As breakfast concluded, the lingering warmth of the meal slowly faded.
Chairs shifted softly against marble as members of House Arion rose one by one, already being pulled back into their respective duties. There was no laughter now, no idle conversation lingering in the air. Nobles did not linger over comfort. Responsibility waited for no one.
The day had fully begun.
Kael rose as well, offering a polite nod before turning away. He did not wait for attendants. He did not call for a carriage.
He did not want witnesses.
Outside Arion Manor, the morning air felt colder than it should have. He mounted a horse with practiced ease, his movements calm and controlled—too controlled for someone his age. The iron gates opened without question, and moments later the manor vanished behind him as he rode forward alone.
Only when the distance was sufficient did Kael finally allow himself to breathe.
Where he was heading did not exist on any official map.
It was a place only a handful of top-ranked players had ever discovered—buried behind obscure mechanics, false assumptions, and fear-driven mistakes. A location so deeply hidden that even data miners had missed it during the early releases of the game.
In the original story, Kael Arion had never come here.
Back then, he had been a talentless fraud—an arrogant fake heir propped up by family power and misplaced pride. When the real heir appeared, Kael had believed himself clever enough to scheme his way through fate.
He had been wrong.
He remembered the humiliation clearly. The way nobles' gazes had shifted. The way guards hesitated before obeying him. The public defeat. The execution route unlocking with brutal finality.
This time, he would not overestimate himself.
That was why he refused the carriage.That was why he came alone.
After riding far from the manor, Kael slowed and carefully scanned his surroundings. No riders followed. No magical signatures trailed him. No subtle pressure lingered at the edge of his awareness.
Good.
The streets of the Valentine Dukedom were already alive. Merchants shouted from their stalls, metal rang sharply against stone, and the smell of freshly baked bread drifted through the air. Children ran laughing between crowds. Life moved freely.
It was peaceful.
Too peaceful.
This city slept soundly only because his father stood near the top of the Rank hierarchy—at least for now. Kael knew better than to trust peace built on borrowed strength.
He pulled his hood lower and dismounted, leading his horse through the crowd. Without the shadow hiding his face, recognition would have been instant.
And recognition meant attention.
Attention meant death.
As he moved, he felt it again—the subtle weight of narrative pressure. Not hostility. Not danger.
Just… alignment.
Like the world was quietly adjusting itself around him.
By the time he reached the outskirts of the dukedom, civilization thinned. Cobblestone gave way to dirt paths. The air grew damp. Trees twisted unnaturally, their branches tangled like skeletal fingers clawing at the sky.
Mistveil Forest.
Whoever stepped into the Mistveil Forest never emerged unscathed. Those who ventured too deep either perished within its depths or returned with their minds fractured—eyes hollow, voices trembling.
Among the locals, the belief was absolute: the forest was cursed. A place abandoned by reason and guarded by something ancient and inhuman.
They weren't entirely wrong.
Something was being guarded within the fog. Something precious.
The only mistake in their belief was the guardian itself.
There was no ancient beast lurking in the shadows. No slumbering monster waiting to awaken. Yet the rumors alone were enough.
Drawn by greed, ambition, or desperation, countless explorers had entered the Forest of Mist.
Every single time, the result was the same.
None of them truly succeeded.
Kael, however, showed no hesitation. There wasn't the slightest trace of fear on his face as he stepped forward. As the creator of this game, he possessed knowledge no player—or character—was ever meant to have.
Kael stopped at the forest's edge.
No guards.
That alone was unsettling.
Normally, Valentine patrols circled this area day and night. Even adventurers were discouraged from approaching. But today, the perimeter was empty, as if the world itself had stepped aside.
He did not like coincidences.
Still, this was his window.
"Good," he murmured.
Stepping closer, he was met with rolling black mist. It pressed against his senses, heavy and suffocating. Even sound seemed to die within it.
Most people panicked here.
They squinted. Rubbed their eyes. Took hesitant steps forward, desperate to see.
That was the mistake.
Kael closed his eyes.
The moment his foot crossed the threshold—
ZOOOM!
Golden light erupted violently, engulfing his entire body. Space folded in on itself. His stomach lurched as if caught in freefall. Kael felt himself pulled forward, compressed, stretched—
Then—
Silence.
Fresh air.
A strange, mint-like taste filled his mouth as he slowly opened his eyes.
The mist was gone.
Towering before him stood an immense tree, its trunk wider than city towers. Its glowing emerald leaves cast soft light across the land. Massive roots coiled outward like sleeping serpents, half-buried in luminous soil. Treehouses rested among its branches, ancient bridges connecting them like veins.
The sky above was clear.
Kael stood frozen.
"…It's real."
Even knowing this place existed did nothing to lessen the impact. Seeing it with his own eyes was different. Overwhelming.
"This thing is bigger than my old office building," he muttered as he stepped closer.
At the very top of the tree hung a pale red fruit—succulent, radiant. It resembled a peach, but unlike any ordinary fruit, a faint yellow glow enveloped it, making it unmistakably unnatural.
Kael inhaled deeply, his gaze locked onto the fruit that contained the [Drop of Origin], desire burning fiercely in his eyes.
"This is it," he thought."Once I get my hands on this, my future will change entirely."
His eyes refused to look away.
"I won't remain a good-for-nothing who rots in his own house… raging at readers who never knew my name."
Only the protagonist had discovered it by accident—late in his first year at the academy.
Kael clenched his fists.
"I can't wait that long."
He plucked the fruit carefully and examined it. The shell was unnaturally hard.
"…This better be worth it."
He struck it with a stone.
SMACK.
The shell shattered, revealing a thin membrane the size of a grape, filled with shimmering liquid.
The Drop of Origin.
Without hesitation, Kael placed it into his mouth.
The moment the liquid touched his tongue—
Cold.
Not ordinary cold.
A freezing sensation invaded every fiber of his being, seeping into bone, nerves, blood.
"Keuh—!"
He nearly spat it out.
He forced himself not to.
"Ghh—!"
His knees buckled. His vision blurred violently as he collapsed to the ground.
Is it supposed to hurt this much!?
Pain exploded outward. Cold turned into searing heat. His veins felt like molten iron. He screamed as his body convulsed violently.
Skin blackened. Cracks spread across his hands. Smoke rose from his flesh.
Would it work?Was the theory wrong?If it failed—would he die again?
He had no answers.
Only pain.
Kael's consciousness began to fracture.
And somewhere deep within him—
Something stirred.
Public Rank Scale
G (Lowest) → F → E → D → C → B → A → S → SSS (Highest)