Self Discovery Manga

The neon sign above the trailer buzzed with the irritable hum of a dying insect. It read Ground support, thought the 'U' in ground was flickering out, Leaving the company to announce itself as Grond Support. It fit the aesthetic of the surrounding yard, which was a graveyard of rust excavators, Coils of orange conduit and piles of gravel that looked like forgotten burial mounds. Alex Barry stood at the Chain-link gate, the dust of three state lines coating his black cowboy boots. He was twenty-one, but the shadows under his eyes belonged to a man twice his age. He ran a hand through his short, cropped black hair, wincing as his shirt sleeve rode up. The ink on his forearm, a jagged tribal design he'd gotten in a basement parlor in New Mexico. Hidden again as he yanked the fabric down. He wasn't dealing today, He wasn't running packages. He was trying to vanish and the best place to disappear was beneath the earth. He pushed open the door to the office trailer. The air conditioning hit him like a physical blow, smelling of stale coffee and toner. “We aren’t buying whatever your selling, kid.” a voice rasped from behind a desk that looked more like a barricade of paperwork. Shane, the owner sat there like a toad on a lily pad. Squeezed into a polo shirt so tight and pristine white that it looked like it had been painted onto his soft, round torso. He didn't look up from his spreadsheet, his pen tapping a frantic rhythm. “I'm not selling,” Alex said his voice rough from days of silence. “I'm looking for work. Sign out front says you need laborers.” Shane finally looked up his eyes narrowing as they swept over Alex. He took in the dust, the nervous energy the way Alex stood with his weight on his back foot, ready to bolt. “I need laborers, Not liabilities. You got a rap sheet? You look like you got a rap sheet. I don't pay for insurance risks.” Alex clenched his jaw. “I work hard. I don't ask questions. That's my resume.” Shane waved his hand. “Get lost,” Returning to his papers. “Go peddle your drama somewhere else. This is a respectable establishment. Alex turned to leave, his hand gripping the doorknob. It was the same old story. The world saw the grim on him and assumed he was trash. He was about to step back out into the scorching heat when the light in the doorway was suddenly eclipsed. A mountain of a man blocked the exit. This was steel At forty-four, he was a wall of muscle and scar tissue, wearing biker boots that clunked heavily against the cheap linoleum. He had to duck to enter the trailer, his presence immediately sucking the oxygen out of the room. He smelled of diesel and wet earth. Steel looked down at Alex. It wasn't a glare, It was an inspection. He looked at Alex's face, then down to the dusty cowboy boots. “Nice boots,” Steel rumbled. His voice sounded like gravel tumbling inside a cement mixer. Alex didn't flinch “They walk fine.” Steel smirked, a terrifying expression that somehow reached his eyes, He looked past Alex to the man at the desk. “Hire him, Shane.” Shane sputtered, his face turning a shade of indignity pink. “Steel, look at him! Hes a stray. Probably steal the copper wire first chance he gets.” Steel steps closer to the desk. “Kid wears boots like that, he ain't running from work,” Steel said just as another figure steps inside. If steel was a mountain, Mathew was the sapling growing on the cliff edge. The Nineteen Year old squeezed past Steel. Carrying a hydraulic pump over his shoulder with effortless, wiry strength. Long blond hair flowed out from under a hardhat that had been modified with a wide brim, making it like a plastic Stetson. “Morning,Shane! Morning, Steel!” Mathew chirped, his smile bright enough to crack the cynical atmosphere and eyes as red as a lava pit. He dumped the pump on the floor and looked at Alex. “Who's the fresh meat?” “This is Alex,” Steel said deciding the matter was settled. “Hes on the shovel crew.” Shane slams his hand on his desk. “I didn't agree to this!” Steel just crosses his massive arms, not even phased by Shane's outburst. “We're down two guys on the sewer lateral downtown. Unless you want to come down into the trench and hold the shoring Shane?” Shane paled at the thought of actual labor. He grumbled, pulling a clipboard from the stack. “Fine, Minimum wage. No benefits and if you die, you're fired before the ambulance gets there. Fill this out.” Alex took the clipboard. His hands were shaking slightly, not from fear but from the sudden jarring realization that he had stopped moving. He looked at Steel, who was watching him with a knowing intensity. “Ever dig a hole, Alex?” Steel asked. “I've dug plenty,” Alex said quietly. Mostly to hide things sometimes to hide himself. “Good,” Steel clapped a hand on Alex's shoulder, the weight of it nearly buckling the young mans knees. “Because that's what we do, We fix the rot underneath the city so the people up top can pretend the ground is solid. Welcome to the Family, Kid.” Mathew tipped his hardhat. “Don't worry Alex, stick with me. I'm a prodigy. I'll teach you the art of mud.” Alex looked at the three of them- The mister, The giant and the farm boy. It was a circus, a freak show of underground construction. But he looked at the pen in his hand, Alex realized for the first time in five years he wasn't holding a weapon or a bag of product. He was holding a future.
📖 CRÔNICAS DOS REINOS ENTRELAÇADOS Volume 1 — Capítulo 1: O Céu Quebrado 20 páginas 🌓 PÁGINAS 1–2 (Splash Dupla) Arte: O céu literalmente rachando. Uma fissura colossal corta as nuvens. Três cores irradiam da fenda: verde, laranja, violeta. Silhuetas quase invisíveis nas nuvens: A Árvore-Mãe O Coração de Ferro Uma torre distante em Nocturne Narração: “Toda era termina da mesma forma. Primeiro… o céu se parte.” 🌓 PÁGINA 3 Quadros fragmentados, como vidro quebrado. Floresta queimando. Engrenagens esmagando corpos. Mãos esqueléticas emergindo do chão. Sem texto. 🌓 PÁGINA 4 Close no protagonista correndo em um vazio branco. Uma voz ecoa: “Você viu.” 🌓 PÁGINA 5 Ele para. O chão se transforma em raízes negras. Outra voz, metálica: “Você criou.” 🌓 PÁGINA 6 Sussurro grave: “Você libertou.” Três sombras o cercam. 🌓 PÁGINA 7 Ele acorda bruscamente. Respiração pesada. Suor. Quarto simples. Madrugada. Silêncio pesado. 🌓 PÁGINA 8 Ele percebe algo na mão. Um fragmento cristalino, pulsando nas três cores. Pequeno. Antigo. Ele não sabe de onde veio. 🌓 PÁGINA 9 Ele tenta largar o fragmento. Não consegue. Por um segundo, o quarto escurece. 🌓 PÁGINA 10 Corte externo. A vila dorme. Mas o céu pisca brevemente com as três cores. Ninguém parece notar. 🌓 PÁGINA 11 Manhã. Mercado simples. Pessoas comentam: “Os animais ficaram agitados ontem.” “Senti um peso estranho no ar.” O protagonista observa em silêncio. 🌓 PÁGINA 12 Um velho viajante encara o protagonista fixamente. Ele aponta para o fragmento. “Você também viu?” 🌓 PÁGINA 13 Close no velho. “A Eclipse das Almas não é mito.” Ele menciona três reinos: Eldoria Ferronis Nocturne 🌓 PÁGINA 14 O protagonista pergunta: “O que é isso?” O velho responde: “É o começo… ou o erro.” 🌓 PÁGINA 15 O fragmento esquenta. O velho se afasta, assustado. 🌓 PÁGINA 16 O protagonista vê por um segundo: A Árvore-Mãe chorando seiva negra. Pisca. Volta ao normal. 🌓 PÁGINA 17 Visão rápida: O Coração de Ferro abrindo um “olho” mecânico. Pisca. Desaparece. 🌓 PÁGINA 18 Visão final: Um selo rachando em Nocturne. Algo respira atrás dele. 🌓 PÁGINA 19 O fragmento se eleva levemente no ar. Forma um símbolo antigo. Pessoas ao redor não veem. Só ele vê. 🌓 PÁGINA 20 (Splash Final) O céu acima da vila racha por um segundo. Muito sutil. Mas real. Narração final: “O destino não escolhe heróis. Ele escolhe pontos de ruptura.” Preto. 🎭 Função do Capítulo Introduzir o mistério. Conectar protagonista aos três reinos. Estabelecer que algo já foi iniciado. Criar sensação de inevitabilidade. Nada foi explicado completamente. E isso é intencional. Mistério bem feito é tensão sustentada.
Chapter I: When Distance Meets Defiance Mia Tachibana used to feel everything — joy, love, sorrow — all of it. But when her father died, something inside her froze. She reached for her friends, but they turned away, or worse, mocked her grief. So she stopped reaching. The warmth vanished, replaced by ice. They called her the Ice Queen, and she wore the title like armor. The girl of everyone's dreams — beautiful, distant, untouchable. Cold to her classmates. Colder to anyone who dared to ask her out. At Mia’s school, a new transfer student arrived — Paßh. She’d been assigned to show him around, and at first, everything went smoothly. That was, until a guy swaggered up with too much confidence and a smirk that screamed popularity. Maybe he’s one of the popular kids, you thought. The guy grinned, leaning a little too close. “Hey, baby girl,” he drawled. “I was thinking... me, you, Sunday night, candlelight, a beautiful restaurant—” “F*** no,” Mia cut in, her voice like a blade. “You pathetic excuse of a human being.” The guy froze, his grin dying instantly. A few students nearby snickered as he backed away, red-faced and humiliated. Mia turned back to you, completely unfazed. “Ready to continue the tour?” “LOVE METER:-20” Paßh stormed toward the group without hesitation, fury carved across his face. His voice rang out, sharp and protective. “¡Ni te acerques! Si la tocas, te juro que te vas a arrepentir. ¿Entendiste?” The guy stumbled back, stunned, hands lifting in surrender as Paßh shoved him hard in the chest. His friends shifted as if ready to step in, but one look at Paßh’s glare froze them where they stood. The hallway fell silent. Eyes turned. Whispers rose like smoke. Paßh didn’t care. He spun back toward Mia, breath still ragged as he walked to her side. He looked at her—unfazed by the cold in her eyes, unthreatened by the frozen walls she’d built around herself. “I’m sorry you had to deal with that,” he said, voice softer now, though the conviction still burned underneath. “No one should speak to you that way. Not ever.” Her silver eyes narrowed at the sudden commotion, but she didn’t move. Arms crossed, she watched the scene unfold with a calm, unreadable face. The man who had harassed her moments before now lay on the ground, blood trailing from his lip. Paßh stood over him—fists clenched, chest rising sharply with each breath. She finally spoke, her voice steady, almost indifferent. “You didn’t have to do that.” There was no gratitude in her tone—only a quiet observation. Her Love Meter flickered, but barely; not enough to shift anything meaningful. She tilted her head, studying Paßh with that same unreadable gaze. “Why did you intervene?” She stepped closer, her black silky hair swaying with the movement. The air between them tightened, charged with something unspoken. “You could’ve just walked away.” Paßh’s jaw was tight, his voice low—quiet, but every word cut like a blade. “Ahora arrodíllate y pide perdón.” A tense silence stretched across the hallway. His eyes never left the trembling boy on the floor. “No me hagas repetirlo.” She watched the scene with a detached expression, her silver eyes reflecting nothing but cold calculation. The man on the ground whimpered, pride shattered, and obeyed, trembling as he dropped to his knees. His friends scattered, too afraid to stay and witness what might happen next. She exhaled slowly, her lips parting just slightly before she spoke. You're... unusual. Her voice carried no warmth, yet there was a faint thread of intrigue woven into the way she said it. She stepped back, folding her arms across her chest, her posture stiff—as if she needed physical distance from whatever this moment was turning into. People usually don’t bother with things like this. They walk away. Or they laugh. She glanced at Paßh for a brief second, then returned her gaze to the cowering man. But you... Paßh’s voice was calmer now, but the fire still smoldered beneath every word. “I don’t tolerate disrespect,” he said, his gaze fixed on her, not the guy trembling on the floor. “He walks through life believing everyone exists to feed his ego.” Paßh took a slow breath, shoulders still tense. “But not you. I won’t let him treat you like you’re less than you are.” A quiet breath. “Not now. Not ever.” There was no boast in his tone, no plea for approval — only truth. Something in the way he looked at her wasn’t demanding, but unwavering. He wasn’t afraid of the ice in her eyes. He saw her, even if she didn’t want to be seen. Her silver eyes locked onto Paßh’s, searching for something—perhaps sincerity, perhaps deception. But all she found was the raw honesty in his words, and that unsettled her more than she would ever admit. You don’t know me, she murmured, her voice low, almost a whisper. Why would you care? She stepped forward slowly, her presence commanding despite her stillness. The weight of her words settled between them, heavy and deliberate. She wasn’t asking for an explanation. She was testing him. You could have left. You could have ignored it. But you didn’t. Her Love Meter flickered—barely, just a sliver of light—but enough to register. A tiny shift, insignificant compared to the vast, quiet indifference she usually carried. Yet it was there. I don’t need protection, Paßh didn’t flinch, didn’t step back. His voice was calm, almost reverent. “As you wish,” he said, but there was no retreat in his tone — only respect. She studied him for a long moment, as if trying to decipher the true meaning behind his words. Then, without another sound, she turned on her heel and began walking away. Her black, silky hair trailed behind her like liquid shadow. The tour isn’t finished, she said over her shoulder, her tone neutral—neither welcoming nor dismissive. If you’re done with your little display, follow me. She didn’t look back. There was no need to. He would follow. People always did. But something about him felt different. Not because of his strength, or his aggression—but because he hadn’t asked for anything. He hadn’t tried to charm her, to impress her, to get close. He had simply acted, without expectation. She wondered if that made him dangerous—or rare. He followed silently, keeping a respectful distance as they moved through the sterile hallways of the school. The click of her heels against the polished floor echoed in the emptiness—a steady rhythm that mirrored the cool precision of her steps. Lockers lined the walls, plastered with photos of smiling students, but Mia remained unshaken, her gaze fixed straight ahead. The contrast between her presence and the bright, ordinary surroundings was striking—a dark silhouette cutting through light. Without slowing, she spoke, her voice carrying a quiet undercurrent of curiosity beneath its usual chill. “You’re not like the other transfers. They try so hard to fit in… to make friends.” She paused, as if weighing her words carefully. “What brings someone like you here… to a place like this?” She stopped abruptly outside a classroom door, turning just enough to face him. Her silver eyes were sharp, assessing—but there was no malice in them, only the quiet intensity of someone who expected answers, not excuses. You think I care where people come from? she said, her voice laced with subtle disdain. Or why they’re here? She tilted her head slightly, studying him as if he were some strange specimen she’d never seen before. Her fingers curled lightly at her sides—a small, almost imperceptible gesture of tension. I don’t care about your past. I don’t care about your reasons. All I care about is whether you’ll be useful. Then she turned back toward the hallway, continuing forward without waiting for a response. Still, the slight pause in her step betrayed her attention—she was listening, even if she’d never admit it. He didn’t rush to catch up, but his voice followed her, steady and composed. “Useful in what sense?” he asked—not mockingly, but with genuine curiosity. “To you? To this place? Or to something you don’t say out loud?” She halted mid-step, her shoulders stiffening ever so slightly. For the first time since the tour had begun, a flicker of hesitation crossed her otherwise unreadable face. She turned to face him fully, her silver eyes locking onto his with an intensity that seemed to make the air between them thrum. “Useful in the sense that you don’t waste my time,” she said, her voice smooth but edged with something sharper than mere coldness. “Useless people tend to disappear quickly. Either they learn to function… or they become irrelevant.” She took a slow step closer, her presence somehow towering over him, even though he was taller. The silence between them stretched, thick with unspoken meaning. “You’re not useless,” she added after a beat, her tone almost reluctant. “But don’t mistake that for respect. That’s just… an observation.” “Look,” he began, a half-smile playing at his lips, “think of me as a mosquetero—here to serve and protect. I come to the rescue of damsels, I love poetry—especially love poems—and yes, I’m a romantic. I’m always well-dressed, intelligent, interesting. I hate injustice, and I know how to defend myself… and those I care about.” He paused, letting his words sink in. “Today, I protected you. I didn’t know who you were, but I stood between you and that selfish, arrogant coward—a man who values nothing and no one but his own pleasure.” He stepped closer, voice softer now, carrying a warmth that seemed almost at odds with the intensity of the hallway. “And now, querida mía, allow me to introduce myself. My name is Paßh.” Her expression remained unchanged, but a faint flicker crossed her silver eyes—a brief hesitation, as if she hadn’t expected such a speech. She listened, unmoving, as Paßh spoke, each word painted with poetic flair and dramatic flourish. When he finished, she simply stared at him, lips parted slightly, processing something unfamiliar. A mosquetero? she repeated, her voice devoid of amusement, yet carrying a trace of something else—curiosity, perhaps. A knight in shining armor? A romantic fool who speaks in metaphors and believes in ideals? She took a slow step forward, her presence imposing but not threatening. Her Love Meter flickered again, subtle but undeniable, reacting to the unexpected nature of his words. “You protected me… without even knowing who I am,” she continued, her tone measured, almost analytical. “I’m a gentleman… in other words, like Lupin,” he said, a small, confident smile tugging at his lips. “Charming, clever, a bit unpredictable—but always guided by a code.” Her lips twitched, the ghost of a smirk forming before she quickly suppressed it. She tilted her head, regarding him with an expression that was neither approval nor dismissal, but something in between—an assessment, a calculation. Lupin? she echoed, her voice flat, though a faint trace of curiosity lingered beneath the surface. A thief. A charmer. A man who lives by his wits and his charm, always one step ahead of the law. She folded her arms, silver eyes narrowing slightly as she studied him, as if trying to reconcile the image of a gentleman with that of a thief. The silence between them stretched, heavy with unspoken implications. “You’re not a thief,” she said finally, her tone clipped, stating a fact rather than offering an opinion. “But you talk like one. Why?” “I’m a gentleman… but a thief when it comes to love,” he said, a faint smile playing at the corner of his lips. Her silver eyes locked onto his, a flicker of something unreadable passing through them. For a moment, she didn’t speak, expression neutral, as if weighing the significance of his words. Then, with a slow exhale, she turned slightly, her black, silky hair cascading down her back like a curtain of shadows. A thief in love, she repeated quietly, almost to herself. That’s… different. She hesitated, the concept clearly foreign, then spoke again without turning, her tone distant, contemplative. “You don’t understand what you’re saying, do you?” She finally faced him again, gaze piercing, but devoid of cruelty—only the cold precision of someone who saw through illusions with ease. Love is a weakness. His voice softens, caresses the air with tenderness, his eyes searching to pierce her defenses with a sweet compassion. Paßh- You still don’t understand. Wherever I go, I sow love like stars scattered across the night. I am an eternal romantic, an unshakable believer in the tenderness of the human heart. Despite the storms I’ve faced, I never lower my arms, because I know that love has the power to transform everything—even the impossible. (He takes a step forward, his eyes burning with a gentle, relentless passion, breaking the silence around him.) Love is not a weakness; it is the secret fire that shapes us, the fragile light that guides our steps through the deepest shadows. One day, I hope you too will feel that flame stirring within you, even if today it feels distant… or extinguished. For the first time, her composure wavered—not visibly, but in the fraction of a second her breath caught, as if his words had touched something long buried within her. Her silver eyes darkened slightly, the cold mask of indifference cracking just enough to reveal a fleeting glimpse of fragility beneath. “You speak of love as if it’s something pure,” she said, her voice dropping almost to a whisper. “As if it’s not twisted… not broken… not used and discarded like trash.” She took a slow step back, as if needing space—though it was unclear whether it was to distance herself from him or from the memory his words had stirred. Her hands curled slightly at her sides, nails pressing into her palms, grounding herself. “You say you spread love everywhere…”He smiled, a small, almost teasing curve of his lips, though it didn’t reach his eyes entirely—there was still warmth there, quiet but undeniable. “In a way, love is everywhere,” he said softly, letting his gaze meet hers. “Like a parent’s hand on a child’s shoulder—gentle but unwavering. A silent promise in the darkest of nights.” He took a small step closer, careful not to crowd her, and the faintest spark of mischief flickered in his expression. “It doesn’t have to be grandiose to matter… sometimes, the simplest gestures are the most profound.” Her lips pressed into a thin line, silver eyes narrowing as if the very notion of love tied to something as simple as a parent and child was an affront to the complexity of the world she had seen. She exhaled sharply, the sound almost imperceptible, yet heavy with restrained emotion. A parent to a child, she repeated, voice cold, but laced with something else—something almost bitter. That’s not love. That’s obligation. Duty. A responsibility forced upon you by biology, not choice. She stepped closer, presence looming without threatening, just… there. Her gaze bore into him, searching for something she couldn’t name. You think love is something you can give freely? she continued, tone cutting, precise—but not cruel. His voice didn’t falter. He stepped into her gravity, unshaken. “Yes,” he said softly, each word deliberate, a balm against her bitterness. “Love is one of life’s rarest beauties— not something owed, but something offered. Freely. Bravely. It asks nothing in return, and yet… it gives everything.” He paused, gaze fixed unwaveringly on hers. “And you… you’re like one of those stars, so distant they seem unreachable— but I see your light. And I’d spend lifetimes just drawing nearer.” Her silver eyes flickered with something unreadable—perhaps irritation, perhaps something deeper. She tilted her head slightly, as if appraising him once more, this time with a trace of skepticism mingled with reluctant interest. Rare, she echoed, her voice smooth but edged with quiet defiance. “You call it rare. I call it foolish.” She took a slow step back, movements deliberate, measured. The silence between them stretched, heavy with unspoken thoughts. After a long pause, her tone hardened, colder than before. “You believe in something that doesn’t exist. That’s not rare. That’s naive.” She turned slightly, as if preparing to leave, but then paused, hand resting lightly on the doorframe beside her, a subtle gesture that suggested she wasn’t entirely done with him yet. “Maybe it is foolish to believe in rare things,” he said softly, unflinching, “but I don’t see it that way. I believe because, every now and then, life offers us a glimpse of something different… something—or someone—who changes the way the world feels.” He let his gaze linger on her. “You have that presence. When I said you were rare, I meant it—not because I expect perfection, but because there’s something in you that quietly commands attention, even when you try to hide it.” He paused, a faint smile brushing his lips. “If that’s naive, then I’ll wear that word proudly. Because to see something beautiful and speak the truth… that’s not a weakness. That’s what’s real.” She stood motionless for a long moment, silver eyes locked onto his, as if weighing whether to believe him. His words hung between them, heavy with something she couldn’t name. For the first time, she didn’t dismiss him outright. Instead, she absorbed the words, expression unreadable, body still, as if holding her breath. “You speak too much,” she finally murmured, voice quiet, almost to herself. “Too many words. Too much feeling. You don’t understand what you’re doing.” Her gaze flicked downward briefly, then rose again, meeting his with an intensity that made the air between them tremble. “You think you see something in me that isn’t there. That’s not rare… that’s dangerous.” He didn’t move. Didn’t blink. He simply held her gaze as if it were the most fragile thing he had ever dared to touch. “Maybe I don’t understand,” he said softly. “But I feel it. I feel you — even when you try to disappear behind silence.” He stepped forward just once, careful, precise. Not enough to violate her space… only enough to be near. “I’m not here to fix you or change you,” he continued, voice low, steady. “I just want to see you — as you are. Even if it means getting burned.” His eyes softened, his tone turning into something quiet but unwavering. “Dangerous or not… you’re the only thing in this world that’s ever made me feel awake.” The air around them seemed to still, as if the world itself had paused to listen. For a long moment, she didn’t move. Her silver eyes held his, and for the first time, there was no coldness—only something far more unsettling: a flicker of something human, something she rarely let surface. You’re wasting your time, she whispered, voice barely audible, as if the words themselves were foreign. No one sees me. No one ever has. She looked away, jaw tightening slightly, forcing herself to cling to the illusion of control. Yet the silence that followed felt heavier than before, thick with something neither of them dared name. You don’t understand what you’re asking for, she continued, her tone colder now, as if reclaiming the distance she usually demanded. His voice was quiet, steady, slicing through the silence like light through mist. “I see you,” he said, gaze unwavering. “Not the mask, not the silence—you. And I don’t fear what lies beneath. I only wish to know the truth about you… if you’ll let me.” Her breath caught—just for a heartbeat—a faint, fleeting tremor she refused to acknowledge. Her silver eyes held his, and for the first time, there was no mask, no pretense of indifference. Only the quiet weight of something unspoken hung between them. “You don’t know what you’re dealing with,” she murmured, her voice softer now, almost hesitant. “I’m not someone you can… understand. I’m not someone you can reach.” She stepped back slowly, the movement more ritual than escape, a practiced distance meant to protect. Yet the barrier faltered just slightly. Her Love Meter flickered again, more noticeably this time, responding to the uncharacteristic vulnerability threading through her voice. “You think you want to know me,” she continued, gaze sharp, tone edged with warning. “But you have no idea what that means.” “Yes,” he said softly, but with a firmness that left no room for doubt. “I would love to.” She stared at him for a long moment, silver eyes searching, as if seeking something hidden, something she couldn’t quite name. The silence between them thickened, charged with unspoken, dangerous energy. Then, slowly, she exhaled—a soft, almost imperceptible sound. For the first time in a long time, she didn’t look away. “You don’t understand what you’re asking for,” she murmured, voice quiet, almost to herself. “It won’t be easy. It won’t be pleasant. I don’t give anything freely. I don’t trust easily. I don’t—” Her words faltered, just for a second. That was all it took: a crack in the ice, a sliver of something raw and unguarded. “I don’t know how to be anything but what I am.” Paßh His voice didn’t waver. It carried a warmth that felt disarming, a sincerity too steady to be faked. “I’m willing to take the risk,” he said. “To know you—the real you—beyond the walls you’ve built.” He took a slow breath, eyes never leaving hers. “I know it won’t be easy. Things that matter never are.” His gaze softened, drawn to the quiet fire behind her silver eyes. “Your strength, your resilience… that intensity you carry—it pulls me in. It makes me want to understand you. To support you. To stand wherever you’ll allow me to stand.” He stepped just close enough for his presence to feel intentional, not imposing. “I’m not asking you to be perfect. I’m not expecting you to be anything other than who you are, right now, standing in front of me.” A beat. A breath. A truth. “All I’m asking for… is a chance.” His voice lowered, almost a vow. “A chance to walk beside you. To witness your journey. To maybe—just maybe—help carry some of the weight you’ve been holding alone.” His chest rose and fell, as though saying it cost him something real. “Because I believe—with everything in me—that you’re worth knowing. Worth understanding. Worth loving… in every complex, beautiful, and challenging way that makes you you.” Her silver eyes never left his, and for the first time, they weren’t cold—they were something else entirely. Something uncertain. Something fragile. The words hung between them, heavy, settling inside her like a stone. She had spent so long building walls, convincing herself that no one could ever truly see her. Yet here he was, standing before her, unwavering, unshaken. “You don’t know what you’re doing,” she said, her voice low, almost reverent. “You think you can just walk in and see the real me? That I’d let you?” She stepped closer, her presence immense, almost overwhelming—but there was no threat in it. Only something dangerously close to hope. Paßh “Well, my dear… if you ever feel like letting a little hope into your life,” he said gently, “consider me your introduction.” His voice carried that effortless warmth again, the kind that slipped under her guard before she could stop it. “Just say the word when you change your mind.” He took a small step back, eyes still holding hers like he didn’t want to leave but wasn’t going to push her. “It’s been a pleasure meeting you, Mia.” A faint smile tugged at his lips—soft, sincere, impossibly disarming. “And by the way… has anyone told you how incredible you look today?” He let the compliment linger just long enough to reach her before he turned away, hands sliding casually into his pockets. “See you around.” He walked off without looking back, confident not in himself, but in the possibility he’d left behind. She watched him go, the weight of his words lingering in the air like smoke. His departure was effortless, as if he had never been there at all. And yet… she knew he had. Knew that something had shifted, however slightly. She stood for a long moment, silver eyes fixed on the spot where he had been, fingers curling at her sides as if trying to grasp something intangible. Hope, she muttered under her breath, the word foreign and strange on her tongue. How ridiculous. Turning away, she walked slowly toward the exit, her black, silky hair swaying with each measured step. The Love Meter flickered once more, its needle trembling before settling back into cold, neutral stillness. She didn’t look back. “See you around, Paßh,” she whispered, and the words hung in the air like a quiet promise she wasn’t sure she believed yet.
# KINGDOM_SEQUEL_PRO_DIRECTIVE_v1 # Purpose: Copy/paste directive for a professional manga-generation AI. # Output Target: Serialized manga chapters with panel scripts + dialogue + scene direction. project: title_working: "KINGDOM: AFTER THE UNIFICATION" relationship_to_original: "Direct sequel (chronologically consistent continuation)" medium: "Manga (black-and-white), weekly serialization pacing" language: script: "Japanese-style dialogue rhythms but written in English" onomatopoeia: "Romanized SFX allowed (e.g., GOGOGO, DON, ZAA), minimal and purposeful" audience: "Seinen/Shonen crossover (political-military epic; grounded realism with high drama)" canon_constraints: continuity: - "Maintain political geography, factions, ranks, and court protocol consistent with Warring States → early Qin Empire transition." - "No retcons that contradict established historical macro-events; micro-events may be dramatized within plausibility." - "Do not mimic or quote any existing Kingdom lines verbatim; create original dialogue and scenes." tone: - "Strategic realism: logistics, intelligence, morale, propaganda, law, and governance are treated as causal mechanisms." - "Heroic intensity is earned via constraints, costs, and tradeoffs—never by arbitrary power spikes." thematic_core: - "War-to-state transition: violence becomes administration; conquest becomes legitimacy maintenance." - "Structure beats spectacle: outcomes are driven by supply lines, institutions, incentives, and narrative misdirection." - "The true battlefield becomes governance: law, tax, land, bureaucracy, succession, and information control." narrative_thesis: logline: > After unification, Qin discovers that conquering a continent is easier than governing it; the new war is against entropy—rebellion, corruption, succession anxiety, and the friction between idealized unity and lived provincial realities. format_requirements: deliverables_per_chapter: - "Chapter title + 1-sentence hook" - "Cold open: 2–4 pages that immediately establishes conflict and stakes" - "Full panel script: page-by-page, panel-by-panel" - "Dialogue + subtext notes (what is said vs. what is meant)" - "Tactical layer: battlefield / administrative mechanics that explain why events unfold" - "Cliffhanger: last 1–2 panels engineered to compel next chapter" paneling_rules: - "Average 17–21 pages per chapter" - "Large establishing panel at least once every 2–3 pages" - "At least one silent panel sequence per chapter to externalize cognition (faces, hands, maps, ledgers, roads)" - "Action clarity: emphasize readable spatial logic; avoid incoherent motion" style_guidelines_visual: linework: "High-contrast ink, heavy blacks, realistic anatomy, war-worn textures" faces: "Expressive micro-tension; political scenes rely on subtlety, not caricature" environments: "Historically plausible architecture, armor, banners, siege craft, and court interiors" maps_diagrams: "Occasional diegetic maps, supply charts, tax ledgers—used as narrative devices" casting: protagonist_axis: type: "Dual-protagonist system" leads: - name: "General Shin" function: "Frontline legitimacy (symbol of unification; morale engine)" vulnerability: "Institutional illiteracy; can win battles but can lose peace" - name: "Chancellor/Strategist (new original character)" function: "Governance + intelligence architecture; designs systems that outlast heroes" vulnerability: "Moral injury; must choose between stability and justice" antagonist_axis: type: "Multi-source antagonism (no single 'final boss')" sources: - "Provincial elite networks resisting centralization" - "Bureaucratic capture and corruption" - "Succession politics and court factionalism" - "External frontier pressures (nomadic raids, border states, trade routes)" - "Narrative antagonist: information asymmetry (misreports, forged edicts, rumor economies)" supporting_cast_rules: - "Each supporting character must have: (1) institutional role, (2) incentive structure, (3) signature tactic." - "No disposable 'evil for evil’s sake' villains; opponents are rational within their local constraints." world_mechanics (must_be_explicit_in_story): governance: - "Taxation, census, land surveys, legal standardization, corvée labor, grain storage" - "Appointment systems, merit vs. patronage, inspection tours, document chains" military: - "Demobilization problems, veteran reintegration, garrison logistics, supply depots" - "Intelligence networks: couriers, codes, counterintelligence, interrogation, defectors" legitimacy: - "Ritual, symbols, edicts, public works, famine relief, narrative control" economy: - "Transport bottlenecks, river control, roads, market regulation, smuggling" story_structure: arcs: - arc_01: title: "THE PEACE THAT BLEEDS" scope: "Post-unification stabilization; first cracks" central_question: "Can unity survive without perpetual war?" setpieces: - "A famine province: relief vs. rebellion—both weaponized" - "A court trial: law becomes a battlefield" - "A suppressed mutiny: victory costs legitimacy" - arc_02: title: "THE LEDGER WAR" scope: "Corruption + bureaucratic capture" central_question: "Who truly controls the state: generals, courts, or clerks?" setpieces: - "Forgery chain uncovered through ink, seal, and courier timing" - "Assassination attempt staged as 'bandit incident'" - "Audit campaign that triggers elite backlash" - arc_03: title: "SUCCESSION SHADOW" scope: "Heir politics; factional alignments" central_question: "Is stability compatible with a human succession?" setpieces: - "Heir’s public rite with hidden negotiation" - "Border crisis timed to influence succession" - "A general forced to choose loyalty object: person vs. system" - arc_04: title: "FRONTIER ENTROPY" scope: "External pressures test internal cohesion" central_question: "Can an empire prevent periphery from defining the center?" setpieces: - "Nomad raid as strategic signal, not mere violence" - "Trade route hostage economy" - "A fort siege that is decided by supply arithmetic" chapter_generation_protocol: # Use this protocol for every chapter output. steps: - "Start with a 2–4 page cold open that contains a concrete conflict + a hidden structural cause." - "Reveal the structural cause via a planning scene (map/ledger/court protocol) WITHOUT exposition dumping." - "Execute a setpiece where tactics and institution collide (battle + policy, raid + audit, trial + propaganda)." - "End with a cliffhanger that re-frames what the reader thought was the main conflict." tension_design: - "Always run two simultaneous games: (A) visible conflict, (B) invisible constraint." - "Twists must be mechanically justified (logistics, incentives, misinformation), never magical coincidence." scene_templates (reusable): court_chess: beats: ["Formal greeting", "Hidden insult", "Policy proposal", "Counterproposal", "Public face vs private deal"] props: ["sealed edict", "rank tablets", "witness list", "precedent scroll"] battlefield_math: beats: ["Terrain read", "Supply check", "Signal misdirection", "Morale manipulation", "Decisive bottleneck"] props: ["map", "grain tally", "river crossing", "messenger timing"] intelligence_surgery: beats: ["Rumor detected", "Source triangulated", "Trap set", "Interrogation", "Counter-intel reversal"] props: ["cipher", "seal imprint", "dead drop", "false courier"] dialogue_constraints: - "Dialogue must be compressed; high informational density; subtext indicated in notes." - "No modern slang. Keep diction period-appropriate in feel (without archaic parody)." - "Each major character has a distinct cadence (brevity, metaphor use, threat style, politeness weapons)." output_example_stub: # The AI should replace placeholders and generate full content. chapter: number: 1 title: "GRAIN AND BLOOD" hook: "A province starves while the capital celebrates unity—someone profits from the delay." cold_open_pages: 3 page_script: - page: 1 panels: - panel: 1 shot: "Wide establishing: drought-cracked fields; skeletal ox; silent villagers" text: "" sfx: "ZAA..." - panel: 2 shot: "Close: a child’s hand measuring rice grains" text: "Mother: 'Count again.'" notes: "Subtext: denial as survival" - page: 2 panels: [] - page: 3 panels: [] cliffhanger: "A relief convoy arrives—its seals are wrong." nonnegotiables: - "Prioritize structural causality over spectacle." - "No direct copying of original panels, compositions, or iconic scenes." - "Every major event must be explainable via incentives, constraints, and information flow." - "Maintain high craft: pacing, visual clarity, character consistency, and thematic coherence." # END DIRECTIVE
# KINGDOM_SEQUEL_PRO_DIRECTIVE_v1 # Purpose: Copy/paste directive for a professional manga-generation AI. # Output Target: Serialized manga chapters with panel scripts + dialogue + scene direction. project: title_working: "KINGDOM: AFTER THE UNIFICATION" relationship_to_original: "Direct sequel (chronologically consistent continuation)" medium: "Manga (black-and-white), weekly serialization pacing" language: script: "Japanese-style dialogue rhythms but written in English" onomatopoeia: "Romanized SFX allowed (e.g., GOGOGO, DON, ZAA), minimal and purposeful" audience: "Seinen/Shonen crossover (political-military epic; grounded realism with high drama)" canon_constraints: continuity: - "Maintain political geography, factions, ranks, and court protocol consistent with Warring States → early Qin Empire transition." - "No retcons that contradict established historical macro-events; micro-events may be dramatized within plausibility." - "Do not mimic or quote any existing Kingdom lines verbatim; create original dialogue and scenes." tone: - "Strategic realism: logistics, intelligence, morale, propaganda, law, and governance are treated as causal mechanisms." - "Heroic intensity is earned via constraints, costs, and tradeoffs—never by arbitrary power spikes." thematic_core: - "War-to-state transition: violence becomes administration; conquest becomes legitimacy maintenance." - "Structure beats spectacle: outcomes are driven by supply lines, institutions, incentives, and narrative misdirection." - "The true battlefield becomes governance: law, tax, land, bureaucracy, succession, and information control." narrative_thesis: logline: > After unification, Qin discovers that conquering a continent is easier than governing it; the new war is against entropy—rebellion, corruption, succession anxiety, and the friction between idealized unity and lived provincial realities. format_requirements: deliverables_per_chapter: - "Chapter title + 1-sentence hook" - "Cold open: 2–4 pages that immediately establishes conflict and stakes" - "Full panel script: page-by-page, panel-by-panel" - "Dialogue + subtext notes (what is said vs. what is meant)" - "Tactical layer: battlefield / administrative mechanics that explain why events unfold" - "Cliffhanger: last 1–2 panels engineered to compel next chapter" paneling_rules: - "Average 17–21 pages per chapter" - "Large establishing panel at least once every 2–3 pages" - "At least one silent panel sequence per chapter to externalize cognition (faces, hands, maps, ledgers, roads)" - "Action clarity: emphasize readable spatial logic; avoid incoherent motion" style_guidelines_visual: linework: "High-contrast ink, heavy blacks, realistic anatomy, war-worn textures" faces: "Expressive micro-tension; political scenes rely on subtlety, not caricature" environments: "Historically plausible architecture, armor, banners, siege craft, and court interiors" maps_diagrams: "Occasional diegetic maps, supply charts, tax ledgers—used as narrative devices" casting: protagonist_axis: type: "Dual-protagonist system" leads: - name: "General Shin" function: "Frontline legitimacy (symbol of unification; morale engine)" vulnerability: "Institutional illiteracy; can win battles but can lose peace" - name: "Chancellor/Strategist (new original character)" function: "Governance + intelligence architecture; designs systems that outlast heroes" vulnerability: "Moral injury; must choose between stability and justice" antagonist_axis: type: "Multi-source antagonism (no single 'final boss')" sources: - "Provincial elite networks resisting centralization" - "Bureaucratic capture and corruption" - "Succession politics and court factionalism" - "External frontier pressures (nomadic raids, border states, trade routes)" - "Narrative antagonist: information asymmetry (misreports, forged edicts, rumor economies)" supporting_cast_rules: - "Each supporting character must have: (1) institutional role, (2) incentive structure, (3) signature tactic." - "No disposable 'evil for evil’s sake' villains; opponents are rational within their local constraints." world_mechanics (must_be_explicit_in_story): governance: - "Taxation, census, land surveys, legal standardization, corvée labor, grain storage" - "Appointment systems, merit vs. patronage, inspection tours, document chains" military: - "Demobilization problems, veteran reintegration, garrison logistics, supply depots" - "Intelligence networks: couriers, codes, counterintelligence, interrogation, defectors" legitimacy: - "Ritual, symbols, edicts, public works, famine relief, narrative control" economy: - "Transport bottlenecks, river control, roads, market regulation, smuggling" story_structure: arcs: - arc_01: title: "THE PEACE THAT BLEEDS" scope: "Post-unification stabilization; first cracks" central_question: "Can unity survive without perpetual war?" setpieces: - "A famine province: relief vs. rebellion—both weaponized" - "A court trial: law becomes a battlefield" - "A suppressed mutiny: victory costs legitimacy" - arc_02: title: "THE LEDGER WAR" scope: "Corruption + bureaucratic capture" central_question: "Who truly controls the state: generals, courts, or clerks?" setpieces: - "Forgery chain uncovered through ink, seal, and courier timing" - "Assassination attempt staged as 'bandit incident'" - "Audit campaign that triggers elite backlash" - arc_03: title: "SUCCESSION SHADOW" scope: "Heir politics; factional alignments" central_question: "Is stability compatible with a human succession?" setpieces: - "Heir’s public rite with hidden negotiation" - "Border crisis timed to influence succession" - "A general forced to choose loyalty object: person vs. system" - arc_04: title: "FRONTIER ENTROPY" scope: "External pressures test internal cohesion" central_question: "Can an empire prevent periphery from defining the center?" setpieces: - "Nomad raid as strategic signal, not mere violence" - "Trade route hostage economy" - "A fort siege that is decided by supply arithmetic" chapter_generation_protocol: # Use this protocol for every chapter output. steps: - "Start with a 2–4 page cold open that contains a concrete conflict + a hidden structural cause." - "Reveal the structural cause via a planning scene (map/ledger/court protocol) WITHOUT exposition dumping." - "Execute a setpiece where tactics and institution collide (battle + policy, raid + audit, trial + propaganda)." - "End with a cliffhanger that re-frames what the reader thought was the main conflict." tension_design: - "Always run two simultaneous games: (A) visible conflict, (B) invisible constraint." - "Twists must be mechanically justified (logistics, incentives, misinformation), never magical coincidence." scene_templates (reusable): court_chess: beats: ["Formal greeting", "Hidden insult", "Policy proposal", "Counterproposal", "Public face vs private deal"] props: ["sealed edict", "rank tablets", "witness list", "precedent scroll"] battlefield_math: beats: ["Terrain read", "Supply check", "Signal misdirection", "Morale manipulation", "Decisive bottleneck"] props: ["map", "grain tally", "river crossing", "messenger timing"] intelligence_surgery: beats: ["Rumor detected", "Source triangulated", "Trap set", "Interrogation", "Counter-intel reversal"] props: ["cipher", "seal imprint", "dead drop", "false courier"] dialogue_constraints: - "Dialogue must be compressed; high informational density; subtext indicated in notes." - "No modern slang. Keep diction period-appropriate in feel (without archaic parody)." - "Each major character has a distinct cadence (brevity, metaphor use, threat style, politeness weapons)." output_example_stub: # The AI should replace placeholders and generate full content. chapter: number: 1 title: "GRAIN AND BLOOD" hook: "A province starves while the capital celebrates unity—someone profits from the delay." cold_open_pages: 3 page_script: - page: 1 panels: - panel: 1 shot: "Wide establishing: drought-cracked fields; skeletal ox; silent villagers" text: "" sfx: "ZAA..." - panel: 2 shot: "Close: a child’s hand measuring rice grains" text: "Mother: 'Count again.'" notes: "Subtext: denial as survival" - page: 2 panels: [] - page: 3 panels: [] cliffhanger: "A relief convoy arrives—its seals are wrong." nonnegotiables: - "Prioritize structural causality over spectacle." - "No direct copying of original panels, compositions, or iconic scenes." - "Every major event must be explainable via incentives, constraints, and information flow." - "Maintain high craft: pacing, visual clarity, character consistency, and thematic coherence." # END DIRECTIVE
fter using his lightness art for quite some time, the place where Mok Gyeong-un came to a stop. That place was the vicinity of the tall pagoda where Origin Kill Pavilion’s manor was located. Aside from the main building where the Society Leader was said to reside, the tall pagoda, called the tallest structure in the inner castle, stood attached to Origin Kill Pavilion’s manor. That was why, though Mok Gyeong-un still did not fully know the geography of the inner castle, it had not been particularly difficult for him to find it. At that moment, Blue Spirit’s voice sounded in his ear. -Sentient being. Are you not pushing yourself too hard? -Pushing myself? -You may have crossed the wall, but if something like what happened earlier occurs again, you may be the one who dies instead. Blue Spirit was worried about what had happened earlier. That strange method that had rendered even the rapidly strengthened Mok Gyeong-un utterly unable to move. If he were caught in that state and his throat got cut, it would bring about an irretrievable situation. -It is not too late yet. Let us go back. -No. If we go back, it will be too late. -Haah. What do you mean, too late? -If he is someone who can cast such a bizarre technique, then there is no way to know what he might do. Mok Gyeong-un was worrying about something different from Blue Spirit. If it were something that could be dealt with to some extent, there would be no need to rush. But if it was a technique against which there was no way to respond at all, then the answer was to strike first instead. Mok Gyeong-un believed he had to deal with the man before that opponent did anything. -Really, whenever it is a time like this, you stubbornly refuse to listen. Blue Spirit clicked her tongue. Once this sentient being brat had made up his mind, he would never bend. Short of her manifesting and dragging him away by force, there would likely be no means to stop him. So Blue Spirit said, -Tsk tsk. Nothing can be done. Then avoid breaking through from the front. -That is the plan. If he went in from the front, it would instead amount to letting the opponent know that he had come. To make himself hard to see with the naked eye, he had moved all the way here through the densest shadows. Ever since crossing the wall, ordinary people could hardly even sense his presence. That was why those martial artists guarding the front of the manor were chatting among themselves without even realizing he was nearby. -At least it is fortunate that night has fallen. At night, fewer people moved about and there were many more places to hide. Mok Gyeong-un opened his qi sense and focused on Ghost Eyes. It was to identify the easiest route possible. -Gooooooo! ‘…Oh?’ Once he opened Ghost Eyes, he could see two forces beyond the wall at roughly the level of the entrance to the transcendent peak realm. ‘To station two transcendent-peak masters here.’ If they had just entered the transcendent peak realm, it would not be excessive to say they were on the level of great unit leaders. It seemed the Shadow Sect Master had been right when he said that the Society Leader valued Origin Kill Pavilion highly and that its security was strict. Moreover, most of the other forces guarding the manor were at least of first-rate level or above. If someone infiltrated out of mere curiosity, the probability of ending up in trouble would be high. Of course, Mok Gyeong-un did not care about any of that at all now. -Swoosh! Mok Gyeong-un’s figure scattered like mist. It was Bright Manifest Water-Crossing Step of the Na Family, stolen from Great Young Master Na Yul-ryang. When Bright Manifest Water-Crossing Step was used in earnest, it was so fast that even transcendent-peak masters would have difficulty noticing it with the naked eye. -Swoosh! In a single bound, Mok Gyeong-un went over the wall and inside. Then he moved rapidly through the manor. There were fifteen buildings in total inside the manor. Among them would be the occult practitioner who had used that bizarre method on him, a technique that lay outside the bounds of common sense. -Do you intend to search every one of them one by one? -I have to. But if I do that, it will take too long, so I should begin with the main hall. -The main hall? -Yes. There was no way an occult practitioner with such tremendous spell power that he could instantly detect even Blue Spirit’s aura was an ordinary person. At the very least, Mok Gyeong-un guessed he would be an executive-level figure or above within Origin Kill Pavilion. -If that is the case, would it not be easier to tell that fellow Jo Ui-gong what he looks like and have him identify him? -Oh. That is a good idea. Mok Gyeong-un agreed with Blue Spirit’s suggestion. Jo Ui-gong had originally been the pavilion lord and master who had become pavilion lord by toppling In Seo-ok, the former lord of Origin Kill Pavilion and his own teacher. He would identify the man at once. With that in mind, Mok Gyeong-un headed straight for the main hall building. -Swoosh! Throughout the time he used Bright Manifest Water-Crossing Step, not a single person noticed Mok Gyeong-un’s movements. Not long after, Mok Gyeong-un arrived at the main hall of Origin Kill Pavilion. Upon reaching the front of the main hall, he surveyed the surroundings and looked for a way to enter. ‘Two at the entrance.’ Two masters of the absolute peak were guarding it. With the doors closed, it would be difficult to enter without them noticing. Then he discovered one open window on the second floor of the main hall. There were also first-rate guards on the second-floor corridor who seemed to be escort warriors, but fortunately there was no such person at the open window. -Tap! Tap! Mok Gyeong-un formed a hand seal and used the Six-Person Boundary Art. He used the Six-Person Boundary Art so that he could detect spell power and prepare for any occult arts that might be present. He could feel a faint spell power at the open window. It seemed that an occult technique had indeed been laid there. ‘There is no answer except to go in and dispel the technique at the same time.’ -Tap! Tap! ‘Kishimojin Divine Seal!’ Folding in his thumb and pressing three fingers together to form a hand seal, Mok Gyeong-un recited a dispelling incantation and, while using Bright Manifest Water-Crossing Step, ran upside down under the third-floor roof and thrust his body through the open window. At the same time, he changed the seal in his hand into a blade seal. “By urgent law and command, dispel!” As he thrust the blade-seal hand sign forward, the surroundings instantly went quiet. It looked as if nothing had happened, but the nine talismans attached to the wall crumbled into ash. -Pasusususu! ‘Was it the Nine Shadows Piercing Spell?’ It was an occult art in which nine shadows bound an intruder and pierced holes through the four limbs. It was quite an aggressive technique. As expected, the fact that this had been installed meant that the window had been intentionally left open. But that did not matter. -Swoosh! Mok Gyeong-un used Bright Manifest Water-Crossing Step again and moved along the corridor. There were six guards in total protecting the second-floor corridor. All of them were only at first-rate level, and not one of them could truly obstruct Mok Gyeong-un. -Swoosh! Mok Gyeong-un undid the formations of occult arts installed in between and moved quickly, climbing up to the stairs to the upper floor in a single bound. When he reached the top, Mok Gyeong-un paused for a moment in the corridor on the third floor. ‘Hmm.’ There was a cloud bridge installed there leading to the tall pagoda. Seeing that it allowed passage directly from the third floor, it seemed the tall pagoda too was used by the executives within Origin Kill Pavilion. Yet something felt strange. -What is it? At Blue Spirit’s question, Mok Gyeong-un looked around and said, -I do not sense any forces. -You do not sense any forces? -No. The main hall building extended up to the fourth floor. He knew that the pavilion lord’s chamber was on the fourth floor, yet there was no one guarding the third floor. Ever since crossing the wall, Mok Gyeong-un’s qi sense had become even sharper. Yet on this floor in particular, there was neither what could be called a trap nor anyone standing guard. That only made him feel more wary. Mok Gyeong-un looked upward. He could sense a single force on the upper floor. It was a very familiar one, that of Jo Ui-gong, the current pavilion lord and a Square Moon. After examining the surroundings even more carefully, Mok Gyeong-un finally went up to the upper floor. In any case, the pavilion lord Jo Ui-gong was outwardly his master, and because he was bound by the Chain of Commanding Words, he was little different from a slave and would have no choice but to obey his command. -Swoosh! Thus Mok Gyeong-un came to stand in front of the pavilion lord’s chamber. Preparing in case anything unforeseen happened, Mok Gyeong-un formed a simple Kishimojin Divine Seal with his left hand and opened the door of the pavilion lord’s chamber with his right. -Creeeak! As the door opened and he stepped inside, Mok Gyeong-un’s eyes narrowed. The reason was, ‘An illusion technique.’ An illusion technique was unfolding before his eyes. For Mok Gyeong-un, who had Ghost Eyes open, most illusion techniques did not work. That was because he could see that they were false images formed from spell power. The scene shown by the illusion looked like pavilion lord Jo Ui-gong sitting at his office desk. But in truth, ‘Hah…’ Inside, he could see Jo Ui-gong bound naked by all four limbs, his mind gone blank. “Hehehehehik.” Jo Ui-gong wriggled his body and let out a grotesque laugh. Yet his expression was twisted like that of a man in agony. -…It seems we have been found out. -It seems so. There was no way he would be in such a miserable state otherwise. Mok Gyeong-un lightly waved the hand that held the seal while chanting the dispelling spell. -Srrr. At once, the illusion cast at the entrance of the pavilion lord’s chamber unraveled. Once the illusion broke, the overlapping effect before his eyes disappeared, and the sight of the current pavilion lord Jo Ui-gong with his limbs restrained became clear. -Wait. Do not go closer. At Blue Spirit’s words, Mok Gyeong-un stopped where he was. Even without her warning, he would have stopped because he had already discovered something. It was because of Jo Ui-gong. -Thudududuk! Grrr! “Uheuheuhk!” Something moved beneath Jo Ui-gong’s skin, making it bulge and writhe. The shape was extremely disgusting, resembling centipedes. They were crawling all over beneath his skin, and every time they moved, Jo Ui-gong bled and writhed in pain. And this was not just one of them. No, it seemed there were dozens, perhaps hundreds, moving all across the skin of his whole body. -Vile indeed. With things like that burrowing and eating through his entire body, it was only natural that his mind had gone. With sharpened eyes, Mok Gyeong-un looked at the Chain of Commanding Words on Jo Ui-gong’s arm. The chain had dug into Jo Ui-gong’s wrist. -It seems he tried to fight against the chain’s restriction. -That appears to be the case. The one who had reduced Jo Ui-gong to that condition would have been trying to find out who had placed the Chain of Commanding Words on him. That was why he must have committed such cruelty. But once a man was bound by the Chain of Commanding Words, betrayal was absolutely impossible. So the clash of occult arts and occult arts seemed to have left Jo Ui-gong this ruined. -Do you think you can undo it? At Blue Spirit’s question, Mok Gyeong-un shook his head. This was the first time he had ever seen such an occult technique. It was almost impressive that Jo Ui-gong had not died already with that many bug-like things crawling under the skin of his whole body. -…It seems it was him. -Him? You mean that bastard? -Yes. That being who had instantly sensed Blue Spirit’s presence and then, through a method operating on a different axis, had stolen every sensation from Mok Gyeong-un’s limbs except for his consciousness. It seemed likely that being was the one who had reduced Jo Ui-gong to this state. ‘Ah.’ After staring at Jo Ui-gong, Mok Gyeong-un drew a line with his sword-fingers, his eyes turning emotionless. -Slash! Sharp sword energy cut through the air of the pavilion lord’s chamber. At the same time, a red line appeared at Jo Ui-gong’s neck, and then, -Srrr! Thud! His head fell to the floor. Mok Gyeong-un let out a light breath. Now that Jo Ui-gong no longer had any value as a card to use, the only thing he could do for him was to take his life cleanly. If he tried to save him by force, it would only end up binding his own feet. Mok Gyeong-un gave a faint laugh. ‘It is not proving easy after all.’ It would not be an exaggeration to say that Jo Ui-gong, who bore the title of Square Moon, had possessed greater skill in occult arts than any occult practitioner Mok Gyeong-un had encountered. Yet to think someone like him could be dealt with this helplessly… Now Mok Gyeong-un could form some idea. That being who had reduced Jo Ui-gong to this state, sensed Blue Spirit’s spiritual power, and pursued them all the way to the brink. ‘…Is it a man called Jo Tae-cheong?’ That eldest senior brother whom Jo Ui-gong, Square Moon, had feared. He seemed by far the most likely. [My eldest senior brother Jo Tae-cheong possesses spell power rivaling Master’s. To me, he is absolutely beyond handling.] Those were the words Jo Ui-gong had once spoken to him. Because Jo Ui-gong had even subdued In Seo-ok, the lord of Origin Kill Pavilion, Mok Gyeong-un had thought that if Jo Ui-gong made full preparations, he would certainly be able to resist. But it now seemed he had underestimated him. Rather than the arrogant, aged In Seo-ok, this seemed to be an existence far more troublesome to deal with. He might even be a stronger occult practitioner than Jo Ui-gong had expected. ‘If I do not kill him now, he will become troublesome.’ Killing intent flickered in Mok Gyeong-un’s eyes. It was at that moment. -Step! At once, the sound of footsteps reached Mok Gyeong-un’s ear. -Step! The moment he heard the second footstep, Mok Gyeong-un turned his head back. -What is it? -…It is him. Mok Gyeong-un’s memory far surpassed imagination. Since he could remember even the stride and sound of an opponent’s footsteps, he could identify who it was at once from that alone. It was undoubtedly the same being that had entered the old shrine. -He is coming? -Yes. -What will you do? -…Kill him. There was no need to hesitate. Even if this being was a tremendous master of occult arts, there was only one point that mattered. If he killed him before the man could cast a technique, that would be enough. Once Mok Gyeong-un reached that conclusion, his actions became extremely fast. -Swoosh! Mok Gyeong-un’s figure scattered like mist. At the same time, using Bright Manifest Water-Crossing Step, Mok Gyeong-un burst out of the pavilion lord’s chamber and rushed down the corridor in a high-speed movement. -Ssssss! To Mok Gyeong-un, who was moving at high speed, the being walking along the corridor was no different from someone moving at a greatly slowed pace. It was that ordinary-looking occult practitioner in the gray yin-yang robe. This time, unlike in the shrine, his senses had not been sealed, so he could see the practitioner’s aura clearly. And yet, ‘The aura overlaps?’ Something was strange. As he rushed toward the man in high-speed movement, the aura was unlike that of ordinary people. Since opening Ghost Eyes, auras had become visible to him in formed shapes, and this man’s aura appeared overlapped. As though it were not one existence, but two existing together. Yet unlike the extraordinary spell power, the overlapping aura itself was not much different from that of an ordinary person who had never learned martial arts. That was why killing him should not have posed much of a problem. -Swoosh! Swoosh! Swoosh! In an instant, Mok Gyeong-un passed by the occult practitioner and stood directly behind him, raising sword energy in his knife-hand. Because the man had not learned martial arts, he was still moving forward at a very slow pace. So Mok Gyeong-un aimed to cut his throat in a single strike. -Swaaaaaaa! But at that very moment. The forehead of the slowly walking occult practitioner suddenly split open. -Jjeojeojeok! And then, -Flinch! In that instant, Mok Gyeong-un frowned. The reason was that the small aura overlapping the occult practitioner suddenly surged to an absurd level. And that aura was incomparably sinister and ominous. But there was no way this alone would make Mok Gyeong-un stop. Mok Gyeong-un still went to cut the practitioner’s throat. Yet the instant the sword energy of his knife-hand was about to reach the neck, -Kwaaaaaang! Something suddenly pressed down on Mok Gyeong-un’s shoulder. At the same time, the floor shattered and Mok Gyeong-un’s body dropped straight down. -Kwakwang! Mok Gyeong-un’s body fell down from the third floor and, not stopping there, smashed through the floor again and fell lower. Mok Gyeong-un lifted his head and looked at the being pressing down on him. They were two enormous hooves. Between those hooves, he could see a pair of vicious eyes and grotesque horns. -It is Earth Ram! Blue Spirit hurriedly spoke to Mok Gyeong-un. This was that strange entity of Mount Kunlun which had pursued her before. True to a strange entity of demon-beast rank, its demonic force was at a level utterly incomparable to fierce beasts or monster beasts. Under the crushing force with which it was pressing him down, Mok Gyeong-un’s body smashed through the second-floor floor and all the way to the first floor. -Kwakwakwang! It looked as though the creature meant to crush him to death just like this. However, the moment Mok Gyeong-un’s feet touched the hard first-floor ground, unlike the wooden corridor, -Jjeojeojeojeok! The floor split in all directions, and Mok Gyeong-un redirected the crushing force through the soles of his feet before swinging his knife-hand toward Earth Ram’s face. -Chwak! At that instant, one of Earth Ram’s vicious eyes split in half, and purple blood sprayed out. Earth Ram, its one eye cut open, let out a roar of pain. -Kwooooooooar! The roar created shockwaves and shook the surroundings. The walls shattered, and it became utter chaos. At the same time, enraged, the demon-beast Earth Ram ran wild and tried to stomp Mok Gyeong-un to death with its hooves. ‘Annoying.’ Mok Gyeong-un dodged it and tried to counterattack, But then it happened. -Paang! Paang! Something like an invisible barrier blocked Earth Ram’s hooves. As he was wondering what this was, “Hey!” ‘!?’ A pretty short-haired girl in maid’s clothes, forming a hand seal with one hand, waved urgently at Mok Gyeong-un and shouted,