An intangible mist surrounded him—there was nothing but emptiness and darkness.
Kul-Kain opened his eyes and saw only void.
"What the hell—? I'm dreaming, right? Yeah, it definitely i—"
He couldn't even finish the sentence.
Something so powerful it felt like gravity itself seized him in its grasp, dragging him toward an unknown destination.
[...]
Kul-Kain glimpsed the silhouette of a creature—then a horizontal slash tore through the darkness, and before his eyes appeared the words:
"First Commandment: cut, and be cut."
The boy wasn't even aware that he was dreaming. He couldn't perceive the faint difference between dream and reality. Everything felt real—and at the same time, purely allegorical.
After that, everything returned to black.
A vast darkness that drew him back to the dream from a week before.
Kul-Kain had seen something—
a vision of ruin, death, and destruction.
Yet he still didn't know what awaited him from this point onward.
Only a trail of corruption granted by karma.
...
A ray of sunlight shattered against his face, waking him.
He was in the infirmary.
He couldn't remember anything that had happened after his victory against the Mind's Eye.
Kul-Kain held his forehead and murmured:
"Today's the day~ I have to win…
If I don't want to die."
Then he noticed someone standing in front of him.
It was his older sister, Celia Kulainn—a great mage and, at the same time, a mid-rank swordswoman, something unheard of within the family.
Because of that, she stood first in line of succession for the clan… even though she was a woman.
"Awake already, I see. Why were you lying in the training field like a dead, decomposing opossum?" she asked inquisitively, standing beside the infirmary bed.
Celia had never mocked him for his weakness. On the contrary, she had always tried to stay close to him whenever she could.
Kul-Kain didn't know how long he remained sprawled on the ground.
His breathing still came in ragged gasps, his arms heavy as lead. Above him, the sky had turned red-orange, and the light of the sunset poured over him like a warm shroud.
Then…
"You've become really strong."
That voice.
Kul-Kain jolted and sprang up in a flash, sword raised in front of him.
But the shadow of the Mind's Eye was gone.
Celia stood before him.
His older sister was only a few steps away, arms crossed beneath her chest, her expression serious… but not cold. Her long hair swayed gently in the evening wind, and in her dark eyes shimmered something different from her usual detachment.
Concern.
"C-Celia…?" he murmured, still dazed.
She stepped closer, scanning him from head to toe—the wounds, the sweat, the unstable aura flowing over his body like embers beneath the skin.
"When I saw you this morning… you weren't like this," she said quietly. "And now… it's as if you're an entirely different person."
Kul-Kain lowered his gaze, tightening his grip on the sword hilt.
"I… I just—"
"Don't lie to me," she cut in, gently. "You can't cultivate like the others. Your illness consumes three times the energy. Every step costs you triple the effort. And yet…"
She moved even closer.
"And yet I can feel your aura now—like a blade ready to cut through the world."
Kul-Kain swallowed.
"How did you do it?" she asked. "How did you overcome your own weakness?"
For a moment, he thought of the system.
Of the Mind's Eye.
Of the projection of himself.
Of the sword of light that had pierced his future.
But he said none of it.
"I didn't overcome it," he answered quietly. "I'm just… facing it. Every day."
Celia stared at him for a long time.
Then, slowly, she smiled.
A different smile from her usual one.
Warm. Almost… maternal.
She placed her hand on his head, ruffling his hair clumsily.
"Then keep going," she said.
She turned to leave—but before stepping away, she stopped at the edge of the field.
Without completely turning back, with a voice filled with expectation and pride, she said:
"Kul-Kain, if you truly want to win the ceremony… beat my record.
Kill more than three hundred and thirty-three monsters…
and prove to me that you can become a true winner."
Then she left.
Leaving behind a silence heavier than any speech.
The stands of the massive artificial arena boiled with ethere.
On the highest balconies, wrapped in shadows as dense as living cloaks, sat the eleven pillars of the Kulainn clan and the Scathach house.
At the center, upon an intricately carved stone throne:
Atlas Kulainn — Patriarch, Rank 10.5.
At his right:
Caius Kulainn — Vice Patriarch, Rank 9.
At his left:
Jaime Scathach — Commander of the Aureal Forces, Unknown Circle.
Beside her:
Sirius Scathach — Vice Commander, Circle 8.
Hidden in the darkness, like a god observing the world unseen:
Mobius Kulainn — Eldest Eye, Superhuman of Gold.
Near him:
Grand-Marque Scathach — Second Elder.
Za-Volg Kulainn — Third Elder.
Ra-Iza Scathach — Fourth Elder.
Lower down, among the younger generation:
Celia Kulainn — Circle 7, Grade 5 (Age 22).
Maxime Meridius Kulainn — Grade 5 (Age 18).
Bodvalt Kulainn — Grade 4 (Age 17).
And finally, among the candidates:
Judai Scathach — Grade 2.
Elisa Kulainn — Grade 1.5.
Agamennon Kulainn — Grade 1.
Davidius Kulainn — Grade 1.
Laura Kulainn — Circle 2.
And him.
Kul-Kain.
Among dozens of other candidates, all lined up beneath the crushing gaze of the patriarch.
Atlas Kulainn rose to his feet.
And when he spoke, his voice was no longer sound.
It was a command carved into the air.
"LISTEN TO ME, RAW ORES!"
Silence fell like a guillotine.
"You have reached the age where only two choices remain:
die by the hands of the beasts you will face…
or become true warriors of Kulainn!"
He took a step forward.
"These are times of hardship for the family! We have no need for weakness! Even if we are few, a weak force that is many is more useless than having none at all!"
The patriarch's aura crushed the arena.
"YOU are our new generation!
And YOU will raise our name once more!
Just as your predecessors have done!"
Then the final decree, like a blessing of fire:
"SHOW THE LIGHT YOU REPRESENT!
AND DO NOT FEAR!"
Atlas sat down.
Caius advanced.
"The ceremony will take place in an artificial dungeon," he explained coldly. "A recreation of the northernmost forest of Lago. A place where dangerous and lethal monsters abound."
A murmur spread among the youths.
"You must slay as many beasts as possible. Retrieve their artificial Naturæ cores. Each core represents one life taken."
A pause.
"You will have six hours. After that, anyone still inside will be forcibly extracted."
Eyes ignited.
Terror.
Euphoria.
Hunger.
As the portals opened beneath the candidates' feet, Kul-Kain tightened his grip on his sword.
Three hundred and thirty-three.
Celia's words burned in his chest.
His dream.
The future he had seen.
The figure who had told him we will meet again.
"I don't just want to survive…" he thought.
Then the light swallowed him.
...
When he opened his eyes again, the world had changed.
Gigantic trees intertwined above him like the ribs of a dead god. The mist was thick and greenish. Roots moved beneath the ground like serpents.
And in front of him…
A beating of wings.
Then another.
And another.
A flock of Half-Cockatrices emerged from the fog—eyes yellow like blades, jagged beaks, wings corrupted by violet scales.
Beasts on the verge of becoming Half-Bosses.
Kul-Kain smiled preoccupied.
And raised his sword.
— To be continued —