Kiera sighed in relief when she saw her health did not decrease further. Due to the level up, the black flames' struggle subsided and eventually died down, so her life was not in danger.
But the injuries to her body were so severe that Tyrant Regeneration could not heal them without a massive amount of mana.
Her arms were missing, guts and liver destroyed, bones turned into dust. A gruesome hole was present in the left side of her body; her left ribs and half of her left lung were missing. Luckily, the bleeding stopped.
The dungeon would only replenish her resources when she'd enter the next stage while she couldn't take out the Ancestral Fruits from the {Inventory} without her arms.
She opened the notification screen, looking for a particular one in the sea of skill level-ups.
[You defeated a creature of a Primal Pureblood rank bloodline, EXP received.]
[You defeated the simulated and disgraced version of the King of Fallen Flame, the former Second Vampire King, and a former High Exalt of Grandemyr, for defeating a paramount being, EXP bonus received.]
[Due to surviving a death-and-life battle, your capabilities soared. +20 for all battle stats.]
[Level up! Bronze Apprentice Magician Lv.20, +15 for all battle stats.]
[You meet the requirements for Mana Circulation (Lv. 20 reached, a single or more Lv.20 adversaries killed, a single skill or more at Lv.10 or above.) Would you like to undergo Mana Circulation? Y/N.]
"Yes."
She closed her eyes and felt her remaining mana rotating intensely, her tattoos pulsing with powerful energy as she felt her strength slowly climbing.
Several minutes later, Kiera opened her eyes. And although she was still injured, she felt her strength soared tremendously, energy dozens of times stronger than before coursing through her tattered body.
[Mana Circulation successfully completed, individual {Kiera Ashborn} advanced from {Bronze Apprentice Magician} to {Silver Apprentice Magician. +50 for all battle stats.]
[Excess EXP from previously defeated foe calculated…]
[Calculation process completed, bestowing excess EXP.]
[Level up! Silver Apprentice Magician Lv.3, +10 for all battle stats.]
Luckily, the system recognized the King of Fallen Flame as an Lv.20 adversary. Otherwise, Kiera wouldn’t know what she’d do. So, with the additional mana she gained from the level up, Kiera urged Tyrant Regeneration to activate.
Her wounds slowly closed, and the remaining dark energy inside her instantly vanished. As she felt her blood gradually replenish, the ghostly paleness in her skin turned into healthy red.
Abruptly, a shocking process happened, which left her perplexed, the girl watching in incomprehension as her arms actually started to regrow. The process was as fascinating as it was hideous— her bones grew first, then her muscles, flesh, and tendons, followed by her skin.
She browsed through the notifications to see what it was all about and nodded in understanding when she saw a certain notification.
[Skill evolution! {Tyrant Regeneration Lv.22} evolved into {Tyrant Regeneration (Adv) Lv.1}]
[Skill upgrade! {Tyrant Regeneration (Adv) Lv.1} advanced into {Tyrant Regeneration (Adv) Lv.3}]
[Active Attribute Skill: {Tyrant Regeneration (Adv)}
The second stage of the skill {Tyrant Regeneration}. The attribute’s domination over mana strengthens, granting an increase to regeneration and resistance to anti-regeneration skills or attributes. The capability of regrowing limbs from scratch is granted.]
Kiera stood up and stretched lightly, eating a few ancestral fruits to replenish her resources. As she leveled up, she needed more of them, so they were quickly running out. Thankfully, there was that forest outside.
Thinking it was a good time to check her status instead of a bunch of notifications. “Open Status Window.”
[Name: Kiera Ashborn
Race: Human (Dimension Crosser)
Gender: Female
Age: 0 (physical age: 10)
Magician Rank: Silver Apprentice Magician Lv.3
Attribute: Tyrannical Lightning
Titles: {Voidborne} {Clear Sighted}
General Stats:
Health: 138,834/138,834
Stamina: 139,158/139,158
Mana: 138,834/138,834
Battle Stats:
Strength: 857
Dexterity: 858
Agility: 859
Wisdom: 857
General Skills:
Active: {Identify Lv.1}
Passive: {Crafting Lv.1} {Lightning Resistance Lv.15} {Physical Resistance Lv.26} {Pain Resistance (Adv) Lv.13} {Light Resistance Lv.17} {Cosmic Ice Resistance Lv.4} {Slaughter Resistance Lv.6} {Celestial Weaponry Resistance Lv.1} {Darkness Resistance (Adv) Lv.4} {Mental Resistance (Adv) Lv.7} (Climatal Aura Shift Lv.3)
Attribute Skills:
Active: {Tyrant Regeneration (Adv) Lv.3} {Eye of the Tyrant Lv.13} {Eruption Lv.14} {Destruction Lv.24} {Flashburst Lv.20} {Vanishing Step Lv.23} {Tyrannical Thunderstroke Lv.4}
Passive: {Tyrannical Lightning Body Lv.10} {Way of the Tyrant Lv.12}]
Seeing it leveled, Kiera checked {Climatal Aura Shift} briefly, and as she thought, the drawback decreased while the boost increased by 3% each. Way of the Tyrant leveled three times, to no surprise— she did mainly use hand-to-hand combat against the King of Fallen Flame. Her other skills barely leveled, maybe other than Eye of the Tyrant and Light Resistance.
Nothing left for her to do in the empty hall; Kiera strolled through the exit gates. Immediately, the scenery changed as the girl found herself standing in a similar void to the one she ended up in after waking up in the cell.
[The Third Main Hall- Lane of Remorseful Judgement.]
“Judgement? Is it a punishment trial? Am I the punisher or the one who’s being punished?” Kiera muttered, tilting her head slightly
But, unlike the seemingly limitless staircase in that void, where light didn’t exist at all, but everything was still illuminated. Here, there was a single shining stair across from her that pushed back the void with its blinding light, Kiera virtually floating in the void.
She stared intently at the stair, trying to make sense of the strange, ethereal energy it exuded, feeling it contacting her body.
It was a surreal sensation; a gentle current of indescribable air ignored her skin and flesh, moving to caress an invisible yet the truest part of her being, the soul, a thing she didn't believe in until coming to this world.
The energy drew her, Kiera's right leg lifted involuntarily toward the step, the action prompting a sudden mild pressure on her soul.
The moment her small foot touched the step, her eyes were greeted by a different scenery. A stone hall appeared, replacing the void, a small girl with a bandaged leg going around, confused.
It was her. Her when she ended up in the Lineage's Ancestral Hall by the strings of fate not so long ago. When she still had a scrawny figure which could barely outrun mortal wolves.
It was only days ago, yet it seemed as if decades passed since that day's events due to the extremely drastic change she experienced in this time.
She watched as her younger version read, the latter's inability to see her although she was standing a few meters away clear. Then, time passed as the past Kiera plucked the Ancestral Fruit and ate it.
Instantly, the younger girl's body tensed as pain assaulted her entire being, Kiera's cold eyes constricting at the sight of hundreds of lightning bolts writhed under her past self's body.
Countless sickening cracks reverberated from her small body, something she didn't notice back then as the girl's lustrous black hair shone with a violet sheen before being slowly embedded by it.
The girl fell on the ground, trembling violently before the lightning bolts reached her eyes, the abyssal black dyed by violet, and then, the girl fainted and the illusion shattered.
The void appeared again, now adorned by a second step above the first one, which was now devoid of any light.
Kiera blinked, confused at the purpose of what she just witnessed, her brain working to find an answer, the girl slightly nodding in understanding after a short while.
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"Choice, not just punishment, that is what this floor is about... And that is why nothing happened. I have no regrets over my choice to become the Tyrannical Lightning Lineage Master."
"So in case I do have remorse over my choices, there will be a penalty. So, Remorseful Judgement, both choice and punishment."
Her serene gaze settled on the second stair, noticing the pressure on her soul intensified when she moved to step on it before another illusion appeared.
A forest area with humongous trees, ravaged by the fight of a small girl and an immense flaming leopard, the two fought brutally, weaving through the trees, the injuries piling on the girl healing at speed visible to the naked eye.
The overgrown Felidae showed profound cunning surpassing his mortal counterparts, befitting his large stature. However, what amazed Kiera was the sight of the little girl deflecting the paws without visible effort, even though it was her. After all, her Earthly common sense was hard to get rid of.
The battle escalated as the girl exploited an opening she made to land on the leopard's head. The layer of flames coated the beast eating at her body and flesh as she repeatedly stabbed its head.
Kiera watched, surprised to see the insane grin plastered on her past self's face, eerily persisting even as it melted.
Finally, the leopard's body collapsed under her efforts, and the illusion disappeared.
Kiera shook her head. Now from a bystander's point of view, she understood how reckless she was in that fight seeing how it left her barely alive in a forest of behemoths.
But she didn't regret fighting the leopard; it was a priceless experience, an experience which showed her the type of battles she'd have to take in this world.
A third stair appeared, the second's light extinguished like its predecessor. Lifting her leg, Kiera was surprised to see the pressure was already very noticeable, as if was a mortal again, and squatted at least 70 kilograms as a warm-up set.
Her foot touched the step, and a gray snowy evening appeared, an evening that made Kiera’s eyes open wide, her entire being shaken by the scenery.
It was a simple alleyway, an alleyway whose floor was long covered in a thick layer of snow, located in the slums of a city she knew too well.
Many people huddled together around a burn barrel, its struggling flame under the snow-yielding temperature the only thing truly keeping them warm with the discarded winter garments they found barely enough to keep their limbs from turning purple.
And there she was, the American-Russian Kiera Ashborn. A malnourished, small child sitting alone a few meters away from the other people, the oversized coat she wore still at her hands by the mercy of her fellow poor and the fact it may have been oversized for her, but didn't fit the others.
She was about five to six years old back then, the year 1995. Both her parents died from a sickness that year, or so she was told by the others. Kept alive by the fact she was an overwhelming weapon when it came to begging. The innocent face of a homeless child with hollow cheeks striking right in the heart of passersby.
Now that she thought about it, the fact the child welfare services never came to take her to an orphanage was certainly weird. But it didn't matter now; this belonged to an era long gone.
There was a reason this memory appeared, and it just entered the alley in the form of a black suit-wearing man holding an umbrella as dark as his fancy clothes. He was so out of place, walking with clothes that merely a patch of their material was utterly unaffordable to the citizens in that part of the city.
Easy prey to the thugs roaming around, or so it seemed, but there was something off about him, a dangerous feeling even the young Kiera could perceive. Something in his walk alarmed them, its overly nonchalant pace in a place even its residents, who knew the maze of dirty alleys like the back of their hand, constantly looked behind in nervousness. As if the man dared someone to try and attack him, and the current Kiera knew all too well what would happen if a run-of-the-mill thug lurking in the alleyways, pathetically extorting weak homeless people, tried to do the same to the man.
The man strolled, treating the alley's residents like they were nonexistent, not sparing even a single glance as if making clear he was above them.
Until his walk led them to the young Kiera's lone spot, the only one in the alleyway, who couldn't take off her eyes from him.
As of now, she didn't really remember what she felt that day; over 26 years passed, after all. But when she asked the man why did he invite her that day, he merely said, "your eyes held only curiosity and not an ounce of fear."
She could see what he meant, seeing her young Earthly self staring at the man even when his gaze settled on her, going as far as to make eye contact with him.
He suddenly squatted, matching her eye level. The girl wasn't startled, even at the sight of his lightless eye and the knife scar that surely made it like that.
Her lack of reaction visibly surprised the man before a smile bloomed on his normally emotionless face. And then, the words which changed her life left his mouth.
"Hello, little girl, how would you like to change your life? Leave this… Distasteful place to see the wide world?"
His words, while not utterly convincing or grandiose themselves, were backed by a powerful charisma and a caressing, gentle tone with a gaze speaking of immovable confidence.
But she faintly remembered that it wasn't his demeanor that made her accept his vague offer all these years ago. But the fact he spoke English, recognizing she was half American with a glance. That minor detail was what made her trust him.
Her younger self's surprise was apparent on her small face, eyes as wide as they could get. She stared at the man hesitantly, giving a small nod after a few seconds.
She didn't know what he meant back then, but she thought everything was better than staying there.
His smile widened, nodding in content at her approval. "Then, wait for me here. I’ll be back shortly."
He then got up and continued his walk, disappearing within the darkness at the end of the alleyway.
Both Kieras stared at where he went, their gazes unwavering for the long minutes of his absence. And as he said, he returned, offering his hand to Kiera, the innocent girl taking it without her prior hesitation. Uncaring for the pleading gazes of the others.
The illusion dissipated, a fourth stair appearing.
Kiera didn't feel any regret over this judgment, and even if she reincarnated at that time with her current memories, she would still choose to go with him. Even if she knew what he'd do 26 years later.
Being an assassin in the syndicate was not an easy-going life. But she had more money and influence than she ever hoped she'd have in her days living in the alleyway. If she survived there for long anyway, which was unlikely.
However, the violet orbs flashed with a crimson light, Kiera's control slipping at the sight of the man who planned her death.
The only reason she didn't outright descend into madness was due to her fondness of Grandemyr, fondness of her current life.
It was comical, the man was responsible for both her life as an assassin on Earth and her life as a magician on Grandemyr.
Taking a few minutes to calm down, Kiera immediately proceeded to the next illusion. And a scene that made her truly quiver in anger and humiliation played.
The meeting hall in the syndicate, where the top brass regularly met to discuss the organization’s current and future moves. The man, Mikhail Odenussa, sat right beside the Pakhan— the boss of the organization.
Behind him, a beautiful woman stood at attention with her hands behind her back, possessing a tall curvy body towering to around 175 centimeters in height, enveloped by a black biker outfit and leather jacket that accentuated her toned muscles. Her long, wavey black hair fell to her waist while hiding the left side of her pristine, emotionless face that was decorated by equally emotionless black eyes.
Twenty-six years passed, and Kiera changed both in appearance and class, becoming a woman of extremely enticing wealth, skills, influence, and of course, body.
Time didn’t affect only her, however, but her savior as well. He was now older, nearing his sixties, the deadliness of his skills not as acute as before. Nevertheless, he developed a cunning mind of no other, his terrifying intellect helping him to ascend to the position of the leader of the organization’s Security Group, one of the Two Spies, the Pahkan’s right and left hand men.
And she was the same Security Group’s second in command, one of the most powerful members of the organization and a senior assassin.
Kiera herself stood there, her violet eyes gazing with intent fury at the meeting’s participants. She noticed her powers were sealed here, albeit weakly. Otherwise, she would’ve probably tried to slaughter everyone in this room to no avail. And even if her mind was healthy, Kiera wouldn’t have been able to hold back the rage buried in her heart, although it was directed at someone living in another world.
All she could do was listen to the conversation, a conversation she knew all too well. It started with pretentious greetings and continued to the serving of tea and snacks nobody touched. Then, management and economic issues, legitimate businesses abroad and in the nation, a listing of the promising recruits, promotions, and other inter-organizational matters.
Followed by the shady businesses, territorial disputes, the renewal of the hit-list, held captives, and so on.
Then came a topic Kiera of that time didn’t expect to hear of, something she knew only the Two Spies and the Pakhan themselves discussed in closed doors. Not something subordinates like herself had the right to hear of but only sent to take care of— the inter-organizational hit-list. The list of members that threaten the highest authorities of the organization, either with their meteoric rise of influence within the syndicate, frightening talent, plans of rebellion, snitches, and other such matters.
A dozen names left the Two Spies’ mouths, names of people Kiera recognized well and even worked with before, but to secure her safety, she couldn’t show any reaction at the time.
However, her mentor’s subsequent words she remembered well, still able to feel the extreme unease they brought to her as they reverberated in the room and the coldness that permeated her body as each word brushed against her ears.
“As you are all aware, a monster is growing within our ranks in the last few decades,” his sudden words prompted a nod from the Solntsevskaya’s founder, or rather, the whole table’s.
“A person can be an artist of anything, artist of paintings, clothes, and even food or garbage, whatever they fancy. It all comes down to how good they are at it. And that monster is indeed a magnificent artist— her art? None but death itself. Therefore, I request the authorization to announce the Cell Protocol in this meeting.”
“Protocol permitted,” the Pakhan answered laconically and placed his hand beneath the table, seemingly pressing something.
The grown Kiera immediately sprung into action, not bothering with the sitting men that commanded the organization as she ran to doors, the realization she was one of the inter-organizational targets striking her far too late and far too unprepared.
However, her escape was halted by the sudden appearance of sliding metal doors that covered the normal exit.
Kiera clenched her teeth, unable to move her gaze from her grown self— who spun around with an aggressive expression, obviously choosing to fight. The meeting room was a weapons-free zone, a rule even the Pakhan honored, so the Earthly Kiera was decently confident in her escape.
That until she saw the gas masks on the table’s participants, the sudden chest pain striking her a second later.
She collapsed on her knees, clenching her chest as hoarse moans of agony escaped from her lips, followed by extreme nausea, dizziness, and vomit. The grown Kiera struggled to lift her head, her cloudy eye gazing right at the man who raised her, curious as to why, why did he betray her.
The latter’s face was hidden behind the mask, but the ridicule in his eyes was apparent before he followed his colleagues through a hidden exit, not leaving his dying protege a second glance.
In the end, the grown Kiera’s eyes only held intense curiosity when she looked at his leaving figure, shortly collapsing on her face, dying. Curiosity was what started that relationship, and it was also present at its end.
Kiera looked at her twitching past self, humiliation and anger already pushing back her reason as hints of mana gathered in the surrounding air, her violet-white hair rising due to the illusory air current the supernatural energy made.
BOOM
The Tyrannical Lightning broke the loose seal as she punched the air, prompting the memory to shatter and the void to appear.
Pain.
Unbearable pain.
Pain that made every other type of agony she ever experienced akin to a gentle massage.
Pain not to her flesh, but to her soul, pain that didn’t merely affect her psyche due to its excruciating impact on her body. But pain that directly targeted her soul— the core of her being.
Pain that made her claw her head and skull, pain that made her scream in such intensity her throat split and bones break from her shivering.
Pain coming from her regret.