—Hey, Snow.
A familiar voice echoed from the phone speaker.
Snow didn't respond immediately. He remained still, silent, waiting for her to speak further.
—I... apologize for not seeing you off, the voice said quietly.
"It's fine," Snow replied, his voice calm, distant.
—I've also rescheduled the dungeon. It'll be in two days, she continued.
"That's fine," he repeated. "Take your time."
—Alright... see you in two days.
"..."
He said nothing more and ended the call.
Now seated alone in his apartment, Snow stared into the dim light filtering through the window. He had just returned from the Faithhood estate, and although Ruciel's call lingered in the air, his mind was elsewhere—on the system that had begun behaving strangely since earlier.
Glitches, delays, unfamiliar prompts.
Then, before he could form another thought, a radiant golden screen flashed before his eyes.
DING
===========================
THE HEART SYSTEM HAS SUCCESSFULLY MERGED WITH THE USER
===========================
DING
===========================
THE HEART SYSTEM SHALL GUIDE THE HOST ACCORDING TO THE WILL OF THE CREATOR
===========================
DING
===========================
FULL SYSTEM UPDATE COMPLETE
===========================
DING
===========================
THE HEART SYSTEM SHALL NOW AUTOMATICALLY ALLOCATE ALL OF YOUR ACCUMULATED POINTS
===========================
"What...?" Snow muttered, eyes widening.
Before he could read further, pain struck.
It was immediate. Unforgiving.
His body convulsed violently as every nerve was lit aflame. The sound of bones cracking echoed through the room. His muscles twisted and contorted, reshaping and compressing as if being reforged. A scream erupted from his throat, raw and primal, shaking the very walls of the building.
It sounded like something was attacking from within.
Snow clenched his jaw. No. He wouldn't pass out. Not this time.
The agony dragged on, stretching into what felt like an eternity.
Minutes passed. Then longer. And finally—his body went limp. He collapsed to the floor, gasping, blood and sweat pooling beneath him. His skin burned. His chest rose and fell like a man who had returned from the brink of death.
And still... he endured.
Slowly, he sat up, back pressed weakly against the edge of the bed, and opened his eyes just as a new screen emerged.
===========================
[PROFILE]
NAME: Snow Quincy
GENDER: Male
AGE: 22 (FROZEN)
TITLE: Next Successor
LEVEL: 1
STATS:
• Strength: 100 (FROZEN)
• Stamina: 100 (FROZEN)
• Intelligence: 100 (FROZEN)
• Arcane: 100 (FROZEN)
• Dexterity: 100 (FROZEN)
UNIQUE SKILL: Pathfinder
PASSIVE SKILL: Eyes of Truth → Ukris Sight
ACTIVE SKILLS: Twin Star Blade Dance, Finger Flick
EGO: Starlight
EGO STATUS: Happy
EGO: Unknown
EGO STATUS: Curious
POINTS AVAILABLE: 0
===========================
===========================
[INVENTORY]
• Crystals ×999
• Crescent Flower ×999
• Ore ×999
• Klin Rose ×999
• Loretta Due
• Ice Flower ×450
• Dagger of Truth
• Flame Sky Equipment Set
• Skill Cards ×5
• Title Cards ×2
• EGO
• EGO Evolution Shards ×60
===========================
Snow blinked at the numbers, disbelief filling his chest.
"...Are you kidding me?"
His stats—every single one of them—had soared beyond the capabilities of even top-tier S-Rank Hunters. He had never seen figures like this before. He wasn't just strong now—he had transcended what the world considered peak.
But there was something odd.
"Frozen...?"
His gaze narrowed. All of his stats—frozen. Even his age. Why?
Was this part of the Heart System's integration? Or perhaps the result of Ukris's blessing—the one whispered about in fragments of divine prophecy?
His heart stirred with cautious pride, but when his eyes fell on the inventory list, his expression faltered again.
He had everything... and yet somehow, the screen gave him a strange sense of unease.
"Ego...?"
Snow narrowed his eyes, bringing out what looked like a shimmering orb—its surface pulsed faintly, like the gentle glow of stars suspended in glass. He held it carefully in his palm, watching as constellations seemed to swirl within it.
The memory struck him immediately.
—This was the orb Ukris had embedded into his chest.
His curiosity deepened. What was it exactly? Why had it been given to him?
As if to answer his thoughts, a familiar golden screen materialized before him.
=========================
UKRIS SIGHT ACTIVATED
=========================
=========================
EGO STATUS
EGO NAME: ???
EGO LVL: ???
EGO STATUS: CURIOUS
DESCRIPTION: Last Will of UKRIS
NOTE: You have not met the requirement to use this EGO
=========================
"What?!" Snow's voice rose sharply. "How have I not met the requirement?!"
The frustration was immediate. He had merged with the Heart System, survived its violent awakening, and even received Ukris' blessing—yet he was still considered unworthy?
But before he could question it further, the orb began to dissolve.
His eyes widened as the glowing sphere melted into his skin, vanishing as if it had never existed. He raised his hand, flicked his fingers, checked his pulse, his arms—nothing. No light, no aura. Just silence.
It was... gone.
He sighed in defeat. "Fine... be that way."
Setting it aside, he turned to the other rewards—the Skill Cards and Title Cards. With a flick of his hand, he activated the first.
=========================
SKILL CARD HAS BEEN ACTIVATED
=========================
=========================
YOU HAVE ACQUIRED A NEW SKILL: "IMMUNITY"
=========================
Then came the second.
=========================
TITLE CARD HAS BEEN ACTIVATED
=========================
=========================
YOU HAVE ACQUIRED A NEW TITLE: "EGO SOVEREIGN"
=========================
Snow blinked, stunned.
"...'Ego Sovereign'?"
He couldn't hide the awe in his expression. Just moments ago, he had been writhing in agony, wondering if his body would survive the transformation. Now, he sat there, surrounded by power he never imagined would be his.
All of it—his rewards, his stats, his title—they were far beyond what even an A-Rank Hunter could hope to dream of.
For the first time in a while, he felt... satisfied.
A rare, fleeting smile tugged at his lips as he leaned back slightly, the pain of before momentarily forgotten.
"Guess I'm B-Rank now... maybe even A," he muttered under his breath.
And yet, he wasn't ready to reveal it. Not yet. This strength... this transformation—it didn't feel like something to parade. Not when even his system was still behaving strangely.
Because as he looked ahead, the one screen that had been bothering him all day was still hovering before him.
DING!
============================
WHAT OPTION WOULD YOU LIKE TO CHOOSE?
FORM ONE / FORM TWO
============================
Snow sighed deeply.
"Still here, huh..."
Rather than choose, he dismissed the window temporarily. He stood up, scanned the room—still messy from earlier—and began to clean in silence. Afterward, he headed toward the bathroom.
But as he passed the mirror, he froze.
There, reflected back at him, was a figure almost unrecognizable.
His once lean body had filled out with defined muscle, perfectly proportioned for his frame. His jawline had sharpened, and his golden eyes now gleamed with an unnatural brilliance. Even his earring shimmered faintly, polished as though freshly forged.
Yet what caught his attention most... was the mark on his chest.
A tattoo, etched just above the left side—ancient, elegant, glowing faintly beneath his skin.
Snow furrowed his brow. "When did I...?"
He rubbed at it, even tried scrubbing. It didn't vanish.
"Hmph... Guess I'll leave it," he muttered. "It's not like anyone's going to see it."
And with that, he stepped into the shower.
Minutes later, wrapped in a towel around his waist and another draped over his head, Snow emerged from the bathroom. Steam clung to his skin as he rubbed his damp hair, the calm of post-shower warmth settling in.
DING DONG!
The sudden chime of the doorbell broke the silence.
"...Huh?"
He paused, hand still toweling his head.
Who could that be? he wondered.
It can't be her, right?
He knew Ruciel wouldn't ring the bell. She had a spare key—and had even given one to Lisa not long ago.
Snow stepped forward and opened the door casually...
Only to find himself staring at a young lady—with striking black hair, her presence sharp and unfamiliar.
She stood silently at his doorway.
And Snow... simply blinked.
DING!
============================
PATHFINDER HAS DETECTED A BUD
============================
Snow blinked in confusion as the golden system screen appeared once more before his eyes.
"...A bud?"
His gaze shifted back to the young woman standing at his door. She had sharp, pale-white eyes that seemed to glow subtly under the hallway light. Her hair was raven-black, cascading just below her shoulders, and her figure—though slender—carried a captivating strength. She wore an oversized black shirt that draped down to her thighs, accompanied by tight yoga pants that framed her well-toned legs.
She wasn't just attractive—she had presence.
Her gaze swept over him with the same sharpness she used in her tone.
"Hey," she said, not waiting for formality. "The other tenants have raised a complaint."
Snow blinked. "...A complaint?"
"Yes. Something about a loud scream coming from this section," she replied, arms folded as she eyed him—shirtless, still wet from his shower, with towels barely covering his body.
"Ah... I apologize," he said calmly.
"Just... keep it down," she added.
"I will."
She tilted her head slightly. "You're new, right? I don't recognize you, and you're not in the penthouse complex's chat group."
"Oh. Yeah, I moved in about a month ago," Snow replied.
"I see," she muttered, giving him a quick once-over—this time slower, less confrontational. The subtle awe in her gaze didn't go unnoticed.
"...You must be a hunter," she said, voice softer now.
"You could say that."
"I guess we'll be seeing each other more often, then. Now that I'm back."
Snow raised a brow. "And you are?"
She straightened her posture, as if formally introducing herself. "Theresa. Theresa William."
"...William?" Snow echoed, puzzled.
"Yes. You're probably thinking of my father—Johan William."
"Ah... forgive me. I didn't know he had a daughter."
"It's fine. My brother's more well-known than me, anyway."
"I see," Snow replied, his tone flat—neither interested nor dismissive.
DING!
============================
THE BUD BEFORE YOU HAS POTENTIAL TO GROW.
THE PATHFINDER WISHES YOU TO CARVE A PATH FOR HER TO WALK.
============================
DING!
============================
WOULD YOU LIKE TO SUPPORT THIS BUD TO BLOOM?
YES / NO
============================
Snow narrowed his eyes at the screen. Unlike the gem-like notifications he'd received before, this one felt different. Less about reward, more about guidance.
What is this...? he thought. Does it lead to something greater?
Without hesitation, he selected:
YES.
DING!
============================
YOU HAVE CHOSEN TO SUPPORT THIS BUD.
PLEASE OFFER HER A CLASS CHANGE.
============================
He turned his attention back to her, wondering why the system was requesting such a thing—was she really someone important to his path?
Theresa hadn't noticed anything amiss. She exhaled and continued, "Anyway, I came to warn you because of the other tenants."
She paused, then pulled out her phone. "By the way, give me your contact. I'll add you to the group chat."
"Sure."
Snow disappeared briefly into his apartment and returned with his phone. With a quick scan, their contacts were exchanged.
"Alright," she said, turning to leave. "I guess that's all."
But just before she could step away, Snow asked, "May I ask what your class is?"
She stopped, glancing at him over her shoulder.
"...Why do you want to know?"
"Just curious."
"I'm a Mage," she answered. "I specialize in elemental spells."
"A mage?" Snow repeated, his voice carrying a tinge of disappointment.
She caught it immediately.
"What? Why that face?"
"Nothing," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "I just thought... with your build, you'd make a great swordswoman."
"..."
Theresa didn't respond at first. Her eyes flickered slightly, as if something about his words stirred a forgotten memory.
A blade? He's not the first to say that... she thought. That noisy girl said something similar...
"You don't have to listen to me," Snow continued, his tone softening. "But give it a try. Maybe just once. You might surprise yourself."
He gave her a faint smile.
"Take care, Miss Theresa."
With that, the door closed behind him.
Theresa stood quietly in the hallway, staring at the door. Her expression was unreadable.
"...Who the hell is that guy?" she murmured.
It had been a long time since she returned to the continent. Her plans to return to Europe were still pending... but something about this brief encounter lingered in her mind.
She pulled out her phone and began typing in the group chat.
//Does anyone know our new neighbor?//
Theresa's fingers moved quickly across her phone screen as she stepped inside her apartment, closing the door behind her.
//What neighbor?//
A profile with a cat-face avatar responded almost instantly.
//The one that moved in a month ago,// she replied.
//Oh, don't you know?//
This time it came from a contact with a cute child-face emoji.
//Know what?//
Theresa's brow furrowed as she kicked off her sneakers and walked toward her living room, dropping her gym bag beside the couch.
//Snow Quincy...Check him out on ZNET.//
//He's very well known.//
Theresa paused. Very well known?
//Alright, thanks,// she replied before collapsing onto her couch.
She pulled up her browser and typed in the name: "Snow Quincy."
Moments later, dozens of articles, images, and videos filled her screen.
"...Oh wow," she whispered, eyes widening slightly. "He's... kind of famous."
She scrolled further, pausing at an image. "But if this is how he used to look... how does he look even younger and more handsome now?"
A faint blush rose to her cheeks as she recalled the way the towel had clung to his body, revealing a chiseled frame that looked sculpted by divine hands. She cleared her throat and quickly tossed the phone aside.
"Not like it matters anyway."
Still, the image of his figure lingered in her mind.
"...He said I should try using a blade, huh..."
Her expression softened, laced with subtle curiosity.
Then, with that thought circling her mind, she made her way to bed and fell asleep.
Morning came like a crashing meteor.
Snow was already up and dressed, his usual lethargy replaced with composed urgency. Today, he had an appointment with the Bright Family—the conglomerate managing several of his assets and businesses.
He stepped out of his apartment clad in layered shades of black and gray. A snug black shirt hugged his frame beneath a long, gray fur-collared coat. His tailored black pants and dark sneakers gave him the air of a man too polished to be casual, yet too dangerous to be called simply stylish.
His jewelry—minimalist but striking—added an edge that made him look like a celebrity rather than a hunter.
Still, there was one problem.
"...Too tight," he muttered, tugging slightly at his sleeve. It was clear his recent growth spurt—post-Asmodeus—had rendered most of his wardrobe obsolete.
That's why his first stop was Bright Fashion.
But just as he stepped out, a voice called to him.
"It's you."
Snow paused and turned.
Theresa stood by her door, clearly just returning from a jog. She was flushed and slightly drenched in sweat, a half-open bottle of water in one hand. Her shoulder-length black hair was tied back in a ponytail, and she wore a white tank top with green accents, black joggers with matching green stripes, and white sneakers.
Snow offered a casual nod. "Good morning."
"I never got your name last night," she said, catching her breath.
"Snow."
"Alright, see you around, Snow," she said with a small wave, unlocking her door and stepping inside.
Snow chuckled quietly, amused by her timing. "She's... interesting."
Shrugging it off, he headed to the elevator and then to Bright Fashion.
A little while later, Snow exited the boutique with both hands full of sleek paper bags. His new look was striking—he wore a fitted grey turtleneck beneath a dark long coat with side straps, matching black pants and sneakers completing the outfit.
He looked flawless.
So flawless, in fact, that passersby turned their heads just to stare. A pair of girls nearly collided as they walked by, whispering excitedly.
Snow paid no mind.
He loaded the bags into his trunk and made his way toward his next destination: the hotel.
The moment he arrived, it was chaos.
Crowds had gathered outside the hotel entrance, with flashes of cameras flickering like fireworks. Snow slowed down, glancing around curiously.
Is there an event going on? he wondered as he parked near the front.
The moment he stepped out of the car, the atmosphere shifted.
Cameras turned. Photographers blinked, momentarily stunned. Some didn't recognize him right away, but the way he looked—youthful, tall, striking—made many think he was a high-profile model or a rising idol.
Snow ignored the attention and approached the entrance. He pulled out a sleek black card and held it up.
The staff guarding the door immediately bowed and opened the path.
But the crowd outside was abuzz.
"Hey, did you hear?" one woman whispered to her colleagues.
"Hear what?"
"Kyle Fredhind and Ruciel Faithhood attended the Lucent Party today."
"What?!"
"Yeah, I heard they even booked a room. And the media's buzzing about why Snow Quincy hasn't shown up yet."
Another male voice joined in, "I heard the Association's been watching him ever since that premonition report. Maybe he's scared to go public."
"Pfft, yeah right."
Their laughter rippled through the group, but Snow—having overheard every word—remained unfazed.
The Lucent Party was one of the most prestigious annual gatherings—a blend of hunters, elites, and celebrities. It was an event designed for connections, alliances, and quiet negotiations.
And apparently, today... so was he.
Snow hadn't realized today was the day of the Lucent Party.
He had been so wrapped up in responsibilities, adjustments, and recent events that it had completely slipped his mind. Even so, he wasn't surprised by the fanfare outside the hotel. The Lucent Party always brought out the crowd—hunters, celebrities, influencers, press, and opportunists alike.
What did catch his attention, however, were the names murmured among the onlookers.
Kyle Fedhind... and Ruciel Faithhood?
Snow paused in step, eyes narrowing slightly.
I thought Scarlet said she'd be staying with her father, he thought.
Did I... hear her wrong?
There was no time to dwell on it. He moved forward, toward the elevator—but before he could press the button, the doors slid open to reveal a small crowd already inside. They hadn't noticed him until he stepped in.
And then chaos.
"Hey—wait, isn't that SNOW!?" a man blurted, his eyes going wide.
"Snow?!"
Two young women gasped and quickly closed the space between them and Snow, practically dragging him into the elevator with them.
"Look who it is!" another exclaimed, already pulling out her phone. "Guys, we're live streaming right now—YES, it's SNOW! I'm a huge fan!"
"C'mon, this is a once-in-a-lifetime chance," a guy added, adjusting his glasses as he turned to the camera. "You don't just get to ride the elevator with Snow Quincy every day!"
Comments began flooding into the live feed.
//SNOW? Why Snow? He's the LORD OF BUFF.//
"'Lord of Buff'?" the streamer echoed, chuckling. "Okay, okay, we need a better nickname for him, people."
Meanwhile, a few of the girls had handed Snow pens and asked for autographs on everything from notepads to phone cases. He obliged them all with a relaxed smile.
Photos were taken, poses struck. Snow remained composed but clearly surprised by the sudden wave of attention.
Then came the question.
"So, Snow... would you mind doing a quick interview with us?" the guy with glasses asked, holding up his phone slightly higher.
"Interview?" Snow raised a brow.
"Just a few questions, really short. Live Q&A."
Snow offered a small nod. "Alright."
A cheer erupted from the group.
//Quick! Ask him about the prophecy!// a comment read.
The streamer grinned. "Right, first question—people want to know: what do you think about the prophecy you made?"
Snow's gaze softened as his voice turned thoughtful. "The vision I saw... it warned of a coming global outbreak. A catastrophe led by an entity called—or titled—the Chronos Avatar AZAZELLION."
He paused.
"I don't have solid evidence, but I feel that if we don't prepare, the current generation of hunters might not be enough to stop him."
Murmurs filled the elevator.
"So," the streamer pressed, "you're saying hunters of today might not be able to defeat this 'Chronos Avatar AZAZELLION'?"
"If Ibrahim and Arthur were to fight side by side," Snow said, "then perhaps—perhaps—there might be hope."
The crowd stiffened at his tone.
"But," he continued, "even then, if the Chronos Avatar unleashes his ultimate ability, something that manipulates time... the outcome could still be tragic."
"And yet," Snow added, "there is one person who can counter him."
"Someone who can fight against the Chronos Avatar?" the guy asked eagerly. "Who?"
Snow's reply was calm. "Scarlet."
Gasps broke out.
"Scarlet?!"
It was the name of RUCIEL dragon and now to many watching live, a controversy brew
//He's just trying to give Ruciel Faithhood the spotlight.//
"She's your girlfriend," the streamer said, glancing at the comment feed. "People think you might be biased."
Snow laughed softly. "That might be true," he said. "But facts are facts. Scarlet Flames have the power to distort time and space. That alone makes her a threat to Chronos Avatar."
He hesitated for a beat, his smile fading. "But I worry her growth might halt if she becomes too distracted."
Silence followed. Even the feed quieted for a moment, stunned by how casually—but sincerely—he had spoken.
Then the streamer cleared his throat. "So, if you're not attending the Lucent Party... why are you at the Bright Hotel?"
"I'm here for a business deal," Snow said with a smile. "Actually, I just opened a new shop."
He pulled out his phone, turning the screen toward the camera to reveal a glowing QR code.
"This is the site. You can order all kinds of buffs, potions, and meals from my café—and only those who scan this code will receive a 40% discount. Forty slots left, first come, first served."
As if on cue, the elevator dinged.
They stepped out into a high-class hallway, the carpet plush and the walls lined with doors of elegantly lacquered wood. The group followed Snow closely, still filming and chatting excitedly.
"Thank you," Snow said as he turned to them, "for letting me use your platform."
He reached into his coat and brought out five vials—clear glass, glowing slightly with the enchanted potions inside.
"Here," he said, offering them one by one.
But something was wrong.
The excited chatter had gone silent.
The streamers weren't looking at the vials—they were staring past him, expressions frozen in shock.
Snow furrowed his brow. "...What is it?"
He turned around.
At the far end of the hallway, one of the hotel room doors had just opened.
And out stepped Kyle Fredhind, open shirt, arms loosely wrapped around Ruciel Faithhood—her body barely covered in a pair of towels as she leaned into a kiss.
The moment froze.
The camera, still live, had captured everything.
Snow stood there, vial still extended in his hand, his expression slowly blanking out as he took in what he was seeing.
His chest tightened. Something inside him cracked.
Fury. Hurt. Disbelief. Shame—for trusting what he wanted to believe rather than what he knew deep down.
"...So this is what you meant by staying with your father," he muttered under his breath.
But even as anger simmered beneath his skin, the only expression on Snow's face was a cold, bitter smile.
--------------------------------------------
TO BE CONTINUED