Fwoosh—
When Sehyun opened his eyes, the cold air stung sharply against them.
He stood in a vast, endless expanse. The space stretched infinitely in every direction. The tidal wave of people that had once filled it—gone. Whether they had been absorbed into time and space or had clawed their way out in desperation, he didn’t know.
The countless Portals still floated in midair—hundreds, thousands, millions of them. Many had already lost their owners, their light dimmed or extinguished. Among the Portals that still shone, one belonged to Sehyun’s Empire.
[Well, well. It seems we have a guest.]
Sehyun turned his gaze upward.
A man in a tailcoat hovered in the air, bowing politely. After completing his courteous greeting, the man—Billwill—circled Sehyun once and approached closer.
[So you’ve decided to visit your Empire. I can see the determination all over your face.]
“Don’t worry. I’ll be coming back out.”
Turning his back to Billwill, Sehyun moved toward one of the Portals glowing faintly red. At a distance—about a hundred paces away—he saw a steady gleam of light.
[The longer you hesitate, the greater your fear grows.]
The voice was infinitely refined, like that of a gentleman. But if one were to look beneath the surface, it was anything but gentle.
“Can you change the Portal’s position?”
[Well, yes, but… may I ask why you’d want to?]
“Because I need to enter without being noticed.”
Sehyun took out the black hoods he’d stored in his inventory—one he pulled over his face as a mask, the other he wrapped tightly around his head, concealing every strand of hair. Billwill watched the process with vivid fascination.
Once he was done, only Sehyun’s eyes were visible. Looking like a shadow come to life, he turned toward Billwill.
“Can you do it?”
[Three locations, I can show you.]
Snap—
With a crisp snap of his fingers, the scene within the Portal shifted. It now showed a lakeside beyond the outer wall of Sehyun’s Empire.
“There should be dense foliage behind the bell tower inside the wall. Please set it there.”
[Hmm, this place, you mean?]
Another snap—and the image changed again.
It was the precise spot Sehyun had envisioned: the overgrown thicket behind the bell tower. A blind spot, shaded from light, where the guards were lax and the walls high.
In truth, the Empire’s defenses were not particularly strict. None of the Empires were. Since invasions took the form of “Empire Wars,” most patrols were merely for show. Real defense concentrated around the gatehouses connected to the Portals.
“I’ll take this spot. Can the vassals inside see the Portal, or pass through it like a Road Player?”
[Of course not. It’s invisible and impenetrable to them. These Portals are privileges exclusive to Road Players. If it weren’t so, every citizen would’ve stormed in here to capture their own king long ago.]
That was enough.
So Portals were a Road Player’s exclusive right. Which meant that even a Road Player who had become a resident could still see and use them.
“Do I owe a price for this?”
[Hmm… hard to say.]
“If not, good.”
[A pocket watch.]
Sehyun’s brow furrowed sharply. A pocket watch? That required a proper workshop—something only a thriving Empire could afford. Billwill was clearly teasing him, already aware that Sehyun was practically broke—and likely knew what he was planning.
“Three times. Help me when I ask, and I’ll consider it.”
[The number of times could depend on the quality, don’t you think?]
Damn it.
Billwill vanished immediately after saying that. Sehyun, who had been glaring daggers at him, let out a long, tangled sigh before turning back to the Portal. Beyond it, the night stretched deep and infinite.
As he reached out, warmth coiled gently around his fingertips.
“……”
His eyes widened briefly, then slowly closed.
The once-cold air turned warm. The darkness swallowed his senses, and the scent of foliage filled his nose.
When he opened his eyes again, a towering bell tower loomed before him, so massive it hurt his neck just to look up. The moon above it shone clean and bright—a perfect full moon, the first he had seen since coming here.
Only after exhaling a habitual sigh did Sehyun finally lower his gaze. He quickly rummaged through his inventory and drew out his crossbow. His target: the top of the massive bell tower right in front of him.
The tower stood in the Empire’s deepest blind spot. He himself had commissioned it for New Year’s greetings—used only for festivals or ceremonies. Guard patrols were practically nonexistent here, and the walls surrounding it were so high that infiltration seemed impossible.
Listening to the wind brushing through the grass, Sehyun fired the hooked crossbow at the tower’s solid wall the moment the breeze masked the sound.
Clang!
With a sharp metallic screech, the hook failed to latch and bounced off.
Before it could hit the ground, Sehyun reeled it back in, coiling the rope swiftly, and fired again—this time toward a slightly indented section of the wall.
Thunk—!
It bounced off once more. Matching the rustle of leaves, he tried a third time. Finally, the hook caught firmly between two sunken bricks and held fast.
After testing the rope’s tension, Sehyun wrapped it around his waist and hands, bracing his feet against the wall. Then he began his ascent—slow, deliberate, retrieving slack rope with each step.
If a guard happened by and saw a rope dangling from the wall, he’d be caught immediately.
“Haa…”
When he finally reached the level where the hook had lodged, his legs trembled violently. He steadied his breath and forced himself not to look down. When he did glance briefly, dizziness washed over him. Taking a few deep breaths, Sehyun pulled another crossbow from his inventory.
Leaning back, he fired upward again.
Two failed shots, then—Thunk!—the hook caught. Slowly, steadily, Sehyun climbed again, retrieving each crossbow one by one as he went.
He couldn’t remember how many times he repeated the process—only that sweat soaked his clothes, and the skin of his palms had burst and blistered.
By the time he reached the top of the tower, his breath came ragged, almost choking. He scowled at his bloodied hands, then, once his breathing steadied, stored the crossbows back in his inventory and stood up.
From this height—the third tallest point in the Empire—he could see almost everything. The vast territory sprawled below, rich and resplendent, worthy of being called a great Empire. Everything was luxurious, brilliant, endlessly advanced.
‘<Feather Sound LV.1>’
Sehyun activated the skill, silencing his footsteps. Then he aimed for the Empire’s second-highest building. Its rooftop was narrow, precarious. The drop below—unthinkable.
He couldn’t use the noisy crossbows anymore. From here on, he had to move only by foot, by air, by instinct.
If the Empire’s daily routine still ran the same as before it collapsed, he knew exactly when and where each guard would be.
He stared toward his first obstacle.
The building adjacent to the tower—a ceremonial hall.
Shorter than the bell tower, but too far. Roughly five meters apart. Too far to simply jump.
Even with <Feather Sound> active, there was no guarantee it would hold through the shock of pain if he landed hard.
A gamble.
Every building beyond this point had its own gap, its own distance.
Sehyun took a long, slow breath. He erased the distance from his mind, focused only on the edge before him. Gritting his teeth, he sprinted and launched himself at the very last step.
Normally, there would’ve been a thundering crash, a tumble across the roof—but thanks to <Feather Sound>, it ended in a stifled grunt.
“Ugh…”
Pain shot up from his elbow. He glanced down briefly, but that was it. Clutching his trembling arm, he forced himself upright again. There was no time to waste. The path ahead was still long.
***
He didn’t remember how long he’d been running and crawling. His mana was depleted after using skills in succession; dizziness blurred his vision, and he’d even twisted his wrist when he collapsed moments before. Drinking his last mana potion, he had whipped himself forward again. That had been only minutes ago.
Now, gasping, he sprinted across rooftop after rooftop.
Finally—after what felt like an eternity—the white spire of the castle appeared before him. The long bridge connecting to it glimmered faintly with the light of scattered torches.
At the end of that bridge lay the thing Sehyun sought. Which meant—he had to climb up there.
At this hour, there would be no guards on the bridge.
Scanning his surroundings, Sehyun spotted movement below—guards on patrol. Quickly, he pressed himself against the wall and held his breath. The clinking of armor grew distant.
Too much time had passed.
Far off, the clock tower’s hands pointed to three hours before dawn.
Holding his breath, Sehyun crept toward one of the massive pillars supporting the bridge.
He had crossed two, no—three buildings to get here.
The pillar’s surface was too smooth.
No grooves. No ridges.
Nowhere for a hook to catch.