In the waiting room, I heard my name echoing through the walls once again.

  "KELVIN! PLEASE COME OUT TO THE ARENA." Ozaki’s booming voice shook the room, leaving no room for hesitation.

  I exhaled sharply, rolling my shoulders to loosen the tension. This was just another fight—another step toward getting stronger. But before stepping out, I reached into my inventory, pulling out my C13314 and transfiguring it into a sleek, polished sword. The weight felt familiar, comforting.

  As I turned to leave, Veyrin’s voice cut through the air behind me.

  "If you can win the fight without getting hit, I’ll give you 100 gold coins," he said, a teasing lilt to his tone.

  I paused mid-step, glancing back with a smirk tugging at my lips. "You better keep your promise," I shot back, confidence lacing my words.

  Whoever I’m fighting—I won’t let them lay a finger on me.

  I stepped out of the waiting room and into the roaring arena. The sunlight beamed down, illuminating the massive coliseum filled with spectators. Their cheers were deafening, a sea of voices blending into an electrifying hum that vibrated through the air.

  Above me, Ozaki flew in lazy circles, his wings shimmering faintly with magic. As soon as I appeared, his voice rang out again, louder than ever.

  "WELCOME TO ROUND TWO!"

  The crowd erupted into cheers, stomping their feet and chanting with wild excitement. I barely paid attention—my focus was locked ahead.

  Ozaki’s voice boomed once more, introducing my opponent.

  "OUR CONTENDERS—KELVIN FROM AUREWYN ACADEMY…" He paused for dramatic effect, dragging out the anticipation. "AND FROM THE IRONHEART BASTION… QUART!"

  My gaze shifted across the arena—and that’s when I saw him.

  Quart.

  The man was a giant, easily towering over me at two meters tall with a broad, muscular frame. His arms were thick as tree trunks, and his bare chest was covered in jagged scars—each one a testament to his experience in battle. His dark eyes burned with fierce intensity, and every movement radiated power.

  So, this is how martial artists look in this world.

  His presence alone made the air feel heavier, but I didn’t flinch. If anything, I felt my blood stir with excitement.

  Ozaki swooped down closer to us, a glimmer of amusement in his eyes. "BOTH CONTENDERS, PLEASE STEP FORWARD!"

  I walked toward the center of the arena, meeting Quart’s gaze head-on. Up close, he felt even more imposing—but I wasn’t going to back down. Not now.

  Ozaki’s voice softened slightly, though the magic in his words still echoed across the stadium.

  "I WANT A CLEAN MATCH—AND ESPECIALLY NO KILLING! BUT DON'T WORRY ABOUT THAT—OUR HEALERS ARE THE BEST, SO FIGHT TO YOUR HEART'S CONTENT!"

  With a flap of his wings, Ozaki soared into the sky, lifting both arms. A pulse of magic rippled outward, shimmering over the arena floor as an enormous glowing countdown appeared.

  10… 9… 8…

  The mana swirled around us, crackling in the air like static. My grip on the sword tightened as my heart pounded steadily in my chest.

  Quart rolled his neck, the sound of his joints popping echoed faintly over the cheers. He looked calm—but there was an edge to him, like a coiled spring waiting to strike.

  7… 6… 5…

  I took a breath, steadying myself. If I want those 100 gold coins, I can’t let him touch me.

  4… 3…

  My muscles tensed, anticipation flooding my veins. This wasn’t just about winning anymore—it was about proving just how far I’d come.

  2… 1…

  Quart exploded forward the instant the countdown hit zero, his massive frame blurring with unexpected speed. The ground beneath him cracked as his feet pushed off, closing the distance between us in a blink.

  I reacted on instinct. My sword flashed up, meeting his charge with a sharp clang as our forces collided. The impact sent a tremor through my arm, but I held firm, stopping him cold.

  "I didn’t expect you to be this fast," I said, eyes narrowing as I pushed back against his weight.

  He didn’t reply. No witty comeback, no acknowledgment—just raw, relentless pressure. His focus was absolute.

  Without missing a beat, Quart twisted his stance, throwing a powerful hook toward my ribs. I ducked and sidestepped, feeling the wind from his punch graze past my side. For someone that big, he moved like a predator—fast, precise, and unyielding.

  I slashed toward his shoulder, but he pivoted, avoiding the blade by a hair’s breadth. His reflexes were sharper than I expected.

  He’s not just some musclehead.

  His next strike came fast—a sweeping kick aimed at my legs. I leaped back, landing lightly on my feet while keeping my sword raised between us. His attacks weren’t wild or sloppy—they were deliberate and relentless, forcing me to stay on the defensive.

  He came at me again, fists blurring as he unleashed a flurry of blows. Each one had the power to shatter bone if it landed. I weaved through them, narrowly avoiding each strike.

  I can’t stay on the defensive forever.

  My grip on the C13314 tightened as I shifted my stance. If I wanted to win without getting touched, I had to strike first—and I had to do it fast.

  I leaped backward, putting as much distance between us as I could. My heart pounded in my chest as I raised my sword. If I want to win without getting touched, I can’t hold back.

  "Let’s see if you can dodge this," I said, leveling my blade at him.

  [Piercing Lance!]

  I thrust my sword forward, and a spear-like force exploded from the tip. The air trembled as the attack ripped through it, tearing the ground apart in its path. Dust and debris flew everywhere, and the shockwave rattled the arena walls as it surged straight toward Quart.

  But… he just stood there.

  "What are you doing? DODGE!" I shouted, my voice cutting through the chaos.

  For a second, I thought he froze—too slow to react—but then I saw it. He wasn’t panicking. He wasn’t afraid.

  His eyes locked onto the incoming attack, steady and calm. He’s waiting.

  Tch—cocky bastard

  As my [Piercing Lance] hurtled toward him, Quart shifted his stance. His legs dug into the ground, muscles coiling like springs. With a deep breath, he pulled his fist back, and in a blur of motion, he punched forward.

  A deafening boom echoed through the arena as his punch collided with the air itself, sending a shockwave so powerful it dispersed my attack mid-flight. The wind howled as the force rippled outward, scattering the remaining energy like it was nothing.

  He stopped it… with a punch?!

  I couldn’t help but let out a quiet chuckle. "Heh… that’s the first time that’s happened."

  I tightened my grip on my sword, blood pumping with excitement. Finally—a real fight.

  So, I didn’t hold back.

  Everything I had learned—from the aura I had unlocked, the sword style I barely managed to master, and the bloodlust burning within me—I brought it all together.

  I could feel it surging inside me, raw and untamed. Every fragment of my strength. Every ounce of my will. I gathered it, gripping my sword tighter until my knuckles turned white.

  And then, I charged.

  The world blurred around me as I closed the distance. My sword cut through the air with a terrifying sharpness, and the moment I swung—BOOM—the sound barrier shattered, a thunderous crack echoing through the arena. But it wasn’t just the air I broke. It felt deeper, like I had pierced through some unseen limit, a boundary I hadn’t even known existed.

  A silver arc of energy, edged with crimson, tore through the space between us—a strike that embodied everything I had become.

  "Death's Arc."

  I whispered the name that came to me, a name fitting for a slash fast and sharp enough to tear through the air itself.

  As Death’s Arc tore through the air, the sound of the barrier shattering echoed across the arena like a thunderclap. The sheer force of the strike distorted the air, creating a visible arc of pressure that surged toward Quart.

  His eyes widened for the first time—an instinctual reaction to danger. He braced himself, planting his feet like an immovable wall, and raised his arms in a defensive cross. But it wasn’t enough.

  The arc struck him squarely, sending shockwaves rippling through the arena. The floor beneath his feet cracked and cratered from the impact. Quart slid backward, carving trenches into the stone, his muscles trembling as he fought to remain standing.

  The crowd roared in a frenzy, unable to believe what they had just witnessed.

  I didn’t stop. My blood was boiling, every muscle in my body screaming for more. I pushed forward, closing the distance with terrifying speed.

  Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

  "You’re tough," I said, my voice low and calm. "But let’s see how much more you can take."

  Quart let out a breath, shaking his arms loose. "Not bad," he muttered, cracking his knuckles. "But I’m not done either."

  A faint, crimson aura began to swirl around him—raw, unyielding power. This fight was just getting started.

  As Quart began to move, a chilling sensation crept up my spine—the same feeling I had when I fought the Archdemon. That dense, oppressive aura… There was no mistaking it.

  He felt like a demon.

  My body reacted before my mind could catch up.

  Without thinking, I shifted my stance. The world seemed to slow as I gathered every ounce of power coursing through me—Death’s Arc. But this time, it was different. I wasn’t just aiming to strike. I was aiming to end him.

  A cold, lethal clarity filled my mind as I swung my sword. The air around my blade warped, tearing reality apart as the sheer speed shattered the sound barrier in an explosive burst. The ground beneath my feet cracked and trembled, shockwaves ripping through the arena. If this hit landed, it wouldn’t just kill Quart—it would destroy everything in its path.

  But before my blade could reach him—

  CLANG!

  A blur of movement, faster than my eyes could track. My strike was stopped mid-air.

  I blinked, and suddenly, I wasn’t alone.

  Figures in dark silver armor surrounded the arena, their capes fluttering in the aftershock of my attack. Each one carried an aura of terrifying power—controlled, precise, and overwhelming. I knew who they were without needing an introduction.

  The King’s Legendary Order—the elite Demon Slayers of King Albercht himself.

  A knight with a crimson-plumed helmet stood before me, his blade locked against mine, effortlessly halting my killing blow. His voice cut through the silence like ice.

  "Stand down, Student"

  I felt a chill crawl through my veins as his aura bore down on me—a reminder that no matter how strong I’d become, there were still monsters hiding among men.

  "We will take care of this—" the knight began, his voice steady, but then… he stopped.

  No. Everything stopped.

  The air grew heavy, and the world around me slowed to a crawl. The ripple of my attack, the distant shouts from the crowd, even the faint hum of magic in the air—all of it froze in place as if time itself had buckled under an unseen force.

  A chill ran down my spine. This wasn’t the Demon Slayers’ doing.

  "Do you really hate demons that much?"

  The voice. That voice. The one who summoned me.

  I turned my head slowly, and there he stood—exactly as I remembered him.

  A pristine black suit, sharp and immaculate, as if he were attending a funeral. His head, however, was anything but ordinary—a smooth, white mask with no eyes or nose, yet somehow, his mouth… it moved when he spoke. The motion was unnatural, the mask shifting and bending as if the material itself obeyed his will.

  He stood with an eerie calmness, his gloved hands tucked into his pockets. Despite the frozen world around us, he moved effortlessly—like the rules of reality simply didn’t apply to him.

  “You again,” I said, my grip tightening on my sword.

  He tilted his head slightly, a faint, unreadable smile curling on the edges of that impossible mouth. “I must say, you’ve grown stronger. But watching you, I can’t help but wonder… What drives you? Is it power? Justice? Or do you simply hate demons that much?”

  His words hung in the air—heavy, deliberate—like they were meant to unravel something inside me. Testing me. Pushing me to answer.

  I clenched my fist tighter around my sword, but I stayed silent.

  “But that isn’t important right now,” he continued, his voice smooth—too smooth—like silk hiding a blade. “Kelvin, I want to ask you… do you wish to have my power?”

  As the words left his mouth, a soft chime echoed through my mind. My vision flickered, a brief static crawling at the edges before a familiar prompt appeared.

  [SYSTEM]

  A unique power has been offered.

  Do you wish to accept?

  [YES] / [NO]

  I stared at the glowing prompt hovering before me, my pulse quickening.

  This wasn’t just some random skill or ability. This was his power—the one who had summoned me into this world. The one who had changed everything.

  I didn’t trust him—not fully. There was too much he hadn’t told me. But as the memory of the Archdemon’s claws tearing through my arm flashed through my mind, I knew the truth. I couldn’t afford to stay weak. Not here. Not against whatever the hell Quart had become.

  Yet, despite the temptation, a thought gnawed at the back of my mind.

  I want to be stronger—but on my own terms. At my own pace.

  I sighed, letting my hand relax, the tension bleeding out of my grip. "Why?" I asked, my voice steady but sharp. "Why are you offering me this?"

  The masked figure chuckled softly, a sound that echoed unnervingly through the frozen world. "Why?" he echoed back, as if the question itself was amusing. "Hah… fine. I suppose you deserve at least that much."

  He took a step forward, the air around him shifting—glitching—like reality itself struggled to hold him in place. With an almost casual ease, he slid his hands into the pockets of his black suit.

  "We have all the time in the world, after all," he said.

  I met his gaze—or at least, the empty black voids where his eyes should be. "Then start with your name."

  "My name?" He tilted his head again, the jagged mouth on his mask stretching into something that could have been a smile—or a threat. "It’s been a long time since anyone’s asked me that."

  A pause. His head lowered slightly, as though considering whether to even answer. But then—

  "Aedrys," he said, his voice carrying a strange weight. "That’s the name they gave me. Not that it matters anymore… the gods don’t speak of those they cast aside."

  A banished god. The pieces began to fall into place, but there were still too many missing.

  I narrowed my eyes. "And why would a banished god care about giving me power?"

  Aedrys let out a soft, almost amused sigh. "Let me ask you something, Kelvin. What do you think is the difference between a god and a human?"

  I frowned. "Power, right?"

  He shook his head slowly, the edges of his mouth curling into a sharp, unsettling grin. "That’s where most people get it wrong. In this world—no, in this universe—a god is no different from a human in essence. Yes, we are stronger. Immeasurably so. But strength alone doesn’t make a god."

  His voice grew quieter, more deliberate. "To become a real god, you need something else—followers. Without them, a god is nothing more than a powerful being on a very high pedestal. And the moment those followers are gone…" He spread his arms out wide, his tone turning cold. "So is your divinity."

  The weight of his words hung heavy in the air. A god—brought low by the absence of faith.

  "So, is that why you’re no longer a god?" I asked, the question slipping out before I could stop myself.

  Aedrys tilted his head slightly, as if considering my words. "Yes. And there’s another reason…" His voice turned almost casual—too casual. "Probably because I can kill the entire Council."

  I blinked. "What?"

  He chuckled, the sound low and smooth, as if he had simply mentioned the weather. "The pantheon—the divine Council that governs the gods. I could destroy them all if I wanted to."

  His words hung in the stillness like a blade against my neck—sharp, cold, and impossible to ignore.

  "And they know it," he continued, his smile widening just a little. "That’s why they banished me. Not because I broke some sacred law or defied their will… but because they’re afraid. Afraid that someone like me—a god without the leash of followers—could unmake everything they’ve built."

  His confidence was unsettling. It wasn’t arrogance—there was no boast behind his words. He spoke as if his ability to annihilate the gods was simply a fact.

  I studied him carefully, trying to piece together the truth. "Then why help me? If you’re that powerful, why not take back your place yourself?"

  Aedrys let out another soft chuckle, but this one felt… hollow. "If it were that easy, don’t you think I would’ve done it already?" He sighed, his shoulders relaxing slightly. "Even a banished god has limits, Kelvin. And I’m running out of time."

  His words struck something in me—something heavy and final. For all his power, all his impossible strength… he wasn’t invincible.

  "And you think I can do what you can’t?" I asked, skeptical.

  "I think," Aedrys said, stepping closer, "that you’re already walking a path the gods are too blind—or too scared—to see. You’re different. And that difference… is exactly why I’m offering you this."

  His fingers twitched slightly, and the prompt flickered again, brighter—like it was urging me forward.

  [SYSTEM]

  A unique power has been offered.

  Do you wish to accept?

  [YES] / [NO]

  Aedrys tilted his head back, the black voids where his eyes should be staring down at me. "So, Kelvin… what will you do? Will you take this power and change the rules of the world—or stay where you are and let them crush you beneath theirs?"

  His words echoed in my mind as I stood frozen between the choice.

  And in that moment, I realized something—this wasn’t just about power. It was about breaking the chains that bound me. That bound everyone.

  I clenched my fist.

  "...I’m not the type to let someone else decide my fate," I said quietly, lifting my head to meet his gaze. "If you’re giving me a way to fight back… I’ll take it."

  I reached toward the prompt.

  And pressed [YES].

  Aedrys clapped his hands together, the sound sharp and echoing through the frozen void. "Great. Thank you, Kelvin."

  His voice softened, almost too quiet to hear as he tilted his head back, gazing at something far beyond my sight. "I can finally stop running…"

  The weight behind those words hung heavy, like a man who had been fleeing from something far greater than even the gods themselves. But before I could question him, his gaze snapped back to me—intense, unyielding.

  "The power I’ve given you…" He paused, his tone shifting to something more serious. "It isn’t something you can fully understand—not yet. Not while you’re still bound by the rules of this world."

  I frowned, gripping my sword tighter. "Then why give it to me if I can’t even use it properly?"

  He chuckled softly, shaking his head. "Because you’re not from this world, Kelvin. You see things differently—your mind works outside their narrow reality." His finger twitched, and for a brief moment, the frozen space around us flickered with strange patterns—glitches in reality itself.

  "I’ll shape this power into something you can grasp… something familiar." He extended his hand toward me, palm up. "Binary."

  The world shifted.

  Everything around me dissolved into cascading streams of black and white—pure data, flickering like a broken screen. The ground beneath my feet rippled with shifting numbers, endless rows of 0s and 1s sprawling out in every direction. The air felt heavy, yet sharp, as if the very fabric of reality had been rewritten.

  Aedrys’s voice cut through the static. "This world is built on laws—on structure. But what if you could rewrite those laws? That’s the power I’m giving you."

  My vision blurred as the [SYSTEM] prompt flared to life again, brighter and more intricate than before.

  --

  [SYSTEM]

  New Skill Acquired:

  Binary Domain: "Logic Gate"

  Mechanic:

  You create a domain where all living beings are judged by a binary code—0 or 1.

  Effect:

  - Marked as 1 (Target Active): Those designated as 1 are assaulted by waves of glitching, intangible slashes—cuts formed from the very fabric of reality.

  - Marked as 0 (Target Null): Those designated as 0 are locked in place, frozen in time, unable to act or defend.

  As you master this power, the domain will expand—allowing you to alter the environment and even control the outcome of events inside it.

  --

  I exhaled slowly, feeling a new energy coursing through me—alien, cold, but undeniably powerful. This wasn’t just raw strength. It was control. A power that felt like it existed outside the rules of this world, and yet… it was now mine to wield.

  Aedrys stepped closer, his towering frame casting a shadow across the endless sea of flickering data. The strange mouth on his mask curled into something resembling a smile, but there was no warmth in it—only a knowing, almost playful malice.

  "Use it wisely, Kelvin," he said, his voice low and smooth. "With this power, you are no longer just a pawn on their board. You can rewrite the rules. And trust me…" His head tilted slightly, the weight of his words lingering like a curse. "The gods? They hate that."

  The static around us crackled louder, fractures spreading through the strange binary world as reality itself seemed to buckle under his presence. My heart pounded in my chest as the frozen battlefield I had left behind began to creep back into focus.

  But just as the illusion started to shatter, his voice cut through the noise once more—sharper, heavier. "And one last thing…"

  I met his gaze—or at least, the hollow expressionless stare of that eerie white mask.

  "G.O.D.," he said slowly, as if the weight of the name itself was dangerous. "They’re probably already in this world by now."

  A chill ran down my spine. "G.O.D.?"

  "They’re the Pantheon’s last resort—a force crafted by the gods themselves." He leaned closer, his voice almost a whisper. "But they aren’t human… and they aren’t gods either. They’re something else. And if they decide you’re a threat?" He chuckled softly. "Let’s just say, wiping out a kingdom would be easy for them."

  I clenched my jaw, the weight of his words settling deep. As if demons weren’t already enough of a problem—now there was something even worse lurking in the shadows.

  "And one last, last thing…" His voice grew faint as reality strained to pull me back. "The Great Divide is about to fall. But don’t get distracted—demons aren’t your real enemy."

  My breath caught in my throat. "What?"

  But his figure was already fading, dissolving into the endless stream of black and white. "That’s all I can say… for now."

  The world shattered—

  And then it reversed.

  Everything rewound in an instant. The arena, the crowd, even the Elite Demon Slayers froze in place, their movements reversing like a broken reel of film. I felt my body jolt as the sensation of being pulled backward through time twisted in my gut.

  When the world stabilized, I was back—standing exactly where I had been before Aedrys appeared. My hand still gripped my sword tightly, and the air was thick with tension. It was as if nothing had happened.

  But I knew better.

  My heart still pounded from the weight of his words. The power he left behind buzzed beneath my skin, waiting to be unleashed. And one thing was certain—

  The world I had been thrown into was far more dangerous than I had ever imagined.