Alex lifted the cutlass. Its black blade, inscribed with gold and silver runes, was utterly captivating. He was sure people would be drawn to it like moths to a street light. He took a few test swings. Suddenly, the cutlass began aggressively pulling mana from his body. Simultaneously, his soul started generating mana at an equal, furious rate.

  In an instant, everything went blank.

  He found himself standing in an enormous, dark space. All he could see was a throne, crafted from black crystals interlaced with flowing gold and silver lines. Its seat was covered in pure golden fiber. Behind it, on the wall, hung a banner bearing the same seven-pointed crest from the vault platform.

  Suddenly, Alex felt an excruciating pain, like something tearing his body in half from the inside out. After a few agonizing seconds, the pain vanished.

  Standing before him was a man. His facial features were blurred, but his strong physique was undeniable. He wore light armor covering his vital points, with the rest of his body draped in silk cloth. He was clean-shaven, and his eyes were the only clear feature on his face—intense, ancient, and captivating.

  A screen materialized before the man’s face, visible only to Alex:

  NAME - EMPEROR

  RANK - NORMAL LV 1

  TITLE - THE BEAST THAT RULES GODS

  RARITY - 1/1 .

  “What’s your name?” the figure asked. His voice was deep yet calm, the sound of a being who feared nothing.

  “Who are you?” Alex replied, matching the figure's question with his own, surprised by the rapid sequence of events.

  “I asked first. But no worries. I am your Aura Beast.”

  “Aura beast? I thought they are mostly unique projections of one’s true self. But you clearly have your own consciousness.”

  “Don’t compare me with those low-life forms. Regular Aura Beasts are mere spirits. Even standard souls are no match for me,” the man retorted, a rush of anger momentarily flowing from his blurred face.

  “Sorry, but my knowledge is tied to one of my skills, and it doesn't work everywhere I go.”

  “You mean the Voice of the World?” the figure asked, moving toward the throne and resting on it. The throne and the man synchronized, appearing incomplete without the other.

  “Yes.”

  “Really.” The man sighed. “Out of all the Divine Skills you could get, you got the most useless one.”

  “I can’t deny that.”

  “So, where are we?” Alex asked.

  “In your soul,” the man answered, clearly uninterested.

  “Why is it so blank?”

  “You unlocked your Vision ability, yet?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then use it, idiot!”

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  “Okay, fine. No need to start scolding.” Alex activated his vision ability.

  The surrounding space immediately resolved into a detailed, massive Throne Room. It contained the throne and one other item: the cutlass Alex had just held. It was suspended in the air, radiating flames of black, gold, and silver.

  The man rose and took the cutlass into his arms. “It was here all the time.”

  “Why didn't I see it before I used my vision ability?” Alex asked.

  “You really don’t know anything, do you?” the man sighed, shaking his head.

  “There are three main sources of power in this creation: 1) Mana, accumulated from your surroundings. 2) Skills, which come in two types: Racial and Non-Racial, unlocked by luck, hard work, or items. 3) The Soul/Spirit/Similar Kind, which contains the source of power that generates an unlimited amount of mana.” The man retook his throne, now holding the cutlass.

  “What are you, exactly?” Alex pressed.

  “I am a Conceptual Being.”

  “Correct me if I’m wrong. A Conceptual Being is a type of consciousness that continues to exist inside a core concept. Like the gods that live in their own concepts.”

  “You are actually correct for the first time,” the man spoke.

  “What concept do you exist in?”

  “Mortality,” the man said, his demeanor becoming serious at the word.

  “Mortality?” Alex raised his eyebrows in confusion.

  “Yes, mortality. As long as this world has the concept of mortal life, I shall live.”

  Suddenly, the cutlass in his hands radiated even more brilliantly before the energy completely stabilized. The man rose from his throne and handed Alex the weapon.

  “Take it, lad. It’s all yours.”

  “When will I get out of this place?” Alex asked.

  “Whenever you want.”

  “Nice to meet you,” Alex said, offering a handshake.

  “Looking forward to when you are powerful enough to manifest me in the physical world,” the man said, firmly shaking Alex's hand.

  Then, Alex was back in the vault, amidst the piles of treasure, holding the cutlass tightly. He opened his inventory and slipped the sword into an empty box.

  Ketovan Motsari and Bishop Renald Loskov were inside a pale-blue, transparent sphere, flying through the air at the speed of a bullet train. Even at this speed, it took them half a day to reach the patch of land where the world energy had struck. Though nearly a month had passed, the unique crest was still clearly etched into the grass.

  The Bishop bent down to touch the ground. The moment he contacted the crest, his eyes turned crimson, and the veins in his eyes began to burst. If not for his Noble Rank reflexes and superior recovery, he would have lost his eyesight and risked severe damage to his mana core.

  “Are you fine, Bishop?” Ketovan asked, pulling Renald back into the blue sphere. The moment the Bishop re-entered the sphere, his eyes regained their normal appearance.

  “You have my thanks, child,” Renald told him, shaken.

  “No worries. Any information?”

  “Yes. A magic ritual at a rank even higher than Almighty. I am confused between summoning and teleportation.”

  “Any sign of the core?”

  “Yes, a faint but definite signature.”

  “Very well then. We are moving in the right direction.” Saying this, Ketovan urged the sphere deeper into the forest.

  Fedrick Harper Banfeild was the Founder of the Adventure Society and was older than the youngest continent on the planet. His primary residence was a satellite space island that revolved around his home planet, Terra. He had similar islands around other planets, but this was his favorite, as from here, he could watch his species thrive and and survive.

  He was currently sitting in the middle of a flower maze in his garden. Many servants were lined up in neat rows, close but respectfully away from the Divine Ranker. The sky was nothing but a clear, beautiful view of the human home planet, Terra.

  A woman landed beside him. She had delicate plant wings, lined with beautiful dandelions along the edges. Her shoulder-length crimson hair contrasted perfectly with her milky-white skin and red-and-blue gown. She had the pointed ears of an elf and eyes of plant green. She occupied the seat next to Fedrick.

  “It took you long, Elena.” Fedrick spoke, pouring them both a serving of liquor.

  “I had to fucking fly past two planets to reach this dirt ball of yours, so don't fuck around, Ivan.” The woman said with irritation as she took the glass.

  Fedrick signaled to the servants, and they withdrew.

  “Emperor claimed another owner,” he said, his voice grim and hoarse.

  “That moron never learns. Any updates?”

  “Nothing yet.”

  “Do we need to address this in the next meeting?” the woman asked, gently sipping her glass.

  “Yes, absolutely,” the man said, half-irritated and half-amused.

  “I am really fed up with him. Don’t forget to remind me to kick Emperor’s butt when we next enter the Soul Realm.”

  “Act your age at least once, Elena,” the man said, a tired smile crossing his face.

  Silence fell between them for a while, thick with ancient history and shared burdens.