The feeling of my first kill… and my first level-up—yeah, it was exhilarating. The kind of rush that makes your heart skip and your lungs forget how to breathe.
But if I stayed in that feeling too long, I'd die.
The occasional flickers of threads in my surroundings had gone fully chaotic, stirred up by the scent of blood. Red and green almost blinded my eyes, and I saw some red stretching from me.
I glanced at the corpse of the Spinekrawler. Part of me felt a flicker of sadness. What a waste of loot.
If I had time, I would've stripped it for an armour.
Gritting my teeth, I hoisted the bunny onto my shoulder. That stupid thing was twice the size of a regular rabbit and felt like someone had stuffed iron into its organs.
Staggering under its weight, I followed the green threads of mine and slipped through the terrain, avoiding the incoming monsters.
Lucky me. The bunny corpse fit through the hideout entrance.
I dropped it in the corner and used the leftover sand to cover the entrance tight. Then, before I even allowed myself to breathe, I shifted my vision, sharing sight with a nearby monster until I was sure no one had followed my scent.
Only then did I let my body sag and exhale. Relief, sharp and brief.
But my mana was wrecked.
That constant use of my skill had drained it hard, and even though it was filling back up fast, my mind wasn't keeping up. It was straining—frayed like a blade that'd been sharpened too thin.
I needed rest. Desperately.
Still, I couldn't resist. I opened my stats screen with a smirk.
Name: Zane Vharzenth
Level: 1
Health: 110 / 110
Mana: 110 / 110
Purpose: Locked
Not much had changed. But the numbers had gone up.
And I loved that. Progression—both in fiction and real life—was something I always loved, even when I had no talent for it.
But that was the past me.
I couldn't help grinning as I imagined where this path might lead. Maybe… transmigrating into this manhwa wasn't the worst thing after all.
Here, at least, I had a path. A purpose. And something to rise toward.
A smile slipped onto my lips as the darkness pulled me under.
* * *
Nyssara was the new craft personally commissioned by the First Primordial to be completed. However, the crafter of this world had ceased reporting altogether, inciting the primordial's fury.
Due to the binding contract between the Universe and the Void that shielded every nascent craft, no entity-primordial or otherwise-could enter unless the world proved itself to the Void and ascended into legitimacy.
Still, there remained a few ways the primordial could exert influence over the craft. One such method was selecting a champion.
That was why Sol had came here to choose a champion on behalf of his primordial. And yet, he had no idea why his master was so insistent on claiming a representative from an unfinished world.
But those doubts began to dissolve the moment he laid eyes on the others surrounding the craft, the champions chosen by the remaining six primordials.
They all turned toward him with the same uncertainty flickering in their eyes. No words were exchanged. In unison, they silently spread their consciousnesses toward the world below.
Sol immediately understood the weight of the situation. Something had disturbed the Seven Primordials enough to compel each one of them to choose a champion here.
'What could it be?' he wondered, as his consciousness penetrated the craft. Thanks to his superior strength, he was the first to scan its surface, delving deep in search of the most promising soul.
To his surprise, two lights flared brighter than the sun, leaving him uncertain of whom to choose. The primordial had given him only a single crown, meaning he could select only one.
Gritting his teeth, Sol moved toward the nearest light source. It hovered above a forest. He followed it down into the earth, into a hidden cavern beneath the roots.
He glimpsed a flash of silver hair, but before he could make out the figure's full appearance, his consciousness was violently yanked back by an unseen force.
In the next instant, Sol found himself suspended in the void, face-to-face with a pair of immense, hollow eye sockets. The skeletal gaze bore into him with a deathly, expressionless stare.
Sol's entire body shuddered as a word slipped from his lips. "Sovereign of Hell…"
"Tell him, from today onwards, I've cleared the dues with him."
Sol didn't dare speak. Bloodcurdling screams rang out across the void, then fell silent one by one.
His gaze shot to the Purpose Chart, only to see the names of the six champions fade into gray.
"And tell him… the Void has already peered in. Their foolish interference has now earned its wrath."
With those chilling words, Sol was flung out of the craft, returning to the sky where colossal corpses floated in eerie stillness.
His body continued to tremble from that brief encounter. His mind reeled at the implications of such an existence appearing here.
"No way…," he whispered at last, breath caught in awe. "The Hell Sovereign is here… That means—"
"Yes and no…" came a voice, ancient and weary, resonating directly within his mind.
"Master…" Sol bowed his head. A gleaming portal materialised behind him, and his body was pulled backward toward his master, the Primordial of Order.
"But she sent her daughter here," the voice sighed. "How exhausting."