Nadia stood frozen, her mind in complete disarray. Thoughts surged like crashing waves, each colliding with the next, forming a storm of incoherent possibilities that yielded no clear answers.
Sovereign lineage. A black-grade core. One with intelligence far beyond even the most formidable indigo cores. If it had wanted to, it could have taken control of her mind—crushed her will with terrifying ease.
Yet, it didn't. It had not only spared her, it had acknowledged her. Invited her to return once she was stronger.
And somehow, it had known about her newly unlocked trait—Eyes of the Sovereign.
Why would such a monstrous core lie dormant within Argyros, of all places? Was this level of intelligence common for black-grade cores? And even if it wasn't hostile now, could she really overcome a being like that if things changed?
The enormity of the consecutive revelations and secrets hit her like a tide, dragging her thoughts down into a spiral of self-doubt and fear.
"Don't overthink it."
The voice of the system cut through the noise, sharper than steel and firmer than she had ever heard it. Its tone wasn't calm—it was commanding, resolute.
"Take it one step at a time. Focus on what you can control. Do what needs to be done right now."
The clarity of those words struck her deeply. Nadia took a deep breath, anchoring herself to the present. The unease receded slightly. She still had questions—many of them—but now wasn't the time. The system likely held answers, but she would have to wait.
Right now, she had a mission.
Nadia willed the Eyes of the Sovereign to deactivate. She wasn't entirely sure it would work, but to her relief, the chaos of the vault immediately dulled. The mental storm of consciousnesses that had swirled around her receded. Peace returned.
As expected, the trait had allowed her to peer into the chaotic depths beneath the calm surface—an ability to see, to perceive, the underlying reality. Now, with that trait suppressed, the oppressive pressure around her evaporated.
The ambient energy in the room remained—pulsing, ancient, and raw—but it was tolerable.
She finally stepped into the vault.
The chrome vault of Argyros was a hidden treasure trove—both literal and symbolic.
Chrome cores were the heart of the modern world. Cities, vehicles, weapons, communication, and even making food—everything operated on chrome energy. But unlike fossil fuels of ages past, these cores weren't just energy sources—they were alive.
At least, the raw ones were.
Raw chrome cores contained remnants of the monsters they had been harvested from—consciousness that could overwhelm a careless or weak user.
Guardians and low-ranked Overlords could be possessed, even destroyed, if they tried to absorb a raw core beyond their capability. A single misstep, a moment of greed or arrogance, could result in death—or worse.
Overlords with a high Active Chrome Energy (ACE)—typically above 30 to 40 thousand—could manage the consciousness of white or yellow-grade raw cores. But even then, the energy gained from such low-grade cores was minimal.
And too many low-grade cores in succession could still pose a risk. It was simply more efficient to draw ambient chrome energy directly from dungeons, bypassing cores altogether.
Guardians, with their far lower PCE and ACE, had even fewer options. They couldn't grasp atmospheric chrome energy at all. And raw cores were beyond them.
Their only method to grow was by absorbing processed chrome cores—cores that had been cleansed of consciousness and, unfortunately, much of their original energy.
Technology functioned the same way. Machines powered by raw cores ran the risk of being corrupted—taken over by lingering will. So, except for rare and secure systems like the Argyros Library, almost all tech used processed cores.
The chrome vaults were the warehouses for the cores waiting to be processed. Every week, raw cores were taken out for processing and replaced by even more newly harvested ones from dungeon expeditions.
It was a continuous cycle. As such, for families like Argyros that managed employed Guardians for dungeon raiding, the vault was more than a supply room—it was a fountain of wealth.
Nadia walked past shelves of gleaming stones, eventually stopping at a section of white-grade cores—ones that had come from elderly monsters, nearing the end of their lifespans. If not processed quickly, these cores would decay and lose all their energy. Some of it would merge with stronger cores around it or fuse into the vault walls, forming inert crystal deposits.
As such, they were marked with green tapes, indicating them to be high priority. And it was an entirely common occurrence to find dead cores after being taken out for processing,
Nadia placed her hand on one of those core's containment chest. Disabling its alarm and security was a breeze after her earlier experiences. The core inside reacted sluggishly, barely pulsing with curiosity.
She took off the silk glove from her right hand and lifted the core.
Jagged edges met her smooth skin, but it fit into her hand perfectly. Closing her eyes, she focused inward, willing her body to absorb the energy.
A jolt of warmth spread through her like lightning, filling her limbs and chest.
A system notification chimed:
[+461 En Absorbed]
Nadia exhaled.
The core in her hand had turned murky—a shadow of its former brilliance. She returned it to the case, which sealed automatically. Everything appeared undisturbed.
She moved carefully through the vault, choosing different shelves to avoid drawing patterns. A second core was absorbed, and the system spoke again.
[+377 En Absorbed]
[Level 8 Reached— 858 En to Level 9!]
One by one, she repeated the process. Absorb. Replace. Move.
She stayed strictly on the first floor. Only white-grade. She wasn't foolish enough to tempt fate with yellow-grade cores—not yet.
By the time she reached Level 11, her head throbbed mercilessly. Her limbs were sluggish, and her consciousness flickered like a candle in wind. Her body screamed for rest so it could make the substantial amount of newly absorbed energy entirely her own.
Exiting the vault, she cast a final look back. The vault doors gradually closed with a hum, as if they had never been forced open. With her signature now registered in the security system, re-entry would also be easy. No more manual overrides or risky breaches. Just a thought, and the vault would open for her.
After confirming everything was in order and she had left no traces of herself, she retraced her steps through the dark corridors, and ascended the staircase. The hole leading to the underground disappeared as soon as she stepped above ground. She then retrieved her chrome phone from her jacket and checked the time.
Approximately thirty minutes had passed since she left her room. The time frame was within her expectations so Nadia wasn't concerned. She opened the map and chose to teleport back to her room.
While the teleportation feature of the chrome phone was highly convenient, it also had its own restrictions. One couldn't use it to move inside the buildings. The only exception was when the destination was one's own bedroom.
Nadia did exactly that and her room welcomed her with the familiar silence. She quickly undressed, leaving her clothes on a chair, and stepped into the bathroom.
Her skin felt as though it were burning from the inside—veins throbbing with new energy.
She turned the shower dial to its lowest setting and stepped into the freezing stream.
The shock of cold was intense—nearly painful—but it worked. The ache behind her eyes dulled, and even the pulsing in her head subsided slightly.
After just five minutes, she stepped out and with a voice command, activated the full-body drying feature of the bathroom. She then moved to her dressing room and dressed in a soft blue silk nightgown.
Finally she stood in front of her hazy double. It was still where she had left it, beside the full-length mirror.
"Falsification – Disable."
The illusion dispersed like smoke in wind. Her real energy signature returned instantly.
Because the transition occurred simultaneously this time, she didn't worry about alerting the guards.
With her goals achieved and her body near collapse, Nadia dragged her feet to her bed and laid down.
The moment her head hit the pillow, darkness claimed her.
She didn't dream.
Some time later—
Her consciousness drifted like mist between the cracks of sleep and wakefulness. Fleeting fragments of thoughts passed her by, hazy and disjointed. She felt heavy—too heavy—as though her limbs were underwater, her senses dulled by the aftershock of something monumental.
And then, her senses began returning, one by one. First sound: faint rustling, soft murmurs, the hush of someone breathing too carefully nearby.
Then touch—the crisp feel of sheets beneath her fingers, the familiar texture of cool fabric against her cheek. And then awareness. A jarring realization.
She wasn't alone.
Panic flared in her chest, sharp and sudden. She always woke up alone. The maids were instructed to never enter unless called for. So who was here now?
Adrenaline surged through her foggy mind. Her eyes snapped open, and in the same breath, she launched herself from the bed with fluid precision.
Her body moved before her brain caught up. Palms out, her chrome energy roared to the surface, pulsing at her fingertips, ready to be summoned. She didn't know who she was facing, but she was ready to fight.
Only then did Nadia's vision finally adjust, and her stance faltered.
Her father stood by her bedside, flanked by his aide, Edgard. At the foot of the bed was the head maid and three unfamiliar men in white medical coats.
They were all staring at her with varying degrees of shock and surprise.
"Nadia?"
Caelum's voice was thick with barely restrained emotions. His posture, always so regal and restrained, was slack with relief. His usually sharp eyes were glassy, moisture clinging to his lashes. He looked as though he'd been holding back tears just moments ago.
Nadia blinked in confusion. "What… is going on?"
The question shattered the stillness like a dropped glass.
Edgard turned his head abruptly, his shoulders shaking—not with grief, but with restrained laughter. His gloved hand covered his mouth, but he couldn't hide the tremors that wracked his tall frame.
The doctors exchanged sheepish glances, clearly embarrassed. They had just informed Caelum that it might be a while before the young lady could wake up. Why were they so eager to pass such dreadful news when they could have waited for just one more minute?!
The head maid, meanwhile, gave her a relieved, maternal smile—one that didn't quite mask her own exhaustion.
Before Nadia could ask again, Caelum crossed the room in a blur and enveloped her in a tight embrace.
"I was so worried," he whispered hoarsely. "Thank you. Thank you so much for coming back. It's all my fault—I should've warned you. I should've been more attentive."
Nadia froze in his arms. He sounded completely undone, like a man who had just seen the light after days in the dark. She hadn't seen this side of him since she'd awoken from her coma two months ago.
It was jarring.
She didn't know how to react.
Her mind raced through the worst-case scenario. Had they found out about the vault? Had she left a trace? Was this an intervention?
Her heart pounded.
Sensing her rising alarm, Edgard stepped forward. His composed expression was finally restored, though there was still a glint of amusement in his eyes.
"My lady," he began gently, wiping the lingering moisture from his eyes with a finger. "You've been unconscious for two days. It appears you strained yourself far too much… in the library."
His voice was tinged with knowing mirth, but it was the perfect excuse. So off the mark it was almost funny, and yet so conveniently believable, that it made Nadia want to sigh with relief.
Two days?
She kept her features neutral, forcing her surprise to stay beneath the surface. The revelation explained the sudden presence of the doctors. They thought she had collapsed due to overexertion from her frequent visits to the library—nothing more.
It was a stroke of luck.
Still in Caelum's arms, Nadia felt a flush crawl up her face. The attention of everyone in the room was squarely on her. She wasn't used to it—especially not like this. The intimacy of the moment made her feel far too seen.
Hesitantly, she lifted her arms and gave Caelum an awkward, reassuring pat on the back.
"I'm okay," she said, her voice muffled against his shoulder. "I pushed myself a little too far. It won't happen again."
She didn't truly believe her own words, and neither did anyone else, but it was necessary. If she wanted Caelum to back off and not launch into his overprotective streak—likely banning her from the library forever—she had to give him something. A small concession. A hint of obedience.
Caelum's hold on her tightened, and she could feel the erratic rhythm of his heart. He was shaken. Deeply. Though she didn't carry any guilt for her actions, she didn't enjoy seeing him so fragile.
"I really am okay, Dad..."
The word slipped from her lips like a pebble into still water.
Caelum froze, and so did Nadia herself.
For a heartbeat, no one breathed. Her own face ignited in heat. She hadn't meant to say it—not aloud, not like that—but there it was. Hanging between them. Irrevocable.
She kept her eyes locked on Caelum, unwilling to glance at anyone else in the room. She didn't want to see their reactions. Didn't want to see the surprise, the sentimentality, or—gods forbid—smug pride.
Several heartbeats passed before Caelum exhaled, the tension draining from his shoulders. His arms eased, his warmth remained.
"I'm glad, my baby," he murmured. "I'm so glad you're alright."
It should have embarrassed her more. But something in her chest cracked open.
She had spent most of her life building walls. Cold, impenetrable fortresses that kept the world out and herself in. All to protect herself.
Even after she came to the Argyros estate, she kept Caelum at arm's length, deflecting his every attempt to bridge the gap between them beyond what she deemed necessary.
But now, for the first time, she allowed herself to lower her defenses. Just a little.
There was something disarming about being held like this. About being someone's child—loved, protected, cared for—even for a moment. She was his most important person, and he was her only living family.
Nadia, who had learned never to rely on others, who had clawed her way through trauma alone, felt her barriers softening.
She told herself it was temporary. A moment of weakness after waking up disoriented and vulnerable.
But even so… she didn't push him away.
Far beyond the boundaries of the Argyros Estate—
Nestled at the foot of a remote mountain, a jagged cave yawned open—its blackened maw veiled by a thick mist that looked delicate enough to disperse with a breath.
But any seasoned dungeon raider would state otherwise.
This mist, though insubstantial in appearance, was denser and a thousand times more unyielding than the stone surrounding it. It was a natural illusion, designed to deceive the eye and keep the unworthy out.
And more unsettling still—this cave hadn't existed the day before.
No one had been watching this forsaken place. No guardian patrols passed near enough to notice the shift. No alarms had been triggered.
No warnings given.
Disaster was inevitable, unless fate intervened in unexpected ways.