The entire prison shook, dust falling from the ceiling as iron bars rattled against stone. Screams and curses echoed from the cells. The prisoners clung to the bars, their eyes wide with terror as the ground trembled beneath them.
The guards had already abandoned their posts. Their footsteps had faded down the hall minutes ago, leaving nothing but silence and the smell of fear.
A one-eyed prisoner slammed his fists against the bars. "Hello? Is anybody there?! What's happening out there?!" His voice cracked, but no answer came. Only the distant rumble of chaos and the muffled screams of the city.
An old man crouched in the corner of his cell, rocking back and forth. "We're gonna die… we're all gonna die," he muttered, his voice trembling, eyes vacant.
Then the roar came.
Deep. Earth-shaking. Unnatural. It wasn't the same dragon the hero had faced before, its cry carried a weight, a resonance, like the voice of a monster older than the kingdom itself. The walls shook with the sound, dust exploding from cracks in the ceiling.
On the top floor, chained and weakened, the hero sat motionless. His head tilted slightly, his eyes flicking to the side as the roar faded into silence. For a moment, he said nothing. Then, without looking up, he returned his gaze to the glowing blue panel floating before him.
'Well… nothing much for now,' he thought, his lips curling in a bitter half-smile. 'Some system this is. No powers, no skills, just a pretty box to stare at. I have to figure out how to make this damn thing work before it's too late.'
The ground shook again. Screams grew louder below. The hero ignored them. He only kept scrolling, eyes fixed on the status bar like it was the only lifeline left in a crumbling world.
[The glowing blue screen flickered in front of him:
[Current Level: Unknown]
[No Special Powers Achieved]
[Hero Type: Mage]
[Hidden Attribute: █ █ █ █]
The hero narrowed his eyes.
'Current level: unknown? What the hell does that mean? Am I too weak to measure… or too strong?' His lips twisted into a smirk. 'Overpowered already? Not bad.'
He scrolled his gaze lower. 'No special powers achieved… yeah, well, no surprise there. I've been stumbling around like a lost idiot since the moment I got here.'
His brow furrowed at the next line. 'Mage? I was hoping for swordsman. A blade in hand feels more natural. But this, this is different. If I'm a mage, then what the hell can I even do? And… hidden attribute?' His eyes lingered on the blacked-out bar. 'That doesn't look good. Or maybe it's the only thing that'll save me.'
The prison walls shook violently. Dust rained down from the ceiling. Then the roar thundered again, louder, closer. It wasn't just sound anymore; it was pressure, rattling his bones, vibrating through his chains.
The hero clenched his teeth.
'That dragon's right above us. If it breathes fire, this whole building will go up in flames… and I'll be roasted alive in here.' His fists tightened against the shackles, blood from his nailed hands trickling down the veins that bound him.
'I have to escape. Before the beast burns me with the rest of this rotten kingdom.'
The hero gritted his teeth and stared at the nails pinning his hands to the pillars. Blood dripped down his arms, mixing with the pulsing red veins that still drank his energy. He knew what he had to do.
He inhaled sharply. 'Do it. Now.'
He tried shaking the nails loose, but the iron wouldn't budge. Instead, the movement only drove them deeper, igniting white-hot pain through his nerves. His jaw clenched so tight it felt like his teeth might crack.
"Damn it—!"
He had only one choice left.
With a guttural growl, he pulled his own hands forward, dragging flesh over cold steel. Skin tore, blood splashed.
"Aaaaahhh!"
His scream echoed through the chamber. The veins, those root-like tendrils, continued to pulse, still siphoning his power even as he struggled. He forced himself not to pass out, eyes burning with rage.
Right hand first. 'Come on, move!'
With a final jerk, his right hand ripped free, blood spraying the floor. He gasped, trembling, sweat rolling down his forehead. Then without giving himself time to think, he tore the left hand loose as well. The pain was blinding, but necessary.
Both hands hung limp at his sides, dripping red. The veins retracted slightly but still clung, greedily sucking at his energy. He grabbed the writhing tendrils and yanked them out of his wounds one by one, each pull a stab of agony.
When he was finally free, he staggered forward, breathing like a hunted animal. His hands shook violently, but his mind was razor-sharp now. Survival cut through the haze like a blade.
He scanned the room. On a nearby table lay a strip of cloth. Without hesitation, he tore it in half and wound it tightly around his bleeding palms. The cloth turned dark with blood instantly, but it held.
"Still alive…" he muttered, voice raw.
His eyes caught something glinting on a hook near the wall, a ring of keys. Without a second thought, he snatched them up, metal clinking in his trembling grip.
He cast one last glance at the chamber, chains, veins, and the faint echo of the dragon's roar above. Then, staggering but determined, he made for the stairs, each step leaving a smear of blood in his wake.
The hero staggered forward, his vision blurring from blood loss. Every step felt heavier than the last. He slapped his cheek hard, forcing himself awake.
'Don't you dare fall asleep now.'
Up ahead, a heavy iron door. From behind it came desperate voices:
"Is there anybody out there? Tell us what's happening outside!"
The hero said nothing. He simply pushed the door open.
Dozens of eyes turned toward him, men in rags, faces pale, all staring in disbelief.
The hero's voice was low, almost a growl. "Are you ready to be free?"
A stunned silence. Then, with trembling hands, he slid the keys into the locks one by one. The chains fell, doors creaked open, and freedom, however fleeting, was theirs.
They flooded out of the cells, murmuring their thanks, bowing their heads before sprinting toward escape.
The ground trembled beneath them, the walls groaned, and then came a thunderous crack, something outside was breaking through. The prisoners panicked, running faster. The hero clenched his fists, ignoring the blood seeping through his makeshift bandages, and followed.
Outside was hell itself.
The kingdom was unrecognizable, streets reduced to ash, flames devouring what once stood proud, the air filled with screams and the smell of burning flesh. Bodies lay scattered like discarded dolls. The kingdom of Artwine was gone.
The hero slowed, watching the freed men scatter into the smoke. He turned away from them, his eyes narrowing toward the palace.
It was broken, blackened by fire, but it still stood on higher ground. He climbed through its ruins until he reached a vantage point.
From there, he saw it.
The dragon. Black as a starless void, its massive frame blotting out what little light the fires gave. Its molten eyes scanned the ruins, jaws dripping embers. And at its back sat a figure clad in ancient armor, massive and imposing.
The Apostle.
Their eyes met across the battlefield, dark yellow against bloodshot human red. The Apostle raised its blade, pointing directly toward the palace.
The hero's blood ran cold.
He's looking for me.
From the palace ruins, the hero's gaze locked with the Apostle's.
The rider's yellow eyes gleamed with malice, sharp like blades piercing through the smoke. The dragon's wings shifted, each flap stirring fire and ash into violent storms. For a moment, neither moved, just two predators sizing each other up across a battlefield of death.
The Apostle's lips curled into something that resembled a grin, jagged teeth flashing in the firelight. Slowly, it raised its blackened blade and pointed it straight at the hero.
"...Found… you."
The words echoed like thunder in his skull, though the distance between them was vast.
The hero's body tensed. His instincts screamed at him to run, to fight, to do something. But the Apostle didn't strike.
Instead, it pulled its blade back and let out a guttural laugh that made the dragon roar in unison. Then, with a single pull on the reins, the black dragon spread its wings. Fire and wind consumed everything around as the beast rose into the night sky, carrying its master with it.
The hero shielded his face from the burning wind, watching as the Apostle vanished into the smoke-filled horizon.
Only silence remained, silence heavy with a single truth.
He saw me… but he chose not to kill me. He's waiting.
The hero's hands trembled against the broken stone. Blood still dripped from his wounds, but now another weight pressed on his chest.
The Apostle had marked him.
And the next time they met, it wouldn't end with mercy.
The hero stood among the ruins, the night sky lit by fire and smoke. The screams of the kingdom had already faded into silence, leaving only the crackling of flames.
'If I don't act, the demons will finish everyone who's left… This is the best chance to awaken my powers. If nothing happens now, then I was never the hero they wanted.'
He clenched his trembling hands. Open status.
[Current Level: Unknown]
[No Special Powers Achieved]
[Hero Type: Mage]
[Hidden Attribute: █ █ █ █]
"The same… nothing has changed," he muttered.
He raised his arm toward the empty sky.
"Fireball!" — nothing stirred. Not even a spark.
"Water Splash!" — silence.
"Thunder Strike!" — no light, no sound, just the night mocking him.
His hands shook harder. Blood from his wounds soaked the cloth tied around them. His breath grew heavier, frustration boiling over.
"So what then?!" His voice cracked as he staggered forward. "I've tried everything! There's nothing left!"
He grew restless, frustration boiling in his chest. He straightened his hands, pointing at the burning city.
"Wind magic!"
"Iron magic!"
"Healing magic!"
Nothing. The silence mocked him.
Finally, he shouted, "Lightning magic!"
A faint spark flickered in his palm. His eyes widened.
Again, he tried. "Lightning…!"
Before he could finish, another spark snapped to life, but it wasn't true lightning, it felt unstable, like the echo of something else.
"That's it…" he whispered.
He exhaled slowly, cleared his mind, and spoke with steady voice:
"Light magic."
This time, no spark. Instead, his entire body glowed, pure, radiant, golden. His wounds throbbed, but the warmth of the light erased the pain.
'Light magic… after all this time, this was my power.'
[New Skill Unlocked: "Sanctus Lux" – The Holy Light Magic]
His lips curved into a dark smile. He lifted his right hand toward the heavens.
'Let's test it out.'
He whispered, "Judgment of Aethernia."
The skies ignited. Thousands of radiant blades materialized, forged from divine light itself. They shimmered gold, illuminating every corner of the fallen kingdom.
With a single motion of his hand, he brought them down.
The blades rained from the sky, tearing through the demon horde below. Screams filled the night as steel made of light ripped them apart. And still, the swords kept coming, endless, merciless, a celestial storm of judgment.
Within the ruined walls of Artwine Kingdom, the demons were massacred.
And at the center of it all, the hero stood, smiling in the golden glow of his newfound divinity.