Colors bled across the sky like war paint—unnatural, vivid, clashing violently with the chipped stone beneath Armin's boots. Magic hung thick in the air. Not subtle. Not lurking. Heavy. Alive. The scent of old flowers and burnt ozone clung to the wind, whispering of something eternal. This was not the mortal world. But Armin had returned. He was ready.
Footsteps, deliberate and soft, echoed behind him. Herina emerged like a ghost woven from moonlight. The grass barely moved under her bare feet. In her hands, she carried a sword too heavy for someone so slight. His father's sword.
Her golden eyes shined under the light of the realm.
Although she had toned down her godly appearance and well...glow. She was still radiant,in a different way.
She said nothing as she approached. Just stopped in front of him and held the weapon out.
He reached.
But before he could touch it, Herina ran her fingers along the jagged blade, slow and deliberate, like tracing the spine of a sleeping beast. Golden light flared where she touched. It crawled across the steel, chasing her touch in a liquid shimmer. The blade came alive, every chip and scar lit like runes forged in fire.
"What did you do?" Armin asked.
"Blessed it," she said. "Makes it stronger."
Then she stepped back. Not like a retreat. Like a release. Herina wasn't just some guide or guardian; she felt bigger than the space she stood in. Like a god paused mid-breath.
The air vibrated. Her voice didn't speak—it resonated. One voice layered over another, and another, and another. A choir in one throat.
[Arminius]
[You have been blessed. And now, your first mission shall be assigned.]
Something gripped his chest. Not fear. Not quite. It was heat, pressure, like fire catching under his ribs. His pulse responded in kind. He straightened.
[Defeat the Duke of the Romulus Duchy.]
He blinked. "...Wait, wha—?"
Suddenly,he felt as if the world was tugging at both his soul and body.
Everything twisted. The world cracked sideways, and he was flung from it like a stone from a sling. There was no transition—only impact.
Thud.
His knees slammed into scorched sand. His stomach turned inside out. He doubled over, choking, vomiting, the taste of acid burning his throat. The sun was brutal overhead, casting everything in a red glare.
He collapsed sideways, coughing, the dry heat already pulling sweat from his skin. It took a moment before he could even think.
The desert stretched out around him, cruel and empty. Jagged mountains loomed in the distance like stone fangs. It was the same wasteland carved by The Great Stampede. And it smelled the same—death, dust, regret.
Not much different from before if you ask Armin but whatever...
"The Romulus Duchy..." he muttered.
He remembered hearing stories. Hushed voices around dying fires. Elders muttering about the hierarchy of demons. Romulus was the weakest of the Thirteen. But even that meant godlike power. The Dukes were monsters, not rulers. They could tear apart cities. Command legions. Some had lived so long they turned into myths. There are even rumours about them,a lotlot of rumors.
Some say that all of them are fallen angels or gods.
Some say they are all just a single demon controlling the entire demon realm under disguise.
But,one thing was the same. They were practically above everything else that is mortal.
Now, he was supposed to kill one?
A glow caught his eye.
A board of light hovered in front of him, gold text etched across its surface.
-Main Mission Assigned-
[Defeat the Duke of Romulus within One Year]
"One year? He's been alive for thousands!"
The board pulsed, mockingly calm.
[You forget that you possess [A.S.C.E.N.D.] — the Power of the Hero.]
The system.
A.S.C.E.N.D. The ancient tool of heroes. A weapon built from time itself. With it, legends had been born, wars won, worlds saved.
And now it was his.
A familiar whisper slid into his thoughts. Velvet smooth, threading through his mind like smoke.
[Test out your new powers.]
He frowned. "Maton?" he said to no one.
The whisper answered.
[Yes. I am Maton.]
"You a spy for Herina?"
Silence.
"Yeah. Thought so."
He looked down at his hands—empty. The sword was gone.
"Where's the blade?"
[Simply remember it.]
[Visualize. Believe. Recall what it meant to you.]
He resisted the eye roll, but did it anyway. Closed his eyes. Pictured the weapon. The ugly, misshapen thing. The burn marks. The nicks. The feel of the handle. The yelling in the background. His mother's voice, cursing him for picking it up the first time.
And then—light.
A swirl of gold particles gathered in his palm.
Clink.
The sword materialized, solid and worn, but real. Heavy in his grip. Familiar.
"That's... useful," he muttered, smirking.
[I know.]
Then, the ground trembled.
At first, it was a subtle shift, like something stretching far beneath the surface. But it grew. The sand trembled. Rocks bounced. The air changed.
A distant roar. Not sound. Vibration.
Crash.
The ground exploded. A creature burst free—a mountain of red flesh, spiraling teeth, mucous glistening under the sun. The Red Glutton Worm. It towered above him, a nightmare carved from the bones of the desert. A ruined stump marked where its tail used to be. Armin's stomach twisted.
"It's the same one... How the fuck is it the same one?!"
The sands behind the worm writhed. Other things stirred. Shadows beneath the surface. The worm dove back in, swimming through earth like water. A ripple followed its path—fast, wide, heading straight for him.
-Bonus Mission-
[Trial Run: Slay the Red Glutton Worm]
As the worm got close Armin didn't wait.
He charged at it with blade reeled back.
The worm burst up again, jaws wide.
"Bottoms up!!"
He said as he slid beneath its open maw, slicing upward as he passed under the spiraling teeth. A roar—part shriek, part grinding metal—split the sky.
His arms were caught in the spiraling saw like teeth.
"Fuck!" he cursed in pain. The skin was being flayed. He only slightly managed to save it.
But,
He wasn't done.
He moved.
Faster than instinct, faster than thought. The blade arced through flesh again, spraying rust-colored blood. Armin spun away, landing on one knee and panting, but his eyes were wild. Alive.
And then—he laughed.
He threw his head back and screamed at the sun.
"I'M STRONGER!" His voice cracked with joy and madness. "YOU HEAR THAT?! I'M NOT NOTHING ANYMORE!"
He knew he was stronger. He could never slash open that beasts mouth like that.
And his arm was already healing.
The worm lunged again.
He met it mid-charge, ducking low, sword flashing in a clean, brutal strike across its midsection. Veins of light pulsed in the wound.
The worm thrashed.
But he was already behind it, blade raised. He stabbed downward, directly into its skull.
CRACK.
The shriek that followed was cut short.
The worm collapsed. Its massive body shook the ground one last time—and stilled.
Silence.
Armin stood over it, chest heaving, drenched in sweat and gore.
And then—
The laughter died.
Memories flooded in. Cruel stares. Words that pierced deeper than blades ever had.
"Worthless demon."
"Stain on demonkind."
"No veil art. No power. Just leave."
"You're broken."
His knees gave out. He dropped beside the dead beast, sword clattering next to him. His hands trembled. Then clenched. His face twisted—and he cried.
He sobbed into the sand, ugly and raw. Letting it all out. The rejection. The rage. The grief.
Then—
Light.
A golden diamond ♢ rose from the worm's body. Hovering, rotating slowly, bathing him in warmth.
He blinked at it, tears still falling.
As he thought about it—just the idea of touching it—
It vanished.
The board pulsed again.
[EXP GAINED.]
[Abilities Enhancing...]
Another message followed.
[Gift Granted: Trial Completed With Ease.]
[Skillset Acquired: Swordsmanship]
He stared.
And then—grinned.
Wiped his face with a filthy sleeve, eyes still red, heart still pounding.
"Maton,explain."
End of Chapter-011