[Timeline: Time skip (Years 5–14)]

Time was a cruel master. To the slave, it crawled. To the dying, it sprinted.

But to the Spider sitting in the center of the web, time was simply a resource to be spent.

Seasons turned into years. Kings died and were replaced by their sons. Wars were fought over borders that shifted like sand dunes in a storm.

But underneath the surface noise of history, a new current was flowing. It was a current of gold, steel, and blood, guided by invisible hands.

…....…

[Year 6: The Golden Coin Guild – The Public Launch]

The main square of the Trade Capital was packed. Thousands of nobles, merchants, and commoners pushed against the velvet ropes.

In the center of the square, covered by a silk tarp, sat a machine.

Isabelle stood on the podium. At thirty-six, she was already known as the "Iron Mistress" of the East.

Due to her demon blood, she still looked in to be in her late twenties, and now standing in full view, she wore a suit of midnight blue, cut sharp and practical.

On her finger, a golden Abacus ring glinted in the sun.

"Ladies and Gentlemen," Isabelle's voice was amplified by wind magic.

"For centuries, we have relied on horses. We have relied on the stamina of beasts."

Amplifying her voice with mana, she began to rally people's emotions.

"However, today that all changes! Come one! Come all! And witness the future!"

Snapping her fingers, the tarp behind her was pulled away.

"Ta-da!"

What followed next, was a series of gasps rippled through the crowd.

It was a vehicle of sleek black steel and brass piping. It had no reins. It had no harness. It sat low to the ground, aggressive and beautiful.

The Phantom Type-1.

"This machine does not eat," Isabelle announced.

"It does not sleep. It runs on refined mana crystals and Dwarven engineering."

Next to the vehicle, Hephaestus, looking uncomfortable in a formal suit patted the hood. He turned a key in the ignition.

VROOOM.

The mana-combustion engine roared to life. The sound was unlike anything the world had ever heard—a deep, predatory growl.

The crowd went wild.

"I'll take ten!" a Duke shouted, waving a bag of gold.

"I want the exclusive rights for the Western Kingdom!" another screamed.

Isabelle smiled. It was a cold, calculating smile.

"The bidding starts at ten thousand gold coins," she said softly.

In the shadows of the stage, Barnaby wiped sweat from his forehead. He looked at the ledger in his hands.

'We're going to be rich, Young Master,' he thought, his hands trembling.

'We're going to buy the whole damn world.'

…...

[Year 9: The Beast Lands – The Great Unification]

The sun beat down on the red dust of the Great Arena.

For centuries, the Lion-kin, the Wolf-tribes, and the Bear-folk had killed each other over water rights and hunting grounds.

Today, the fighting stopped.

In the center of the arena stood Leona.

She was no longer just a warrior. She was a titan.

She stood seven feet tall, her muscles coiling like steel cables beneath her white fur. On lef hand was her signature Void Gauntlet, pulsing with purple void energy.

At her feet lay the Chieftain of the Bear Tribe, a massive warrior known as "Iron-Hide." He was unconscious, his legendary armor shattered into pieces.

Leona placing a boot on his chest looked up at the thousands of beast-kin watching from the cliffs.

"The humans encroach from the South!" Leona roared, her voice booming like thunder.

"They take our cubs! They skin our brothers for coats! And why? Because we are busy killing each other!"

She raised her gauntleted fist.

"The Bear Tribe has fallen. The Wolf Tribe has bent the knee."

She unfurled a banner. It was not the sigil of the Lions. It was a new flag, a white paw print holding a black sword.

"From today, there are no tribes! There is only the Beast Federation!"

Silence.

Then, a lone wolf howled. Then a lion roared. Then a bear grunted in approval.

"WHITE LION! WHITE LION! WHITE LION!"

The chant shook the mountains.

Leona crossed her arms, watching her new army. The White Lion Army. A force that would soon make the Human Empire tremble to look North.

'I did it, Damien,' she thought, looking at the distant horizon. 'I've finally become stronger!'

…....….

[Year 12: The Abyssal Trench – Unknown Location]

Deep beneath the ocean, where the pressure was enough to crush a submarine, a man sat cross-legged on the sea floor.

He was shirtless. The water around him boiled.

Damien Voss.

At twenty-six, his body was a masterpiece of violence. Every muscle was defined, hardened by the Celestial Life Physique.

His skin glowed with a faint, golden light that pushed back the crushing darkness of the deep.

In his hands, he held a sword.

Not a physical blade, but a construct of pure Intent.

He opened his eyes. They were no longer just human eyes. The pupils were vertical slits dragon eyes.

"Pantheon Style," Damien whispered. The sound didn't travel in water, but the vibration disintegrated the rock beneath him.

[Fourth Form: World Severing.]

He slashed.

Moving with absolute precision, he struck his sword.

CRACK.

The ocean split.

For a split second, a vacuum cut through miles of water, creating a trench that extended all the way to the surface.

Sunlight filtered down into the abyss for the first time in history.

Then, the water crashed back in with the force of a tsunami.

However, seeing this, Damien didn't flinch instead he calmly sheathed the invisible sword.

[System Alert]

Skill Mastery: Pantheon Sword Arts (Grandmaster)

Rank: Peak 6th Order (Aura and Mana)

Intent: King's Greed (Stage 5 - Domination)

"Still not enough," Damien muttered, the bubbles rising from his lips. "For the events to come sixth order is still too low"

"Ineed to hurry up and condense my domain!"

He closed his eyes again.

"Again."

…....…

[Year 14: The Hidden Valley – The Final Day]

The world had moved on. The "Phantom" cars were everywhere. The "White Lion" was a legend. The "Pale Ghost" was a nightmare.

But in a secluded valley, hidden behind layers of isolation barriers, time seemed to stand still.

A grand piano sat in the middle of a field of white flowers.

Damien sat at the keys.

He was twenty-eight now. He wore a simple white shirt, unbuttoned at the collar.

He was playing Moonlight Sonata (3rd Movement).

His fingers moved with a speed that was impossible for a normal human to track. But he wasn't using mana. He was using pure physical dexterity.

With a slight click, he finished the piece with a crashing chord.

[Status Update]

Name: Damien Voss

Age: 28

Current Identity: Unknown

Destiny Points: 210,000

210,000 Dp, thanks to the movements of Lyra and the others, he had earned another 100,000 over the years

Seeing this, he exhaled. He didn't look at his stats.

Instead, he looked at the timer that had been burning in the corner of his vision for fourteen years.

[Decryption of Divine Barrier...] [Time Remaining: 00:00:10]

"Ten seconds," Damien whispered. His voice was raspy from disuse.

He stood up from the piano. He stretched his limbs, his joints popping like gunshots.

[00:00:05]

Reaching into his spatial storage and pulled out a mask. Not the silver mask of Zero. A new mask. Half-white, elegant, tragic. A phantom's mask.

[00:00:03]

He felt the connection to his allies flare to life. The dormant lines in his communication crystal began to hum. Lyra. Isabelle. Leona. Barnaby. They were all active. They were all waiting.

[00:00:01]

[00:00:00]

[Decryption Complete.]

[Target Location Confirmed: The Abyss Gate - Level 10.]

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