The cover of darkness was growing ever more still and cold. What was meant to be just another night had descended into an orchestra of chaos and horror.

"James!" A blond figure wearing a bandana yelled into the night. Next to him stood another man of the same stature as him holding a short axe in each hand. The anima covering his weapons… It was dimming rapidly.

The blond young man grit his teeth and slashed at the monstrosity that had bit into the flesh of Jame's leg. Slicing through these things always felt as if he was slashing through air—as if the very fabric of their being was null and void.

Nevertheless, the attack coated in his flame affinity anima worked. He watched the creature writhe in agony from the immolating flames. He rushed to grab his friend, James, who was weirdly standing still.

"James! James?! Do you hear me?" He slapped him across the cheek a few times, but the man didn't reply. His skin which was covered in dirt and grime rapidly turned pale. And his eyes… His eyes were left hollow.

James was dead.

All it took was a single bite for him to lose his friend.

"Damn it! What the hell are these things?! Where did they come from?!"

Their cohort has been exploring the upper levels of the Avalon Ruins for ten years now. Not once had they ever encountered such a creature before…

Could it have come from an undiscovered lower floor? But that's impossible! Dungeon breaks only happen on the upper floors! His thoughts danced chaotically as he held the corpse of his friend tightly.

Then, he heard something that startled him from behind…

"If I were you, I'd burn that corpse. Now." The voice was soft, yet cut through the chaos of battle like a blade. He turned sharply, blade ready to cut.

What the young explorer saw left him speechless. A young man draped in a mantle of black and silver checks, the pattern shifting slightly from an invisible wind. He held tightly to a thick tome bound in leather that had the roughness of bark, glowing faintly in a golden aura that flowed and shifted like liquid light. The pages flipped on their own, as if they were impatient.

But what drew his attention the most were his eyes. Luminous and bright, like amber stones. They stared into his soul—as if witnessing everything there was to know and be known… The trapped butterflies within danced wildly with his intense gaze.

"What are you talking about! Why would I bur—"

"No time." The mysterious young man said callously. "Listen to my words, or die."

As he said this, the magi's form shimmered, then unraveled into a whirling swarm of violet-colored butterflies that dispersed into the ocean of darkness and slaughter surrounding them.

All around him, the battle for survival continued. Blades clashed against darkness. Spellforms danced in the air like spectacles of wonder… But in that moment, the young explorer's mind was focused on the mysterious magi's last words:

"The choice is yours…"

They flowed like a whisper in the wind… Invisible to everyone else but him… His vision shifted back to the corpse clasped tightly in his arm.

For a moment, hesitation consumed him. This was the person he had spent every waking moment of his life with in the bottomless tombs of ancient wonders… Every forsaken dungeon, and every adventure… He was someone he looked up to dearly.

Why do I need to trust what that strange magi said, anyway…

However, that was when he realized something.

His friend's eyes… They were no longer hollow. A bottomless white abyss shined through them as they looked back into his…

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A chill ran down his spine. He had realized the meaning behind that magi's advice.

The dead had become their enemies too…

In just an hour, what started as mostly a defensive brawl across the high walls of Camp Sebastian has descended into an all out battle for survival. The waves were too big to hold back—they had instantly crossed into the old town…

Blades, arrows, spell bottles, traps, explosions and the occasional scream mixed together in a cacophony of sounds that echoed out for all to hear.

Corpses piled the floor. Then those same corpses rose to fight their friends and allies.

Soren watched it all unfold. First, it happened slowly, but by the tenth victim, the situation had already unfolded beyond anyone's control. And because of how chaotic the battle had become, the entire chain of command had broken down before anyone knew what had happened…

"Damn it all…" He cursed softly under his breath as he ran in between the chaos of battle. Blood and shadows spilled and mixed everywhere along his mired path as distant explosions rang throughout the chilling night.

Luckily for him, he had Violet Mirage to cloak his every movement. But here—amidst this maelstrom of bodies, monsters, and flashing steel—this beginner 1st Circle magecraft spell was finally beginning to showcase its limitations to him…

Violet Mirage relied on creating illusions to distract his enemies from where he really was. That meant that any vantage point—any person that could see him had to be in the range of his Soul Realm for the spell to be effective. Otherwise, the mind trick would not register and he would instantly be exposed…

In a one-on-one fight, this was a non-issue. In a sea of enemies, it was a death sentence.

And right now, he was drowning in a sea of death…

However, Soren was not helpless. Not yet, at least.

Because he was not just a Magi. He was a Phantasm.

With [Eyes of the Fairy] actively scanning the battlefield, Soren was able to calculate everything almost instantaneously. The flow of information he was receiving from all angles now that The Hermit's Eye was active alongside his Soul Weapon's skill, meant that he could trace a path across the ocean of black and red…

Steel clashing against flesh.

Eyes shifting in the dark.

Visions and plans ahead…

Every perspective of every person on this battlefield was entering his mind at the same time. With this, he was able to pragmatically time his Violet Mirage in just the right moments and just the right places.

In a matter of seconds, a path quickly formed in his mind. The chaos had been sifted through—all that remained was the road ahead waiting for him to cross through.

The goal? The Headmaster of this town—Commissioner Rodrick Whitguard. A nobleman from the upper districts of Celestine who abandoned his family life to chase after adventure… As the Headmaster of Camp Sebastian, his authority was absolute.

And at this very moment, he alone was the last to remain in the vanguard, and their only chance at success…

This plan… I really hope it works… He had discussed it with Myrin the moment he learned of the Soul Skinner's abilities. But without a way to direct everyone during the anarchy of battle, hope would surely be lost…

As he passed through countless battles along the way, Soren made sure to inform the remaining dungeon explorers of what he knew… Although many of them died before they could even accept his advice, he knew that it was better than nothing. The ones who did follow through began to understand just how grim the situation was becoming and started to regroup.

Camp Sebastian's location was directly next to the Avalon Ruins. As the fog floods through and covers the ancient inheritance, knowledge on when Dungeon Breaks and similar situations occur becomes the responsibility of the scouts who enter the ruins to look for any signs…

This time, however, no such warning came. And what's worse was that the creatures that surrounded them were completely unknown… Countering such an invasion without a thorough plan was impossible.

Soren weaved through the chaos like a needle stitching through thick skin. He ran, ducked, crawled… Every maneuver was surgical and methodical… But to everyone else on the battlefield, he looked like a ghost or spirit—a swarm of mysterious butterflies passing through the mortal realm…

After what felt like an eternity, he finally reached the front of the battlefield.

What he saw… Terrified him.

Standing alone atop a pile of shadow corpses was a colossal man that was close to eight feet tall in stature. In his hand was a sword—no. Calling it that felt insulting. It was more akin to a cluster of guillotines welded together… He held the mighty weapon above his shoulder as more and more Soul Skinners crawled up the corpses of their brethren to reach him.

As the man watched this unfold, a dark smile took over his face. The anima in the air screamed in excitement—Soren could tell that the man was finding this entertaining… Even the thick scar carved across his right eye couldn't conceal the twisted delight burning beneath.

If not for [Eyes of the Fairy] confirming the information, he would not have believed it. This was who Myrin asked him to find…

The Monolith of Town Sebastian.

One of the strongest 5th Class Sentinels in the Aelloran Kingdom.

Rodrick Witguard the Dungeon Slayer.

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