"Dishonorable!"
Old man Alex never imagined that his heartfelt words, spoken like a dying hero passing on his last wish, would be answered with a ruthless strike.
Noah's palm surged with blazing heat, flames dancing at his fingertips—he was clearly aiming to kill.
So much for heartfelt moments. One tear of sentiment, and the boy didn't even flinch.
Alex cursed silently, but his instincts kicked in. The haze in his eyes vanished as his right hand snapped up, bursting with deep magical energy. A faint sigil glowed above his palm—an eagle, sharp and swift, etched in green light.
"Crack..."
But the black ring on his wrist—the Spirit-Severing Ring—lit up with a harsh glow. The suppressing force clamped down on his mana flow, tightening like a vice. Pain shot through his arm, veins bulging, but Alex grit his teeth and pressed forward. He thrust his cone-shaped hand toward Noah's oncoming strike.
Bang!
The clash sent green sparks and fire flying through the darkness of the cave.
Alex staggered back a step, his hand singed. Though he was more powerful than Noah, the battle a year ago had left him broken. And now, shackled by the Spirit-Severing Ring, the magic he could muster barely matched Noah's.
And Noah... he was young, built strong, and still had fire in him—both literal and figurative. Even after months of hard labor in the mines, his body was resilient. And his attack came without warning, catching Alex off guard.
Alex's heart sank.
He had planned this carefully—pretending weakness, offering up sacrifice, hoping to draw Noah close and finish him quickly.
But this kid was too damn cautious. He didn't even bother listening to a so-called dying man's last wish. He struck first, without hesitation.
"What a cunning bastard..." Alex muttered under his breath.
But there was no turning back now. One of them would walk out alive. The other would be the 'proof of allegiance.'
Shing!
Alex's face twisted in pain as he forced more magic through his body. On his left palm, a small emerald sword sigil appeared—sharp as a blade of grass. The ring on his wrist groaned under the pressure, bones snapping audibly.
He was pushing his body to its breaking point.
"Just a little more... if I can summon the Sword Imprint, I can kill him—"
Puff!
A burst of white powder exploded in front of his face.
It caught him off guard.
He tried to turn, but the dust filled the cave, impossible to dodge.
"AAAH!"
Agony lanced through his eyes—like molten iron poured into his sockets. He clutched his face, screaming, magic surging in panic.
The powder burned like hellfire. His vision was gone. His instincts screamed at him to escape, but he couldn't see, couldn't focus, couldn't breathe.
"Shlick!"
Something sharp pierced his chest.
Life drained from his body in a rush.
He didn't die instantly—his magic kept him clinging to life—but it was over.
Somewhere in the haze, he heard Noah's calm, almost apologetic voice:
"Senior Brother, when you're wearing a Spirit-Severing Ring, you're basically a mortal. Why play with fancy Imprints? Surprise attacks and cheap tricks... that's how you stay alive."
"Bastard…"
It was Alex's final thought before the world went dark.
Noah stood still, watching the body for a long moment—long enough for the effects of any final spell or trap to wear off.
Only after the time it takes an incense stick to burn did he move.
Alex was dead. No tricks left.
Looking at the man's lifeless body, eyes still open in stunned disbelief, Noah whispered, "Don't blame me. You made the first move."
He sighed.
He had his own secret, his own way to survive this hell. But Alex had grown desperate. He couldn't afford to wait.
He needed a body—someone to die so he could live.
And now, he had one.
Perhaps from the very moment they first met in the mines, Senior Brother Alex had already begun scheming.
Then again, Noah was never a kind man. He had always gone wherever the wind blew stronger.
For the past year, they had survived together—sharing warmth in the cold, trading watch shifts, fighting off cave beasts—but beneath that fragile camaraderie, both had their secrets.
They had been trading in trust, but neither ever meant to pay the full price.
Noah had known something was off today. The tone in Alex's voice, the look in his eye—it was too practiced, too perfect. He could feel it.
Alex was about to strike.
So Noah acted first.
The moment Alex began his rehearsed final words, Noah cut him off—with fire and steel.
"If there's anyone to blame, Senior Brother... blame yourself."
He let out a slow sigh, then flicked his wrist. A faint shimmer appeared in the air as a small, greenish-gray stone bottle materialized.
It hadn't been taken from him.
When the captured students from Azurewood Academy were thrown into the Demon Star Caverns, their storage bags were seized, and all magic items confiscated. But this bottle had remained hidden—undetected by the wardens of Demon Star Academy.
That alone spoke volumes about how rare and powerful it was.
In truth, this relic didn't even belong to him originally.
It was something Senior Brother Alex was meant to discover two years from now.
Because this world Noah now lived in—it wasn't just some random fantasy realm.
It was from a novel. One he'd read in his past life.
A brutal saga of demon kings and summoned heroes. The Empire, the rebellion, the rise of blood-soaked legends... and somewhere in that tale, Noah had been dropped in, reborn into fiction.
He gave the bottle a gentle shake. Inside, the silvery liquid rippled like molten starlight, clinking softly like gems tapping against glass.
Carefully, Noah tipped the bottle, letting two drops fall directly into his eyes.
They burned.
Boom.
Starlight surged through his vision.
The sun and moon seemed to rotate behind his eyes, and in the blink of an eye, the entire cave transformed into a world of grayscale threads and flowing patterns.
It was as if reality itself had shed its skin, revealing the lines that held everything together—mana currents, spiritual threads, hidden energies all laid bare before him.
Noah's breathing steadied. His expression sharpened.
The Eye of Starlight was open.
Now, he could truly see.
It was a feeling unlike anything Noah had ever experienced.
The world around him dissolved.
The towering stone walls turned to drifting gray mist, like fog caught in moonlight, and his vision seemed to stretch beyond the cave itself—beyond time, beyond matter.
Everything—walls, floors, tunnels—faded into translucent haze.
The Demon Star Cavern had become a misty dreamscape. And within that gray veil, points of colored light floated quietly, like distant stars.
They pulsed with a strange rhythm, each one a whisper of fate.
Most were white—dozens, maybe hundreds—each marking a common thread in destiny. Each a small opportunity. Each a path out of this prison... if only he were bold—or desperate—enough.
Then he saw the green.
Directly beneath his feet, a cluster of green light shimmered like emerald fireflies. Unlike the scattered white specks, this one burned brighter, more intense. It marked a rare chance—an accumulation of at least thirty Demon Star Stones. Enough to buy his way out. Enough to tempt death itself.
He inhaled deeply, the clarity settling into his bones.
This was why he'd risked everything to find this artifact.
Noah hadn't always been blind—but the body he now inhabited had been.
The boy he had become—his predecessor—had been born in darkness. Abandoned at an orphanage. Taken in later by Azurewood Academy only because of a rare gift for magic.
And when Noah's soul was thrust into this broken shell, it had taken him three agonizing months just to adjust. Only the memory traces left behind helped him survive.
But as a wizard, he had one advantage: even blind, he could feel mana. He could sense the warmth in others, trace their movements through the world.
Still, in battle, blindness was a curse he couldn't ignore. And that made him vulnerable.
That was why Alex had chosen him as a target.
That was why Noah had gambled his life to obtain the artifact—the strange stone bottle that now held his future.
Every so often, the bottle would fill itself with a mysterious liquid. Dripping even a drop into his eyes restored his vision for a short time—but it also did more.
It let him see the truth of things.
Not just sight—but perception. Direction. Destiny.
White lights marked minor chances. Escape paths. Scattered Demon Star Stones. Routes through which he could slowly climb to freedom.
But green… green was rarer. Green meant fortune. Certainty. Exit.
And yet, even now, his eyes drifted toward the distance, where a strange light shimmered—something not quite green, not quite gray.
It flickered, then vanished.
Opportunity… gone.
But he knew what it was.
He had already claimed it.
A month ago, in a crumbling side tunnel, he'd found a hidden alcove—what remained of a long-dead miner's home. The man, once a master artificer, had refined something dangerous from the dust of the cave and corrupted mana.
Erosion Spirit Ash.
A powder that didn't just hurt—it blinded, corroded, slipped through the seams of armor, and burrowed into a man's soul. It was a weapon made for one thing: assassination.
Noah had used it to kill Alex.
He glanced once more through the mist of fate.
Over the past year, even with the artifact, the best opportunities he'd seen were always green. Nothing higher. No certainty. No perfect escape.
That was why he had waited.
Why he hadn't gambled everything.
The chances were too uncertain.
And in this place, uncertainty meant death.