There were only four years left until the start of the original story.
At the same time, it had been just over a year and one month since all the members of the Five Sins who had once lived in the orphanage became independent.
"What is Seolrang up to?"
As Alon skimmed through the letter from Yutia—as he did every time one arrived—his thoughts drifted toward Seolrang. Although Yutia's letters always included stories about herself and the other members of the Five Sins, there hadn't been a single mention of Seolrang since two months after her independence.
"…No way, she didn't die somewhere out there, did she?"
After pondering for a moment, Alon firmly shook his head.
According to Yutia's previous letters, Seolrang had already arrived in the desert nation. If she had followed the instructions correctly, there was no reason for her to die so meaninglessly.
After all, the gift he had given her would make her a fearsome 'Baba Yaga.' That too, as a gladiator in the Colony—where the strong gained everything.
"It was written in the item description. It has to be true, right?"
Alon recalled the developer's habit of packing item descriptions with lore—an indulgence that had become his own habit to read thoroughly.
"If the Sin of Greed got it, they would fall and become a Sin… but if she obtains it, she would become a great warrior. That was it, I think."
Of course, the effect he received from the item was merely a twenty percent increase in critical hit rate. But the magnificence of its lore was why he had told Seolrang where to find it.
Moreover, in case the description turned out to be something insignificant, he had included the location of a hidden treasure as well.
Yet… it had been nine months without a single word.
"Maybe I should have just given her the treasure quietly."
But he shook his head.
The reason he sent her to the Colony in the first place was because of the narration claiming she held the talent of a warrior. And since he couldn't support her his whole life, independence was a crucial step.
"No. It's better if she learns to live on her own."
Therefore… she surely wasn't dead. Considering Deus's absurd talent, Seolrang had certainly survived—but what had happened?
As Alon pondered with a strange expression—
In the Desert Nation — Southern Cave
In a dark cave deep within the southern region of the Colony, a girl emerged.
Seolrang.
Her hair was long and unkempt, nearly covering her face. Dirt clung to her skin. She looked ragged.
But her expression bore a wide, glowing smile.
"It's finally over."
Stretching her aching body, she gazed at the gloves on her hands. Golden claws adorned them. A gift from the Great Moon.
The Essence of the Golden Mane Tribe.
"How did the Great Moon know where this was?"
She tilted her head, staring with curiosity at the artifact.
It was a legendary relic—passed down through generations of the Golden Mane Tribe. The very treasure that had once empowered them to rule over all beastmen centuries ago.
She had thought those childhood tales were exaggerated stories from her mother.
But after enduring the inner trials of the artifact, she realized it was all true.
Sss—
As she drew out her power, her golden eyes began to glow softly. Her hair—and even her tail—shone with radiant light, just like the ancient Golden Mane warriors from the legends.
Blue electricity flickered around her. Her thoughts turned… to the Great Moon.
He had saved her from dying due to bio-experiments.
He had given her the strength to seek vengeance—against the Black Dragon, the one responsible for her parents' deaths.
She thought back to his command, then shook her head.
It wasn't simply about becoming a gladiator.
Her eyes drifted to the gloves—and clarity descended.
"To become a famous gladiator. To gather the scattered Golden Mane Tribe. And…"
She grinned.
"…kill the Black Dragon with them."
Zap!
Blue sparks flew from her body. She paid them no mind.
She stepped out into the desert night.
The moon glowed blue above the sands, bathing everything in pale light.
"For the sake of that one," she whispered—a phrase that had become her vow.
"Let us begin."
Under the blue moonlight, the ancient Golden Mane Tribe—rulers of beastmen five hundred years ago—finally began their revival.
Back at Count Palatio's Estate
Since returning from the ball about a year ago, Alon had developed a new obsession—phrases.
Unlike the game mechanics—where chanting phrases simply consumed a turn and boosted magic damage—phrases in this world changed the properties of magic itself.
Just as he predicted.
He had tested various phrases:
Refraction – Expanded unstable spells
Repulsion – Bent projectile trajectories
Blue Light – Strengthened parallel-type lightning magic
Diffraction Line – Increased penetration/critical capability
But through experiments, several rules had surfaced:
1: Repeating the same phrase was prohibited.
2: Incompatible phrases were forbidden.
3: No more than five phrases per spell.
4: Breaking any of them caused failure or a major weakening of the spell.
Still, experimentation was fun.
As always, after speaking with Evan, he went straight to the training hall and prepared his daily spell—the second-tier magic: Chain Lightning.
"Hoo—"
He formed the Jiquan Mudra.
Mana arranged itself, forming an orb—slightly more refined than two months ago. But still weak. A precise, but ultimately useless spell.
Unless…
He used phrases.
"Fixation."
The lightning froze in place.
"Compression."
The orb shrank into a bead of pure energy.
"Collapse."
Crack—The bead shattered, leaving only raw, fragmented lightning.
Then—
"Momentary Bloom."
Zap—
A colossal tree of thunder erupted before him, frozen mid-strike, its glow rivaling the sun.
"…The order of phrases affects manifestation," Alon muttered in satisfaction.
He turned, mana completely drained.
And then—
"?"
Standing there was a girl he never wanted to get close to—Lady Kalia of Zenonia—mouth wide open in shock.
Beside her, a middle-aged man with an ornate cane stared just as wide-eyed.
"M-M-My goodness…?!"
Alon blinked.
Then—he heard it.
"Origin?"
The man whispered it.
A term meant only for spells of seventh-rank mages and above.
Alon froze.
He finally realized—
He had become the subject of a massive misunderstanding.