"Fuck!"
Aurora slammed his hand violently against the ground. "What have I done…"
No matter how much he brooded over it, there was nothing he could do. What was done was done. Still, he realized something important—if someone pushed him too far, he would lose control. And that was something to absolutely avoid.
"Would you like something to drink, Sir Aurora?"
Cleia looked at him with clear concern.
"No, thank you…" Aurora replied in a low, tired voice. "I need to reorganize my thoughts now. Do whatever you want."
"Very well. Then I wish you a good day, Sir Aurora."
Cleia bowed slightly before leaving.
Meanwhile, Aurora stared at his helmet and put it on.
"It was a terrible idea…" he thought.
"The hall breathes smoke and broken promises
Black mirrors reflect what you are not
Slow steps on a floor of shadows
The heartbeat leads—do not ask why.
Masks stitched onto the skin
Smiles cold as thin blades
Here, names are useless
Here, only desires remain.
Dance closer, faceless
Let the darkness decide for us
In the masked ball
Truth is the first mistake you make.
Broken voices filter from below
Prayers lost in the deep sound
Time bleeds artificial light
As we fall, without end.
If you remove the mask, you disappear
If you stay, you lose who you were
This night saves no one
This night takes what you want to forget.
Dance again, until it hurts
Until the heart stops lying
In the masked ball
We live only to vanish."
Aurora turned around, confused.
"What the fu—"
Just a moment ago, he had been in his castle.
Now, he wasn't.
The room was vast and solemn, more like a desecrated chapel than a ballroom. The high ceiling loomed over the people like a silent judge, while the dark walls absorbed the light instead of reflecting it. Candles arranged with ritualistic precision traced lines of flickering fire, creating shadows that seemed to move slowly, as if they were watching.
There were many people, yet none of them felt truly present as individuals. They wore identical masks—cold, impersonal—erasing every trace of identity. Dark cloaks slid along their bodies, turning them into anonymous, interchangeable figures. No one spoke. Every movement was measured and controlled, as if following an unspoken but absolute rule.
At the center of the room, space was deliberately left empty. Sacred.
Around it, the observers stood still—helpless and complicit—participating only through their gaze. The distance between those who watched and those who acted was thin, almost symbolic: no one was truly outside what was happening.
The atmosphere was heavy with power, control, and silent threat. There was no free eroticism—only a cold, ritualized sensuality that made the skin crawl. Everyone in the room seemed aware of being watched and judged, while also knowing they were part of something greater and unreachable.
The music did not accompany—it commanded.
A low, obsessive chant that did not invite but imposed. This room was not a place of pleasure, but of submission to order, where desire was allowed only if it lost its face, name, and will.
This was the typical hall of Hastur's followers.
In this world, there existed abilities called "Arts", divided into "Classic Arts", "Mythical Arts", and "True Arts". In total, there were 215 Arts. Each god was represented by a single Art—for example, the True Art of Hastur originated directly from the god Hastur himself. Only one person could possess the Art of a deity, making such powers extremely rare.
It was very common for gods to have cults or sects to gain their favor. In Hastur's case, it was a sect—far more corrupted than the others.
A masked man, like all the others, but wearing a golden mask—a sign of his importance within the hierarchy—stepped forward and spoke.
"Demon King Aurora. We are well aware that this is very little for someone like you, however, we offer you 10,000 Megin in exchange for your assistance."
The voice was calm and old.
Megin was a form of currency within the system of this world. It could be converted into energy to level up and strengthen oneself, or used directly to purchase items from the system's shop.
"10,000, huh…"
Considering that Aurora had reincarnated at level 1, having some Megin would certainly be useful.
"What do you want me to do?" Aurora finally asked, his tone authoritative and superior.
"Unfortunately, a dragon has recently settled near our territory. It has already visited us twice and completely destroyed one of our villages. I am more than certain this would be nothing more than a game for you, but for us, it is extremely problematic. You understand, don't you?"
Dragons were extremely greedy creatures, especially when it came to gold. Monsters were classified in a hierarchy based on power, ranging from Calamity Level E to Calamity Level X. In total, there were seven calamity levels: X, S, A, B, C, D, and E.
A dragon was usually classified between levels S and X, depending on its age. The older a dragon was, the stronger it became. Often, in addition to destroying villages and stealing gold, dragons built their nests atop the highest mountains possible. The higher the mountain, the more it proved the dragon's power.
No human had ever dared to challenge a dragon, except for a few rare exceptions—such as the legendary Thirteen Heroes. Naturally, dragon nests contained all of their treasures, often enormous sums.
Dragons were also classified by age:
Dragon Whelp (0–1,000 years)
Mid Dragon (1,000–10,000 years)
Superior Dragon (10,000–100,000 years)
Archeo Dragon (100,000–1,000,000 years)
And finally, unique among all, the Dragon Lord, born before time itself.
The Dragon Lord was one of the Great Pillars, whose exact number was unknown. Only Archeo Dragons and the Dragon Lord were capable of assuming human form. It was said that the moment you witnessed a dragon take human shape would be the last thing you ever saw.
"It is a Dragon Whelp. We estimate its age to be around two hundred years."
Although the old man's eyes were hidden behind the mask, it was easy to tell he was staring at Aurora with seriousness and concern, as if even a dragon of that level might somehow pose a challenge to him.
"Don't worry, old man," Aurora said. "Just tell me where the beast is."
After leaving the cave, Aurora looked around.
"We're at the foot of a mountain, huh? Perfect territory for a dragon," he thought.
Thus began a long walk. Unfortunately, Aurora had never been to the summit of that mountain before, and reaching it was a requirement for using teleportation.
"Damn it… don't I have a spell to move faster or fly?" he thought to himself.
Out of curiosity, he checked his spells—but found nothing useful. He then opened the system shop, where he found a skill called "Flight". It was perfect for the situation and cost only 2,000 Megin.
"I wonder how much that would be in yen…" he thought.
However, he had another option—his stats.
"After all, I've got ten billion in Magic, and everything else is at level 1, right? Boosting my Speed wouldn't hurt anyone… and it's passive."
Aurora made his decision. He used half of his Megin and converted it into levels. He received 500 levels, equivalent to 500 points to distribute. Without hesitation, he put everything into Speed.
After pressing the "Confirm" button, Aurora's body felt drastically lighter. When he tried to sprint, he could feel the strength in his muscles increase dramatically. He was unbelievably faster.
He reached the mountain's summit in just under half an hour.
However, once he arrived, there was nothing there.
No dragon's nest. No dragon.
"Huh? How…?"
Aurora was stunned. What could have happened?
Then he turned around—and was greeted by a breathtaking view.
"Magnificent…" he muttered.
At that moment, from the forest stretching out below, a massive red flame burst into the sky.
A Superior Dragon emerged from the flames and dove straight toward him.
The dragon was a magnificent crimson. Its scales looked indestructible, and its piercing eyes seemed capable of drilling into the soul.
"Just like the fantasy dragons from my old world," Aurora thought. "Not very original."
The dragon crashed straight into Aurora.
"Hahaha! Demon King, did you really think we would ask for your help against a mere Dragon Whelp?"
The voice belonged to the old man from before.
The dust slowly settled, revealing a silhouette.
It was Aurora.
Unscathed.
He stood beside the dragon's snout as it lay crashed into the ground. The creature slowly lifted its head, disbelief clear in its eyes.
"No… to be honest, I expected this," Aurora said calmly. "A sect like yours would have no reason to summon me for a trivial Dragon Whelp. And even if it were an Adult Dragon, you would have asked your beloved god for help—certainly not me."
"Indeed. You see, our god told us that you were greatly weakened. So we seized the opportunity to bring you here… and kill you."
"Do you have any reason for doing so?" Aurora asked.
At those words, the old man slowly removed his mask.
"Don't you recognize me?" he said.