That beautiful voice spoke with the exact same words he had heard twelve years ago — the same tone, the same gentle sound.
"A–ah! You must be confused, right? Umm... I'm Silva. This world has summoned you to be its heroes."
Silva was nervous as she explained. York listened intently, clearly trying to grasp his current situation. He focused on every word Silva said. Neith, on the other hand, stopped listening after just two sentences.
His expression remained blank. He looked around the familiar room while Silva continued to chatter in the background.
Neith glanced down at his hands — his arms were no longer hard and powerful; they were slim and soft again. The rest of his body was the same, no longer solid like stone, but weak and frail.
Then Neith opened his status window, right as Silva reached that part of her explanation.
"Heroes, before you! Can you see your status windows?"
York immediately responded.
"Y–yes, I can! …I'm level one…"
Neith's status window was identical to York's:
Race: Human
Level: 1
Class: None
Skills: Translation
Neith couldn't deny a small wave of frustration as he looked at the now–empty window of his abilities.
"Good. This ability to see the levels and skills of others — only you two heroes possess it. And, umm, I know it's hard to take all this in suddenly, but His Majesty is waiting for you… we can't keep him waiting…"
Neith looked at Silva for the first time and thought to himself,
'Ah… right, this bitch.'
Silva was undeniably beautiful. Her hair was long, a pale shade of bluish white. Her eyes, a deep ocean blue. She wore an ornate dress of light blue fabric. But her status window
Race: Human
Level: 143
Class: Mage (Ice Magic)
Skills (Core): Offensive Ice Magic, Healing Ice Magic, …
Neith spoke for the first time.
"The king is waiting? Hehe… And we can't keep him waiting? Why not?"
Both Silva and York turned toward Neith, surprised. His face remained blank and indifferent, as if none of this mattered.
"Umm, S–Sir Hero… f–forgive me, but is there… a problem?"
Silva's voice was soft and nervous, as if she had done something wrong. York had nothing to say. The silence stretched for a moment.
"Hmph… forget it. Let's go… to His Exalted Majesty…"
Neith sighed inwardly.
'No point in making a scene now. I'll let things flow smoothly for the time being. In this state, even if I wanted to do something, I couldn't.'
He spoke the last words with sarcasm and began walking. Silva exhaled in relief and led the way.
The three of them walked through the palace corridors, accompanied by several guards. York looked around with wonder, slowly understanding his situation — and also, clearly, captivated by Silva's beauty.
'Ah~ hehe… yes, I remember this. That idiot was infatuated with this bitch. He completely lost his mind when I killed her in the previous timeline.'
In the first timeline, Silva had been the first to rush to Neith after his acts of looting and destruction spread. Neith had killed her, even though he had "tried" to avoid it.
As they approached the throne room, York glanced at Neith and whispered.
"We're in this together, then… let's look out for each other."
"...."
Neith didn't reply.
Silva turned to face them. And she took a deep breath.
"Alright, heroes. Please show proper respect to the king, and—"
Neith walked past her without paying the slightest attention and pushed open the ornate golden doors.