Earth-178, Year 2046;
Five years.
Five years after disappearing without a trace...
Kiara Hughes was finally going home.
The helicopter climbed steadily into the night sky, rotors slicing through the cold air with a relentless *thump-thump-thump*. Far below, the island burned like a funeral pyre. Greedy flames swallowed buildings whole while thick columns of black smoke choked out the stars. Explosions bloomed every few seconds, shaking the earth before fading into the endless roar of the waves.
It was finally over.
Kiara slumped against the cold metal wall of the cabin, letting out a shaky breath she felt like she'd been holding for five straight years. Five years of steel walls, locked doors, blinding lights, and screams that still echoed in her bones. Five years of wondering if she'd ever see the sky again.
She was free.
Her body ached everywhere. Fresh bandages bit into her forearms, and older scars peeked from beneath the torn sleeves of an oversized jacket someone had thrown over her shoulders. The fabric still carried someone else's warmth. She couldn't remember the last time anyone had given her anything without wanting something in return.
A medic crouched beside her, gently adjusting one of the bandages.
"Does it hurt?" he asked quietly.
Kiara blinked slowly. "No."
It was a lie. Everything hurt. But after five years in that hell, this kind of pain almost felt like mercy.
The medic nodded and moved on to another wounded soldier. Silence settled again, broken only by the steady heartbeat of the rotors. Kiara turned her head toward the open door. The burning island was shrinking behind them, becoming just another speck of fire in the vast, dark ocean.
A bitter little smile tugged at her cracked lips.
"It's finally over…" she whispered.
No one answered. She didn't mind. The silence felt like a gift.
Heavy boots stopped in front of her.
She looked up. Captain Adrian stood there, the man who had personally torn through the burning compound to reach her. She'd watched him drag injured soldiers to safety while bullets whipped around them like angry hornets. Without him, she would have died on that island.
For the first time in five years, a real smile—small, fragile, but genuine—broke across her face.
"Thank you, Cap."
Adrian looked down at her. His expression didn't change.
"You don't have to thank me."
Kiara let out a weak chuckle. "I do." Her fingers tightened around the blanket. "I thought… I thought nobody was coming for me."
Something flickered across his eyes for a split second. Regret? Guilt? It was gone before she could be sure.
He reached toward his waist.
Kiara barely registered the movement until cold metal glinted under the cabin lights.
A handgun.
The barrel rose smoothly and stopped, aimed directly between her eyes.
Her smile froze.
"Cap?"
No one moved. The medic looked away. The soldiers lining the benches stared at the floor, at their boots, at the darkness outside—anywhere but at her. The young one who had given her water earlier had his fists clenched so tightly his knuckles were bone-white.
Confusion swallowed the warmth that had been building in her chest.
"What are you doing?"
The click of the safety being flicked off cut through the cabin like a gunshot.
Kiara's stomach dropped.
"Come on," she forced out a shaky laugh. "This isn't funny."
No one laughed.
The captain's voice was calm. Too calm. "There's only one reason we came for you, Kiara. Project Nexus."
Her brows drew together. "What? That project was terminated years ago and it is not like I'm against it. What are you—"
"Our orders are clear," he said, cutting her off. "All personnel connected to Project Nexus are to be eliminated. Except for you, everyone is gone."
For a moment, Kiara could only stare at him.
Then she laughed—short, confused, disbelieving. "You're joking. Right?"
The silence that answered her was heavier than any bullet.
Her smile slowly died.
"You're serious."
She looked around the cabin. Not a single person would meet her eyes. They all knew. Every last one of them had known before they even landed on that island.
The realization hit her harder than the years of torture ever had.
"Why?" Her voice cracked.
Bang!
The answer came in the form of a shot.
Pain erupted in her shoulder like fire tearing through muscle and bone. The force slammed her sideways across the metal floor. Warm blood instantly soaked through the jacket and spread beneath her.
*Argh*
Her ears rang violently.
She tried to push herself up, but her left arm wouldn't respond. Blood dripped steadily onto the floor with soft, obscene little plops.
The handgun was still pointed at her. Steady. Cold. Emotionless.
Beyond the open door, there was only darkness and the waiting ocean.
Captain Adrian took a slow step forward.
Kiara looked out into the black water below. Something inside her went very still.
They had never planned to take her home. The "rescue" was just the cleanest way to tie up loose ends.
How fucking ironic.
Five years in hell… only to be killed by the people she thought had come to save her.
A faint, bloodstained smile curved her lips.
"You know…" she said softly, looking up at him one last time, "I really believed you."
Adrian's jaw tightened. "I'm sorry."
"I know."
Without hesitation, Kiara twisted her body and threw herself out of the helicopter.
The cold night air rushed past her for a brief, terrifying second—then the ocean swallowed her whole.
Darkness. Freezing pressure. Nothing but black water and the distant thunder of the helicopter fading above.
Blood trailed behind her like crimson smoke as she sank deeper.
Her body grew heavier. Her thoughts slowed.
*So this… is how it ends.*
Her heartbeat faded.
Slower.
Slower.
Until—
Everything blacked out.
*
An unknown amount of time later;
*Ding!
[The Lost Soul has been found.]
[Synchronization in progress…]
[Synchronization complete.]
[Soul Merge complete.]
[Weapon Seller System successfully activated.]
***
***
***
One year later;
Earth-43, Year 1785 (Age of Ether);
Southern Continent, Imperial Capital of the Phoenix Empire.
In a narrow alley where sunlight barely reached the ground, there stood a small, easily overlooked shop. Its wooden sign hung crooked, the paint faded and peeling. The old door gave a tired creak every time it opened, like it was exhausted from years of service.
Every morning, the elderly owner would drag a chair outside and sit near the entrance. The damp chill inside the shop settled too deeply into his old bones. Before long, neighboring shopkeepers usually joined him. They'd sit together, complaining about old injuries, rising prices, and grandchildren who rarely wrote letters anymore. Their laughter still came, but it was thinner now, worn down by time.
At the mouth of the alley, a tall young woman paused. She looked around quietly, taking everything in, before stepping forward. She seemed very young, as if she had just stepped into adulthood. She was slim yet moderately busty. Her clothes were simple but well-made, the kind of quiet quality that didn't need to shout. A pair of gloves covered her hands despite the mild weather, and a faint eye-shaped birthmark was visible at the back of her neck.
She unfolded a scroll, compared it to the faded sign above the shop, and a small smile touched her lips.
"So this is the place," she murmured.
Her boots echoed softly on the stone as she approached the group of old men. Several of them looked up in surprise—customers rarely wandered this far into the alley on purpose, especially not young, well-dressed ones.
She stopped in front of them. "Excuse me. Is the owner inside?"
The man closest to the entrance straightened quickly. Hope flashed across his weathered face, raw and almost painful, like a man who'd waited years for good news.
"I'm the owner, Miss," he said. "Please, come in."
Inside, thin shafts of light cut through the dusty air. Weapons hung from the walls—spears, sabers, swords. Some were carefully polished, others showed clear signs of neglect. A few carried weak enchantments, but most were ordinary.
The woman moved slowly through the shop, studying each piece with calm, unhurried attention. The old owner watched her closely. Most customers barely glanced around before asking for prices. This one seemed to be trying to read the soul of every blade.
Then her gaze stopped.
Behind the counter, mounted on a dark oak panel, rested a single staff. At first glance it looked plain, but there was a subtle, almost secretive sheen beneath the wood.
She stepped closer but didn't touch it.
"Rosewood and hazelwood," she said softly, almost to herself. "Three parts to two. Not bad."
The old man's expression shifted immediately.
She continued, "Midnight Wolf blood was mixed into the forging. It boosts power after sunset. It's a gold-tier weapon… the aura is sealed, but the seal is incomplete. The power is only sleeping."
The air in the shop grew heavier.
The old man stared at her. "How do you know that?"
She turned to face him, calm as still water. "Because it's your family's heirloom. You've hidden its true quality from everyone else. But age leaves marks on everything—even secrets."
His eyes narrowed. "It's not for sale."
"I know," she replied evenly. "And I don't need it. I can't channel Ether anyway."
Those words landed heavily between them.
In this world, Ether was everything. It strengthened the body, powered skills, extended life, and awakened powerful relics. Without it, you couldn't use high-grade equipment, couldn't store items in spatial rings, and could never walk the path of warriors or mages.
The old man studied her face for a long time, searching for lies. She met his gaze without flinching.
"You can look at the ungraded weapons," he finally said, still cautious.
She shook her head gently. "I didn't come here to browse, Master Rowan."
She handed him the scroll. "I came to buy your store. The Merchant Guild listed it for sale."
He stared at her, stunned. "You… want to buy it?"
"The listed price is one thousand gold coins. I don't negotiate," she said. "The building and all the weapons are included. The staff stays with you. I have no interest in it."
That answer unsettled him more than greed ever could. Someone willing to buy a failing shop without trying to snatch its greatest treasure? It didn't make sense.
He looked down at the document for a long time. The weight of his years seemed to settle deeper into his shoulders. Perhaps he was thinking of his son, of a quiet village somewhere far from declining sales and endless worries. Even the strongest old tree eventually wants to stop fighting the storm.
At last, he let out a slow breath and nodded.
He unlocked a drawer, took out the property deeds, and handed them over.
The woman extended her hand. A leather pouch suddenly appeared in her palm—no flash of light, no Ether fluctuation, nothing. It simply *was* there.
Master Rowan took an instinctive step back, eyes wide with confusion.
She offered no explanation. She simply handed him the pouch.
He counted the coins carefully. They were real—weight, shine, everything perfect. Exactly one thousand.
The transaction was done in minutes.
Master Rowan gathered his few belongings, carefully took the staff into his arms like an old friend, and stood by the doorway for a moment. He looked around the shop one last time, then stepped outside without looking back.
Whispers rose immediately among the neighboring shopkeepers. Curious glances followed him, then drifted toward the young woman now standing inside the shop. But no one dared approach.
Once alone, she closed the shutters one by one.
With each shutter, the noisy alley disappeared. The morning light faded. The sounds of the capital grew distant until only silence remained.
In the sudden darkness, the gentle warmth in her expression melted away. The soft smile vanished. What remained was cold, controlled, and sharp as a blade.
"System," she said quietly. "Open character interface."
A translucent blue screen appeared in front of her, glowing faintly in the dim room.
---
Name: Kiara (Kyra Phoenix)
Bloodline: N/A
Attribute: N/A
Spirit Path: N/A
Ether Quality: N/A
Ether Energy: N/A
Rank: Unawakened
Skills: None
Lifespan Limit: 80 years
Remaining: 60 years
---
Kiara read every line in silence.
Zero Ether. No spirit path. No Bloodline. No rank.
She was weaker than the lowest apprentice in the capital. Most ordinary people walking these streets had brighter futures than the numbers staring back at her.
Yet the longer she looked at those pathetic stats, the more a faint, cold smile curved her lips.
*Good,* she thought. *When you're already at the bottom, there's nowhere left to fall.*
Another screen appeared.
[Main Quest: Acquire a weapon store]
Status: Completed
Reward: Weapon Creation (Select to receive)
[Side Quest: Earn 100 gold coins through weapon sales]
Status: In Progress
Reward: System Store
Kiara's eyes lingered on the completed quest. The empty shop around her felt ordinary, almost insignificant. But she knew the first real step had been taken.
No powerful family. No Ether flowing through her veins. No one to catch her if she fell.
She had nothing but this dusty little shop in a forgotten alley.
But every empire started with one brick. Every forest began with a single seed. And revenge… revenge began with one quiet step no one else noticed.
She placed her finger over the reward.
Her lips curved.
"Let's begin."