Neithan Dortmund (1)
Meanwhile…
Planet Aurora – The Reflection World.
The sky there was fractured like a gently shattered mirror, and a gray sun shone down upon a land that reflected nothing but the void. The air was stagnant, as if the world itself had stopped breathing.
Amidst this dreadful silence, "Balberius" stood in his tattered clothes, his eyes wide, trapped within one of the most bizarre and extreme worlds imaginable: the [Reflection World].
This world was unlike anything he had seen or imagined in his previous life. His presence here was a mere coincidence, or perhaps a curse.
Ever since his new master, "Lloyd," had left with the tower supervisor, the old Orc "Gorlam," Balberius had felt something being drawn from his being, something ancient, as if Lloyd's absence had uncovered a deep layer of his existence he never knew was there.
He stood there in the cracked plaza, trying to make sense of it all, when his status screen suddenly appeared before him, glowing amidst the gray void.
[You have accepted to join the "Selenium" Empire.]
[You have received the title "Earl Skyheart."]
He read the words over and over, his brow furrowed, then muttered in astonishment, "So he was a vampire?… Suddenly, everything is starting to make a little sense."
He had never known what it meant to be a "vampire."
The word itself had been a fog in his mind.
But something inside him had changed since he entered this world.
His lips felt drier, and his senses were much sharper. His ability to distinguish heartbeats in the air, to see the movements of invisible beings—it all began to multiply suddenly.
Despite all this strangeness, he didn't feel fear… but something else, like a hidden excitement. He stared at his new name and his title, which he didn't fully understand, but he felt it was important.
"Earl Skyheart…"
He tried to interact with the status screen, but it wasn't responding properly. Sentences flickered and faded, overlapping with old scenes from his past.
"I like it.."
Battles in training grounds, screams, eyes glinting in the dark, and the image of a hand extended toward him—Lloyd's hand, covered in blood but steady.
At that moment, Balberius felt a sharp pang in his chest, then a cold pain spread through his limbs. He clutched at his heart, but it wasn't beating as it used to.
[As the first noble appointed by His Majesty, you have been granted the right to be one of his Imperial Guard!]
[Evaluating your combat prowess…]
[It has been determined that your combat prowess is miserably weak!]
BOOM—!
Suddenly, Balberius felt a powerful suction force coming from one of the terrifying, towering spires.
[As the first new Imperial Guard, you must become stronger…]
[Warning!]
[As the first floor of the Training Tower - Torment of Beasts - has been opened, the second floor will now be unlocked…]
".."
Now...
"Fuck-!"
He doesn't.
....
The journey between the stars from Planet Aurora to Planet Eirasia took some time… not because of the distance, but because of the bizarre means of travel.
Despite the stunning technological advancements in the galaxy, the only method the old "Gorlam" chose was the ancient space array.
Lloyd, who had barely completed the adaptation process with his Royal Blood Core, sat cross-legged amidst the light of the array, his face pale, his body sweating, and his eyes half-open.
Lloyd's body was far too weak to endure something like this for the first time. In fact, no one below the peak of the Third Transcendence could withstand something so dangerous, but Lloyd could be considered a special case.
Not only did he have a royal vampire body enhanced to the peak of the First Transcendence, but he also had company.
"Gorlam" strove to make the journey as smooth as possible, skillfully trying to bypass the slippery dimensional points.
"Is… is it normal to feel like my intestines are being washed?" he muttered in a broken voice.
Gorlam, who was standing in the middle of the array as if on a leisurely stroll, replied in a calm tone while stroking his hooked beard—if he had one—"If you only feel nauseous... you're fine. Someone else who tried this burned up and turned to dust."
Then he added with a sideways smirk, "Don't worry, Your Majesty, you're not like them… you have royal bones."
Lloyd stared at him, then muttered sarcastically, "Royal bones? That's not stopping me from puking on you right now…"
Gorlam laughed, a rarity in itself. The sound of his laughter was like the clatter of an old cannon. "If you do vomit, please make sure it's in a dimension other than the one I'm standing in."
This journey was no ordinary trip for either of them.
True, Gorlam had fought thousands of battles across the galaxy, led armies, demolished sects, and even gotten married twice on the same day, but accompanying the Heir of Amora, inside a primitive space array, was not on his agenda.
But Lloyd?
He was handling the situation as he handled everything else: with stubbornness, cold composure, and a hint of sarcasm that never faded even as he was physically collapsing.
Lloyd was silent, then said, "I think I'll be fine."
As a disturbing gray light began to dawn from a corner of the array, they both realized the journey was nearing its end. Lloyd's body was barely holding together, his limbs trembling, but inside him, his blood core was glowing steadily.
He had adapted.
He had accepted the change.
And he realized that being the "Lord of Blood" meant facing..
Things…
Greater than pain.
"Oh~ That damned game…"
****
Planet Eirasia – The Fledgling Planetary Belt.
Near the northern borders of Nirath Province, the giant Daisura Forest.
In a remote corner of the bare hills, where the wind howled like wandering souls begging for mercy, stood a small hut tilted at a suspicious angle.
The roof was slanted, some planks were missing, and a single window was covered with translucent paper on which was written in poor handwriting, "Keep out, risk of magical mold infection."
Inside this structure, in a room barely large enough for a broken iron bed and a three-legged table, Neithan Dortmund sat before a cracked mirror, wearing a gray shirt with a large stain of… something he couldn't remember when or how it got there.
"Hmm! Let's see… Status!" he muttered, gesturing with his left hand. A faint shimmer appeared before him, followed by a pale blue screen.
[Name: Neithan Dortmund]
[Race: Human]
[Innate Traits: Chaos Clone, The Deceptive Jester, Kinotsugan]
[Titles: Patriarch of the "Breath of the Seal" Sect]
[Ascension Talent: A (Limit Broken)]
[Main Class: Martial Artist]
[Sub-Class (1): Swordsman]
[Awakening State: Body Tempering - Stage 1]
[Level: 5]
Qi: 500 Units
- Strength: Level 5
- Agility: Level 7
- Defense: Level 5
- Dexterity: Level 5
- Vitality: Level 9
- Endurance: Level 5
[Sect Points: 0 Mission Points, 0 Battle Points]
[Sect Wallet: ..]
[Sect Rank: Ninth-Rate]
[Sect Constructions: Sect Headquarters (Level 1)]
[General Status: Miserable - but stable]
"Great… 'Stable'? Maybe the System has lost its ability to evaluate, too." He closed the window with a sigh.
'Well, at least I have a 'sect'…'