The young man ran away from that place, heading west. He did not realize that he was still holding the torn pouch, causing stones to spill out continuously as he ran. Because of that, the creatures kept chasing him wherever he went. From a single creature, their numbers kept increasing. Now, nearly dozens of those incomprehensible beings were pursuing him.
He kept running—running until exhaustion, pain, and agony no longer mattered. What mattered was survival, and finding someone who could save him. After running as far as he could and no longer hearing the terrifying sounds of the creatures, he finally stopped and slowed to a walk, completely drained.
Then, in front of him, he found a temple.
Its shape was extremely unique. The structure towered like a man-made stone mountain. The stones were stacked in tiers, resembling a rising mandala, forming a stepped square that narrowed toward the top. The stones were black, like andesite—stone he had once seen in his original world.
After taking in the temple's strange form, the young man was startled half to death. At the top of the stairs near the entrance, he saw a human silhouette standing there—then entering the temple. Without a second thought, he rushed up the stairs and followed inside, calling out repeatedly to the person he had seen.
"Hey!!!" he shouted.
He had already called out more than ten times when he realized he had gone too deep inside the temple. There was no one there. All he saw was an altar, identical in shape to the ones he had seen in the palace and the cathedral—but this one had no statue, only the altar itself.
Unaware of this detail, and irritated that there was no one inside, he turned to leave. As he took a step, his body suddenly collided with something invisible, and he fell backward, landing on the ground with his left hand behind him and his hips bracing his weight.
When he looked up to see what had blocked his path, he froze in shock.
Before him stood a tall, powerfully built humanoid figure, its entire body clad in dark black armor. The helmet was fully sealed, revealing no face—only a glowing white line running straight from the forehead to the chin, and two curved slashes above the eye area like false eyes, intimidating and cruel. Above its head floated a glowing symbol—a circle with a cross and a dot—like a third eye that could see in all directions.
On its chest, another circle glowed dimly, as if it were the core of its power. A cloak fluttered from one shoulder, torn at the edges, swaying in a wind that came from nowhere. In its grasp was a massive sword, nearly scraping the ground—roughly shaped, clearly forged not for decoration, but for slaughter.
And anyone standing before it would know one thing for certain.
This is not someone who will save me.
The armored figure advanced slowly toward the young man, dragging the massive sword along the floor. To help him? No. It raised the blade and swung it down at him with terrifying speed.
The young man leapt sideways to evade, grabbing the broken sword strapped to his back. His hands trembled, but he held it tightly. The armored figure continued swinging its massive weapon relentlessly, while the young man retreated step by step, waiting desperately for a chance to counterattack.
When the armored figure lifted its sword high and brought it down again, the young man suddenly lunged—not backward, but forward, straight toward the incoming strike. As the massive blade neared the ground, he slashed upward with his broken sword, cutting clean through the armored figure's arm.
The arm was severed. The great sword was sent flying.
The young man jumped back, elated.
"YES—FINALLY!"
But fate was cruel. There was no blood. The severed arm simply regrew, forming again like a shadow reshaping itself.
Hey… that's completely unfair, the young man thought, laughing in helpless disbelief.
The armored figure extended its hand, opening its right palm as if grasping for something. The massive sword that had been thrown away suddenly moved, flying back into its hand. It dissolved into a dense mass of shadow, then reshaped itself into a long, black spear with a razor-sharp tip, held effortlessly in one hand.
WHAT IS THAT—THAT'S WAY TOO UNFAIR! the young man screamed internally as he ran backward in panic.
All he could do was run, trying to put distance between himself and the armored figure. Occasionally, the spear lashed out and struck his body. Each hit sent unimaginable pain through him. His clothes were torn, deep wounds carved into his flesh, until he finally collapsed onto the ground, lying on his back.
Still refusing to die, he crawled—again and again—until he reached the altar where he had first noticed there was no statue. Despite the pain, he forced himself to climb onto it and lie there. Unable to move any further, he simply waited, surrendering himself to whatever the armored figure would do.
The armored figure reshaped its spear into a one-handed axe. It raised the axe above its head and brought it down onto the young man. Blood spilled continuously, soaking the altar. Then the axe transformed once more—into a massive sword.
As the young man resigned himself to his fate, he let his body fall and crawled using one arm, reaching desperately for his broken sword. He grasped it with all the strength he had left.
The armored figure swung its blade.
And the young man did the same thing once more—he rushed forward, driving the broken sword straight into the armored figure's chest. The blade lodged there, and he kept pushing it deeper and deeper until the armored figure was forced backward, its back slamming into the altar.
What poured out was not blood, but a violent surge of shadow spilling endlessly from its chest. As the shadow began to thin, the young man seized the moment, pushing with everything he had until the broken sword punched a hole straight through the armored figure's torso.
He released the sword and staggered back, watching the armored figure slump, sitting there with a gaping hole in its chest. Believing it was over, he collapsed onto the ground.
But the armored figure was still alive.
It stood up again, approached him, and lifted him effortlessly with one hand.
The armored figure slammed the young man's body onto the altar. Blood continued to flow from his wounds, while the figure's grip tightened around his neck. Then, shadows began to pour out from the armored figure's body in massive amounts, filling the entire temple. Its sword slowly vanished—and soon, the armored figure itself began to fade away.
When it disappeared completely, the dense mass of shadow left behind suddenly rushed into the young man's body—forcing itself into his mouth, nose, and ears at incredible speed. He could only endure it as his body convulsed violently.
When the shadow finally finished entering him, the convulsions stopped.
The young man struggled to rise from the altar, forcing himself to stand. With unsteady steps, he began walking toward the exit of the temple. Just as he finally saw a way out, a door suddenly emerged mysteriously from below.
Without hesitation, he slowly opened it.
Light from beyond poured over him, forcing him to cover his eyes.
Once again.