Atwell Orphanage
Lakane district
Pele city
Nation of Haumea
13th June 385 Post Global Unification
You shouldn't be here.
This was never supposed to happen.
What is that thing?
It is none of your concern. Begone, woman. Begone.
I am his servant. I belong to him—not you. You cannot command me.
Foolish spirit… I am him—
—
Eren jolted awake, his upper body snapping upright as if pulled by a string. Pain followed instantly. It slammed through him in a violent surge, ripping a gasp from his throat. His entire body convulsed, muscles spasming as if they were tearing themselves apart from the inside. He clawed for breath, hands flying over his torso, checking frantically for wounds. There were none. He wasn't wearing a shirt—only loose white pants—and thick bandages were wrapped tightly around his abdomen. His vision steadied, and recognition settled in. His room. The orphanage. Behind him, pinned to the wall, was the familiar poster of the Sword King.
"Eren… you're awake."
Mother Ruth sat by Ash's desk near the window. She looked exhausted—eyes sunken, posture stiff—as if she had slept there for days. Memory came rushing back. The storm. The Maleficiant. The Hunter.
"The Maleficiant," Eren said hoarsely. "What happened to it?"
"It's dead," Mother Ruth replied softly. "You killed it. Do you remember?"
He did. Fragments surfaced—the overwhelming surge, the crushing density of power, the moment his fist tore through the creature's core. And the Hunter—Alastor—standing there, bleeding, smiling as if he already knew how it would end.
"He transferred his power to me," Eren said quietly. "That was Magic… wasn't it?"
Mother Ruth didn't answer immediately. Eren remembered what it had felt like—touching something fundamental, something deeper than flesh or thought. Like grasping the structure of the world itself. He exhaled slowly. Even if it had only happened once… it was enough.
"I awakened," he said. "That's what matters."
Then something else struck him.
"The Hunter," Eren said sharply. "What happened to him? And… how long was I out?"
Mother Ruth's expression darkened.
"After the Maleficiant was destroyed, the Hunter disappeared."
Eren frowned. "Disappeared?"
"I mean exactly that," she said. "His body was gone. All that remained was blood. I couldn't sense his Anima anymore… so I assumed he had died."
"He saved us," Eren said, panic creeping into his voice. "He believed in me. We can't just—"
"Eren," Mother Ruth interrupted gently, but firmly. "It's been thirty days since you collapsed."
His breath caught.
"Thirty—what?"
"Thirty days," she repeated. "A Hunter squad arrived shortly after. They secured the area, handled the remains, and repaired the orphanage."
She hesitated, then added, "But you… Your body went into shock. Using Anima for the first time—that much Anima—nearly tore you apart."
Eren lay back slowly, staring at the ceiling. Thirty days. And whatever had spoken to him in the dark…
…was still echoing in his mind.
"The healers were astounded," Mother Ruth said softly. "They said you were suffering from Anima poisoning."
Eren blinked.
"According to them, your body couldn't handle the excess Anima your spirit core was producing," she continued. "They said there was nothing they could do for you… But I knew. I knew you would survive."
She pulled him into a tight embrace. Her arms trembled as weeks of fear, grief, and helplessness finally poured out of her. Mother Ruth didn't know how she had been so certain—but she had never doubted it.
Eren was an Irregular. He had survived a Maleficiant's direct attack—something even she had been unable to heal. His body had adapted then, reshaping itself to endure the impossible. And now… it had happened again.
For a mage to wield Anima safely, they required a Circuit System: a specialized internal structure that allowed Anima to circulate through the body without tearing it apart. Eren had awakened his spiritual core, but he hadn't possessed a circuit. That was why the excess Anima had nearly killed him. But his body hadn't rejected it.
It had evolved. Mother Ruth had witnessed the transformation herself after bringing him back from the Healing Center. His body had convulsed for days, wracked with violent seizures as something new formed inside him. The process was brutal—agonizing—but Eren never woke. The seizures had only stopped the previous night. When she had examined him afterward with a simple diagnostic spell, she had seen it clearly. The circuit was there. Eren Walker was now a true Mage. She still didn't understand how it had happened. Whether it was the Hunter—Alastor—or something deeper tied to Eren's origin, she couldn't say.
"Eren…" she began.
"It was nice," Eren muttered, flexing his fingers. "Using Anima for once." He winced as pain rippled through his body. "God, everything hurts. Guess that's my body telling me not to do that again."
Mother Ruth didn't respond. Instead, she pointed toward the desk beside his bed.
"Eren. Look."
A black book rested there. An eerie aura radiated from it, its ominous nature making the hair on Mother Ruth's to stand up. Eren's brows shot up from seeing the book. The grimoire. Instinctively, he checked his hand.
The ring—still there, wrapped around his middle finger. Heart pounding, Eren picked up the book and opened it. Strange symbols covered the pages—repeating patterns, etched in a language he couldn't read but somehow recognized. He flipped through several pages, each marked with the same arcane script. His breath caught. This was the same book that had saved him during his fight with Onyanko.
And now—
The realization settled heavily in his chest. The Magic Alastor Kinsway had transferred into him… hadn't disappeared. It was sealed within the grimoire now. Eren closed the grimoire slowly.
Whatever had begun that night…
…it had permanently changed his life...whether for the better or not, that was for Eren to decide.
"How is this even possible?" Eren said hoarsely. "I thought he lent me his power… not gave it to me."
Mother Ruth shook her head slowly.
"I don't think that's what happened," she said. "I don't know what the Hunter intended to do—but I don't believe transferring all of his power to you was ever his plan."
She hesitated, then added quietly, "Something within you interfered. Whatever awakened… it disrupted whatever ritual he was attempting."
Eren's fingers curled around the edge of the bed.
"He called me an Irregular," he said. "What did he mean by that?" For just a moment, distress flickered across Mother Ruth's face. She tried to hide it—but Eren caught it immediately.
"Mother…"
She closed her eyes.
"I'm sorry, Eren. I truly am," she said. "People with your kind of power…"
"My power?" Eren echoed. Mother Ruth exhaled and met his gaze.
"Irregulars are beings who exist outside the system imposed by the World's Will."
Eren stiffened. He had heard the term before. According to Lumerian doctrine, the World's Will was a fundamental, observing principle—a force that governed natural law itself. Even the gods were said to answer to it.
"The World's Will establishes rules," she continued. "How Anima flows. How magic function? How cultivation progresses. What limits existence obeys. Irregulars… do not follow those rules."
Eren swallowed.
"They go against the grain of reality," Mother Ruth said. "Because of that, Irregulars are capable of things that should be impossible. They can cultivate both arcane Anima and martial Anima."
Eren's eyes widened.
"That's impossible," he said. "You're either a Mage or a Magic warrior. Everyone knows that."
"And yet," Mother Ruth said softly, "Irregulars are the exception."
Silence settled between them.
"Because of how dangerous—and unpredictable—Irregulars can be," she continued, "the Global Union keeps a very close watch on them."
Eren's breath hitched.
"Wait," he said quickly. "What does that mean for me?" His voice tightened. "Am I going to be taken? Am I… in trouble?" He had never heard of Irregulars before tonight. Never imagined something like this applied to him. Mother Ruth didn't answer immediately. And that hesitation terrified him. Mother Ruth considered him carefully.
"For now, I think you should focus on training your magic," she said. "We don't know what would happen if the Hunter Association discovered an undocumented Irregular—especially one who has already awakened a grimoire."
She met his eyes, firm but gentle.
"The safest path is to cultivate your magic power first. Reach the Initiate rank. If you intend to take the Namer entrance exam this August, you'll need to go from rankless to the Initiate stage in just a few weeks."
Eren let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.
"All this time," he said quietly, "I kept wondering why I couldn't cultivate. Wondered if I was defective. The only one born with a dead spiritual core."
He laughed under his breath—sharp, disbelieving.
"But it wasn't dead. It was sealed." The realization hit harder than any punch he had ever taken. All those years of doubt, of being told he lacked something essential—none of it had been his fault. So who sealed it? When? As a baby? At birth? Did his parents know he was an Irregular? Was that why his power had been sealed—to hide him from the government… from the Hunter Association? The questions piled up—but Eren didn't voice them. He glanced at Mother Ruth and let them go.
Whatever his origins were, whatever secrets lay behind his birth, this place—Atwell—had been his home. Mother Ruth had been his family. That was enough. The door creaked open.
Ash stepped inside, hands tucked into his black trousers, white shirt sleeves rolled to his elbows. The injuries he'd suffered during the Maleficent fight were gone, his posture relaxed, his expression as composed as ever.
"So," Ash said, red eyes flicking over Eren, his internal sense briefly noting the colorless, rankless core within Eren's solar plexus. "You're awake."
"You've got a couple of weeks to reach Initiate if you want to take the test," Ash continued calmly. "Sleeping for thirty days doesn't exactly help with that."
"Ash—"
"Oh shit," Eren said suddenly, springing off the bed. "He's right."
He ran a hand through his hair, already moving. "I can't be lying around when I'm this far behind."
Eren picked up the grimoire, stared at it for a moment, then sighed. He would have to study the tome if he truly wanted to master the magic power within him, but for now, he needed to start cultivating.
"Thanks for the heads-up," he said. "Seriously."
Ash smirked faintly. "Now you can't complain about being the only one who can't cultivate anymore."
"Hey," Eren shot back, "when did I ever complain?"
Mother Ruth and Ash exchanged a look, and then both burst out laughing, memories of years of Eren's delinquent tantrums flashing between them. Eren groaned.
"Okay, okay," he muttered. "Maybe a little."
****
Entrance exam
Tower center
Downtown District
Pele city
Nation of Haumea
5th August 285 A.G.M
Eren felt a knot of nervousness tighten in his chest as he stepped out of the automobile Mother Ruth had arranged for them. It was a public transport, carrying them from the grimy Lakane District into the cleaner, fresh-smelling heart of downtown. Downtown wasn't unfamiliar to him. He used to skip classes just to come here, slipping into cultivation expos whenever he could. The buildings were crafted from silver, brass, and iron, many of them crowned with elegant domes. People moved in neat, orderly lines, obeying traffic laws—everything Lakane wasn't.
Eren stretched his arms and yawned, trying to shake off his anxiety. He had woken up energized and confident, ready for the exam. Breakfast had been simple—toast, scrambled eggs, bacon—and then they'd been on their way. Ash, however, had been unusually quiet, both at home and during the ride. The moment the vehicle turned the corner, and the exam building came into view, a tightness settled in Eren's gut. He glanced at Ash, but the boy's expression revealed nothing. A spatial band circled Ash's wrist—a storage device containing his enchanted tool.
Eren looked down at the ring on his middle finger, sensing the dense energy sealed within it. Weeks of cultivation and training flashed through his mind, hours spent learning how to control the flow of his Anima. Thinking about the fighting style he had developed calmed him. As long as he had his gauntlet, he knew he could contend with opponents ranked higher than himself.
"You coming, or are you planning to space out all day?" Ash said.
He was already ahead of Eren, watching him psych himself up. Eren smirked and pushed past him, his confidence snapping back into place. The Dungeon Center loomed before them—a massive structure capped with a circular dome. A long staircase led to the entrance, where crowds gathered in restless clusters. Eren's eyes widened as he took it all in.
Adventurers.
They stood in groups, clad in battle gear, each party distinct from the next. Eren could feel their gazes on him—measuring, judging—and he found it hard to look away. There was something about them, an aura he couldn't quite describe. A few radiated undeniable authority; veteran adventurers, seasoned and dangerous. Some even looked foreign.
Adventuring was a lucrative profession, rivaling—even surpassing—that of Hunters. The Adventurer Guild offered work only possible within dungeons: monster hunts, full-floor clearances, the retrieval of anima crystals, and anima stones. The Guild's headquarters lay on Namer Island, but branches had spread across nations worldwide, even beyond the Global Unions—as long as taxes were paid. Adventurers, in effect, could roam freely across the world. And from what Eren had learned, some Hunters were adventurers as well.
"This way," Ash said, pointing toward a post marking the Namer University entrance exam. They headed over, whispers trailing behind them as several adventurers turned to stare.
"Ignore them," Ash muttered as they reached the exam entrance. A registration stall stood beside the door, a line already forming. A woman wearing spectacles stood near it, tablet in hand.
"If you're here for the exam, have your credentials ready," she announced.
Eren pulled out the confirmation form he'd received after passing the written test. He stepped toward the line, and someone brushed past him. A spark of static shot through his body. The stranger stopped and turned.
Eren froze as their eyes met.
She wore a navy-blue trench coat, a winged star encircled by a halo pinned to her pocket alongside several silver insignias. Her silver hair was tied neatly into a ponytail, and her crimson eyes felt impossibly sharp, as though they could see straight through him.
Eren didn't know who—or what—she was, but a crushing pressure radiated from her presence. Even without Ash's heightened internal senses, Eren could feel the anima around her. Since awakening his perception, he had grown accustomed to how anima flowed through the air—but the anima surrounding this woman was far denser than anything he'd felt before. Yet what unsettled him most was her gaze. It was mesmerizing.
Then she walked past him. The woman at the stall bowed slightly and stepped aside, allowing the silver-haired woman to enter the building. Eren could only stare after her, his heart pounding.
"Get into the line," Ash hissed.
Eren stepped into the spot Ash had saved for him, but his thoughts drifted back to the silver-haired woman. From her bearing alone, he knew she was a Hunter—and one with a cultivation rank far above his own. The Association's emblem pinned to her coat confirmed it. And the way the space around her felt…
She wasn't an ordinary Awakener.
"She's one of them," Ash said as the line began to move.
"One of whom?" Eren asked.
"The Great Families," Ash replied.
Eren stiffened. The Great Families? No way. They were the ruling Mage dynasties of the Lumerion Empire on the central continent—six families whose members stood far above the average Mage. Their ancestors had founded the Global Union itself, making them the most powerful and influential bloodlines in the modern world.
"From her looks," Ash continued, "I'd bet she's from the Greyron Family."
"No way," Eren said. "Why would a royal from another country be here in Haumea?"
"Because she's a Hunter," Ash replied flatly. "They have jurisdiction in every nation under the Global Union."
"That's… actually kind of amazing," Eren muttered.
Ash reached the stall first. A man with pointed ears, dressed in a green robe, examined the forms. When he looked up at Ash, he whistled softly. The shock on his face was obvious as he took in the way external energy naturally gathered around Ash's body.
Ash pretended not to notice and handed over his form.
The man scanned it with a wand-like device, nodded, and handed Ash a metal tag. Ash pinned it to the right side of his chest and entered the building without a word. Eren stepped up next, excitement flickering beneath his nerves. He handed over his worn, slightly tattered form. The man glanced at it once—then raised an eyebrow.
"What?" Eren snapped.
"Your anima reserves are extremely low," the man said. "What rank are you again?"
Eren sighed. Right to the sore spot. By sheer persistence, he had barely reached the first tier of the Intermediate rank. Worse still, his natural anima capacity was below the average for even that tier. He had expected skepticism—but not this outright dismissal. He focused inward, flexing the core at his solar plexus. It flared with a muted orange glow, unmistakable proof of his rank. The man scoffed and handed him a tag.
"Participant No. 451," he said.
Eren pinned it to his chest.
"There's always one like you every year," the man added.
Eren paused mid-step. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Low-class hopefuls," the man replied coldly, "who think becoming a Hunter will let them rise above what the gods gave them. I almost pity you, kid. Hunting isn't all glory and fantasy."
Eren clenched his jaw—but chose not to respond. Causing a scene would only hurt him. He turned and walked into the building, fury simmering beneath his calm exterior. He breathed deeply until he spotted Ash. Ash leaned against a wall, unfazed by the stares directed his way. They were inside a vast hall. At its center floated a massive silver crystal, suspended in midair. A pentagram encircled it, layered with sigils and glyphs Eren couldn't decipher. Despite the number of participants, the space felt open, almost cavernous.
Eren's thoughts drifted to what he knew of Dungeons. There were seven in the world, each anchored to a different continent—and countless dungeon gates scattered across the globe. Spatial rifts linking their world to the dangerous realms beyond. Humanity had learned to control access to these rifts, building centers like this to support the Adventuring industry. This Dungeon Center was linked to the only Dungeon on the western continent. He couldn't help feeling a twinge of envy. Namer Island's Dungeon was the most famous in the world—one he dreamed of seeing someday. Ash pushed off the wall and met Eren halfway.
"Those sigils," Ash said quietly, "they once belonged to the Primevals."
The Primevals—the first inhabitants of the world, long before mankind and the other races arrived. Eren glanced at Ash, wondering what it must feel like to stand before one of the last remnants of his people. The Asterion clan had been the final lineage of the Primevals, wiped out in a massacre long ago. Eren didn't know the full history, and he rarely brought it up. It was a wound that hadn't healed.
"Can you read them?" Eren asked instead.
"They're conduit-words," Ash replied. "The crystal channels the rift's energy in this area. It should open the gate for all participants at once."
"Interesting," Eren murmured.
So the rift wasn't visible yet. The sound of heavy doors closing echoed through the hall. Eren looked up as the ambient light dimmed slightly, revealing an upper gallery he hadn't noticed before. A delegation sat there, overlooking the candidates below. His eyes locked onto the silver-haired Hunter. She was watching him. Eren swallowed, suddenly aware of himself under her sharp, unreadable gaze. Ash elbowed him lightly, snapping him out of it.
"It's rude to stare," Ash muttered.
"Attention, all participants of this year's entrance exam."
A short man stood at the center of the delegation. He wore a brown trench coat and adjusted it nervously as he spoke. A monocle sat over his right eye—clearly a magical tool.
"You were selected from among thousands who took the written test," he continued. "Your presence here means you possess the foundational qualities required to proceed."
He paused, letting his gaze sweep across the hall before clearing his throat.
"Namer University is not an ordinary academy within the Global Union. It has educated nobles and royalty from across allied nations, but more importantly, it has produced Hunters—exceptional individuals who have defended the Union and the world from existential threats."
Eren listened closely.
"Very few are granted this opportunity. However, under the Arlene Act—made possible by the blessing of the Great Zangrest Family—access to this institution has expanded."
Eren felt a quiet surge of gratitude. The Zangrest Family, one of the Great Families of the Lumerion Empire, had established a scholarship program that allowed candidates without awakened bloodlines or aristocratic backing to attend Namer University. Without it, Eren wouldn't even be standing here. The exam didn't just determine admission—it determined survival. Without a scholarship, the cost alone would have crushed him.
"Now," the man continued, "for the practical exam. This year, we have elected to raise the difficulty."
A ripple of tension spread through the room.
"Due to ongoing political instability—the crisis in the Middle East and the recent power shift within the Reim Empire—we can no longer afford mediocrity. We do not seek numbers. We seek excellence."
Eren's heartbeat quickened.
"That is why this year's exam will take place inside a Dungeon, rather than our standard test facilities."
The room erupted into hushed reactions. Eren could feel it—the collective surge of adrenaline, the sharp scent of anticipation. A Dungeon. Eren had never entered one himself. He knew only the stories Mother Ruth had told him—stories of chaos, brutality, and relentless danger. From what he'd heard, adversity wasn't a possibility inside a Dungeon. It was a certainty. And soon, they would be stepping straight into it.
"All candidates will be transported to the first floor of the Lower Dungeon Stratum," the instructor announced. "Your primary objective is to acquire as many anima cores as possible."
A ripple of tension ran through the hall.
"Each anima core collected will be converted into evaluation points. The greater the number and quality of cores you obtain, the higher your score."
Eren leaned forward, listening closely.
"Once you have gathered your cores, you must proceed to the Guild Quarter, located within the Lower Stratum. However," the instructor emphasized, "You must arrive before the countdown comes to an end."
He clapped his hands.
Eren stared in surprise as a black, liquid-like material flowed around his left wrist, hardening into a sleek band etched with faint sigils.
"That device is a StoreDeck Amulet," the instructor continued. "It contains three functions."
He raised a finger.
"The first is a Dungeon map, calibrated to guide you to the Guild Quarter."
A second finger.
"The second function is a time synchronizer. As you know, time behaves irregularly within Dungeons. Your StoreDeck is linked to outside-world time and displays a countdown unique to each candidate."
The air grew heavier.
"You must arrive at the Guild Quarter before yourcountdown reaches zero. Late arrivals will be disqualified."
Eren's stomach tightened.
"And the third function," the instructor said, "is a dimensional containment unit designed specifically for anima cores. Ordinary spatial rings cannot safely store them."
So that was the test.
Gather as many anima cores as possible. Manage the warped flow of Dungeon time. And reach the Guild Quarter before the countdown ends. Sounds easy, but Eren was sure there was more to it. It wasn't just a combat exam.
"Your timer will begin the moment you are transported," the instructor concluded. "We will now activate the crystal rifts. Good luck."
Excited chatter broke out among the candidates.
Ash turned to Eren. "Good luck," he said quietly. "We might be dropped in different locations, so—"
He hesitated, then drew a blade from his spatial band and held it out.
"What's that for?" Eren asked.
"Insurance," Ash replied. "The Dungeon isn't a place for someone still learning to use their power. If you run into something even you can't handle, place my blade into your StoreDeck. I'll feel it vanish from normal space—and I'll know you need help."
Eren placed his hand over Ash's, gently pushing the blade back.
"What's gotten into you?" Eren said. "You've been acting supportive ever since I learned how to cultivate."
"If you're this determined to get into Namer," Ash said, "I'd rather you not end up dead."
Eren snorted. "Didn't know you cared."
"It's for Mother Ruth," Ash said.
Eren exhaled slowly, then shook his head.
"Thanks—but I'm good."
His thoughts drifted to the Lightfolk man outside, the way he'd dismissed him. The insult still burned, but Eren refused to let it control him. That fight with the Maleficiant cockroach hadn't been a fluke. He needed to know that—for himself. The world had never been fair to him. The system wasn't built for people like him. But right here—right now—he could start climbing.
"I have to do this with my own strength," Eren said. "But… I appreciate it."
A sharp crack echoed through the hall. Both boys turned as the massive silver crystal blazed to life, spinning faster as light poured from its core. Space itself began to distort.
"Good luck," the instructor said, his voice steady. "And may the Goddess Keraunos watch over you all."
The light surged—
—and the world folded into darkness.