Ash's eyes remained glued to the screen, his thoughts spiraling into the unknown.
The Rune's descriptions… they're the same as in the novel.
The Rune of Life—immunity to dark magic and curses, along with limitless regeneration. A power so absurd that even the most revered figures of history would kill to obtain it.
The Rune of Balance—forcing all stats to equalize and grow together, ensuring an Perfect foundation at every rank.
With this, I can grow in perfect harmony…
Yet, despite everything, one mystery still gnawed at him.
I still don't know what caused my stats to double…
It should have been 70. That was his highest stat. Yet now, it was 140 across the board.
There had to be a reason.
Could it be… when my trait activated?
His mind raced, piecing together the fragments of information.
When all the energies of the Rune combined my mana compressed, and became pure, and then I once again went through body reformation....
The process wasn't just reformation—it was evolution. His very being had been reforged under the immense power of his new Primordial Core.
That has to be it.
He exhaled slowly, nodding to himself. It all made sense now.
But then he noticed something unusual,
A prickling sensation crawled up his spine.
There was a shift in the air, subtle yet undeniable. Like the quiet before a storm, the tension of something unseen pressing down on reality itself.
Only then did he notice it.
The surrounding silence.
There was not even the sound of anyone breathing except Ray who was near him.
And when he finally lifted his gaze—
Every single person around him was frozen.
Not in awe. Not in admiration.
But in fear.
Their bodies trembled, their expressions caught between horror and disbelief.
Some had instinctively stepped back. Others were gripping their weapons so tightly their knuckles had turned white.
And then—he heard someone speak.
"W-Who… are you?"
Leira's voice barely held together, her pupils constricting as she stared at him like he was something beyond her comprehension.
Ash blinked.
Why is she—?
That's when he noticed.
His body was unconsciously releasing a tremendous amount of aura—something ancient, something primordial. It rolled off him in waves, distorting the very air, pressing down on everything around him.
The Aura of the Primordial Core… and the aftereffects of the Rune's energy…
It wasn't the aura of his power level. It wasn't a measure of his strength.
It was nothing but the aftereffects of the runes and the newly transformed Primordial Core—a mere byproduct of their awakening.
On top of that he had two Primordial Cores, not one.
I am weaker than her.
Even with his stats doubled, even with the changes wrought upon his body, the gap in strength remained.
He was still below Ray when overclock had pushed him beyond his limits. The reality of it was undeniable.
Against Leira, he stood at a disadvantage.
And yet—
Strength was not always measured in numbers.
The battlefield was not dictated by stats alone, nor by the raw energy one could wield.
Fear, hesitation, the weight of uncertainty—these were weapons just as sharp as any blade, and right now, they were working in his favor.
Ash let the moment settle, allowed the tension to fester, to seep into their bones. Then, when the weight of his presence had reached its peak, he finally spoke.
His voice was low, hoarse, and heavy, carrying an unnatural depth that did not belong to someone of his age.
"Does it matter?"
The words came out slow, deliberate, each syllable pressing down like a tangible force.
A flicker of unease passed through Leira's expression, a brief widening of her eyes as the sound of his voice settled over them.
Ash knew why.
This was not his real voice.
Before coming to the dungeon, he had made a small but significant decision.
Garry had casually pointed out that Ash's voice was too soft, too youthful that revealed his age to him.
He had purchased a voice-changing device before entering the dungeon, to distort and deepen his voice.
Now, as the altered voice echoed in the deathly silent chamber, he realized just how much of a difference it made.
It was no longer the voice of a young man.
It was like monster was speaking.
It was really unnatural.
Leira clenched her teeth, pushing down the tremor in her voice as she forced herself to speak. "Get away from the boy."
She took a step forward, her stance shifting, though hesitation still lingered in the stiffness of her movements. "I don't know who—or what—you are, but this has nothing to do with you. Leave, and I might let you walk away in one piece."
Ash remained still, unmoving, as if her words meant nothing to him.
And despite her bravado, despite the authority in her tone—she was afraid.
She was wary.
He let a small breath escape his lips before tilting his head ever so slightly.
"You might let me walk away?", His voice carried no mockery, no amusement, just an eerie, quiet curiosity.
"And if I don't?"
Leira's grip on her weapon tightened, "Then you die."
There was no hesitation in her words now. Whatever fear had gripped her before was being steadily burned away, replaced with something else—something far more dangerous.
Desire.
Ash could see it in her eyes, in the way she looked at Ray's unconscious body, at the ruined battlefield around them.
And then, for the briefest of moments, her gaze flickered beyond him, to the stone doors at the end of the chamber.
The reward room.
The realization clicked into place.
She wasn't just here to kill Ray. She was after something else.
The Rune.
The Demon King's recognition.
Ash's lips parted slightly, but before he could speak, Leira exhaled sharply and took another step forward.
"You don't understand what you're getting yourself into," she muttered, her voice laced with something close to impatience now.
"Ray Dawson is already marked. His fate is sealed. Standing in my way changes nothing—"
"It changes everything," Ash interrupted smoothly, his voice cutting through her growing fervor like a blade of ice.
Leira's eyes snapped back to him, narrowing, but before she could speak, he continued—his words steady, unwavering.
"You're talking about fate to the wrong person," he said, a trace of amusement curling at the edge of his tone. "I've already spat in the face of the bastard fate of mine."
Her lips parted slightly, but he didn't give her the chance to recover.
"You don't care about fate. You care about power. About being seen. About the Demon King acknowledging you." His voice dipped, not in volume, but in weight—a truth spoken aloud, undeniable.
Leira's pupils shrank. A flicker of something crossed her face, something involuntary.
Ash had struck deep.
For a moment, she said nothing. Her fingers twitched, gripping her weapon just a little too tightly.
Then, after a beat of silence, she scoffed. A smirk curled her lips—not playful, not amused, but something darker.
"Who-WHO ARE YOU?", she shouted with the fear of unknown, cause no one should know about the demon king right now, as their plan has not even started.
Ash exhaled slowly, his expression unreadable but he did not reply.
"It does not matter who you are. You will die, every single person present here will die, so that no one will be able to interfere with 'His' plans."
"I WILL KILL YOU"
Her voice was sharp now, her previous hesitation fully burned away by greed, ambition—desperation.
And then—
She moved.
Faster than Ash could track.
Leira vanished, a streak of black light tearing through the air. The ground where she stood fractured, spiderweb cracks racing outward. Before Ash could even register her movement, she was already in front of him.
A predatory grin curled on her lips as her elongated claws gleamed under the dim dungeon light. Then, without hesitation—
Shhk!
Her claws speared into his chest, plunging deep into his heart. Flesh tore. Bones cracked. A wet, sickening sound echoed in the still air as she crushed his heart in her grasp.
Ash's body convulsed, his vision blurring. A shudder ran through him before, like a marionette with its strings severed, he collapsed.
For a moment, everything stood still.
Then—
The air around him shifted. The oppressive aura that had been leaking from his body surged, twisting, darkening.
A primal warning screamed in Leira's instincts, every fiber of her being telling her to back away. And yet, she didn't move. She simply smiled, amused.
"I expected more from you," she mused, tilting her head, watching his body crumpled on the cold stone floor. "With the amount of aura you were releasing, I thought you'd be stronger."
Her eyes glinted with realization.
"But then… I remembered," she continued, taking a slow step forward. "This is a dungeon. And powerful individuals can't enter, can they?"
A chuckle escaped her lips, low and mocking.
"That leaves only two possibilities… Either you were faking your strength, or…" she paused, savoring the moment, "you're only as strong as me."
She crouched down beside his motionless form, her voice dropping to a whisper.
"And guess what?" A wicked smirk stretched across her face. "You were faking it."
She threw her head back and laughed—a wild, unhinged sound that echoed through the dungeon walls.
Her fingers traced the fabric of his cloak, her curiosity piqued.
"This thing…" she murmured, running her claws along the material. "It must be concealing your aura completely. Because as long as I don't see you…" Her eyes gleamed. "I can't feel anything from you."
Leira leaned in, inches from his face, her breath warm against his skin—
Then—
Crackle!
A surge of lightning exploded from his hand, a jagged arc of blue energy slicing through the air from his sword.
Leira barely managed to leap back, as her instincts screamed at her to retreat. Her guard snapped up, her muscles tense.
And then—Ash stood up.
He dusted off his clothes like he had simply tripped and fallen.
Leira's eyes widened.
"How—?", Her voice faltered, shock bleeding into her expression, "How are you still alive?"
Ash rolled his shoulders, exhaling sharply. His fingers curled and uncurled, as if shaking off the lingering sensation of pain.
"That fucking hurt, bitch," he growled, his voice low, dangerous.
Right before her eyes, his chest—the gaping hole where his heart should have been—knitted itself back together.
Flesh twisted, pulsed, reformed. A new heart took its rightful place, veins threading around it like roots seeking soil. For a moment, his skin was smooth, untouched—perfect.
Then, like ink spilling across a canvas, the darkness of his cloak crept over his chest, swallowing the fresh, unblemished flesh.
Ash rolled his neck, cracking it. He looked at her, and for the first time—Leira felt something foreign slither down her spine.
Unease.
"Oh, that was fucking painful…" he muttered, voice thick with barely contained rage.
His fingers flexed, and sparks of electricity danced between them, lighting up the darkness. His eyes locked onto her, unblinking, predatory.
"Real painful…"
A slow, menacing smirk tugged at his lips.
"I swear—" his voice dipped, venomous, "I'm gonna carve my name into your fucking bones for destroying my heart."
***