"…As expected, the legend of that person survived the Great Collapse," he said softly. "But no. I am not the Executioner. I was a Shadow-Blade. I fought alongside them, yes, but I could never reach even the hem of their cloak."
My mind raced.
If the Great Collapse—the catastrophe that destroyed the Holy Empire—happened over a hundred years ago… how was this man standing here?
Was this Dungeon trapped in a time loop? Or was it a spatial anomaly born from the lingering regrets of the dead?
"This world," the revolutionary gestured to the sickly yellow sky, "feels like it's blocked by an invisible barrier. Impossible to leave. For the first few years, I fought that tree demon over there. But no matter how many times I cut it down, it rose again. There was no resolution. It was as if the world itself was delaying our final showdown."
He sighed, resting his hand on the hilt of a sword at his waist.
