The wind screamed past Kaelen's ears as he plummeted toward the cobblestone streets of the noble district. His heart hammered against his ribs—not with the scripted pulse of a boss, but with the raw adrenaline of a man who was skipping three levels of tutorial.
Below him, the city was in a state of absolute, unrefined panic. People who had spent their lives in the safety of Astora's high walls were now being hunted by things that shouldn't exist yet. The rift in the sky looked like a jagged wound in reality, weeping a thick, crimson fog that coalesced into 'Dread-Stalkers'—lanky, multi-limbed horrors made of solidified spite.
The game is cheating, Kaelen thought, gritting his teeth. It's trying to force a Game Over because I touched the Saintess's plotline.
He willed the shadows to flare. The tattered wings he had conjured felt less like limbs and more like a projection of his willpower. Just before hitting the ground, he snapped them wide, the dark energy catching the air with a violent thrum. He landed in a crouch in the center of the Plaza of Heroes, the stone cracking beneath his boots.
[SYSTEM NOTIFICATION: COMBAT MODE ACTIVATED]
[Current Enemy: Dread-Stalker (Level 30) x 12] [
Warning: Your Mana Heart is currently unstable.]
A Dread-Stalker lunged from the fog, its claws whistling through the air. In the game, this was a high-speed monster that required precise parries. Kaelen didn't parry.
He reached out, and for the first time, he tapped into the Shadow Weaver skill. He didn't draw mana from his chest; he reached into the literal shadow cast by the monster itself.
"Collapse," he commanded.
The creature's own shadow suddenly turned into a liquid vacuum. In an instant, the Dread-Stalker was sucked downward, its limbs snapping as it was dragged into the lightless void beneath its feet. It didn't even have time to shriek before the stone floor smoothed over, leaving nothing behind.
[EXPERIENCE GAINED]
[Level Up: 45 -> 46]
Kaelen didn't wait to celebrate. He spun, his hands moving in a blur. He wasn't using the flashy, explosive spells of the 'Old Kaelen.' He was weaving. He grabbed the shadows of nearby buildings, pulling them across the plaza like piano wire.
As the remaining eleven stalkers rushed him, they ran straight into a web of conceptual darkness. It didn't just cut them; it erased the space they occupied. Heads, limbs, and torsos vanished into the 'Null' as they passed through his lines.
"Your Highness!"
A familiar, armored figure skidded to a halt at the edge of the plaza. It was Malphas, his breath coming in ragged gasps. His "creaky" armor was stained with purple ichor. Behind him stood a dozen royal guards, their faces pale behind their visors.
"The rifts... they're everywhere," Malphas yelled over the sound of the wind. "The High Council is demanding you retreat to the inner sanctum. They say the 'Providence' will protect the royal bloodline."
"The Council can rot," Kaelen snapped, stepping over the dissolving remains of a monster. "If we hide in the sanctum, there won't be a city left to rule. Malphas, take your men to the Southern Gate. The rift there is feeding on the ley-lines. If it pops, the whole district goes up."
Malphas hesitated. "But the orders—"
"I am the order!" Kaelen's voice boomed, amplified by the [Villain's Presence]. The guards instinctively took a step back, the sheer weight of his aura forcing their knees to buckle. "Do you want to die hiding in a cellar, or do you want to tell your grandchildren you fought beside the Sovereign?"
The fear in Malphas's eyes shifted. It didn't disappear, but it sharpened into something resembling respect—or perhaps just the realization that his Prince was far more terrifying than the monsters.
"To the Southern Gate!" Malphas roared, gesturing to his men. "For the Shadow!"
As they sprinted off, Kaelen felt a sharp sting in his eyes.
[WARNING: LUCK CHECK FAILED (0.5)]
[Event Triggered: 'The Hero's Arrival']
Kaelen looked toward the main thoroughfare. Through the smoke and chaos, he saw a group of refugees being cornered by a gargantuan, level-50 'Abyssal Crusher.'
And standing between the monster and the civilians was a boy.
He couldn't have been older than seventeen. He wore simple linen clothes, and in his hand was nothing but a rusty iron farm tool. But his hair—bright, defiant gold—and the look in his eyes were unmistakable.
It was Lucius. The Protagonist.
"Oh, you've got to be kidding me," Kaelen groaned. "He's supposed to be in a training arc for another month. He's going to get himself killed, and if the Hero dies, the System will probably just reset the whole world."
The Abyssal Crusher raised a massive, spiked club made of bone. Lucius didn't flinch. He planted his feet, his body beginning to glow with a faint, flickering golden light. It was the 'Spark of Dawn'—the ultimate plot armor. But at level 1, it wouldn't even stop a papercut from that monster.
The club swung down.
CRACK.
The impact shattered the cobblestones, sending a cloud of dust into the air. The refugees screamed.
But when the dust cleared, Lucius wasn't a pancake.
Kaelen was standing in front of him, one hand raised. A shield of solid, solidified shadow—as hard as diamond—had stopped the bone club cold. The impact had driven Kaelen's feet inches into the ground, and his arm felt like it had been hit by a mountain, but he didn't budge.
Lucius stared up at the man in the charcoal leathers, his mouth agape. "Who... who are you?"
Kaelen didn't look back. He shoved the club upward with a burst of shadow energy, sending the massive monster staggering backward.
"I'm the guy who's going to make your life a living hell, kid," Kaelen growled, his violet eyes glowing with a predatory light. "But not today. Today, you're just in my way."
He reached back and grabbed Lucius by the collar, tossing him toward the retreating guards like a sack of grain.
"Malphas! Take the brat! Keep him alive!"
[SYSTEM NOTIFICATION: DESTINY REWRITTEN]
[You have saved the Protagonist.]
[Relationship Status with Lucius: Confused/Terrified.]
[Luck Stat increased: 0.5 -> 0.7]
Kaelen turned his full attention back to the Abyssal Crusher. The monster roared, its three eyes focusing on him with intense hatred.
"Twelve hours to save the world," Kaelen whispered, the Primordial Shadow Script humming in his veins. "Let's see if I can set a new world record."
He didn't use a sword. He didn't use a spell. He simply walked forward, the shadows of the entire plaza beginning to rise behind him like an incoming tide.