The ruined mana zone was a graveyard of petrified trees and shattered stone. The
air here was dead, stripped of its natural flow by a dungeon break decades ago.
It was the perfect place for a war.
Cain stood in the center of the wasteland, his breathing slow and measured.
Fifty meters ahead, the space tore open. Five figures stepped through the
distortion, their features hidden beneath deep, ash-gray hoods.
The Divine Executors.
Before Cain could draw his cracked wooden practice swords, a sudden,
high-pitched chime echoed in his ears.
A translucent blue window flickered into existence before his eyes. It was
glitching, the edges fraying into static.
[ System Error. Divine Law Disconnected. ] [ Host recognized as: Unmarked. ]
The text stuttered, erasing itself before forming new words. It didn't read like
an automated machine anymore. It read like a final message.
[ Final Protocol Initiated. ] [ I cannot assist you further. Good luck, Cain. ]
[ I can only offer you this. ]
A smaller window locked itself into the upper corner of his vision.
[ Soul Integrity: 50% ]
At the same time, the space in front of Cain shimmered. Two long, sleek blades
materialized, their hilts wrapped in dark, reinforced leather, the steel
perfectly balanced. Beside them hovered ten short knives, their metal already
humming faintly with his unique mana signature.
A parting gift.
Cain reached out and gripped the dual blades. They felt flawless in his hands.
He secured the ten short knives into the tactical belt at his waist.
"Thank you," Cain whispered.
The blue window shattered into light and faded away forever.
Across the wasteland, the lead Executor stepped forward. He did not draw a
weapon. He simply looked at Cain, his voice echoing with an unnatural, layered
resonance.
"Anomaly," the Executor said. "You possess a protective nature. You moved
yourself to this wasteland so that your tethers would not be caught in the
crossfire. Impressive."
Cain didn't respond. He lowered his stance, crossing his dual blades.
"For this," the Executor continued, raising a hand, "I swear on the divine power
I receive from my God that we will not touch your loved ones. This quarrel is
between you and the Gods we serve alone. Our God has sent us to deal with you."
The other four Executors spread out, forming a loose, tactical perimeter.
"Be honored to die in the hands of the Divine Executors," the leader finished.
One of the Executors on the flank raised a hand. A blinding spear of pure,
condensed holy light materialized and shot toward Cain at terrifying speed.
Cain didn't dodge.
The spear of light struck him squarely in the chest—and instantly shattered into
harmless, glittering dust.
The Executors froze.
Divine magic. Holy smites. Curses. None of it worked. Cain was the Second
Unmarked. He existed entirely outside the laws of the gods, rendering their
direct magical authorities completely useless against his body.
"Divine law does not recognize his existence," the lead Executor stated, his
voice devoid of panic. "Engage physically. Crush him with spatial pressure."
The air instantly grew heavy.
Gravity multiplied. The ground beneath Cain's boots cracked under the sudden,
invisible weight.
Blood Manipulation.
Cain didn't hesitate. He forced his heart rate to spike, hyper-pressurizing the
blood in his legs to reinforce his muscles against the crushing gravity.
Two Executors rushed him. They didn't move like mages; they moved like elite
martial artists, their fists and boots wrapped in dense, localized spatial
distortions.
Cain moved first.
He threw one of his short knives straight at the Executor on the right.
The Executor easily tilted his head, letting the knife sail past his ear.
Exchange.
Cain vanished.
He swapped spatial coordinates with the knife mid-air, appearing instantly
behind the Executor. He brought his right long blade down in a vicious,
decapitating arc.
The Executor reacted with terrifying speed, raising a gauntlet wrapped in
spatial pressure to block the steel. The impact rang out like a cannon shot.
Before Cain could follow up, the second Executor was already there, driving a
heavy, gravity-laced kick directly into Cain's ribs.
Cain crossed his left blade to block, but the sheer kinetic force was
overwhelming.
He was launched backward, flying through the air across the cracked earth.
But Han Jae-Won's mind was already calculating the landing.
Mid-air, Cain threw his left long blade straight down into the ground beneath
him. The steel sank deep into the stone, the hilt pointing upward at a sharp
angle.
As Cain fell, he twisted his body, bringing his right boot down perfectly onto
the hilt of the embedded sword.
Mana Materialization.
He flooded the hilt and the surrounding stone with hardened mana, turning the
sword into a rigid, unbreakable anchor. The kinetic force of his backward
momentum transferred into the blade, bending the steel like a loaded spring.
The sword snapped back.
Cain used the recoil, launching himself forward like a bullet fired from a gun.
The Executors hadn't expected the reversal.
Cain shot through the air, drawing a second short knife from his belt. He
bypassed the second Executor entirely, closing the distance to the leader in a
fraction of a second. He infused the knife with Mana Blade, extending its
cutting edge with a razor-thin layer of dense mana, and slashed at the leader's
throat.
The leader leaned back, the mana blade grazing his cheek, drawing a thin line of
blood.
Cain landed smoothly, extending a thin thread of Mana Materialization from his
left hand to yank the embedded long blade out of the stone and back into his
grip.
He stood facing the five Executors, dual blades in hand, his breathing heavy but
controlled.
The leader wiped the blood from his cheek. His eyes, hidden beneath the ash-gray
hood, locked onto Cain.
"Adjusting parameters," the leader said coldly. "He is highly tactical. Do not
allow him space."
All five Executors moved at once.
The spatial pressure doubled. The air grew so heavy that Cain's pressurized
blood vessels burned in agony. They collapsed on him from five different angles,
a perfectly synchronized, inescapable net of martial brutality.
Cain couldn't use Exchange. There were no gaps.
His muscles screamed. His 50% Soul Integrity lagged, his body failing to keep up
with the sheer, overwhelming speed of five divine vessels.
He was going to die here.
And in that exact moment of pure, unadulterated survival desperation—
Something at the base of his spine woke up.
It wasn't a voice. It wasn't a choice. It was a raw, violent, adaptive instinct
born from the threat of death.
Black mist began to seep from his skin.
The Black Veil had surfaced.