Suddenly, the silent space before him shattered like a mirror pierced by force.
A bizarre vortex of energy erupted, swirling like the eye of a magical storm. At its center, minuscule lightning bolts flickered briefly, vanishing like illusions torn apart before they could fully form.
He could feel it—this vortex was ravenously devouring the mana within him, like a starving beast released after a thousand years of imprisonment.
From the chaotic spiral, hazy silhouettes began to take shape, floating midair, radiating a soft and mesmerizing glow—like ancient spirits awakening after eternal slumber.
They were strange beings, each one different in form but no larger than a child. Despite their size, every one of them emitted a pure and ancient aura, untouched by corruption—as if they hailed from an untainted world.
They fluttered around him, weightless as feathers, yet their invisible gazes made his spine tingle with unease. Were they welcoming him? Or testing him, as if gauging whether this stranger dared step into the forbidden domain of the Elemental Realm.
"Are you... Elemental Spirits?"
In response, came soft giggles—crystalline, like silver bells ringing deep in a forest—innocent and eerie at once.
One Spirit slowly drifted toward him. It was cloaked entirely in a deep black robe, concealing its form from head to toe. Beneath the hood was a void—no eyes, no nose, no mouth—only emptiness that devoured all sight.
"Who are you?" he asked, his eyes sharp as blades, piercing into that abyss.
"I am the Spirit of Shadow," came the reply—clear and cold, like a child's voice echoing from a dimension where time stood still.
Soon, the other spirits gathered as well, each with a distinct presence. They began introducing themselves, their voices harmonizing like an ancient chorus:
"I am the Spirit of Fire—the flame that scorches the darkness!" "I am the Spirit of Wind—the one who leads the skyward path!" "I am Water—the stream that never rests." "I am Wood—the quiet life beneath the earth." "I am Earth—the one who holds all things together." "I am Time—the keeper of past and future." "And I am Light—the final hope amidst despair."
After their majestic introductions, they burst into laughter like playful children released from class. Their laughter echoed through the realm, causing even the enchanted forest to tremble slightly.
"Is that all of you?" he asked, voice low, eyes sweeping over them cautiously.
"Nope~" a spirited voice chimed like a cracked musical note.
"A few of us haven't been summoned yet!" added another with a playful pout.
"Mhm... that's right!" they all chimed, like a mischievous choir before laughing again as if none of this was serious.
Gen frowned slightly. A flicker of memory resurfaced. He had once heard tales of these Spirits, though the details were veiled in fog.
"There's the Primordial Spirit—Athema." "And the Colorless Spirit—Nullen." "And the Dreamweaver Spirit—Eltharia!"
One tiny spirit spun joyfully around him, giggling as if recalling long-lost friends.
Athema. Nullen. Eltharia.
Those names struck a chord, like bells echoing through his mind—reverberations from ancient books and forgotten legends.
They were mythical Spirits, transcending elements and time, appearing only to true Heroes fated to change the world's course.
Perhaps... that final fortune had already been devoured by the ancient Hydra.
Or maybe, he simply wasn't worthy.
Not that it bothered him much. He turned back toward the Spirit of Shadow—the only one who neither laughed nor joined in the play. It simply hovered silently, a void watching everything.
"And you..." His voice was cold as shattered ice. "What's your introduction?"
The Spirit of Shadow was silent for a moment. Then, like a whisper from midnight dreams, it spoke:
"I am the Shadow—not wrath, nor salvation. I am the final stillness, the emptiness you feel between two breaths.
I wander through forgotten dreams and unspoken nightmares. I have no form. I need no gaze to exist. For whenever you close your eyes... I am what remains. Seek your promise in the dark if you must... but don't expect to leave without losing something."
When the Shadow's voice faded, the air grew heavy. The laughter vanished—suffocated as if by an invisible hand.
Even the magical forest seemed to hold its breath.
The Spirit of Fire, always blazing, dimmed its flame and backed away.
The Spirit of Wind stopped flying; its translucent wings no longer fluttered.
Even Time lowered its head, its ethereal eyes reflecting something—reverence, caution... or a warning.
Only the Spirit of Light, Shadow's opposite, remained still, staring at the cloaked void.
It spoke, slowly:
"You haven't vanished yet, Shadow...? We thought the final pact had sealed you in the Seventh Dream forever."
Shadow gave no reply. It didn't need to. Its presence was the answer.
The Spirit of Wood, ever calm, whispered like wind rustling through trees:
"Every contract has a darker side... and he is that darkness."
"Without Shadow, the pact is incomplete. Light cannot exist without something to reflect it," added Water, its voice as quiet as a frozen stream.
Gen narrowed his eyes, sensing the tension. The Spirits didn't fear him—but they knew something greater was now in motion.
He spoke, deep and steady:
"So... what is your role in this contract?"
The Spirit of Shadow slowly faced him—or perhaps it didn't move at all. For it had no face.
It answered:
"When a pact is formed, there is one chosen and one bound. The other Spirits represent elements—the world. But I... I represent what cannot be undone. Once you pass through me... all choices ahead are final."
Silence fell. No one spoke.
Until Time broke it:
"You are the Seal of the Pact. If the Shadow appears... the circle is complete. Fate begins to turn."
The Spirits glimmered faintly. They all understood. The Shadow's presence wasn't a choice—it was a harbinger. A sign of the Broken Thread of Time.
No wind, no breath—only a pressure that squeezed space itself.
Most would flee. Gen did not.
"Shadow, huh...?" He frowned, stepping forward.
No fear. No hesitation. Only observation. Cold and detached—like Time observing creation.
He had escaped death's grasp. He was no longer shackled by life or mortality. Fear was foreign—like asking a time machine if it missed the past.
"No turning back? No retreat?" Gen laughed—dry and brittle, like wind brushing the ashes of a fallen empire.
"Then let it be known... I've seen the light fade a thousand times, and watched it rise again from its own ashes."
The Spirit of Shadow stared silently. But something in the air twitched—as if even the darkness acknowledged the one before it was no ordinary being.
"So... will you form a pact with me?" Gen asked, almost carelessly.
All the Spirits turned. For a moment, the air paused—between heartbeats.
"Sure thing!" "Why not!" "Let's begin!"
They cheered in unison, their voices echoing like ancient calls from the abyss. In an instant, they returned to their lively selves—as if the earlier tension was but a dream.
Then—silence.
Without warning, without allowing Gen to prepare, they encircled him midair, forming a glowing ring with him at the center.
One by one, the Spirits began to chant—in a lost, forgotten language. Words like fragments of dreams, broken syllables slipping from ancient tongues.
The ritual had begun.
-BOOM!!-
A pillar of light burst from beneath his feet.
Waves of brilliant color—red, blue, green, yellow, white—flowed like living ribbons, wrapping around his body.
He stood within the radiant storm. His form felt torn apart and reassembled by a divine force.
Each hue carried a feeling: fury, peace, joy, longing, loneliness—all swirling together, piercing into his soul.
And then...
"Hi-hi~ Goodbye now!"
Their cheerful voices echoed, pulling him from the trance.
Gen looked up. The Spirits were dissolving into the vortex, like smoke on the wind. They waved with grins.
A final voice—neither male nor female—echoed from the Spirit of Shadow:
"From this moment... you are the fracture of destiny. Every time you use my power... the past will shift."
The last word faded. So did Shadow.
"Is it... done?" Gen muttered, watching the vortex shrink and vanish.
A beat of silence. Then he chuckled.
"I didn't expect it to be this... easy."
As for the warnings? They were mere whispers to him.
He opened his status window, eyes widening in surprise.
[Status Screen] Name: Gen | Age: 23 | Gender: Male Race: Human Title: None Class: Soldier – Intermediate HP: 1806/1806 +3200 MP: 466/908 Level: 223
Strength: 1843 Strength Resistance: 903 +80 +20 Magic: 908 Magic Resistance: 450 +60 +60 Agility: 987
Unique Skills: [Regeneration] Basic Skills: [Appraise] [Sword Mastery Lv3 (23%)] [Fire Ball Lv1] [Wind Sword Lv1] [Arrows Water Lv1] [Bind Lv1] [Walls Land Lv1] [Light Flash Lv1] [Stop Time Lv1] [The Shadow Lv1]
Status: Normal
He glanced at the skill list. A smirk tugged at his lips—a rare flicker of excitement.
Finally, he could use magic—not just swing blades.
"Let's go," he said to Dolly, the soulless puppet always silently at his side.
The second floor's mysterious forest stretched on endlessly…
Whatever business remained involving Celestia and her army? He had cast it from his mind long ago.
Return to the Imperial Capital? He would submit his resignation.
Not out of fear of responsibility, but from a sheer disgust for monotony. He was never meant to live bound by duty or conformity.
Even deep underground, this place possessed its own sky—an eerie dimension, seemingly forgotten by the outside world. A realm sealed off between reality and dreams. Above, pale light filtered through artificial clouds, illuminating the land with a consistency so unnatural, it was impossible to tell day from night.
Gen walked without pause, silently weaving his way through towering ancient trees. The wind slipping through the leaves, the soft hum of insects—all came together to form a dreamlike melody unique to the second floor of the dungeon. Occasionally, the calm was broken by the rustle of hidden creatures—weak Level 25 Goblins or poisonous Worms, far more evolved than those from the first floor.
Yet, he didn't bother lifting a finger. Such low-tier monsters offered little to no experience anymore. To the current Gen, they were nothing but meaningless steps on his journey.
Instead, he captured a Goblin and tossed it to Dolly. When she leveled up instantly after delivering the final blow, Gen couldn't help but burst into a grin.
From then on, his strategy changed.
He would simply weaken the enemy, strip away their ability to resist, and give a signal—cold and silent—for Dolly to finish them off.
Thanks to that, Dolly quickly reached Level 27. Still, Gen felt a slight regret: he had never once checked her status screen, something he should've done ages ago.
Bonk!
"I'm such an idiot..." he muttered, smacking his own forehead in frustration.
Then a spark lit in his mind. The skill [Appraise]—wasn't it meant to reveal item information? After all, Dolly was technically a special item. At the very least, he could try using it to delve deeper into the magic skills he had recently unlocked.
He had regained his memories… yet forgotten such a basic thing. Shameful.
"[Appraise]." he whispered, eyes fixed on the small figure of Dolly.
> [Loli Dolly] – Mysterious Doll
Type: Special Item
Origin: Dropped by King Bloodsucking (10% chance)
Status: Active
Activation Requirement: Inject mana into the core
Details: Requires Advanced [Appraise] to view full information.
The details flickered into view—and vanished just as quickly.
It left only a vague sense of disappointment in his eyes. Too little. Too vague. Not even worth the effort to read.
Still unfazed, he opened his Status Screen, his eyes quickly scanning the Skills section. New names had appeared—fresh and tempting. He began appraising each one like deciphering ancient dragon-script etched onto worn parchment.
> [Fire Ball]
A basic offensive skill harnessing the power of the Fire Spirit Ignisya, allowing the user to summon blazing fireballs. Damage and quantity increase with skill level.
(Not yet evolved)
> [Wind Sword]
A sharp blade of wind formed from the Spirit of Wind Zephira, spinning like a deadly vortex that slices through air and pierces enemies in an instant. Speed and precision increase upon leveling.
(Not yet evolved)
> [Arrows Water]
Summoned from the user's palm, a cold water arrow forged by the Water Spirit Neruelle, firing like lightning to pierce through any defense. Evolves to create multiple arrows.
(Not yet evolved)
> [Bind]
Vines erupt from the earth using the power of the Wood Spirit Sylvara, binding the target mercilessly. Effectiveness increases with terrain and tree density—deadly in forests.
(Not yet evolved)
> [Walls Land]
The Earth Spirit Terranox raises solid earthen walls from the ground, strong enough to block arrows and even high-level magic. Higher levels strengthen the wall like a fortress.
(Not yet evolved)
> [Light Flash]
A blinding burst of light from the Spirit Luminelle, drastically increasing the user's speed to the point where escape becomes impossible to prevent. In a blink, the enemy is left behind.
(Not yet evolved)
> [Stop Time]
A rare skill granted by the Time Spirit Chronia, freezing time for one absolute second. In that breathless instant, the strong decide the outcome.
(Not yet evolved)
> [The Shadow]
From the Shadow Spirit Umbriel, creates a duplicate with 1/10 of the user's stats and no time limit. A silent, persistent, and deadly clone. The higher the skill level, the more terrifying the shadow.
(Not yet evolved)
---
When his eyes landed on the final two—[Stop Time] and [The Shadow]—a shiver ran down his spine.
This was it. That feeling…
Why do people get addicted to games?
Because of moments like this—when you stumble upon a rare, one-of-a-kind skill. When the final piece of a chaotic puzzle clicks perfectly into your evolving power. When every old limitation gets shattered, and your curiosity and ambition ignite like wildfire.
Stop Time.
The Shadow.
He knew instantly: these were no ordinary skills. These were treasures. Gifts that appear only once in a lifetime—meant for those bold enough to cross the line.
A grin crept across his lips—not arrogant, not forced. A genuine smile born from the pure thrill of a veteran gamer discovering what he had always longed for.
Without hesitation, he resumed his journey.
After nearly half an hour weaving through tangled branches and dimming light…
Gen finally came to a stop.
In front of him stood a colossal ancient tree, its crown disappearing into the fog above. Twisted roots coiled into the earth and rose again like stone dragons, guarding a sacred relic.
Then, a familiar system message flashed before his eyes:
[Notice: Location Identified – Forest of the Dead]
[Notice: Required Level – 100]
[Notice: Activate?]
[Accept] / [Decline]
A brief flash of disappointment crossed his face. He had already far surpassed that level—meaning level-ups would become even harder from here.
But then… an idea sparked.
He might be at his limit—but Dolly wasn't.
If she became strong enough, he wouldn't have to fight anymore. He could just stay back and give orders. A perfect scenario. An employee who never asks for pay—why not make use of her?
With that thought, he decisively chose [Accept].
Space warped and twisted. Everything around him scattered like dust in a vortex.
When the light faded, they had stepped into another realm.
Still a forest—but now cloaked in death. No vibrant leaves. No chirping birds. Only barren, ash-gray trees, each with a pale human face engraved into its bark—eyes closed, as if trapped in an eternal nightmare.
[Dead Trees – Level 90]
Gen chuckled softly.
"Stay here," he told Dolly, never taking his eyes off the forest ahead.
His black cloak slipped from his shoulders. The mask hiding his identity fell to the ground.
And in that moment—
He became a blazing arrow, shooting straight into the heart of the haunted forest.
The faces carved into the trees all snapped open, eyes wide.
Roots that had once dug deep into the earth erupted, writhing like monstrous tentacles rising from ancient graves.
The earth shook. Roots hissed and slithered. The wind howled around him.
The nightmare moved—an army of horrors closing in.
Tree roots lashed out like whips in a torrential storm.
He only smirked. A gleaming sword flashed from his back.
His speed exploded.
Fwoosh! Fwoosh! Fwoosh!
The sound of slicing wind—or maybe of a blade tearing through enemies.
Every whip struck only his afterimage.
[Light Flash] activated. He became a ghost of light—untouchable.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
Each time he reappeared in front of a Dead Tree, his sword cleaved its roots. Trees fell like towers crushed beneath a storm.
The scene…
Looked like a mad lumberjack rampaging through a forest of death.