The air was thick with tension, an invisible force pressing down on the village fire-covered land, as shadows coiled around Eryx like living things.
Iris stood frozen, her orange-white hair cascading over her trembling shoulders. Her orange eyes locked onto the figure before her—his mask, his presence, his power. A shiver crawled down her spine as she whispered, "This… this can't be. How is he still alive?" Her voice barely reached her ears, but the dread in it was unmistakable. "His hair, his mask... That's him. There's no doubt about it."
Eryx moved forward, his steps slow but relentless, as if the very world bent to his will. With a mere flick of his power, Navia was cast aside, her breath hitching as unseen pressure forced her away. Wide-eyed, she struggled against it, her gaze darting to Atlas. "Atlas… maybe right now, that god needs help more than this boy."
Atlas clenched his fist, his knuckles turning white as his other hand pressed against it—a silent declaration that he was ready. His stance was sharp, every muscle coiled like a beast about to strike, but his eyes… his eyes held something deeper. Fear. Awe.
"This power…" Atlas murmured, his voice carrying the weight of unspoken understanding. "It's the crimson core… the rarest of them all." His breath was uneven, his pulse hammering against his ribs. Then, his gaze flickered to the god standing opposite Eryx—her expression was shattered, her grip faltering, a goddess trembling in the presence of something beyond her grasp.
"Look at her face," Atlas said, barely above a whisper. "She's terrified... terrified to fight him."
The shadows deepened, stretching toward Eryx like loyal disciples bowing before their king. Whatever force governed this world, it had shifted—and in this moment, everyone knew the balance of power had irrevocably changed.
The village's land crackled with energy, giving the vibe of a battlefield, a storm of power swirling around Eryx as he strode forward, his crimson-wreathed spear humming with restrained devastation.
Atlas stood paralyzed, his mind a battlefield of its own. His fists clenched tight, his breath uneven. "In this situation... what should I do?" His voice was barely a whisper, lost beneath the roaring tension. Eryx was moving toward Iris, his steps methodical, his presence suffocating. That spear—it was alive with crimson, a force barely contained.
"Do I stand back and let her face him alone? Or do I intervene, knowing full well that either choice leads to ruin?" His fingers dug into his palm, his voice tinged with frustration. "It's a death wish to stop either of them… What should I do?"
Then, a voice cut through his thoughts.
"Hey, Atlas! What are you waiting for?"
He spun to his left, his gaze locking onto Navia. Her crystal-forged sword gleamed in her grip, sharp, unwavering. Her eyes held no fear, only fire. "Don't tell me you're scared of them just because of their powers," she challenged, fingers tightening around her blade. She was poised, ready—an unyielding force against the chaos unraveling before them.
Atlas exhaled sharply.
"I know crimson power is dangerous," Navia continued, stepping closer, a small smile pulling at her lips. "But look at him. He doesn't control it—it controls him." She lifted her blade, the crystalline edge catching the dim light. "That means he's unstable. He can't wield his full strength. You alone can take him. Leave the god to me."
She nudged Atlas sharply against his back, a silent push toward resolve.
Atlas's eyes flickered, realization sinking in. His grip loosened, then tightened again—but this time, with conviction. "Nah," he breathed, his voice steadier. "I wasn't scared. Just thinking of the people. If we fight, those who survived-those slayers helping them, they'll be caught in the crossfire." His gaze swept over the barren ruins surrounding them. "But there's no one left. No one for miles. It's just us."
Navia grinned, her voice laced with mischief. "That's the Atlas I know. Now—are you ready, Captain?" A small, teasing laugh escaped her lips.
Atlas smirked. "Are you sure you'll handle her alone? She's not just any god."
Navia lifted a hand, crystalline spears materializing beside her, hovering like restless phantoms. "She's a god, sure. But I have something rarer than divinity itself." She chuckled, lighthearted yet sharp. "Something not even gods possess."
Atlas let out a breath of amusement, shaking his head. "Always finding a way to flex your core power, huh?" He readied his stance, muscles taut, energy sparking beneath his skin. "You are something else."
Navia shot him a smirk.
"Now—let's put an end to this."
Without hesitation, they surged forward, weapons raised, the moment before impact stretched thin—before war broke loose.
The battlefield trembled beneath their feet, the air thick with energy as Eryx and Iris prepared to strike.
But before their blades could meet, a force—powerful, unyielding—interrupted their clash.
Atlas's fist, wrapped in spiraling wind mana, collided with Eryx's spear. A shockwave erupted upon impact, forcing the crimson-cloaked weapon backward in a violent reflection.
On the other side, Navia met Iris's flame-forged sword with her crystal blade. Sparks danced in the air as she forced the fiery weapon downward, its raging heat crashing into the earth. The moment of impact sent Iris tumbling, her stance broken.
Navia's sword flickered, its form dissolving like dust in the wind. She clicked her tongue, frustration evident. "Tsk… not again." She exhaled sharply, staring at her empty hands. "I still struggle with manipulation. My mana—it's not enough to sustain these weapons for long."
Dropping to the ground, she clenched her fists, closing her eyes. Thoughts raced. I have to recalibrate… quickly. If I falter now, she'll kill me. A breath. A decision. Her eyes snapped open. No hesitation.
Atlas, holding Eryx's spear down with unwavering force, spoke calmly. "Wake up, boy. You're not in control. Your power is consuming you—fight against it."
Eryx's voice came like a growl, layered with something unnatural—dark, heavy, foreign. His mask pulsed, the crimson aura deepening, his black hair shifting wildly in the wind.
"Why… why do you stand in my way?" His tone was strained, his breath uneven. "I'm helping you. So why… why are you stopping me?"
The aura thickened, his body trembling under its weight. His voice fractured, carrying remnants of something broken—something desperate.
"I… I want to save humanity. I-I made a promise..."
Atlas's gaze remained steady. He knew what came next.
"You can't help anyone if you can't wield what's inside you," he said firmly. "Control it. Or it will consume you."
Eryx's body shuddered. The crimson light surged—then, suddenly, dimmed. His figure swayed. His breath hitched.
Then, he collapsed.
His mask cracked, pieces shattering against the dirt. His hair faded, the streaks of unnatural energy draining until only brown remained. Atlas sighed, his chest rising and falling in heavy relief.
"He's lost consciousness… The strain of power overtook him." Atlas exhaled deeply, shaking his head. "I have to train him myself."
Meanwhile, Navia faced down Iris.
Raising her hands, she summoned crystalline energy, shaping it with controlled precision. "Crystal's Embrace."
A surge of green light erupted, twisting into sharpened weapons—swords, spears, arrows—hovering, waiting to strike.
Navia's mana core pulsed with power, the signature of her Ascendant rank gleaming within her movements. Among the elite Spellcasters—mages who wield magic without conventional weapons—she stood at the pinnacle. Her core granted her the ability to shape crystalline weapons, each born from pure mana. But sustaining them? That was the challenge.
She had learned to fight with instinct—to create only what she could immediately use and remake when needed. Her energy was precious, and every wasted second drained her reserves.
But unlike others, her core had a gift—self-restoration. If wounded, her mana would heal her, keeping her in battle for as long as she remained standing.
A grin flickered across her face as she readied her strike.
Iris watched, arms crossed. A smirk played at her lips. "So, you can manifest them too. Your power is unlike anything I've seen." Her voice dipped lower, taunting. "But… not strong enough to defeat me. Hehehe. Don't forget—I am the God of Flames."
With a flick of her wrist, fire coiled around her, shaping into weapons of its own.
Navia only smiled wider.
"If humans never surpassed the limits set before them, we wouldn't be human." Her grip tightened. "We push beyond imagination—so stop making excuses and fight me."
Iris chuckled, floating into the air, flame-forged weapons circling her form. "You've got guts, girl. That's rare. But I promise—" Her eyes gleamed, wild, deadly. "—you'll die by my hands. Hehehe…"
Just as Iris prepared to strike, a voice rang in her mind.
Deep. Commanding. Absolute.
"Return, Iris."
The moment the words echoed, every weapon dissolved into nothingness. Iris's breath hitched. Her body stiffened.
Her voice trembled.
"Mo-Mother…"
Slowly, she turned, her hand raised. The air cracked—fracturing, bending. A portal materialized before her.
She lingered for only a second, her gaze flicking toward the battlefield. Her expression was unreadable. But her words… cold, final.
"Next time we meet—it will be the end."
Then, she stepped through, vanishing into the void.
Navia let out an exaggerated sigh. "Oh, come on! I was so ready for a fight." She pouted slightly before turning to Atlas. "How's the boy?"
But Atlas didn't respond. His focus was elsewhere—deep, contemplative.
Navia frowned, approaching. "Atlas…? Hey, Atlas?"
Silence. Then—
Atlas clenched his fist. His voice, quiet, carried a weight that made the air still.
"This boy…" He paused, gaze locked onto Eryx's unconscious form. "He's not just some random human. His soul comes from the ancient war. The same war was fought three hundred years ago."
Navia's heart skipped. "Wait… What?"
Atlas's expression darkened.
"I sensed it in his power—the same energy. The same as that dragon." His jaw tightened.
"This boy has two souls inside him."
Navia's breath hitched, her stare unwavering. "You—are you serious?"
Atlas's gaze flickered, his voice dipping low—almost a whisper.
"That voice in his powerful form… It wasn't his."
A beat of silence stretched between them.
Atlas exhaled, gripping his wrist tightly.
"It was someone else's." His tone sharpened, edged with something rare—uncertainty.
"Something… beyond humans and gods."
—Chapter 1 Ends.—