Alex moved out of the temple, the cutlass shining in his hand. The moment he left the magic-suppressing structure, the voice immediately spoke:
“ITEM – EMPEROR'S WILL. RANK – NORMAL LV 1. ABILITY – MORTAL HUNGER.”
“THE DIMENSIONAL DOMAIN THAT YOU CONQUERED HAS BEEN CONSUMED BY YOUR SOUL. YOUR INVENTORY HAS BEEN EVOLVED.”
His inventory screen appeared. It now featured dedicated slots for the local currency. The system for money was detailed: Stone Coins (used by non-core users) up to Aslothium, with each jump being a power of ten. At present, his inventory displayed 1,000 Aslothium and 10,000 Mithril—enough wealth to purchase a metropolitan city on this new planet. The thought left him half astonished and half relieved, given his past life's tragic focus on wealth.
The cutlass started to glow with magnificent flames, and the voice resumed with a frightening announcement:
“THE SKILL – VOICE OF THE WORLD, IS BEING CONSUMED BY THE ITEM – EMPEROR'S WILL. 90,984 MANA POINTS HAVE BEEN TRANSFERRED TO THE ITEM – EMPEROR'S WILL. IN EXCHANGE FOR THE SKILL – VOICE OF THE WORLD, YOU ARE GIVEN AN EARLY ACCESS TO YOUR SOUL SPACE.”
The voice then ceased. The cutlass pulled a series of white, blue, and silver threads out of his soul through his body in a surprisingly painless process. Alex looked up. The temple was gone. In its place was a deep hole extending far below the 10-15 floors he had explored. He tried to close his eyes to enter his soul space, but a brilliant blue sphere blazed past the edge of his vision.
As he turned, a young man in purple and gold robes dropped from the sphere, pinning Alex to the ground. Alex felt intense pressure on his neck and began to lose consciousness from lack of air. His hand instinctively tightened around the cutlass, and he closed his eyes.
Ketovan Motsari had successfully pinned the man. Alex was no stronger than a Soldier Ranker, making the task simple for the Commander Rank Ketovan. The young priest would have been shocked to know the man was only Normal Rank Level 1.
Just as Alex's body started to give in and Ketovan was about to retreat with the unconscious body into his Domain Ability, he was violently blasted backward. Alex was clearly not conscious, yet he stood holding the cutlass with a skill that would make Royal Rank sword masters look like rookies.
A voice, deep and resonant with the forces of nature, boomed from Alex’s body:
“Stay away from this man.”
The first word started a wildfire in the trees around them. With each subsequent word, the blaze intensified.
“If the servants of Hegemon again dare to hurt this individual, they shall see fear that even their god fails to impose.”
Ketovan hurried back into the blue sphere, where a large, familiar man in plain purple and gold robes appeared. He stood guard, projecting his strength to protect the sphere from the booming voice and the ever-growing inferno.
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“Calm down, Emperor!” the larger man's deep voice pushed back against the other.
“This will be the last warning, Hegemon. If I find your servants disturbing my friend again, it will be their end.” The voice vanished as Alex fell to the floor, eyes closed, the cutlass dropping beside him.
The wildfire continued to rage, and the three men watched the destruction silently.
The blue sphere moved through the air toward the snow-capped mountains. Alex lay to the side, eyeing the burnt forest ground with disbelief. He still clutched the cutlass.
“He did all of that by just speaking?” Alex questioned.
“Yes. Aren’t you bored of that question? If not, then I am,” Ketovan sneered, irritation clear in his tone.
“So, you are still Normal Rank but were able to manifest your Aura Beast physically?” the Bishop asked, ignoring his companion's mood.
“I am clearly not equipped enough to answer or even understand your question.”
“Well enough. What is your Core Ability?”
“Command.”
“You are a lucky man, Mr. Sobreviviente.” The short priest tapped him gently on the back.
“What are yours?” Alex asked both of them.
“Core of Domain, Core Ability – Minority Space,” Ketovan answered.
“Core of Judgement, Core Ability – Verdict,” the Bishop answered.
“We were not lucky enough to use a Relic Core for ours,” Ketovan muttered, his gloom increasing.
The Bishop, however, looked at Alex with keen, almost caring eyes.
“Relic Cores?” Alex asked.
“This is going to take a long time,” Ketovan groaned, seeing the excited expression on the Bishop’s face.
“The Magic, or Mana Cores, are like magical organs that get embedded into the soul after consumption. There are seven ranks: Common, Uncommon, Rare, Epic, Legendary, Mythic, and finally, Relic. There are also many categories: Tools, Hegemony, Rebirth, Singularity, End, Celestial, Organic, Elements, and so on. But there are only twenty-seven Relic Ranked Cores, and each stands at the pinnacle of its category. Yours, the Core of Hegemony, is the Relic of the Hegemony category.” The Bishop finished his long lesson with a satisfied smile.
“It’s truly fascinating, isn't it?” Alex said, looking into the sky, lost in thought about the possible types of cores.
“You know what, Mr. Sobreviviente? I’m going to love your company,” the Bishop said with a hysterical smile as they reached the edge of the city.
The forest was utterly devastated, burnt to a crisp. Trees crumbled into ashes and lumps of scorched wood. What was once dense woodland was now a vast wasteland, the ground blackened like a starless night.
Suddenly, the ground began to crack open at the only spot that remained untouched by the fire: the patch of grass containing the ancient crest. The crest, older than the gods of time and space, was a complex matrix of runes that had been coincidentally created and wiped out multiple times in existence.
A gate rose from the ground—an abomination of crimson and white crystals, bearing the same intricate runes as the crest. The doors opened, and a man walked out.
He had five eyes: two on either side of his face and one on his forehead, all crimson red with white pupils. His skin was pale red, streaked with gold veins, and he had short-cropped white hair. He wore a modern version of a Renaissance-era armor—white with streaks of red—the complete opposite of the crimson and white gate.
As he surveyed the devastation, his extra eyes vanished, and his armor dissolved. Underneath, he wore a sleeveless shirt and boxer shorts. He took out a smartphone-like device, clicked some buttons, and a woman's voice emerged.
“You ran away again!” the voice exclaimed.
“Chill, sis. I’m on a vacation to Terra. Make sure that Dad won’t be mad at me before you tell me to return,” the man spoke in a lighthearted demeanor that completely contradicted his terrifying appearance.
He started walking across the blackened ground. As his feet touched the soil, deep green plants sprouted around him, a stark contrast to the pale plants of the former forest. The man strolled toward the mountains, the setting sun at his back, conversing, yelling, and laughing with the woman on the phone.
