
But [Blue Waves] didn't rise to the bait. He remained relaxed, standing atop his tide-forged platform like a noble surveying his domain.
'He's stalling me. Just like I'm stalling him,' he thought lazily.
It was fun, in its own way.
Not exactly the grand battle his younger self would have chased, but entertaining nonetheless. And besides, his mission didn't demand victory—just time.
Let [White Space] waste his tricks. Let the domain pulse and shift and try its best to trap him. All [Blue Waves] needed to do was remain—loud, distracting, and in the way.
A little demeaning for an SS Ranker?
Sure.
But the payment in high-grade Cores made it more than tolerable.
...
Leif's eyes fixed on the smoldering remnants where Gara had just stood. The Golden Lightning's impact had been devastating—an unstoppable force that could fell even an A Ranker in an instant. For an F Ranker like Gara, survival wasn't even a question.
The bolt had come with a terrifying inevitability—slow enough that a sharp mind might dodge, but too sudden for Gara's reflexes to save him. The young man had been engulfed in blinding light, his form unraveling until only ash remained—a silent testament to the lethal power of the legendary strike.
Leif's eyes snapped upward to the shimmering blue shield hovering in the air—a translucent cover drenched in water droplets that glistened like liquid glass. That very shield had intercepted the legendary Golden Lightning, bending its fatal course away from Leif himself, redirecting it mercilessly toward Gara.
No hesitation. No doubt. The signature of [Blue Cover] was undeniable.
And the way the water clung to the shield, resisting the destructive force without shattering—Leif knew this wasn't just the work of an ordinary E Ranker. This was backed by the power of [Blue Waves], the SS Ranker whose mastery over water had made the impossible happen: a perfect, unbroken barrier against the unstoppable.
The blonde-haired young man's aura flared instantly, a surge of raw energy signaling the awakening of his Original Story—[Masked Threat]. A dense, peak F Rank presence radiated from him, heavy and commanding.
With deliberate focus, Leif funneled Green Cores into his story, and the swirling shadows around him thickened, coalescing into a sleek black mask. Two sharp horns curved upward from its edges; there was no nose, no mouth—only two empty, hollow eye sockets staring back into nothingness.
Without hesitation, he lifted the mask and slid it over his face. The moment it settled, his very presence seemed to vanish.
He remained standing—fully visible—but the oppressive aura that once marked him as a powerful Player had vanished entirely. To any onlooker, he might as well have been an ordinary person.
In the blink of an eye, Leif summoned a long, black odachi, its blade gleaming ominously in the muted light.
All this—his aura's rise, the mask's formation, the blade's summoning—happened in mere seconds, a swift, fluid display of deadly precision.
Leif's eyes scanned the surroundings, sharp and searching, waiting for [Blue Cover] to reveal himself. But there was nothing—no sign of the figure who had intercepted the Golden Lightning.
The watery blue shield that had once shimmered, blocking the fatal strike and redirecting it toward Gara, had vanished completely. It was as if it had never existed—no ripple, no trace left behind.
—End of Chapter.
-------
Gara?
Gara: Hey Leif, remember a few chapters back when I was talking about you dying in the future and whatnot?
Leif: Yeah, I do. It was rude of you, but it made sense.
Gara: Haha! Funny how I died instead, right? I guess being on the cover means nothing these days, does it?
Leif: I guess so.
Gara: But like Leif... You didn't even drop a single tear for my sake, did I really mean that little to you? I mean, sure, we only hung out for like four days but still...
Leif: Shut up, I'm cornered by an E Ranker, I don't have the time to mourn you at the moment, I'll do it later if I remember.
Gara: Wow... Tsk, why's everyone just mean to me all the time?