Far from the sealed corridors of the Korean tower, across the continent where the echoes of war rarely reached, silence hung heavy inside an ancient cathedral in Lyon, France.
Father Estienne Duclair, a high-ranking member of the Sanctis Obscura—an independent order that monitored unexplained awakenings and forbidden auras—paced beneath stained glass windows, deep in thought. Moonlight caught the white of his robes, but his heart weighed black with something deeper… unsettling.
His subordinate, Brother Léon, entered cautiously, bowing.
"You summoned me, Father?"
Estienne turned, holding a sealed envelope marked with a crimson sigil—a secret only one guild would recognize.
"I need you to deliver this to Étoile Sanglante."
Brother Léon's face paled. "The Bloody Star? They answer to no church. Not even the Hunter Federation…"
"They will answer to this."
He held up a small vial. Inside swirled an ominous black mist, faintly pulsing like a heartbeat.
"What… is that?"
"A residual trace," Estienne whispered. "Collected from Korea. Near a sealed double dungeon event on Floor 40."
"But there's no report of such a battle—"
"Exactly," Estienne said. "The entire incident was sealed. Covered by the Korean Hunter Agency. Not a word leaked. But a source… a reliable one," he glanced toward the shadows behind the altar, "delivered this trace to me."
Brother Léon hesitated. "Do you believe it to be…"
"Not demonic. Not divine. Something else." Estienne's voice trembled slightly.
He lowered his voice, stepping closer.
"The aura came from a boy. No Awakening. No mark. No magic signature. Yet there are whispers that he—Rover Cheon—is tied to a calamity-class event... and survived."
Léon's brows furrowed. "But why Étoile Sanglante?"
Estienne's reply was immediate. "Because their leader is not bound by faith or politics. Only instinct. And if this power awakens again… we must know which side it leans toward."
---
Meanwhile — Paris, France
At the summit of a monolithic tower laced with floating relics and defenses unseen by the naked eye, the elite guild Étoile Sanglante thrived in mystery.
Within a chamber where gravity obeyed its master, sat Valentin Roux, the enigmatic Grand Oracle of France.
Valentin—SSS-Rank Hybrid: Psychic and Reality-Warping Warlock. A man whose gaze could fracture lies and unravel illusions like silk threads.
He sat with one leg crossed, violet eyes fixed on the letter handed to him by Camille, his lieutenant.
"A Korean boy... no official rank. No public battle record. Yet suspected to have defeated a calamity-class entity and survived a sealed double dungeon?"
Camille nodded. "The letter came from the Sanctis Obscura. Father Estienne said the aura left behind was not divine… nor infernal. It felt ancient. And somehow, human."
Valentin closed his eyes, his fingers brushing through air laced with thin psychic threads.
"Interesting."
He stood, the air shimmering around him.
"Prepare the ship. I want to see this Rover Cheon with my own eyes."
Camille blinked. "You're going personally?"
Valentin's tone dropped, serious. "If there exists a power that lies outside the systems of awakening, beyond the Federation, beyond divine bloodlines… it could tip the balance of the world. And if the Korean guilds are hiding it—"
"Then they're hiding it for a reason," Camille finished.
Valentin smiled faintly. "Exactly. Let's find out what they're so afraid of."
---
Meanwhile — Seoul, Korea
Rover lay unconscious in a hospital bed, unaware that another continent had just cast its eyes upon him.
Outside his room, the moonlight shimmered unnaturally. Inside his mind, the voice returned—quiet, distant, as if echoing through some veil.
"You survived again. You fight… as if you have something to prove."
"They fear what they don't understand."
Rover stirred, sweat on his brow, his hand twitching.
The war wasn't over. It hadn't even started.
To be continue...