The profound silence of the Northern Forest was broken only by the rhythmic, comforting crackle of the campfire in front of Ed Rothtaylor’s cabin and the melancholy howl of the autumn wind rustling the canopies of the centennial trees.
Seated on a thick, carved wooden log, with a perfectly straight back and the unwavering posture of a monarch reviewing his troops, Ed stared at the golden holographic screen floating mere inches from his stoic face.
The Multiversal Chat Group had officially been inaugurated.
His first message as [Administrator]—cold, direct, and completely devoid of any pleasantries or unnecessary protocol—had just been sent across the insurmountable barriers of space and time, reaching the minds of four anomalies in completely different realities.
Ed did not expect immediate obedience or instant respect.
Having been King Grey in his past life, he perfectly understood human nature and the inherent arrogance of the strong.
He knew from sheer experience that when you gathered exceptional, powerful, or eccentric individuals in the same room—whether it be a royal court, a war council, or an interdimensional chat—the first instinct was always a clash of egos.
Everyone would try to test the waters, establish dominance, or, in the worst-case scenario, completely deny the reality of what they were seeing.
And, exactly as his tactical and calculating mind predicted, it didn’t even take five seconds for utter chaos to erupt on the glowing screen.
[The Eminence in Shadow]: Fufufu…!
Magnificent.
Absolutely magnificent.
So the rusty chains of this fragile reality have finally been broken.
Greetings, entities of the abyss.
I am the one who lurks in the darkness and hunts in the shadows.
If you have been summoned to this sacred council, it is because destiny demands that the true world be purged of its hidden sins.
[Nightmare]: Ara, ara~.
What an adorably melodramatic and picturesque speech.
I can almost picture you posing on some rooftop under the moonlight as you write that.
Tell me, “Eminence,” does your mother know you’re playing dark lord at this hour of the night?
Although I must admit…
this telepathic channel that seemingly bypasses time itself is fascinating.
Whoever you are, ‘Administrator,’ you have my absolute attention.
[Void Hunter]: Enough with the absurd games.
Identify yourselves immediately.
This communication channel is not encrypted on the military frequencies of New Eridu.
If this is cognitive interference or a new mental infiltration tactic by the Ethereals, be warned that Section 6 will track your signature and respond with absolute lethal force.
What military division do you belong to?
[The Observer]: …What the hell is this?
Transmission blessings don’t work like this.
Not even Djinns have this level of network penetration.
Who is the Administrator?
How did you bypass my personal firewalls?
If this is a trap, it’s useless.
I am armed and ready to fire.
Ed read the avalanche of frantic messages with an expression of absolute, icy indifference.
His cold gray eyes scanned the glowing text, psychologically profiling each of his new, peculiar pawns.
In front of him, he had a chuunibyou with severe delusions of grandeur; a lethal spirit whose tone suggested she enjoyed provoking others; a strictly disciplined soldier who saw tactical threats everywhere; and a highly paranoid individual trying to rationalize the impossible using the technological terms of his own world while carefully hiding his true cards.
It was a highly volatile and dangerous group.
If Ed were a normal teenager, or the original Ed Rothtaylor of Sylvania, he probably would have panicked or tried to calm the waters by slowly explaining the situation, begging for cooperation, or inventing an elaborate lie about being an omnipotent cosmic god.
But he wasn’t a scared teenager.
He was a veteran warrior, a leader who had governed an entire nation through strategy, discipline, and pure martial competence.
And a King does not debate with his subordinates, nor does he try to convince them with pretty words; a King demonstrates his unquestionable authority through irrefutable facts.
Words were like the wind; material actions were absolute.
System, Ed ordered mentally, completely ignoring the verbal fight brewing in the chat between Void Hunter’s threats and Nightmare’s constant teasing.
Open the Dimensional Transfer function.
I want to send a physical test package to all four users.
[System: Opening Dimensional Transfer interface.
Please select the items from your inventory or physical surroundings to send to the recipient users.
Note: The initial transfer cost is covered by your Administrator privileges.]
Ed reached his gloved hand into the inner pocket of his thick leather coat and pulled out the heavy envelope Lortelle Kehelland had handed him just a few hours ago.
He broke the red wax seal with his thumb and extracted four gleaming, pure gold coins.
In the academy of Sylvania, and indeed across the entire continent, the pure gold of “The Pinnacle” was immensely valuable, minted with an exact weight, flawless purity, and an unmistakable shine.
Ed knew better than anyone that gold was the ultimate universal language.
In any world, in any dimension, or in any parallel reality, physical gold meant value, power, and exchange.
He placed the four heavy coins on the palm of his open hand, letting the reflection of the campfire dance across the precious metal.
Transfer one to each member of the chat, he ordered with a firm mental voice.
The System screen flashed with a blinding pulse of golden light.
Before Ed’s impassive eyes, the four pure gold coins dematerialized from his hand into a swarm of blue light particles, disappearing into the unfathomable void of interdimensional space without making a single sound.
Immediately, Ed shifted his analytical gaze back to the chat.
[Administrator]: The time for theatrical introductions, empty threats, and childish doubts is over.
Check your hands.
I have just sent you a physical sample of the reality you have just entered.
On Earth, inside his immaculate dormitory at the Seoul Military Academy, Kim Hajin [The Observer] choked back a gasp of pure astonishment.
He had been aiming the barrel of his lethal Desert Eagle directly at the floating blue screen, sweating cold out of sheer paranoia and mentally preparing his system for any contingency, when a small light flashed over his metal desk.
With a dull, metallic clink, a heavy, pure gold coin literally appeared out of thin air, rolling a couple of inches before coming to a stop next to his laptop keyboard.
Hajin slowly lowered the weapon, his hands trembling with disbelief.
He picked up the coin cautiously.
His Thousand-Mile Eyes scanned the atomic and magical structure of the object in milliseconds.
“It’s…
it’s real gold.
One hundred percent pure.
Zero radiation, zero dark mana, no tricks or optical illusions,” Hajin muttered in the solitude of his room, feeling the air leave his lungs.
“This isn’t a monster’s illusion.
The transfer of solid matter across dimensions…
Whoever is running this chat has a power and authority that rivals the Creator of this damn world.”
In New Eridu, Captain Miyabi Hoshimi [Void Hunter] observed the gold coin that had just materialized with a flash over the cumbersome Hollow casualty reports on her Section 6 desk.
Without letting go of her ancestral katana’s hilt, she used the tip of her metal pen to push the coin, deeply distrustful of any trap.
Her martial instincts, sharpened to the absolute extreme by countless battles, did not detect a single drop of Ethereal corruption or malicious energy.
It was clean gold.
Physical matter conjured out of nothing inside a maximum-security military base without triggering a single alarm or interference shield. Read this novel at g.com for the best experience.
Miyabi slightly relaxed her defensive stance, moving her hand away from her sword, though her fox ears remained tense and alert.
The threat level of this supposed “Administrator” had just gone from being a simple electronic hacker annoyance to an incomprehensible anomaly.
In the opulent Royal Capital of Midgar, Cid Kagenou [The Eminence in Shadow] caught the coin in mid-air with a fluid and incredibly dramatic movement of his gloved hand.
Seeing the pure, golden gleam of the metal under the pale moonlight, his smile widened to inhuman limits, baring his teeth.
To his delusional mind, this wasn’t a reality test or a quantum experiment; it was a gift, a humble material tribute from the forces of the abyss acknowledging his undeniable and absolute supremacy.
And in Tengu City, against the freezing wind of the rooftop, Kurumi Tokisaki [Nightmare] spun the gold coin between her pale fingers, tracing the edges with her fine nails.
Her golden clock eye narrowed with pure delight and morbid curiosity.
A magic capable of completely bypassing the rigid laws of space, mocking time itself, and delivering physical objects right into the palm of her hand…
This was going to be much more fun, chaotic, and useful than she had anticipated in her centuries of existence.
The silence in the group chat lasted exactly forty seconds.
Incredulity had been eradicated at its roots.
The Proof of Concept imposed by King Grey had been an overwhelming tactical success.
[Administrator]: I will assume by your silence that the message has been made sufficiently clear.
The gold you just received is real, malleable, and comes directly from the economy of my world.
As I told you, this is a nexus of exchange and power development.
And tonight, I need to make the first transaction.
[The Observer]: …Understood.
If this is real, the rules change.
What kind of requirement do you have?
If you have the means to send pure gold as if it were cheap candy, you must be in a very specific situation to require the help of external entities.
[Void Hunter]: Affirmative.
The physical transfer has been verified and cataloged.
I withdraw my previous threats of military retaliation.
If this is a tactical channel for mutual benefit, state your request clearly, Administrator.
Ed smiled coldly in the solitude and darkness of the Northern Forest.
He had tamed the anomalies without having to unsheathe a sword.
Now, to the true purpose of this unusual gathering.
Lortelle’s contract was simple on paper, but it required brutal precision.
The Head Maid, Ellis, would seal the gigantic Ophelius Hall from the inside using the building’s ancient defensive magic, locking the nobles in.
Ed’s duty was to approach the majestic, reinforced doors of oak and magical steel, shatter them from the outside at an exact time using brute force, and then become an immovable human barricade, preventing Princess Penia, protagonist Taylee’s party, and any member of the Student Association from entering to stop the theft of the Sage’s Grimoire.
He was going to face multiple novice mages and combat students from the continent’s most prestigious academy.
However, that wasn’t Ed’s problem.
His true, frustrating problem was his own lethal strength.
After weeks of brutal training in the mountains and Lucy Mayrill’s masterful corrections, Ed had managed to force his small, pathetic mana core to evolve, breaking its limits to reach the Orange Core (Dark Stage).
His magical power was now immensely denser, more violent, and vastly more destructive.
If that energy density were added to the unmatched technical perfection of King Grey’s Swordsmanship and his lethal deviant affinity for lightning mana, the result was catastrophic for his own equipment.
The swords Ed had crafted by hand in the forest, and even the expensive standard steel weapons of Sylvania’s knights, were far too weak.
If he channeled his new power into a sword from this world, the blade would simply melt from the heat, shatter from the pressure, or explode in his hands after the first serious clash.
He didn’t need cheap tricks, smoke bombs, or tripwires; he was a King.
He only needed a tool capable of withstanding the fury of his power.
[Administrator]: I have a siege and containment job tonight.
I must secure a chokepoint and sweep a group of aristocratic mages.
My problem is not the enemy; they are simple academic novices who pose no threat to my martial prowess.
My true problem is my own equipment.
[Administrator]: My current energy density is too high, and my swordsmanship style destroys common steel.
If I use my combat techniques to the fullest on conventional weapons, the blades melt and shatter in my hands.
I require a bladed weapon.
A blade of extreme durability, forged with technological or mystical alloys that will not fracture under absurd thermal and kinetic pressure.
I don’t care about ridiculous magical enchantments; I only need a sturdy blade that can conduct pure energy without disintegrating.
Whoever provides it will be rewarded with ten times the gold you just received.
The chat fell silent for a few moments.
The nature of the request was clear.
The Administrator wasn’t asking for help to win a difficult battle; he was explaining, with deep annoyance, that he needed a proper tool that wouldn’t break while he dealt with his obstacles with overwhelming ease.
[The Observer]: An acute overload problem.
I understand you perfectly.
I could manufacture a weapon using my Gift and super-dense Earth alloys, but it would take me a couple of hours to optimize the blade’s molecular structure so it doesn’t explode under constant elemental stress.
[Void Hunter]: I have something that will serve your purpose.
Miyabi Hoshimi did not hesitate.
As an absolute and devoted master of the way of the sword, reading the confident yet sincere message from the Administrator, she felt a deep martial respect bloom within her.
She knew firsthand the immense and bitter frustration of a warrior whose own physical power, talent, or energy flow far exceeded the miserable quality of the steel they wielded.
She herself had shattered dozens of standard and expensive katanas in New Eridu by channeling her lethal ice energy before inheriting her ancestral relic, a special Odachi of the prestigious Hoshimi family.
Of course, she would never hand over her family’s weapon, but she recognized in Ed’s words a top-tier master swordsman trapped by the limitations of matter.
An equal in terms of martial discipline who deserved a worthy blade.
[Void Hunter]: In my operative division, we deal with massive physical aberrations and spatial distortions daily.
Traditional and artisanal steel weapons are useless here.
My personal weapon is an irreplaceable relic, but I have access to the military tactical armory.
I offer you a Section 6 prototype tactical katana.
It is forged with a tungsten alloy and anti-ether compounds, specifically designed to absorb, conduct, and withstand extreme channelings of elemental energy.
It is yours in exchange for the promised funds.
[Administrator]: Acceptable.
Initiate the transfer, Hunter.
Ed’s interface blinked with a soft commercial exchange notification chime.
Without hesitating for a single second, Ed withdrew forty heavy pure gold coins from Lortelle’s envelope—an absolutely absurd and exorbitant price for any common weapon in Sylvania, enough to buy a small mansion—and deposited them into the System’s dimensional slot.
[System: Transfer accepted by ‘Void Hunter’.
Processing interdimensional exchange of solid matter…]
A bright, intense, and almost blinding blue light illuminated the dark forest clearing, dispelling the dense shadows of the night around him for a brief instant.
Before Ed’s eyes, matter began to assemble swiftly from thousands of solid light pixels, until the complete weapon dropped smoothly onto the wooden log in front of him, making a dull, dense, and heavy metallic thud that denoted its supreme quality.
Ed stood up, looking away from the screen.
His cold gray eyes locked onto the weapon, and he picked it up by the scabbard.
It was, without a doubt, a relentless masterpiece of modern tactical and military engineering. This chapter is updated first at g.com.
It looked absolutely nothing like the ornamental, medieval, or fancifully decorated swords of Sylvania’s knights.
This was an austere weapon, born solely and exclusively for combat and maximum efficiency.
The katana was noticeably heavier than it appeared, demanding considerable strength just to lift and balance it.
The blade, when unsheathed a couple of inches, revealed a dark, almost matte black hue, designed not to reflect moonlight—ideal for night assaults and covert operations.
The edge of the blade, however, gleamed with a surgical silver tone.
The hilt was meticulously wrapped in a black anti-slip synthetic polymer that adjusted to the contours of his hand with mechanical perfection.
It had no unnecessary ornaments or ridiculous jewels, just a sober, thick hexagonal solid metal guard to protect the fingers.
It was a professional’s weapon.
Ed took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and, without warning, violently activated his mana core.
He stopped holding back.
The pure, immensely condensed, and violent orange mana flowed in a torrent from his sternum, traveled through the mana pathways of his right arm, and injected itself forcefully into the tactical katana, applying the lethal and untamable deviant affinity of lightning.
In the past, with cheap iron swords, this was the fateful moment where the steel would crack loudly and heat up until it burned the skin of his hand before exploding into a thousand pieces.
This time, Miyabi’s dense black blade didn’t emit a single creak of protest.
Instead, the dark metal seemed to swallow the mana, humming with a perfect harmonic vibration that pleasantly numbed his arm.
Small, incessant, and intense arcs of blue and golden electricity danced wildly along the dark edge, illuminating Ed’s face, waiting to be unleashed.
New Eridu’s modern alloy withstood the overwhelming pressure of King Grey.
However, Ed’s combat senses, honed by decades of war and constant battles, noticed a crucial detail.
As the lightning danced, he felt a very slight, almost imperceptible resistance in the molecular core of the weapon.
It was an extraordinary blade, a triumph of military technology, but it was not invincible or eternal.
If Ed unleashed one hundred percent of a White Core’s power in the future, or if he forced it to clash repeatedly against a divine artifact or catastrophe-level magic, this sword would eventually reach its fatigue point and break.
It was an excellent temporary replacement.
A formidable tool that would serve him faithfully for a long time, but he knew that his search for a truly absolute weapon, a mythical sword that could match the unreachable heights of his soul, was not yet over.
Even so, to deal with the obstacles of Sylvania tonight, this was more than enough.
Frankly, it was overkill.
Ed cut off the dense flow of mana with a snap, sheathed the katana with a satisfying click into its included tactical scabbard, and strapped it firmly to the waist of his black leather coat, securing it tightly.
He looked at the glowing chat screen one last time.
It was time to establish professionalism before moving out.
[Administrator]: The weapon is of exceptional quality, Hunter.
The weight, the millimeter-perfect balance, and the energetic conductivity far exceed the rustic standards of my world.
Although I can feel it has a physical stress limit, it will serve perfectly for my current purposes.
The deal has been a resounding success.
[Administrator]: Before I retire to my task, one last thing.
The nicknames generated by the system are impractical.
If we are going to forge an efficient exchange network, I require professionalism.
My name is Ed Rothtaylor.
Introduce yourselves with your real names, or at least with the alias under which you wish to conduct business from now on.
Ed waited patiently, his hand resting naturally on the pommel of his new katana.
The chat members seemed to hesitate for a brief moment in the face of the direct, authoritative request, but the transaction of the gold and the weapon had forged a strange camaraderie based on pure pragmatism and respect for mutual power.
[The Eminence in Shadow]: Fufufu…
A name?
Names are just rusty chains that bind mortals to this corrupt world.
But, if the abyss demands it to seal our future pacts, you may know me as Shadow.
The man who stands above the shadows.
[Nightmare]: How boring and strict you are, Administrator Ed.
I liked being your ‘Nightmare’.
But I suppose courtesy demands reciprocity between business partners.
My name is Kurumi Tokisaki.
Try not to forget it.
[The Observer]: Kim Hajin.
I suppose working together through this system has more long-term benefits than killing ourselves out of paranoia in ignorance.
It was a pleasure doing business, Ed.
[Void Hunter]: Miyabi Hoshimi, Captain of Section 6.
May the blade serve you well in your siege, Ed Rothtaylor.
I trust you will put it to honorable martial use.
Ed nodded silently at the screen, satisfied.
He had their names, and with them, he had laid the foundation stone of his future group.
[Administrator (Ed Rothtaylor)]: I have a building to secure and a perimeter to control.
The chat will remain open for you all.
Socialize, exchange your resources, or plan alliances, I don’t care in the slightest.
I will return when the work is done.
Ed closed the golden System interface with a single thought, leaving Kim Hajin, Shadow, Kurumi Tokisaki, and Miyabi Hoshimi alone in the interdimensional chat for the first time to process the scale of what had just occurred.
He turned slowly to the south, looking through the gaps in the dark trees toward where the brilliant Ophelius Hall stood, imposing and majestic, in the elitist academic district.
Lortelle Kehelland had given him the material means to ensure his survival in the misery of excommunication.
Now, he was going to repay his debt in full.
Soon, the pre-established script of this world would be put to the test.
Taylee, Princess Penia, and the rest of the main actors of this academy would have to prove if they were truly prepared for the weight of the events to come.
And Ed would be there, acting as the immovable wall that would measure their true worth.
Let us see, Ed thought with analytical coldness, what destiny has in store for us tonight.
There was still a bit of time left before the exact hour agreed upon with Lortelle.
Ed sat back down in front of the campfire, crossing his arms, letting the heat soothe the chill of the autumn wind, and resting his new katana on his lap.
The operation was about to begin, but before he could completely isolate his mind into combat mode, the wind brought him a faint, familiar whisper.
Someone was approaching his camp.
[Author’s Note]
Hello everyone!
I’m really sorry for not being able to reply to your messages or comments these past few days.
The problem is that the power outage at my house still hasn’t been fixed, and I’m juggling things around just to get online for a little bit.
Because of this situation, I had to write and edit this chapter in a bit of a rush so I wouldn’t leave you without an update.
It’s very likely that a few typos or grammar mistakes slipped past me.
I ask you a huge favor: if you notice any errors, please let me know in the comments!
I’ll take note of them and fix them as soon as I have stable electricity again.
Thank you so much for your patience, your understanding, and your constant support!