Chapter 1
Title: The End?
"Yeah... lick it just like that. Ohhh, that feels so good. Don't stop..."
Somewhere in a dark, confined room, moaning could be heard.
"Hehehe, you do it so well, Illyria. You're just so good with your tongue..."
A man lay sprawled across the floor, tossing and turning.
"Oh great," a voice muttered from within the room. "He's at it again."
"BASIL!" the voice suddenly shouted.
"AHH! Wha—what is it!?"
The man bolted upright, eyes darting around.
"...Oh. I'm still here." He let out a sigh, sadness washing over his face. "Just a dream. Damn."
Scratching his tangled hair, he got to his feet and wandered toward a crude workstation, grabbing a pen.
"Guess I'll get back to it, then..."
He began to write:
Dear Random Being,
It is now Year 607, Month 7, Day 7 of me being trapped in this box of despair and depression.
I've been here so long that the stick people I drew on the wall have started talking to me. I think?
Just the other day, while doing my regular workout, Rob—the second friend I made—told me:
'You can do all the sit-ups you want, and still no girl would want a weirdo who talks to himself.'
To which I kindly replied:
'ONE MORE WORD OUT OF YOU, NOODLE MAN, AND I'LL WIPE YOUR SMART ASS CLEAN OFF THE WALL.'
Rob didn't like that very much. He hasn't spoken to me since.
That was two years ago.
Today is special, though. Four hundred years ago, I drew Rob—my first true stick friend.
So I'm doing something nice for him. I'm drawing him a woman friend.
Hahaaaa! Aren't I a genius, dear reader?
This should totally make up for yelling at him... right?
He wrote beneath the flickering yellow glow of the cube-shaped cell—his prison for over six centuries.
His appearance was ragged. A long, scraggly beard framed a gaunt face. Twisted, matted brown hair hung around his shoulders. Despite his wild look, his body was muscular, toned from relentless daily workouts. The only clothing he wore was a loincloth, fashioned from what may have once been the sleeve of a fine coat.
His stench could knock a grown man unconscious. His skin glistened, greasy as if coated in butter.
The cube—his prison—was cold and suffocating. Stone floors. Metal walls streaked with rust and moss. A single strip of dim artificial light buzzed overhead in the 20x20-foot chamber.
In the left corner, a filthy pile of clothes and trash served as his bed. Near it, a U-shaped metal platform was welded into the wall—his desk. A few sharp rocks lay strewn beside a magical pen and a large notepad, half-filled with ramblings and insane genius.
Opposite the bed was a cracked, flickering screen displaying a dusty library of digital books—the only form of entertainment allowed in this place.
He set the pen down.
"Okay, Rob... what's your ideal girl, hmm?"
He rose, walked to the far wall, and grabbed a sharpened rock. He etched a new stick figure into the wall beside Rob: long hair, a crooked smile.
Then, placing his hand on it, a faint purple glow pulsed from his palm.
"There. Perfect. I shall name you... Tess."
He crouched beside Rob—a stick figure wearing a top hat—and gestured proudly.
"Oooooh, Robbbbb. I have someone I'd like you to meetttt."
Rob turned. His drawn expression twisted into a scowl.
"Basil. How many times do I have to tell you... PUT SOME CLOTHES ON! YOUR ASS IS HANGING OUT! YOU LOOK LIKE A DAMN CAVEMAN!"
"Yeah, yeah. Whatever. Look—there's someone I want you to meet."
He gestured to Tess. "Her name's Tess. Whaddya think, huh? Huh?"
Rob blinked. The lines of his face softened. He blushed.
"Well... I guess she's kinda... cute? Should I... say hello?"
He twiddled his tiny stick hands together.
"Go for it, buddy. And take this as my official apology for what I said before," Basil grinned, giving him a thumbs-up.
He watched as Rob approached Tess. The stick couple's crude body language began to shift—Rob said something, Tess laughed.
Satisfied, Basil flopped onto the cold floor, staring up at the flickering yellow light.
"Sigh… When will I get out of this stupid cube?"
He rolled onto his side, glaring at the rune-covered floor tiles.
"The Goddess may have cursed me with immortality... but what's the point, if I'm stuck in here forever?"
He tapped his temple.
Three translucent windows popped into view:
[ STATS WINDOW ]
Name: Basileus Narciss
Age: 22 (639)
Level: 65
Job: Eldritch Knight
Title: Goddess's Guardian
HP: 200/200
Mana: 60 / 32,000
STR: 205
VIT: 200
INT: 170
AGI: 112
PER: 60
XP to Next Level: 2,450 / 8,000
Available Points: 12
[ SKILLS WINDOW ]
Basic:
Innocence (F)
The King (A)
Swordsmanship (S)
Mana Control (SSS)
Charisma (F)
Crafting (B)
Longsword Mastery (S)
Spell Knowledge (B)
Rune Knowledge (B)
Healing (C)
Scholar (A)
Unique:
Immortality (EX)
Oversight View (EX)
Haggle (SS)
Misfortune (D)
[ INVENTORY ]
Gold: 61,304
Box 1: 2,000 HP Potions
Box 2: 2,000 MP Potions
Box 3: Winter Clothing Set
Box 4: Summer Clothing Set
Box 5: Bread x100
Box 6: Jerky x100
Oversight View—his EX-ranked skill—was a gift from the Goddess of Order, Sarien. It allowed Basil to view other Guardians' stats as well as his own, manage a personal spatial inventory, and store items indefinitely without decay.
He checked his mana.
"60... huh. Guess I'll meditate."
Sitting cross-legged, he drew ambient energy inward. A soft hum filled the room. A moment later:
[ Mana: 11,200 / 32,000 ]
"That'll do."
He rose, returned to his desk, and picked up the pen.
Dear reader,
It's just occurred to me… I never told you how I ended up here.
So let's start from the beginning, shall we?
——-
My name is Basileus Narciss, eldest son of Duke Zion Narciss and Duchess Emily Narciss. I had two younger brothers and one sister.
We lived in the Dalen Kingdom, within Narciss territory, where my father governed the land and its people. He was revered throughout the kingdom—not just as a noble, but as the greatest swordsman of his era. A gentle, if stern, man who cared deeply for his subjects.
From him, I learned many things: how to wield a sword, how to lead, how to shoulder responsibility—and, perhaps most importantly, how to haggle. How to sell something barely worth a copper for the price of gold. How to rob someone blind with a handshake and a smile.
Ahem.
As I was saying—my father was a very righteous man.
My childhood was... easy. My days were filled with sword drills, exploring the estate, and terrorizing the maids when I wasn't being watched.
That all changed on my twelfth birthday.
It was the day the gates appeared—the ones we now call Hell's Gates. They tore open across the continent, each one different in shape and size, unpredictable in both location and the horrors that poured from them.
In our territory, only one gate appeared.
It manifested in the center of our village—massive, obsidian-black, tall enough to loom over every rooftop. We could see it from the estate's terrace. No one knew what it was.
My father gathered his knights and rode out to investigate, sword in hand.
I was foolish and curious. So I followed.
By the time I reached the village, it was already too late.
The first wave had emerged—beings we would later name Hell's Legion, though back then they were simply monsters. Towering creatures with red, leathery skin, horns jutting from their limbs and skulls, and eyes like burning maroon coals. Each one stood over ten feet tall.
But it was the smiles that haunt me most.
Every last one of them grinned—gleeful, twisted expressions—as if this wasn't war. As if it were playtime.
I froze.
But my father and his knights did not.
They stood firm, cutting down wave after wave, buying time for the villagers to flee.
Then it arrived.
A presence so suffocating it made even seasoned men collapse where they stood.
It stepped through the gate, towering even among the monsters. Its four maroon eyes glowed faintly beneath two thick horns that curled from its forehead. Its body was thin but impossibly tall—so tall it had to hunch just to pass through the gate's threshold. In its hands was a massive glaive, the shaft formed from spinal columns— from past victims.
Half my father's knights fled the moment it appeared.
I watched as my father charged alone.
The demon seized him mid-strike.
It lifted him, holding him aloft before his men.
Then—without effort—ripped off his head, as casually as breaking bread.
It tossed his headless body to the ground and hooked the skull onto its belt like a trophy.
Then it laughed.
I ran.
I ran for the estate.
To warn my family.
But I was too late.
When I arrived... I collapsed.
The sight that greeted me shattered whatever strength remained.
My brothers and sister were already in the jaws of death—literally. A bloated, club-wielding demon with a single twisted horn was swallowing them whole. The maids, the staff... they were being defiled and torn apart by smaller fiends, all laughing as they did it.
And then I saw my mother.
The woman who had smiled at me even when I spat cruel words in her direction.
The woman who stayed kind, even when I didn't deserve it.
nursed me through illness, who loved me unconditionally simply because I was hers. A four-armed demon with crimson skin ripped her arms off, violated her, licked its lips, then crushed her into a bloody pulp with a massive hammer.
I tried to run to her. To save her.
But she met my eyes with a look I'll never forget—dull, lifeless, and filled with a quiet plea.
Don't come.
She never screamed.
She didn't even fight.
She just sat there, watching helplessly as her children were devoured, one by one—their kicks and cries growing weaker, fading into silence.
And when the last of them fell, her light went out too.
I froze.
Powerless, broken—I stared at the ground.
Then a shadow fell over me.
This is it, I thought.
The end.
No more pain. No more loss. No more suffering.
A soft thud snapped my gaze upward.
It was my father's severed head, dropped in front of me like garbage.
Blood wept from the sockets. His face was smeared with mud, his once-proud expression now blank and slack.
I screamed.
The demon laughed—a deep, mocking sound—and turned away. It didn't kill me.
It didn't need to.
Despair, it knew, was worse than death.
When the massacre was over, the demons began retreating back into the gate.
Each one passed by me, their grotesque forms shaking with laughter.
None of them saw me as a threat.
Not even worth a final strike.
Why?
Why was I so powerless?
Why did this happen?
We ruled justly. We harmed no one. My father protected his people. My mother raised us with love.
So why?
I screamed.
I screamed at the skies, at the gods, begging them to intervene, to answer.
They didn't.
I watched as the villagers—the very people my father died for—trampled my mother's corpse in their blind panic to escape.
And in that moment, I understood something clearly.
No one cared.
No one gave a fuck.
Whether I lived or died, whether my family's blood stained the earth or vanished into history—it didn't matter. I was a footnote. A tragedy among thousands. A whisper in a world that kept moving.
So I stopped crying.
I stood.
I picked up my father's sword—his last remnant, heavy with blood and meaning.
And with nothing left to lose, I ran.
Straight through the gate.
First, I was hit with a heat so intense, it evaporated my tears straight off my face.
Second, the demons paused.
They turned toward me.
Saw me.
And then… kept marching—as if I wasn't even worth their time.
Third, and most importantly…
A digital message window appeared before me.
### CONGRATULATIONS ###
You have passed the test to become a Guardian (by passing through a Hell's Gate). You may now select one of the three Jobs tailored to your talents.
---
### Job 1: ###
Title:Splashy Slashy
Rank: (A)
Description: Using the blood of your enemies, you can conjure daggers and knives to slaughter more foes! A class that excels in mobility and a swift way to kill enemies. As the name suggests lots of slashing your enemy and lots of there blood will splash on you. You are offered this Job because the Goddess of Death licks her lips at the smell of despair festering inside you.
Stats gained upon choosing
+ 5 STR
+ 3 VIT
+ 7 INT
+ 12 AGI
+ 7 PER
Skills gained upon choosing
- Blood control (D)
- Blood weapon conjure (A)
---
### Job 2: ###
Title:Eldritch Knight
Rank: (Unknown) 1 of 1
Description: the Eldritch Knight stands as a formidable sentinel, a master of both blade and mana. This warrior commands the dark elements of mana, gaining incredible power over a long period of time. The Eldritch Knight's strikes are not merely physical; they carry the weight of the innocent souls that are slain, inflicting wounds that sap the strength of the enemy's and sanity of the wielder. Shadows gather at their feet, coiling upward to cloak them in an aura of dread, as if the very essence of darkness bows to their command. You are offered this Job due to your latent mana potential and swordsmanship. As the Middle Dimension's First Guardian, you are granted this one-of-a-kind Job by the Goddesses of Order.
Stats gained upon choosing
(Unknown)
skills gained upon choosing
-(unknown)
-(unknown)
---
### Job 3: ###
Title:Light Bringer
Rank: (S)
Description: Blessed by the Goddess of Life, who pities your loss, you wield a near-unbreakable shield of light and armor as light as a feather yet sturdy as a mountain. Your sword burns with holy radiance, Emitting nothing but the glory of the goddess of life, through her name you cleave through enemy's effortlessly. You are offered this Job due to your talent in swordsmanship—and because the Goddess of Life sympathizes with your suffering.
Stats gained upon choosing
+ 40 STR
+ 60 VIT
+ 30 INT
+ 10 AGI
+ 10 PER
Skills gained upon choosing
- Radiance (S)
- Armor of light (A)
---
I had no idea what a Guardian was, who these goddesses were, or why they'd help me. But one thing was clear—I didn't need to think. The choice was obvious.
If I picked Light Bringer, I could probably take down two out of three of those demons before dying.
But one phrase burned in my mind:
"Pitied by the Goddess of Life."
Pity. Sympathy.
Of all the words she could've used, she chose those.
I laughed uncontrollably, then screamed:
"WHO ASKED FOR YOUR PITY?! TO HELL WITH YOU!"
Gritting my teeth, I made my choice.
---
Ding
Another message appeared.
---
### HIP-HIP-HOORAY!! ###
You have chosen Eldritch Knight(SS)! The world will know your name 'soon', First Guardian. The Goddess of Order is pleased with your selection.
---
### STATS ###
Name: Basileus Narciss
Age: 12
Level: 1
Job: Eldritch Knight
Title: First Guardian
- HP: 50/50
- Mana: 25/25
- STR: 17
- VIT: 50
- INT: 25
- AGI: 12
- PER: 16
- XP to Next Level: 0/100
- Available Points: 0
---
### SKILLS ###
Basic:(Can be learned/upgraded through training or skill points.)
- innocence (F)
- The king (F)
- Swordsmanship (A)
- Mana Control (F)
Unique:(Granted by the Goddesses—cannot be changed or upgraded.)
- Haggle (SS)(Your father was quite the man)
- Misfortune (A)(Luck? Never heard of her.)
---
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