Chief Azriel left Kiaria's room in a hurry, boots landing hard on the wooden floor as he strode down the passage. The Dragon-Tooth Tiger Boat rocked gently beneath him, but the unease in his chest had nothing to do with waves.

By the time he reached the lower deck, most treasure hunters were already gathered. Some leaned against railings, some sat on crates, some still pretended to play dice or sharpen blades. All of them looked toward him the moment he appeared.

"Everyone with Hell Tavern tokens," Azriel said, voice carrying over the murmurs, "step forward. Single parties and pair parties, line up by token name."

Tokens clinked against each other as they were passed forward. One by one they landed on the long table at the center of the hall.

Ninety-six tokens.

Forty-two single hunters.

Twenty-seven pairs.

Hell Tavern rules were clear for high-risk hunts like this: either you go alone, or one plus one. Anything beyond that was registered as a separate, low-risk hunt party. Groups of three and above were not allowed to join massive death-hunts like Re Ze Lure. If they tried, they would lose their tokens and be hunted for three days.

No protection from Hell Tavern.

No responsibility for injuries or deaths.

If they could survive unharmed for three days, they were allowed to crawl back to mid-tier hunts and apply for a new token.

Their loot during that period? Their own problem.

Theft and challenge? Their own problem.

Everyone here knew that law. Few dared to test it.

Chief Azriel checked token names one by one, calling them out, matching them against the registry his twin subordinates held. The twins stood at his left and right, brushes moving smoothly on the record scrolls, never speaking more than necessary.

"Token: Blood Iron Fang. Single."

"Token: Blue Lotus Debt. Pair."

"Token: Duskbite. Single."

Voices answered.

Bodies stepped forward.

After tokens came weapons.

"Put your main weapon here," Azriel instructed, tapping the long table. "Armor there."

Steel blades, bone sabers, chain-sickles, dark spears, cursed whips, jagged axes–soon the table was filled with instruments that had seen more deaths than their owners' fingers could count. Nearby, armor stacked up: leather soaked in beast blood, scale mail forged from unknown creatures, runed plates that drank light instead of reflecting it.

Azriel moved along the rows with calm eyes, but he didn't just look–he listened.

Each weapon carried a "breath".

Among the ninety-six hunters, seventy-three bore weapons or armor tainted with evil attributes. Some were forged using demonic cores, some had soaked too long in kill-fields, some sealed resentful spirits, some merely had their inscriptions twisted.

The remaining twenty-three carried holy or purified gear–light-element inscriptions, cleansing runes, water-blessed cores, defensive holy sigils. A few even had faint temple carvings hidden beneath the leather straps.

Azriel's heart sank slightly.

Those twenty-three would be rejected by Cemetery Island like foreign blood in a body.

He continued calmly.

Beside the treasure hunters stood his two personal subordinates, the twins. Their expressions were ordinary, but any careful eye could see discipline in the way they shifted their weight. Weapons shaped like compact rods hung at their backs–Ruyi Gun types, ready to extend, bend, or pierce as needed. The cores in those weapons trembled with purified lightning and wind.

Chief Azriel himself wore Holy Water-attribute armor under his cloak. It was clean, clear, resistant to corruption–and completely wrong for the land they were about to step into.

His subordinates had never openly participated in hunts. That was how he kept them out of Hell Tavern's usual lists. Today, however, there was no way around it.

He sighed internally.

All evil-attributed weapons and armor were returned to their owners.

The holy and purified ones were placed into a single spatial ring–his.

The entire evaluation and residue detection took four hours. By the time he finished, some hunters were sitting against the walls, eyes closed, preserving strength. Others sipped carefully measured liquor to steady nerves. No one laughed loudly anymore.

Azriel turned and walked back toward Kiaria's room.

Princess had already retreated to her own cabin, meditating as Kiaria instructed, stabilizing her sea of consciousness and hiding unrest under the calm of royal training.

When Azriel reached Kiaria's door, he knocked softly.

"KNOCK… KNOCK…"

The door opened with a quiet creak.

Diala stood there. She didn't speak, just stepped aside with a slight bow, letting him in.

Inside, the air felt… cut off.

Kiaria had laid a voice ban sigil. The groan of the ship, the distant footsteps, even the mutter of waves against the hull all stopped at the boundary. Sound from outside could not enter; sound from within could not leave.

On the bed, Kiaria sat cross-legged in his Patron form. A soft monochrome glow wrapped around him, but it was flickering–thinning, as if about to be drawn away.

His breathing was steady.

His eyebrows, slightly strained.

Inside his sea of consciousness, Kiaria stood facing the sealed floating island where his Primordial Spirit resided. The island hung like a world inside his mind–wrapped in hidden chains of order.

On a small shrine that seemed carved from wood and stone by his own hands, his Primordial Spirit sat quietly, looking neither angry nor pleased. A jug of wine rested beside him.

"Senior," Kiaria called, voice respectful but urgent. "I need your help to taint some weapons. Holy weapons cannot step into Cemetery Island. At least not safely. If I don't cover them, their owners–"

The Primordial Spirit poured wine calmly.

Didn't respond.

Kiaria continued, explaining in detail.

No change.

No reaction.

He kept talking.

Behind him, within the darkness of another corner, something stirred in annoyance.

Heart Demon had been condensed in smoky form, resting in the shadows of his consciousness. Kiaria's continuous words pressed against its ears like an irritating insect.

Finally, the dark smoke gathered, condensed into a faceless outline, and walked up behind Kiaria. It raised a hand and tapped his shoulder.

Kiaria turned, eyes widening.

The next second–

PAK!

The slap almost spun his soul around.

"How dare you disturb my sleep," Heart Demon said, voice deep and unpleasant, echoing with a strange metallic tone. "What do you want from me this time?"

"YOU–YOU–YOU ARE–" Kiaria instinctively shifted into fighting stance.

Before he could do something stupid, two figures flashed between them.

Azure Dragon, in human form, locked Kiaria's arms from behind. "IDIOT, SHUT UP," he snapped.

Golden Dragon appeared at his side and clamped a hand over Kiaria's mouth. "Don't provoke them, brat. They are not our enemy. They are above us."

Golden Dragon turned toward Heart Demon with a half-bow. "He is desperate, not disrespectful. Bear with him once."

Heart Demon's smoky head tilted.

"Just to taint some holy toys with a bit of evil?" it asked. "For this small thing, you wake me?"

Its tone chilled.

"If you dare disturb me again for such silly matters–"

The last word hit Kiaria's soul like a mountain dropping directly onto his head.

His spirit shivered.

Even the Dragon Emperors fell briefly silent.

Kiaria didn't even dare to twitch a finger.

Heart Demon clicked its tongue.

"I forgive you this once," it said lazily. "I'll help."

It stepped forward and sank into Kiaria's body like ink dissolving into water.

Outside, in the room, Kiaria's Patron glow collapsed.

The soft white dimmed, then vanished. Patron robe, cape, crown, nimbus rings, even the spiritual weapons hidden at his back–all lost their gentle brilliance and turned pitch black, like someone poured night over them.

Diala didn't move. Her bloodline, containing both Heavenly and Abyssal powers, recognized the aura but did not fear it.

Chief Azriel… was another matter.

His heart suddenly began pounding. His body, trained by years of danger, recognized a predator, something that could easily erase him if displeased.

He forced himself not to step back.

The body on the bed floated slightly, then stood up.

Heart Demon stretched Kiaria's limbs once, testing them like a borrowed robe. Then it took a step forward.

Spatial ripples twisted.

The ring in Azriel's hand vanished.

The next blink, Azriel was standing inside his own cabin.

His Holy Water armor lay on the table. His twin subordinates' Ruyi Gun weapons rested beside it.

The spatial ring was gone.

In the inner world of the ring, Heart Demon opened its left palm.

The ring shook violently from inside. All collected weapons, along with Azriel's armor and the twins' weapons, flew up at once like trapped birds – whirling around in a violent circle.

Above and below them, two enormous black sigils appeared, mirror images of each other. Rune lines formed in a blink, crossing and knitting together like spiderwebs.

Lines of script within the sigils lit up in dark light. Then those letters crumbled into countless tiny runes and flew out, weaving between the spinning weapons and armor like a storm of living ink.

One by one, the runes wrapped each blade, each plate, each hidden forming core. They sank through the surfaces, fading from sight, leaving no visible marks.

But the "breath" changed.

Holy water turned muffled.

Purifying light grew quiet.

What had been bright now hid beneath a thin but complete layer of evil intent–enough to fool the screening of Cemetery Island and coexist with its atmosphere inside a limited range.

Heart Demon looked at its work once.

"Done," it muttered. "Such small things, and you begged so long."

It flicked its wrist.

Kiaria's soul, pushed aside earlier, slipped back into his body with no resistance.

The Patron glow slowly returned–first as a faint outline, then stronger, covering the darkness. The black didn't fully fade, but it hid beneath the original monochrome.

In Azriel's cabin, the spatial ring reappeared on his table with a soft tap.

He stared at it for a heartbeat, then picked it up and felt the new, faint shiver inside it.

He knew better than to ask how.

Weapons and armors were returned to their owners.

Some treasure hunters frowned at the slight unnatural chill in their once-holy gear, but no one complained. The news had already spread that the Patron was making sure they could enter Re Ze Lure safely.

That was enough.

A night passed.

The sea remained quiet. Mist thickened and thinned, but nothing like an island appeared.

The Dragon-Tooth Tiger Boat floated like a ghost over dark water. Patrols walked or flew around the deck, checking for strange beasts or attacks.

Morning light had not yet touched the surface when Kiaria and the others were already awake.

Kiaria stood at the edge of the deck, fingertips grazing the water surface lightly. His consciousness sank through liquid and darkness, scanning.

He found the same thing as yesterday.

Something large and unmoving, somewhere ahead.

Azriel, Princess, and Diala joined him, their gazes all focusing in the same direction.

The mist slowly began to settle.

"Everyone," Kiaria said without raising his voice much, "watch carefully. Don't blink."

The treasure hunters on deck moved to the rails. Some rose into the air, hovering, to get a better view. All eyes turned forward.

Kiaria hadn't slept properly.

It wasn't because he couldn't.

It was because the hopes and greed and fear of everyone on this ship were pressing at his back like invisible hands. Whatever happened next would either open a hell they sought, or prove it was all a lie.

As the mist thinned, the outline finally appeared.

Two bowed lean rocks in the middle of the sea, shaped like bent ribs rising from the water. From the ship's distance, they looked like two figures respectfully bowing to each other.

Unfortunately, their tops did not touch.

They stood separate–two halves of something that should have been whole.

Kiaria's eyes didn't leave them.

The orange-red sun slowly rose from beneath the sea line.

It painted the mist and waves in warm blood-light.

"It's about to sunrise…" A soft voice broke through his focus.

He turned his head slightly and couldn't help but smile.

"Dia," he murmured, "isn't this your first time seeing sunrise at sea? Watch it closely."

"Hmmm. Listen to yourself…" Diala frowned slightly but her eyes were smiling. "You're getting more and more restless recently."

After saying that, she pinched his ear.

"Ahh– it hurts…" Kiaria hissed, but his shoulders shook with suppressed laughter.

"Just wait," Diala said. "I will definitely tell this to our brothers. They'll teach you properly."

"Okay, okay… it won't happen again." He raised both hands as if surrendering. "Don't be mad. Look, the sun's already rising. Isn't it beautiful?"

Diala turned her head toward the horizon.

This time, she really watched.

The sun slowly rose, staining the sky and sea in layers of crimson and gold. The light stretched across the water in a bright road, shimmering with every ripple.

Everyone else watched the sea.

Kiaria watched the rocks.

The sun climbed higher. The shining path on the water shifted.

At a particular height, the sun's reflected disc slid perfectly into the gap between the two bent rocks.

Right in the middle.

Kiaria narrowed his eyes.

His senses extended again, more focused.

He jumped off the deck and flew toward the rocks.

From the side, they still looked separated. But as he descended to the right angle and peered beneath the water, he saw it clearly–their submerged portions curved inward, forming a huge arch below the surface.

The sun's reflection hovered right at the center of that underwater arch.

Between those two half–circles, the water was not normal.

The surface there shimmered slightly different, like a thin curtain being disturbed from the other side.

Kiaria probed gently with his intent.

The water pushed back from more than one direction.

"So, that is it…" he whispered.

He didn't jump in yet.

He returned to the boat.

Landing on the deck, he took a deep breath and shouted, voice ringing across the gathered hunters:

"I found the portal!"

For a second, no one reacted.

Then the deck exploded with noise.

"Really?!"

"Portal?"

"He found it?!"

"Patron did it–"

Chief Azriel moved through the crowd and stopped in front of Kiaria. "Where?" he asked, voice low but trembling with relief.

Kiaria pointed toward the rocks. "Between those two bowed stones. Below the surface, they form an arch. When the sun's reflection sits at the center, the portal opens. Miss the angle and it disappears."

Azriel followed his line of sight and squinted. From this distance, everything still looked ordinary. But he had already decided to trust this boy's words more than his own eyes.

"Impressive," he said sincerely. "You are too clever. You really have a great future, Patron."

Kiaria didn't answer that.

Instead, he turned to the group.

"Everyone ready to enter Re Ze Lure," he said, "listen carefully."

He faced Azriel again. "Chief, retract the Spiritual Boat. Leaving it visible will just invite trouble."

Azriel nodded and raised his hand.

A complex command imprint glowed on his palm. The massive Dragon-Tooth Tiger Boat shuddered once; its visible edges blurred and folded inward. The great spiritual frame compressed, shrinking smaller and smaller until it became a faint light speck and flew into Azriel's spatial ring as a token.

In the next breath, almost a hundred people were left standing on nothing but their own spiritual power above the sea.

The wind felt colder like that.

The water felt deeper.

Kiaria stepped down first, hovering just over the surface where he had felt the portal.

He swept his foot lightly in a wide circle, leaving a range marked with his intent. "This area is the gate," he said.

He looked at the gathered hunters.

"If you jump and the portal accepts you, you will feel pulling force and the world will twist. Don't resist. If you drop straight into cold seawater, get out of that circle immediately. This is not a place to test your luck twice."

Someone asked, "Who can enter, Patron?"

Kiaria's gaze swept over him. "You'll know when you jump," he replied.

Princess floated at his side, arms folded, smiling faintly. "If you can't enter, don't cry. At least you can go back and drink."

The first treasure hunter clenched his jaw, stepped forward, and dropped into the marked region.

Splash.

Cold water swallowed him. Nothing else.

"No pull…?" he shouted, scrambling back out with an ugly expression.

Another jumped.

For a heartbeat, he hit water.

Then his body stretched, blurred, and vanished as if swallowed by a vertical slit.

Screams cut off mid-breath.

One by one, hunters jumped.

Some passed straight through seawater and climbed out, cursing.

Others vanished mid-fall, dragged elsewhere.

In the end, out of the ninety-six treasure hunters excluding Chief, his twins, Kiaria, Diala, and Princess, only fifty-eight passed through the portal successfully.

Princess watched it with raised brows. "Oh… only Immortals can enter. Interesting."

Finally, it was their turn.

"Ready?" Kiaria asked quietly.

Diala's fingers tightened around his. "I'm ready."

Kiaria jumped, pulling her along.

They hit the glowing region.

For an instant, Diala felt the chill of seawater against her skin.

Then the entire world twisted.

Up vanished.

Down stretched.

The sensation of falling turned into sinking, then spinning, then falling again.

Kiaria's hand remained firm around hers.

For someone, Diala had not yet fully stepped into Immortal level as others understood it. Yet the portal accepted her without hesitation.

Princess stepped into the portal after them, her figure vanishing with calm grace. Azriel and his twins followed right after, hands on their sealed weapons.

The next moment–

They were no longer in the sea.

They were falling from the sky.

Not fast, not like being dropped from a cliff–but slowly, as if unseen hands were controlling their descent.

Below them lay Re Ze Lure.

Cemetery Island.

The land was too welcoming.

Jagged stone ridges jutted out like a beast's spine. Bright, greeny forests, trees growing elegant, branched and dense. Here and there, rivers or gullies shinnying like stars, a mesmerizing view of landscape.

The sky above a gentle misty morning with warming rays of sun.

As they fell, a hot breeze rose to meet them.

It wrapped around ankles, legs, waist, pressing against their clothes and skin, controlling their posture. It guided them gently, rotating bodies so they would land on their feet instead of crashing.

Princess's eyes narrowed mid-fall.

She caught sight, far away, of another pair of bowed rocks, similar to the ones in the sea–but the view distorted before she could see more details.

The breeze that had guided them brushed past once more.

Hot.

Too hot.

Yet it didn't burn skin.

It burned… thoughts.

Chief Azriel inhaled mist without thinking–and his pupils shrank.

This is–

"Chief," a voice cut into his mind from behind, sharp and low.

"Don't get distracted," Kiaria said. "The breath around us cannot be trusted. Even the wind here can gnaw at your mind. Be vigilant. From this moment onward, every breath is a test."

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