The sky above the Etrort Continent had long lost its purity. For over thirty years, the giant towers known as "Penetration Pillars" loomed across the world, spewing forth horrific creatures from another dimension. The world fought desperately, teetering on the brink of collapse. To address this existential-level disaster, the supreme entities known as the Eight Guardian Deities intervened. However, their hand did not directly drive out the invaders. Instead, they created the Constellation system, selecting chosen humans from across the world to bestow blessings and power upon, hoping they would become the spearhead of the resistance.
There was the Goddess of Abundance who blessed harvests and supplies. The Goddess of Light who dispelled inner darkness. The God of Night who mastered shadows and secrets. The God of War who inspired tactics and courage. The Goddess of the Moon who symbolized balance and mystery. The God of Justice who guided law and morality. The God of Fortune who twisted fate. And the Goddess of Love who strengthened bonds and sacrifice. The Saints, as the chosen were called, formed sects, spread the teachings of their deities, and strengthened humanity. A Saint's power could even be inherited by a successor they acknowledged.
Amidst the hustle and bustle of defense and the hopes pinned on these Saints, there was a young man who stood on the front lines not due to a deity's blessing, but because of abilities born from battle and iron will. His name was Nova Silgilf. For ten years, with a sword in hand and calculation in mind, he saved countless lives, slew monsters tirelessly, becoming a hero without a constellation. His reputation was awe-inspiring, but also bred jealousy and fear.
It all ended on the highest floor of the Red Knight's Tower, the lair of one of the strongest Monarchs, the leader of the invasion in that region. A fierce battle ensued. Nova, as usual, advanced alone into the Monarch's throne room, while his comrades, people he trusted, stayed behind, providing support from a distance. The Red Knight Monarch was a terrifying opponent. Its slaughterous aura made Nova's comrades tremble, and then one by one, they fled, leaving Nova alone to face the monster king.
After a battle that lasted almost the entire night, with wounds covering his body and ragged breath, Nova finally found an opening. His Execution Step worked perfectly. His sword pierced the weak point behind the Red Knight Monarch's chest plate. The monster king collapsed, letting out its last gasp.
Fatigue and relief washed over Nova. He leaned against a wall, trying to steady his breath. At that moment, from the shadows behind him, a flash appeared. A short sword, bathed in a specially crafted destruction poison meant to cripple regeneration, stabbed precisely between the vertebrae of his spine. Unimaginable pain burned through his nerves. Nova collapsed, his vision blurring. He caught a glimpse of a black robe and the cold gaze of someone he knew all too well. The betrayal was executed silently, perfectly, exploiting the moment of both victory and exhaustion.
His body was flung to the edge of a chasm in the middle of the throne room, and he fell. Not to a quick death, but into a deeper darkness. His fall was halted in a vast chamber beneath the tower, where a forbidden ritual had taken place. A blood circle still glowed, summoning something from the depths of an even more terrifying dimension. There, he met its summoner, a mad cultist who had summoned a crimson-eyed Devil and opened a gate for a pitch-black disaster-level monster.
Nova, with the poisoned stab wound in his back, rose once more. Not to save anyone, but to survive. The next battle did not last for hours, but for years. Thirty-four years. Trapped in the cursed underground chamber, he fought against the remnants of the Monarch, against the devil, against the black disaster monster, and finally, against the summoner himself. Every day was a struggle to stay alive, honing his survival skills to an unimaginable level. Skills he named Last Breath Calculation, Bleeding Momentum, Refusal to Kneel, and Execution Step became as much a part of him as his own breath.
Finally, after thirty-four years that felt like one long torture, he stood atop the corpse of his last enemy. Total exhaustion, both physical and spiritual, snatched away his consciousness. He fell asleep atop a pile of carcasses and ritual dust.
And when he opened his eyes, the world had changed. Or more precisely, his body had changed. His wrinkles vanished, his gray hair turned black again, his slightly sagging muscles tightened perfectly. He awoke in the same throne room of the Red Knight's Tower, but his body had reverted to his youth, eighteen years old. His clothes were tattered, but his physical wounds, even the poisoned stab in his back, had vanished without a trace. Only the memory of those thirty-four years of torture and battle remained, etched into the depths of his eyes which now held an old wisdom.
Simultaneous with his rebirth, a strange system appeared in his perception. Not a deity's blessing, nor a devil's curse. Something else. A transparent interface materialized before his eyes, offering abilities that sounded impossible.
[System Detected. Synchronizing with Soul: Nova Silgilf.]
[Status: Absolute Immortal (Active – Passive Eternal). The concept of physical death has been severed. Absolute regeneration. No aging.]
[Innate Skills Confirmed: Last Breath Calculation, Bleeding Momentum, Refusal to Kneel, Execution Step – Optimized.]
[Additional Features Unlocked: Crafting, Alchemy, System Shop, Gacha, Infinite Inventory.]
[Accepted Currency: Copper Coins, Silver Coins, Gold Coins. Obtainable by eliminating hostile entities.]
Nova blinked, digesting the information. No euphoria. No triumphant laughter. Only a cold and calm acceptance. He rose, observing his surroundings. The throne room still bore traces of the battle from ten years ago, or now, from his perception, forty-four years ago. The Red Knight Monarch's sword was still embedded in the floor. The black robe of the betrayer was absent.
He stepped forward, feeling youthful strength coursing through his veins, yet accompanied by the awareness and experience of decades. His eyes, wise and calm, looked towards the tower's exit door. The world outside was still struggling. The Saints still held power. And the people who betrayed him were likely still alive, perhaps even occupying positions of honor.
Nova Silgilf took a deep breath. The air felt different. He was no longer a hero fighting for recognition or salvation. He was one who had died and been reborn, one who had paid his debt to humanity in full with thirty-four years of torture in a personal hell.
Now, it was time to judge.