Arcana (1)

A being that should never be awakened. The world quest that began when we slew it. I was the only one who knew what it was.

The players who contributed to the kill received the quest too, but theirs was just a regular quest. In a word, the level of the quest was different.

And they’re calling me the Evil Dragon Hunter?!

How did Skal learn my epithet? I truly didn’t want to dwell on it.

But my stream of consciousness flowed naturally anyway.

Right—a world quest that could affect the entire Arcana world.

It must’ve been a message.

Yeah, like during the World Tree Seed quest, when a message popped up for every player.

Class: Dragon Knight. It must’ve been a message related to the Evil Dragon Hunter just for Skal.

Lucky in the midst of misfortune, I guess.

Yeah, let’s call it a genuine stroke of luck.

Of course, the moment Skal blabbed my name on camera, it all went out the window.

This isn’t even enough to cover it with three visits and earnest pleas, Skal.

I chewed on the lingering bitterness as I moved forward. Toward the portal.

As I said, I didn’t have time to waste.

But.

The reporters chattering noisily behind me halted my steps.

“So that was Skal’s request getting shot down, right?”

“Skal’s pride must be pretty bruised now.”

“It wasn’t just a refusal—it looked like you were seriously pissed.”

“Right?! Meeting Skal seemed like such a waste of time to him…!”

The Mage Tower lobby. A space open to everyone, since it housed the portal.

As co-chief mage of the tower, no one knew that better than I did.

I, who valued decorum and procedure above all—wasn’t I Grandfell?

This wasn’t my private bedroom; I had no intention of dictating who could converse.

But today was different. It grated on me fiercely.

I stopped and turned to face the crowd.

I hadn’t even opened my mouth yet.

“…!”

Silence fell instantly. In that hush, I spoke.

It wasn’t a command, but a genuine request.

“I would also ask for silence within the tower for the time being.”

Absolute rest was essential for a patient.

…

Marcelo had collapsed.

In the healing faction’s private chamber of the Mage Tower.

Cley and the skilled mages couldn’t let go of their tension.

“What are we supposed to do, Cley?”

“First, let’s calm down. Everyone.”

“…We expected it, but not this sudden.”

The curse of the Simuard family.

No matter how hushed, news without legs spreads fast.

Especially since the victim himself had no intention of hiding it.

Marcelo lay on the bed, breathing raggedly.

Bellie watched over him from the bedside.

His closed eyes—it was the first time since childhood.

“…Just like back then.”

Even his sleeping face. Even that foolishly honest personality.

Bellie and the senior mages had received Marcelo’s will.

Its contents were as straightforward as he was—no mention of his own life, only thoughts for the Mage Tower.

“Damn. We knew, but. Even for a curse, this is stingy.”

Bensy’s voice came from beyond the chamber door.

Several senior mages had ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠come to see Marcelo.

But a meeting was impossible.

Bellie’s gaze drifted to the empty air.

Precisely, to the ‘curse sigil’ floating there.

From the moment Marcelo collapsed until now, the sigil had been growing darker.

As if absorbing his life force.

Knock knock—Bellie responded to the knock.

“You may enter. Senior Matis.”

The door opened, and Bensy’s face flashed briefly in the gap.

His eyes burned with the desire to barge in, but in this situation, Bensy’s dramatics wouldn’t help.

“Wha—!!”

Bellie didn’t need to say a word.

Predator-prey relationship.

Slam—Matis shut the door firmly.

Then he eyed the curse sigil in the air.

“No mana detected.”

“Right. The structure isn’t a magic circle either.”

“…”

Matis stared at his ring.

Its color hadn’t changed, as expected.

Heterogeneous magic, black magic. Even black magic circles varied wildly in structure.

But this curse sigil wasn’t even black magic.

Just in case, a faint hope—but no.

Bellie smiled bitterly.

“Not magic, not black magic. Our guess was spot on, after all.”

“How is Chief Mage Marcelo’s condition?”

“As I said. We’re forcibly sustaining his life force.”

Maintaining bodily functions through healing magic alone.

Matis’s brow twitched.

Such healing required immense mana.

Yet Bellie showed no signs of fatigue.

Rotating with the skilled mages?

No, even the healing faction seniors couldn’t enter freely.

Her mana limit should’ve hit long ago…

Matis’s concerned gaze shifted to Bellie’s unusual attire.

Wait—now that he looked, that wasn’t a robe, but priestly garb?

Notice his stare, Bellie smoothed her sleeve.

“Chief Lee Hoyeol gave it to me. Said it’d help.”

“…Chief Lee?”

“Looking at the sigil, it’s a Goddess Church magitech tool. Or rather, they call it a holy relic? Whatever the name, it’s thanks to the relic’s effect.”

The holy relic from Chief Lee Hoyeol.

Thanks to it, she could stay by Marcelo’s side.

Matis swallowed a groan.

Thoughtful in an unexpected way.

Hoyeol, who had saved the Goddess Church’s holy city, Muon.

It wasn’t strange for him to have a relic.

The church would’ve rewarded him generously.

As his thoughts settled, Bellie spoke.

“In the end, we can only wait. For Chief Lee Hoyeol’s return.”

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

“…”

Only Marcelo’s breathing filled the air.

The gloomy mood wasn’t good.

Bellie tried to lighten it.

“By the way, what’s the mood among the seniors at the tower?”

“They’re worried about the chief’s absence.”

“Because they don’t know why Chief Lee headed to Arcana…”

All Chief Lee Hoyeol had announced was his plan to enter the Arcana continent.

No details on his purpose.

Now with Marcelo down, both co-chiefs were suddenly vulnerable.

But.

—“My absence won’t be long. So please hold off on tower exit requests and anything related to me for a few days. I ask for your understanding.”

—“Because the Simuard family is there.”

—“Trust in me nonetheless.”

Bellie, Matis. At least these two seniors had faith.

That’s why she could say it.

“A few days? It’s fine to worry a little now and then.”

But change came far sooner than they thought.

“…?”

…The curse sigil was writhing differently now.

“!”

Until now, it had only grown clearer.

Now it flickered bright and dim repeatedly.

That frivolous glow felt like trembling in fear.

Startled, Bellie looked out the window.

“…The sun hasn’t set yet?”

Chief Lee Hoyeol.

Less than half a day since he left the tower.

Had he already set foot on Arcana—and found a clue to the time-limit curse?

I entered the rift closest to the Mage Tower.

Simple reason: I wasn’t confident.

…Would I have mana left to manifest a portal back to reality?

Not confident I could even make it back to the tower.

Destination: not the rift, but Arcana continent.

Way back to reality? Only one I knew.

Activate the effect of Last Adventurer.

To trigger it, I had to die once on Arcana.

But could I, Grandfell, go quietly?

On an Arcana swarming with demons?

I could guarantee it. Mana exhaustion wouldn’t be enough.

I’d hunt demons until my body was in tatters.

That’s why the nearest rift.

Worst case, call a taxi back to the tower.

Whoosh—

The rift’s landscape emerged in the sunset.

But no time to admire it today, lucky as I was.

I opened my inventory immediately.

Spoils from a demon king.

Before activating, I recalled Arcana’s setting I’d forgotten.

Back when Arcana was just a game, time flowed 4x faster there than reality.

One real day was four in Arcana.

Post-cataclysm, Frost proved it still held.

Depends on how you look at it.

Could think I had more leeway than expected.

Or still too tight.

Of course, that was my inner worry.

“The flow of time poses no issue to me.”

…Yes, that’s more like my mouth. My bluster.

No hesitation.

Like manifesting a portal, I pictured coordinates in my mind.

—“Simuards. Location: east of the imperial capital. Near Nania Lake.”

Rooooar—

Light poured from the Map That Communes with All Things.

Demon king’s aura purified via exorcism ritual.

Only worry: the item’s effect.

In the flooding light, a message appeared.

Images from Arcana ads flooded my mind.

No need to mention the ever-present Zero Mountains.

Arcana’s nightscapes appeared just as often.

Dozens of stars adorning the night sky.

Bigger than Earth’s moon, filling Arcana’s heavens.

Yes, upon opening my eyes on Arcana.

After the message, what I saw was Arcana’s night sky.

Blink—

A massive pupil embedded in the sky.

A gaze overlooking Arcana like surveillance.

I realized it. No, as a demon hunter, I sensed it instinctively.

Yes. Instead of stars, demon eyes filled Arcana’s night sky.

I voiced my impression.

“A grave affront to aesthetics.”

Malice surging across Arcana.

My chest’s pride reacted fiercer than ever.

Grandfell couldn’t tolerate even breathing the same air as demons.

He might’ve unleashed spells at those sky eyes right then.

But procedure was as vital as pride.

I had reason to enter Arcana.

I checked the quest window.

To unravel the time-limit curse entwined with the Simuards.

So I took heavy steps forward.

Indeed, one of the continent’s premier magitech families.

The estate was too vast to take in at a glance.

Above all, its exterior was intact.

Even at a time when Frost, the north’s greatest city, had fallen.

My sharpening, expanding Predator-Prey Relationship.

The demon hunter’s senses detected it.

A demon lurked inside the Simuard estate.

Pinpointing it was easy.

As the quest specified, likely Countess Simuard.

I recalled what Bellie had told me about her.

—“Matriarch Yula Simuard. Practically the family head.”

Countess Simuard, who’d shouldered the head’s role for the short-lived Simuards.

Recalling her, Bellie had rubbed her temple.

—“But sorry. Nothing comes to mind about her. Strangely, Marcelo from the same day, same time is crystal clear in my memory. But her afterimage feels carved out…”

Sounds unlucky, but Mage Tower mages are smart.

Even apprentices were family prides, talent incarnate, embarrassingly praised.

Bellie was beyond that—a senior.

Her “crystal clear in memory” meant just seen clear.

Definitely smelled like it.

So. Half-guessed then.

Demon status effect, maybe.

And now, before the estate, certainty dawned.

The Simuards.

The demon devouring them with the time-limit curse.

Wore the countess’s skin.

Realizing anew: demons sure are bold.

Daring to touch a magitech family.

Well, one tried to backstab a demigod elder mage.

Very demonic, in hindsight.

Thud thud—

Suddenly, presence from the darkness.

A man in a tuxedo.

Holding a mana lamp, he addressed me.

“It’s been a while since we had a guest. Whatever your business, sir.”

Creak—

He opened the door, welcoming me politely.

“I am Seo Hatip, head butler of the Simuard family. Our house is open to all. Will you rest here?”

Yes, parading an oblivious human like this—very demonic.

And befitting a count’s butler, impeccably courteous.

Impossible to refuse.

“My thanks.”

I followed the head butler, Seo, into the Simuard estate.

Someone might call it insane. Even I thought so.

But this too was my heavy pride.

I wanted to blast the demon-breathing estate to oblivion.

But it was Marcelo’s home, the Simuard family.

Consideration for Marcelo battling the curse.

“You are blameless.”

And noblesse oblige.

Respect for the retainers serving Simuard.

Besides.

“Pardon, but what did you just say?”

I didn’t answer, gazing skyward instead.

The night sky held more than demon eyes.

My ‘arrangement’ had been waiting in the clouds since earlier.

So.

I strode boldly into the Simuard estate.

Into the demon’s maw.