The monster was dead.
Its collapse marked the end of a long and chaotic skirmish. Jin, indifferent to the cluster of official Awakened gathering nearby, offered them nothing more than a curt nod before turning toward the reserve carriage.
The recruits had been dismissed following the intended engagement. Jay was among them, of course—though his shoulders sagged, eyes downcast, as if disheartened by his own lack of contribution.
It had been a serious crisis, far more intense than what anyone expected from their first official assignment. But then again, emergencies cared little for timing.
What struck Jin most, however, was the limited presence of Military Police Awakened. He had counted them—barely a dozen. It was underwhelming, almost worrying. No wonder they themselves had been called into action. The perimeter was too vast, the threat too unpredictable to leave in the hands of so few.
Still, the outcome could be considered a success—albeit a dangerous one. With any luck, it would be the last time they were dragged into a live hunt this month.
They were granted a day off, though the gesture was undermined by the demand to make up for it with an extra day of work later.
'What was even the point?'
Still, given the circumstances, they were promised extra credit—additional points in their potential rankings ahead of the Awakened exam. Perhaps, in the end, it wasn't a complete waste.
The carriage eventually came to a gentle stop in front of what appeared to be a modest residential building. A house—or no, an apartment complex.
Not that they lived there. Their real home was within the Nameless Domain. This was merely for show—for the carriage driver, and for any eyes that might have been watching.
They disembarked, offering a convincing pretense as they approached the entrance, only to slip away toward a discreet structure nearby—a lone stone pillar that upheld the city's invisible boundary. The Fortress.
Without hesitation, they stepped into the gate. A radiant veil of light surged around them, swallowing them whole—and in the blink of an eye, they were back. Home.
Within the sealed sanctum of the Nameless, dusk gave way to night. Exhaustion hung heavy in their bones, the kind that crept in silently after a long, bitter day. Without a word, they retreated to their quarters.
Night passed.
Day broke.
***
21th Day of the month of Emerald Moon, Year 1238.
The newborn sun cast its golden rays upon Jin's face, like light from a long-forgotten chandelier—once majestic, now untouched for ages, hanging in the ruins of a castle that was never meant to open again.
In his hand rested a katana, its blade curved like a crescent arc.
Before him stood a golem. Six arms, six wooden swords. Its face bore no features—no eyes, no mouth, no soul. It was not alive. It was never meant to be.
So why did it stand there, waiting?
Because his training was about to begin.
At that moment, a training arc from a novel Jin had recently read surfaced in his mind.
The story was about a girl who lost everything to fate.
Under the rule of a cruel lord, her entire family had been slaughtered. The reason? The lord's guards were testing the sharpness of their blades.
But the girl survived—by hiding under a pile of filth for days. Hungry, thirsty, reeking of waste… yet she didn't emerge. Maybe it was fear. And fear—fear was a cruel thing. It made people crumble, only to hate themselves afterward.
But who could blame her? She was just a child.
She remained hidden, until a passerby eventually saved her.
Burdened by that psychological scar, she honed her blade—not to defend, but to kill. To destroy all who had wronged her.
And she succeeded. In that story, she became one of the strongest.
The reason for her rise? Revenge. An unwavering goal that burned at her core.
People say it's hard work, discipline, or a guiding hand that leads to success. But in truth, it's desire—pure, unyielding hunger for power—that drives people forward. That's what made her strong.
So Jin asked himself—what desire did he have?
Why did he wield this sword?
Without a goal… did any of it matter?
To save his sister? A promise to his mother?
Maybe.
But now, his hollow heart felt no flicker of emotion. Did that matter?
Why had he gone to the Forbidden Land?
There was an emotion, he remembered that much. But what was it? He no longer knew.
Whatever your feelings tell you, logic will always reveal the truth. That was his belief.
And right now, logic told him—his sister must be dead.
He was powerless without Mathematician. He didn't even know how to enter the Abyss. Even if he had the strength, even if he found a way… what was the point if there was no one left to save?
He had read many books over the past ten days. Albedo had given them to him one after another, all written in first-person point of view—to help Jin understand how people behaved in critical moments.
So he knew.
He should act strong. Never let despair take hold. He had to keep believing his sister was alive.
But was she, really?
Jin's crimson eyes flickered as a memory surfaced.
The Voice.
'What would you be telling me now?'
The Voice might have spoken like all those fictional protagonists did—heroic, unwavering. That kind of voice.
No. He was like that.
But Jin was no longer that boy.
He knew that now.
So, remembering the Voice… he sang.
" The night withdrew—soft sun upon my face,
Its golden touch, a fleeting, warm embrace.
Though hardship wanes, fate sharpens still its blade,
And from the shadows, deeper trials cascade.
I stood—sword drawn, its curve like crescent light,
Before me rose a golem, born of night.
Six arms of darkness, wrath in silent form,
A beast of chaos, shaped by every storm.
But then my mind, adrift in worlds untrue,
Asked in stillness: What am I meant to do?
What do I seek? A whisper formed its plea—
What is the truth I truly wish to be?
To drift behind the clouds, unknown, unseen,
Free of the weight of battles I've not dreamed.
To let the storm pass by while I remain—
A ghost of light, untouched by fear or pain.
But clouds will break. And silence never stays.
The sky demands my light in crueler ways.
Though I had prayed to vanish, still I'm found.
Though I bowed out, fate pulls me to the ground.
So here I rise, not brave, but not the same,
A weary soul still answering the flame.
Not born to lead, nor shaped to wear the crown—
But I will glow…
when fate won't let me drown."
"Umm… why exactly are you singing?"
Miss Mira's voice cut through the cold morning air. She stood with arms crossed, her eyes narrowing at Jin. Her posture was sharp, as if balancing between curiosity and irritation.
Jin blinked, breaking out of his daze. Mira had originally come to guide Jay, but for some reason, she'd lingered—watching him instead.
Beside her stood a man whose presence seemed carved from myth. His features were divine, too perfect to be real—beauty so refined even the world's fairest women might envy it. His scarlet hair fluttered in the wind, and an aura of ancient wisdom clung to him like a shadow.
That man was Jin's master—The Thirteen-Headed King. The one who had taken it upon himself to teach Jin the true Battle Styles.
"I wasn't singing," Jin said quietly, brushing the dust from his tunic. "It was a poem."
Mira raised a brow. "Ha… a poem? In the middle of training? You were just standing there, frozen—and then suddenly you started reciting lines like some haunted bard." She sighed, shaking her head. "I should've gone to Jay instead."
Jin swallowed the sarcastic reply rising to his lips. 'Then go. Why are you even here?'
But he remembered the lessons from countless novels—how heroes often masked their true thoughts in these situations.
So instead, he offered a vague smile and said, "Once, an irritating Voice told me… that a poem from the heart reveals what words cannot."
Mira stared at him, utterly unimpressed. "Huh? And what is that supposed to mean?"
Jin's impression of her shifted again. At first, he thought her a rough-edged beauty with wisdom tucked beneath. Now, she felt more like a mystic with book-smarts—and no real understanding.
"Well, he's right," Albedo said with a soft chuckle, stepping forward. His voice was like silk dipped in warmth. "A poem does unveil the untold. The echoes of a heart too burdened for speech."
He looked at Jin thoughtfully. "But you know, Jin—an Awakened's eyes are the reflection of their soul."
Jin met Albedo's gaze, feeling the weight in those words. "Oh? Then tell me… what do you see in mine?"
Albedo paused, his lime-green eyes glowing with a strange joy as he stared into Jin's. But Jin saw through it—past the smile, past the calm. Behind those eyes was a veil… a thin mask of emotion too perfectly placed.
'The eyes really are the reflection of one's soul.'
After a moment, Albedo spoke, his voice quieter now.
"Doubt. That's what I see." He nodded gently. "And I understand why. But believe me, Jin… time will flow. It always does. And with it, your doubts will be washed away."
He smiled again, this time softer. "So be patient—for now."