Who Do You Think We Are? (1)

New York. A rift had torn open right in the heart of the city. The ferocity of the chaos unfolding inside was evident from the collapse progress alone.

But there was no hesitation.

Leading the charge were the holy knights of the Goddess Church. Tarim Eber bellowed,

"All units, raise your shields!"

Clank!

"The moment we enter, we become the enemy of the realm!"

Pardon and Jurval. It was obvious that a pincer attack from those two named monsters, both pushing level 800, would come raining down.

The players swallowed hard. The pressure from inside the rift pressed against their skin.

"...We'd have just screamed our way to death if we'd rushed in blindly, huh?"

If they'd charged ahead on enthusiasm alone, they wouldn't have cleared it—they wouldn't have even mounted a proper defense.

But the Goddess's shield enveloped them. And that wasn't all.

"Hehe, this kind of deployment is new!"

"Restrain yourself, Jibril, skilled mage."

"Ah, yes. Senior Mage Maia's right."

Senior and skilled mages from the Mage Tower. Their vast mana reinforced the shield even further.

It was a sight confirmed by messages, witnessed by their eyes, felt on their skin—and still utterly unbelievable.

"..."

"Shreyg, what're you thinking so hard about?"

"!"

Second Sun. Shreyg snapped out of his reverie at his comrade's words, then flashed a smile.

"Just had some pointless thoughts for a second."

"Pointless thoughts in a situation like this? That's not like you."

"Yeah, tell me about it."

Is it even possible for me—for Second Sun—for us players to reach their level of strength?

Shreyg shook his head soon after.

If Hoyeol had seen his demeanor...

'Your pride has dulled,' he'd have scolded.

The old him from the dungeon rift days, when he couldn't even sense the presence of sword aura. Far weaker than now.

Yet Hoyeol had given that version of him conviction. And the result dwelled in Fleure, didn't it?

Soon, Shreyg's eyes gleamed with resolve.

"Everyone, watch closely. We have no ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠right to be surprised or delighted by their consideration. We can't rely on the Arcana Continent forever."

Nods all around—and with resolve, they plunged into the rift.

Their vision flipped in an instant.

The rift. A space where the Arcana Continent and reality blended halfway.

New York's chaotic streets had become a blood-soaked hellscape. Green flames erupted from cracked asphalt. Demonic howls echoed from every direction.

It hit home vividly.

"...So if the rift collapses, this becomes reality?"

For most players, this was their first time entering a rift of this recommended level. Their first time facing high-level demon monsters like these.

"What the hell were they thinking...?"

True respect welled up inevitably.

With reliable allies—and even the Goddess Church's holy knights and Mage Tower mages alongside them—fear still crushed body and mind. Yet to clear rifts like this solo?

But admiration didn't last.

The moment they entered, as Tarim had warned, the demons' gazes locked onto the intruders.

Tarim shouted,

"Adventurers, do you see it?"

Clang! His sword pointed skyward—precisely at the throne floating in the heavens.

"That is the prize of the demon king struggle. The demon who claims that throne becomes the king of demons, a demon king."

"!!!"

So that's why the rift was drenched in blood? Demons slaughtering each other?

One player muttered,

"...Wouldn't it have been better to attack later, then?"

The enemy of my enemy is my friend. There's that saying for a reason.

But Tarim was firm.

"We will not play pawn to the demons' game of kings. Whether they seek the throne or block it, to us, they are all demons to be incinerated!"

He raised his sword toward the demons.

"That is the resolve of Arcana, trampled by those fiends—the resolve of us Arcana natives. Our burden outweighs their petty throne games. Advance, knights of the Goddess!"

Bensy and Banggrit. The two senior mages eyed the demons.

Bensy furrowed his brow.

"What do you think, Senior Banggrit?"

"About what?"

"Did you ever imagine, after joining the Mage Tower, that we'd end up in a mess like this? I sure didn't. Not to this extent."

"Same here."

Well, Banggrit's reason for joining the tower had been simple: he didn't want to starve. They fed him, housed him, even taught him magic. To young Banggrit, the tower was paradise.

"Really."

But the tower had been brutally harsh to Banggrit. Harsh enough to twist his growth. That harshness persisted even as a senior mage.

Especially after getting stabbed in the back by the elder mages!

Banggrit shot back,

"So you're feeling bitter about it, Senior Bensy?"

"No. Why would I?"

Smirk— Bensy curled his lip.

In his hand gleamed a top-grade magic tool, the [Miniature Mana Sun].

Bensy's pupils flashed like the sun. How long had it been since he'd felt this sensation!

"I'm quite satisfied, actually."

Bensy was brutally honest. His tower exit application had stated his purpose plainly: reasonable export of advanced magic tools.

"Didn't expect permission like this, but hey."

Good is good, right?

Bensy's gaze shifted back to the demons. His surging mana resonated, and the [Miniature Mana Sun] began to spin.

"Banggrit, I've often wondered."

"?"

"Why must Mage Tower mages be chained to the tower? Because of regulations? Who the hell made those absurd rules anyway?"

Pursuing magical realms and truths was fine. But severing all worldly ties upon entry? What nonsense was that?

In that sense, Bensy approved of the tower's changes.

"I am eternally grateful to the Chief."

Without Lee Hoyeol...

I'd have holed up in the tower, flipping through magic tomes even as Arcana fell to ruin.

But thanks to him, I'd faced the reality I'd ignored. I'd gained the power to right the wrongs.

And on top of that...

Bensy's eyes turned to the players hanging back.

"Watch closely. You can become like me. To avoid repeating Arcana's mistakes, you must grow."

...That line just now, didn't it sound a bit like the Chief?

As evident, he'd even seized a chance to assert seniority.

As Bensy unconsciously puffed up, Banggrit clicked his tongue.

"Don't get too carried away."

Steadying his breath, Banggrit stuck to the plan. He channeled his mana too.

The target: demons gunning for the throne.

"If you don't want this to be your last tower exit."

"Pardon? No, Banggrit—why say something so hurtful? I know the Chief's plan! But anyone hearing you would think you got approval on your exit application."

"I did."

"...What?! For real? Why not me?!"

The number of demon kings I'd hunted—me and Akkshan's demon hunters—was twelve. Thus, twelve thrones and rifts had emerged.

I gazed at the freshly spawned rift.

The more I thought about it, the more impressive they were, those Akkshan seniors. Taking such a devastating blow at the Holy War, yet sending ten demon kings to hell—including one ranked 20th!

A decade-plus hiatus felt meaningless; respect for my seniors surged.

Especially seeing that near-four-digit recommended level.

Just how strong were they, really?

No wonder the demons had cowered until Akkshan's annihilation.

Of course, that long wait had been for naught.

You made one mistake, though.

I straightened my attire.

"Life and death aside, pride endures."

Akkshan, last survivor, stood hale. Arcana's elite forces stood with me.

So I harbored no doubts. Worrying would be the odd thing.

Experience had given me the measure.

Three [Demon King's Castle] rifts, crushed in mere minutes.

More rifts, more demons? They weren't demon kings yet.

Still just named monsters, boss mobs.

Of course, this [Demon King Struggle] had a bigger plan.

I'd realized it clearly from the [Demon King's Castle] rifts.

Demons were utterly dim-witted.

Three kings dead, yet no lessons learned—still chasing thrones!

Grandfell didn't call them inferior for nothing.

Look at them now.

"...?"

Even meeting my eyes, they hadn't grasped the situation.

Three named monsters—true demons—tangled in combat. Levels as brutal as the update logs promised.

Above all, they knew their own strength. That's why they challenged the 20th throne.

Of course, questions were in order.

"What manner of being are you?"

A polite snake, no less. Whoever the great demon it swallowed, it had manners.

Worth its level? The intimidation felt different from lesser demons.

Enough to pause fighting and question, anyway. I'd entered solo.

That doubt...

"Oh? A demon hunter, are you not?"

Wouldn't change much even if they realized I was their natural predator.

The snake's eyes rolled white as it continued.

"I watched your end clearly through my demonic sight. A strange affair, stranger. Why do you yet live? Pitiful demon hunter."

Polite or not, a demon's a demon.

Would Grandfell entertain words? No.

"Indeed. That chilling gaze confirms it. You are the demon hunter who perished gloriously with millions of demons. How you revived, I know not—but what delight!"

Dog and bird perked at the snake's words. Ssss— Its tongue flicked grandly, befitting ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠its bulk.

Highest level of ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the trio, the snake spoke arrogantly.

"A feast fit for throne-sitting!"

Kyaaak! Its maw gaped.

Yet I'd not moved a step.

Alone in the rift, sure—but if eyes watched, they'd call me mad.

Even Nam Cheolmin, pegging me at 900 minimum, had tried to stop me.

—"Mr. Hoyeol, even if it's part of the plan, the risk is too high. Even considering your level, facing three named monsters ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠solo..."

Good call putting him in charge of the AAU Yusra branch. True to his analyst roots, he'd cited Arcana named monster patterns to dissuade me.

Couldn't sway my stubbornness, though.

Since I said it—not just Grandfell's pride.

Lee Hoyeol wanted this too: solo entry.

[Predator-Prey Relationship]. [Blessing of the First World Tree]. [Six-Pointed Brooch].

Fully buffed and geared? Confidence overflowing? No—Grandfell fears nothing, but not me.

Clearing a level 1,000 rift solo, even stacked? Impossible, I knew.

Yes. There was good reason.

From the moment I entered and spotted the throne, the quest window had flickered.

A new objective appeared below.

I knew without checking. Thanks to info from [Strange].

Roooar— Hellfire rippled across the floor even now.

Upon first sighting the throne, a question arose.

Thrones escape hell. Why can't demons?

Answer came quick: AAU's Arcana chronicles.

I'd seen it there. Arcana's hell lore.

Recalled Akkshan's words.

"When you gaze into the abyss, the abyss gazes back? Even if we fall to evil and become demons, we hunt demons. That is the demon hunter's path."

Hunting demonized demon hunters? Still demon hunters.

Then where do demonized hunters go upon death? Hell, like demons.

But remember what I'd—Grandfell—always said?

"Even death cannot break pride."

Yes. Proving it, the quest objective appeared.

Roooar— Hellfire surged fiercer.

"Is that not so, Akkshan?"

As if answering my query, from the hellfire...

The click of a crossbow loading echoed.

Clank!