Aether's vision blurred, the vaulted ceiling spinning overhead like the eye of some distant, cruel god.
He couldn't move.
He couldn't breathe.
Yet somehow… he still was.
Why?
The cold spread through him—not just his body, now lifeless and crumpled on the stone—but his very awareness, hovering just behind his own eyes, watching the world tilt and rotate.
I'm dead.
That was the only thought that echoed, numbly and repeatedly, as he stared at his own boots several paces away.
This is death. This is what it feels like…
Then why am I still thinking?
Why—why can I still see—?
His panic surged like a dam breaking, but no scream followed. No limbs to move. No heart to pound. Just silence.
And then—
Boots.
Sounds of steps echoed as a figure approached him.
They came into view like thunder drawn in quiet motion.
Polished white steel, edged with holy runes.
And blood—dripping red and thick down a once-pure blade, pooling near the edges of Aether's fallen cloak.
Him.
The black-haired knight of the White Order.
Aether had only glimpsed him before—silent, still as a statue. A man whose mere presence stiffened spines and silenced murmurs. Now, the man stood above him, gazing down with eyes like dull mercury.
He knelt.
Picked up Aether's severed head with a gloved hand.
Then slowly, he reached up and removed the skull mask that had obscured his face. A second later, he yanked away the remaining cloth from Aether's limp hood.
And there it was.
The truth laid bare.
White hair, pale as untouched snow, fell loose and matted. His pale skin was drained of life. And those eyes—were now faded shades of glassy blue.
Aether's true blood revealed.
The black-haired knight, Sir Valthor Kreyne, held Aether's severed head higher, his mercury-grey eyes glinting with smug triumph.
"Well, well... The last of the Norvind line, snuffed out like a candle. Pathetic. To think you'd waltz into Verminy, bold as brass, and not expect us to notice." His lips curled into a sneer, relishing the murmurs of fear rippling through the youths.
"The God Slayer's blood? Nothing but a stain we've finally wiped clean."
The room snapped.
Like glass under strain, it fractured—first with silence, then with murmurs, then with mounting fear.
"White hair…"
"He really is one of them…"
"I knew something was off!"
"A descendant of the God Slayer… here!?"
"No wonder he had four SSS talents!"
"He's not one of us…"
"He's a monster—he tricked the orb!"
"Those people aren't even supposed to be alive!"
"I thought they were all executed!"
From the shadows of a pillar, the blonde-haired knight, Lady Seris Vayne, stepped forward, her green eyes cold and intense, with a stoic expression on her face.
"Enough, Valthor. Cease your gloating. We must wrap the body in salamander leather immediately. Any one of those SSS talents could manifest unpredictably due to his death shock. We can afford no accidents."
Valthor chuckled, tossing Aether's head lightly in his gloved hand. "Always so grim, Seris. Fine, have it your way. Let's bundle up the corpse before it causes a fuss." He set the head down with a mocking flourish, as if presenting a trophy.
Seris approached Aether's crumpled body, hand dipping into a magic pouch at her side. She pulled out a shimmering sheet of salamander leather, its fire-resistant scales glinting in the torchlight.
But before she could drape it over the body—
FOOSH—
A deafening crack split the air. A pillar of ice, jagged and impossibly sharp, erupted from the ground, spearing her through the shoulder and pinning her to a nearby pillar.
Blood sprayed, staining her white armor. Seris gasped, coughing up crimson as she drew her sword with a trembling hand.
She swung at the ice, but her blade shattered on impact, fragments scattering like glass.
Her green eyes widened, awe overtaking her. "How can ice… be this hard?" she rasped, voice strained but steady. "Impossible…"
Valthor's smug grin vanished, his face paling as he stumbled back. "Seris!" he shouted, shock breaking his arrogance. He lunged toward her, blade half-drawn, but the ground quaked again.
Another pillar of ice surged upward, impaling him through the chest.
He choked, blood bubbling at his lips, and Aether's head slipped from his grasp, rolling across the frost-covered stone.
Suddenly, Aether's body trembled a bit as his limbs moved, his headless body rising to its feet.
Screams erupted. The youths scattered, their earlier awe replaced by raw terror.
"It's his talent!" one shrieked.
"Monarch of Frost!" another cried, tripping over a bench in their panic. The temple's vast hall became a chaos of fleeing figures, their footsteps echoing as the orb pulsed wildly behind them, its light fracturing like a dying star.
His body began to slowly walk toward his head. As it did, his tattoo began to glow a radiant blue; his dull eyes began to glow as well.
Once it stood before it, the body knelt and picked it up. Then, Aether's body raised the head toward his neck.
As it settled, a soft radiant glow elevated from the cut as it was slowly healed. Once it was, he suddenly gasped for air.
He staggered, one hand clutching his neck where the cut had sealed, the other braced against the frost-slick stone floor.
Aether managed to get to his feet, swaying slightly, his breaths shallow and ghost-white in the air.
But then—
A voice echoed within his skull, deeper this time, stripped of warmth and neutrality. It was still the Guide… but not as he remembered.
It was judging him now.
〘 Everlasting Mastery has reached F rank 〙
〘 Monarch of Frost Mastery has reached F rank 〙
〘 Notice: You used underhanded methods to secure your life 〙
〘 Heavy Crown shall impose a penalty 〙
"Underhanded…?" he muttered under his breath, voice hoarse.
Was it because of the death-triggered awakening?
The youths' screams echoed, their footsteps a frantic drumbeat as they fled toward the temple's massive doors. "He's alive!" one wailed, voice breaking. "The God Slayer's heir!" another sobbed, shoving past a fallen bench. Caliea, frozen near the orb, stared at Aether, her green aura flickering, her leaf symbol dimming. Her lips parted, but no words came.
Aether glanced at her, but as he did, she fell back in fear.
He sighed, his breath misty cold. He turned around and glanced at the knights.
Sir Valthor Kreyne, impaled by the ice pillar, choked out a gurgle, blood dripping from his mouth. "Monster…"
Aether looked intensely at Valthor for a moment, watching as the man's blood dropped and the light faded from his eyes.
Not wanting to wait for any more knights of the White Order to meet him here, he immediately began to run for his life.
〘 Notice: You have slain a Human 3★ Knight. You have obtained 12 soul shards. 〙
〘 Notice: You have slain one who dared to humiliate you. Heavy Crown grows lighter. Penalty averted. 〙