Thunder cracked across the sky, loud enough to shake the bones of the world.
Dark clouds churned above a ruined wasteland. The earth was nothing but scorched, cracked stone. Trees stood like blackened skeletons, their charred branches reaching toward the heavens like they were begging for mercy. There was no wind, no birds, no signs of life. Only lightning… and a tower.
A colossal, ancient tower stood in the middle of the wasteland, its spire tearing through the clouds like a blade.
On the highest floor—
Two figures faced each other in silence.
The air between them pulsed with mana and tension. The ground was cracked from the force of their battle. The walls were blown out. Rain never reached this place. Only sparks and death.
One stood tall, cloaked in jet-black armor, streaks of dark violet pulsing beneath the plating. His silver hair flowed in the storm. Yellow-gold eyes stared through the smoke, unblinking.
They called him The Dark One.
His voice broke the silence, calm and steady, like someone paying respect to a worthy enemy.
> "I can't believe a mere human… with only a few drops of mana left in his body… can still push me this far."
The man standing across from him was barely holding himself up. Blood dripped from his forehead, coating the edge of his jaw. His armor was cracked. His robe torn. Sparks danced across his skin — not from magic, but from sheer force.
Adel spit blood to the side and glared at him.
> "You think… just because I'm a mage… I only use magic?"
His left foot slid back. His fist clenched. Electricity danced between his knuckles.
> "Think again, you piece of shit."
And then—
His fist flew forward. Lightning sparked on impact.
A clean punch — straight to the Dark One's face.
The blow echoed like thunder.
Crack—!
Adel's fist slammed straight into the Dark One's jaw, lightning flashing from the impact. The force rocked his head to the side, and for a split second — just a second — the world stood still.
But the Dark One didn't fall.
He smiled.
Slow. Icy. Like a wolf that had just tasted blood.
His head slowly turned back, a line of blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. The grin stayed. Eyes glowing gold beneath the storm.
> "Even as a mage…" he muttered, voice low, "you dare fight in close combat?"
Suddenly, his black gauntlet surged with energy — dark mana crackling like black fire around his arm. The air around his fist distorted. Shadows twisted unnaturally, pulled toward the sheer pressure radiating from his blow.
Adel's eyes widened.
Too late.
Boom!
The Dark One's fist slammed into Adel's stomach like a cannon.
> "Gghk—!!"
The grunt tore out of Adel's throat, sharp and guttural, all the air forced out of his lungs. His body folded from the hit, ribs screaming under the pressure.
The impact wasn't just strength — it was weight. Dense, cursed mana packed into one brutal strike.
Adel's feet lifted off the ground.
Then his whole body flew — upward — like a missile.
Crack!
He hit the ceiling with a deafening smash, the stone shattering around him, sharp fragments raining down. The whole tower trembled under the force. For a moment, his back was pinned against the cracked stone—then gravity took over.
He dropped.
Hard.
Thud!
His body hit the ground like dead weight, coughing blood as he rolled over on one side, his hands trembling, chest rising and falling in uneven gasps.
"...Shit…"
Lightning flickered across his shoulder, weak and unstable.
But his eyes?
Still burning.
Heavy footsteps echoed across the broken floor.
The Dark One stepped forward, black armor clanking with each slow, deliberate movement. Shadows coiled at his feet, drawn to him like hounds returning to their master. Cracks of thunder flashed behind him, illuminating his form like a demon carved from darkness.
Adel groaned, pushing himself off the ground with one shaking arm. Blood dripped from his lips. His legs trembled as he tried to stand, every muscle in his body screaming. But still… he rose.
One foot.
Then the other.
Chest heaving. Lightning still flickering faintly across his skin. But his eyes — they never looked away.
The Dark One stopped a few steps away, his golden eyes locked onto Adel with something rare… not mockery. Not cruelty.
Respect.
"To think…" the Dark One said quietly, his voice calm but echoing with power, "a mere human… and only one… dared to climb all 99 floors of this tower."
The storm outside roared again. Distant lightning struck the wasteland far below.
He took another step forward.
"Over a thousand creatures. Cursed. Twisted. Reborn in mana and hatred. And yet… you defeated them all."
A pause. His gaze narrowed.
"I have nothing but respect for you, Adel."
The wind pulled at his cape. His right gauntlet still sizzled with dark energy.
"But respect… does not mean mercy."
Adel's fingers twitched, sparks crawling up his arm. His boots dug into the shattered stone. His breathing ragged — but steadying.
The distance between them narrowed.
The next move could kill either of them.
"There…" Adel whispered under his breath, voice low, teeth clenched through the pain. "Just a little more…"
The Dark One walked toward him slowly, his steps heavy, deliberate. Each movement echoed across the cracked floor like a death sentence. Adel didn't move, but his breathing began to change — from ragged and unstable to slow. Controlled. His fingers twitched. Lightning crawled across his arm like it was waking up.
The Dark One raised his arm high, muscles flexing, gauntlet glowing with dark mana. He towered over Adel like a reaper ready to deliver the final blow.
His palm came crashing down.
The floor exploded beneath them — and at the same time, Adel's body flared with light.
Electricity erupted around him, wild and alive, ripping through the air like a storm had been born inside his veins. His hair spiked up, turned pure white from the sheer pressure, and his eyes sharpened like lightning bolts frozen mid-flash.
The Dark One's footing broke.
His eyes widened — just slightly — as his body lurched forward from the unstable blast of force beneath him.
He was off-balance.
Adel saw the opening.
He didn't hesitate.
He pivoted on his heel, dropped his weight, and spun with a sharp, clean motion — lightning arcing around his body as his leg shot forward.
The kick smashed directly into the Dark One's jaw.
A violent crack echoed across the tower.
The Dark One's head snapped sideways. His feet lifted off the ground, body twisting in the air — and without a single word, he was sent flying, crashing through the edge of the ruined tower wall.
Chunks of stone shattered and fell like rain.
And then his body disappeared into the black storm outside.
Adel stood there, body shaking, sparks still dancing around him, chest rising and falling slow… and steady.
Adel stood in the broken remains of the tower, breathing slowly as the last sparks of lightning faded from his body. His hair, now pure white, settled as the storm around him began to calm.
He stared out through the hole where the Dark One had been launched, watching the black clouds swirl in silence.
He exhaled through his nose, almost like a tired laugh.
"As a Dark One… you should know," Adel muttered, wiping blood from his chin. "When monsters like you get flung outside the tower…"
He lowered his gaze, fists finally unclenching.
"They vanish."
The silence returned. The storm outside began to break.
Adel looked up at the sky.
"The monsters are gone. For good. I… I did it," he said under his breath. "It's over."
Then—
A sharp sound cut through the air.
The sound of a blade sliding into flesh.
Adel froze. His breath caught. His body didn't move—but his eyes did.
A sudden weight pressed against his back. Cold. Wrong. Familiar.
His eyes widened, and a sharp cough burst from his throat—blood trailing down his lips.
Behind him… a shape.
A twisted, stretched body stood over him. Grey skin, long black hair hanging like rotting vines, its face thinned out, eyes pitch black with glowing slits. A cruel, rotting grin stretched across its sharp face.
The Dark One's true form.
"Did you really think… that was enough?" the thing whispered.
"I can't die alone," it hissed, pressing the blade in deeper. "If I'm going to vanish… then I'll take you with me."
Adel's knees buckled. His mouth opened, but only blood came out.
The monster began to dissolve, its body breaking apart into black ash that scattered into the wind, carried off into nothing.
But the damage was done.
Adel looked down.
A wide hole was torn through his abdomen, blood pouring out onto the cracked stone beneath him. His vision blurred. Everything tilted.
"D-Damn it," he coughed, collapsing to one knee. "I underestimated… that son of a bitch…"
He tried to push himself up—just one more time. But his arm gave out.
"Just a little… t-too m—…"
Everything went black.
---
300 years later.
The world had changed.
Skyscrapers. Cars. Billboards. Neon lights. Phones in every hand. It was now the year 2325.
But one thing remained — power still ruled.
In the center of the city stood a huge stadium. Not for sports. Not for concerts.
For heroes.
It was called the Hero Arena.
Every year, thousands lined up to take the Hero Qualification Test. Pass it, and you could officially become a hero — someone who protects the city, gets paid by the government, and maybe even becomes famous.
Crowds filled the seats. Cameras rolled. Drones flew overhead, recording everything.
Inside the waiting area, people were warming up. Some were stretching. Some were meditating. Others were hyping themselves up with music blasting in their ears.
And sitting on a bench in the back, head down, was a white-haired boy.
Black hoodie. Plain jeans. No weapons. No gear. Just headphones hanging around his neck.
He looked tired. Or bored. Or both.
A voice called from the speaker:
"Next batch! Get ready. Enter when the gate opens."
The boy stood up.
He walked toward the gate with the others. Some glanced at him.
"Dude's not even wearing armor?"
"No mana scanner on him either. Bro's dead meat."
He ignored them.
The gate opened.
Bright sunlight hit his face.
The Hero Arena was massive — clean white floor, lines marked for different zones. Cameras zoomed in. Judges watched from above behind glass panels.
The test was about to begin.
The boy looked around. His eyes narrowed slightly.
"…So this is what the world became," he muttered.
He flexed his fingers.
A soft crackle of electricity sparked between them — just for a second.
Then it vanished.
And he walked forward.
"Now announcing… the 20th match!"
The referee's voice echoed through the giant Hero Arena, and the crowd went wild. Spotlights scanned the field as cameras zoomed in from above.
"From the West Gate… Candidate Number 1269!..Jisoo!"
A boy with messy white hair stepped forward. Hoodie zipped up, hands in his pockets, expression blank. No gear. No sword. Just… walking.
Silence.
Then some laughter from the stands.
"Who is that guy?"
"Looks like he just rolled outta bed."
"He doesn't even have a weapon!"
The crowd was clearly unimpressed.
Then the lights switched.
"And from the East Gate… representing the Mi-Rae Academy, current national sword champion… Seoyeon!"
The arena exploded with cheers.
A girl stepped out — calm, confident. Wearing a black and red school uniform, short jacket, and a silver sword strapped to her side. Her hair was jet black, tied back, and her pink eyes glowed faintly under the light. A small beauty mark sat just below her left eye.
She didn't wave. She didn't even look at the crowd.
She only looked at Jisoo.
Whispers spread fast.
"That's Seoyeon?!"
"She's more beautiful in person…"
"This'll be a flawless victory."
Way above the crowd, inside a private observation deck, two men watched from behind tinted glass.
One stood near the railing, suit sharp, smoking a cigarette.
He exhaled slowly. "…Yoh, how long you think the kid's gonna last?"
Behind him, a man in a long coat sat relaxed on a couch. His cowboy-style hat cast a shadow over his eyes. He flicked the brim with a finger and glanced down toward the field.
He chuckled, low and confident.
"I bet the white oddball wins."
The man with the cigarette raised an eyebrow. "Wins? Against her?"
The cowboy tilted his hat up slightly, revealing a small grin.
"Mhm. In any minute."
"What do you mean, any minute?"
The cowboy's grin widened just a little more.
"I mean… he can end it in any minute."
Down below, the referee raised his arm.
"Match 20—begin!"
The crowd held its breath.
Seoyeon's hand gripped her sword.
Jisoo didn't move an inch.