The city of Valhalla, built around Reynald Hero Academy, pulsed with vibrant energy.
As a "neutral zone" between the three great nations—the Empire, the Holy Kingdom, and the Republic—Valhalla was a cultural mosaic. Tales whispered that it was more luxurious than the Empire's capital, more devout than the Holy Kingdom's sanctuaries, and more advanced than the Republic's bustling cities.
But the brighter the lights, the deeper the shadows cast.
Beneath the opulence and harmony, Valhalla's underbelly festered. A vast slum known as the Ant Nest sprawled beneath the city—a maze of lawless alleyways reeking of rot and despair. No place on the continent rivaled its squalor.
And tonight, that darkness stirred.
A procession of figures in black robes glided silently through the filth-choked alleys. Their aura was so menacing that even the hardened thugs, high on drugs and drink, shrank back without a word.
"Open it."
"Yes, Priest!"
Three of the cultists pressed their hands to a blank wall. Black energy seeped into the stone.
Whoosh!
An invisible door hissed open, revealing a narrow stairwell plunging underground.
Calyx threw off his robe as he stepped into the cult's hidden sanctuary. A sigh escaped him.
Now, what's next…?
The cadet they'd ambushed was supposed to be reported as "missing," not dead. Too many loose ends remained.
First… someone who looks like him.
It was a simple deception: claim the cadet fled the academy under pressure, unable to endure the grind or cruelty. A lookalike would be sent to his hometown to fabricate the illusion.
Where was he from…? Calyx frowned. Republican features, maybe—but these days, bloodlines are too mixed to be sure.
Five hundred years ago, the Republic's ancestors had crossed over from a place called Korea, but now their lineage was diluted across the continent.
No time to waste. If word gets out… Calyx bit his lip. He'll come for me.
"Welcome back, Priest Calyx!"
"The team lost contact with Husk, sir—"
"Silence."
The thirty or so cultists in the chamber shut their mouths immediately. Calyx's gaze swept over them.
"Where's the cadet's body?"
"In the corner. And what should we do with Husk's corpse…?"
"Chop it up. Feed it to the dogs."
"Y-Yes, sir…"
Even demons winced at the order. Calyx didn't flinch.
He turned, eyes narrowing. "Who was supposed to accompany Husk when placing the stake?"
The room went tense.
"Was it you?"
"M-my apologies, Priest Calyx—I… I won't fail again!"
"There won't be a next time."
Calyx raised a hand. Black demonic energy coalesced into jagged spikes.
"No, please—!"
"I trust no one living."
The spikes shot forward with a crackling hiss. The demon dropped with a thud, blood pooling at his feet.
"Chop him up too."
"Y-Yes, Priest!"
Two cultists dragged the corpse away, trembling.
Calyx reclined in his chair, unmoved.
"How's the ley line infusion progressing?"
"Smoothly, sir. No other incidents."
"And no one else sneaking off alone?"
"N-no, sir!"
Tch. Calyx clicked his tongue. There's always one more fool among them. But I can't afford to purge too many right now.
"Priest," one demon began hesitantly. "Should we delay the ley line operation until the cadet's disappearance is covered up?"
Calyx closed his eyes in thought, then slowly shook his head.
"No. We proceed as planned."
"B-but if the professor—"
"He won't report anything yet. Not over one day of silence."
Even if he was suspicious, the professor would act carefully to avoid implicating himself. At worst, he'd begin a private investigation.
"But if we delay now, the entire plan falls behind."
"Isn't there still a year left before we begin the final phase?"
"You imbecile!" Calyx slammed the table. "You think years of preparation are for show?"
"Sorry, Priest!"
"Do you have any idea how delicate this curse infusion is? Even He needed a decade to craft the spell framework."
And more importantly…
If this fails, I die. Simple as that.
He scowled. "Just find someone who looks like the cadet. Quickly."
"Understood!"
The demon turned and moved to the shadowy corner where the cadet's body had been dumped unceremoniously.
"Let's see what this guy looked like…"
He knelt beside the corpse.
"…Huh?"
Gray ash swirled gently along the floor.
"…What is this?"
He frowned, brushing the ash with his boot.
Then—
Swoosh.
A blur of blue light flashed through the air.
Thud.
His head hit the floor before his body collapsed.
"…I see," a cold voice murmured.
The gray-haired cadet, Dale Han, stood where the corpse should have been. Whole. Breathing.
Alive.
The room froze in stunned silence.
"You… were alive?"
Impossible.
Calyx shot to his feet.
I pierced his heart…!
He looked at Dale's chest—no wound. No scar. Just smooth, unblemished skin.
"W-what is this…?" Even Calyx stammered.
Dale met his gaze and smirked. "Didn't you say earlier you don't trust the living?"
He stepped forward.
"Then take my advice."
"…?"
"Don't trust the dead either."
Calyx's eyes narrowed, rage and confusion boiling together.
"I don't know what trick you used, but… did you really think you could escape from here?"
Over thirty demons surrounded Dale. And Calyx himself held the rank of priest—a threat even seasoned heroes hesitated to face.
"You're delusional."
"…Delusional?" Dale repeated.
His lips curled into a confident grin as he tapped the sword in his hand against the stone floor.
"No."
He looked up, gaze piercing.
"The ones in danger… are all of you."
Calyx blinked.
What is he saying…?
But Dale wasn't done.
His eyes scanned the hideout. Across the chamber, demonic stakes pulsed with dark magic—ley line anchors meant to spread a vast curse.
Curse infusion into ley lines… and the plan begins next year…
He narrowed his eyes.
Then the one behind all this—'He'—must be…
A memory surfaced.
Iris, trembling, blind eyes gazing into the void.
—A curse. A great one.
—Who could've done this to you?
—The Archbishop of Illusions… Astaroth.
The monster who stole her sight, her title, her joy. The one who made her smile vanish forever.
Dale began to laugh.
Not out of joy. But the kind of laugh that precedes wrath.
"I see."
He pulled a small glass vial from his coat, filled with blue liquid.
He drank.
The vial shattered on the floor.
Sun Sword.Sixth Form: Radiance.
A roar of light exploded outward.
White brilliance swept across the chamber, burning away the shadows like morning sun against frost.
And in the center of it all—Dale Han, eyes glowing, reborn from ash.
Sun Sword.
A sword technique created by Reynald Helios, the leader of the "Five Great Heroes" who sealed the Demon God 500 years ago.
It comprises nine total "forms," each exponentially harder and more powerful than the last.
Yuren once told me that even Reynald himself only conceptualized the ninth form. He never mastered it.
Anyway…
Though it's called a sword technique, the Sun Sword only resembles ordinary swordsmanship up to the fourth form—an upward slash, downward slash, horizontal cut, and a thrust.
These basics, when honed to their absolute peak, make up the core of those early forms.
But from the fifth form onward, it transcends the limits of swordsmanship.
It stops being a technique.
It becomes something closer to magic—or perhaps even a miracle.
Normally, I can't reach beyond the fourth form.
My body, my mana, my circuits—none of them can handle the burden.
But now—
Now that I've taken the Stigma Amplifier…
I can step into that realm—just for five minutes.
"Ugh…! M-My eyes!"
"What… What is this light?!"
The demons shielded their faces, stumbling back from the searing radiance that erupted from my blade.
I didn't wait.
I moved.
Slash. Slash. Slash.
Three heads fell. Their expressions frozen in dumbfounded horror.
It wasn't even that I swung my sword at them.
The light did the killing.
The light pouring from the blade split them as if a divine blade had passed through their bodies.
"It's light! Don't touch the light!"
One demon screamed, throwing himself out of its path.
Slash!
But I twitched the tip of the blade.
And the demon split clean in half.
Distance? Meaningless.
The radiant slash obeyed intent, not reach.
Each movement was both sword and spell.
A hymn of destruction.
The hideout erupted into chaos as demons screamed, blood painting the floor.
"You idiots! Don't dodge like cowards—rush him! He's alone!"
Calyx barked with fury.
"Y-Yes, sir!"
"Surround him!"
Weapons were drawn. Screams echoed. They charged.
Slash. Slash.
Two more demons fell.
But several others slipped through the path of light and closed the distance.
One of them roared, driving a spear wreathed in demonic energy toward my chest.
A well-timed attack.
I'd just swung. I shouldn't be able to block in time.
Shouldn't.
But—
"Heh."
I smiled. Sharp. Confident.
I stepped sideways, twisted my body just so, and caught the demon's spear between my armpits.
The motion was reckless—borderline suicidal.
Any hesitation, and the spear would've skewered me.
But I didn't flinch.
I knew.
I had more than one life to spend.
"Y-You maniac—!"
Crack!
I twisted the shaft of the spear and snapped the demon's neck with my free hand. His body slumped instantly.
"Eek!"
Another demon, charging behind him, whimpered in terror at the sight.
"What's with the trembling?"
I tossed the corpse aside and licked my lips, grinning like a predator.
"It's only been a minute."
And I lunged.
I wasn't fighting like a cadet.
I was hunting.
Guh!
Aaaaah!
"P-Please, spare—urk!"
Those who kept their distance were cut down by the white light.
Those who dared close in were crushed by fists, knees, and steel.
I moved with a madman's tempo, slipping through gaps, twisting between attacks.
I used the layout—the pillars, the walls—to anchor my position, cutting off flanking attempts and forcing demons to collide in their desperation.
They were panicking.
To them, it wasn't a battle anymore.
It was a massacre.
Out of thirty demons—
More than half were already dead.
And the count was still rising.
"P-Priest Calyx…!"
The few survivors stumbled back, trembling as they looked toward their superior.
"You useless—worthless fools…!"
Calyx ground his teeth.
What… is this cadet?
He's a candidate, they said.
Just a candidate.
No candidate should fight like this.
Maybe, maybe a top-ranked one like Yuren Helios could rival an active hero.
But this…
This wasn't even close to a hero's usual style.
No hesitation. No fear. No mercy.
He moved like someone who'd seen a thousand deaths and walked away from all of them.
This wasn't a cadet.
This was a retired war monster—a butcher from a forgotten battlefield.
"Damn it!"
Calyx clenched his fists.
He hadn't even stepped in yet.
But just watching was enough to know.
I can't win.
Even with the Stigma's power… even as a priest of the Demon Church…
I can't beat him.
But running?
The Archbishop's fury would be even worse.
I'll die either way.
Then—
Calyx pulled a wand from his cloak, its tip embedded with a massive mana stone.
Dark energy surged from the Stigma carved into his chest, swirling through the wand.
He raised it.
Demons or no demons—
If he was going down, he was taking the whole hideout with him.
"Haaaaa!"
Shoo—shoo—shoo—shoo!
Dozens of black spikes screamed through the air.