"Hey!" Father Gabriel finally spoke, his voice snapping through the tense atmosphere. "My church isn’t a damn meeting place! Why are we here?"

  We all turned to look at Valen Mordane—or at least his body.

  Lena narrowed her eyes. "So, who really are you?"

  The figure—now clearly not Mordane—sighed. "Like I said, I was a soul. Well, to be exact, I was a sword master in my past life."

  His expression shifted, the faint confidence in his stance suddenly twisting into something else—fear.

  "Wait," he muttered. "What year is it?"

  Lena answered without hesitation. "112 A. Why?"

  The man’s face completely changed. "It’s been 1,000 years?!"

  My stomach dropped.

  The room fell into dead silence.

  Lena’s brow furrowed. "You’re telling me you’ve been dead for a millennium?"

  The count of the year in this world’s calendar changes every ten years.

  He suddenly reached for his face, his fingers running over his jaw, almost as if he had forgotten it wasn’t his own.

  Then, with a slow breath, he straightened himself. "Well… I think I remember my name."

  He looked up at us, silver eyes flickering with something unreadable.

  "It’s Javier Abadiano."

  I stared at him, trying to piece everything together, but something else was bothering me.

  I felt his gaze settle on me again. Not just casually. Not like he was just scanning the room.

  No—he was actively watching me.

  I tensed.

  Why does he keep looking at me?

  A cold realization hit me.

  Wait… is he gay?!

  His voice broke the tension.

  "Let me get this right," he said slowly, rubbing his temples. "I’m in the body of Valen Mordane, I’m a Grand Inquisitor, and now I have to keep acting like him… correct?"

  Without hesitation, all of our voices harmonized.

  "Yes."

  Javier blinked, looking around at us like we had just forced a divine burden onto his shoulders.

  Ravyn was the first to break, snickering under his breath. "Man, sucks to be you."

  Javier exhaled, muttering something in a language I didn’t recognize before pinching the bridge of his nose. "A thousand years dead, and the first thing I have to do is play politics? Unbelievable."

  Lena crossed her arms. "Well, you could always tell everyone the truth—see how that goes for you."

  "Yeah, No thanks."

  A sudden, deafening thud echoed from the church doors.

  Boom!

  "THIS IS THE INQUISITION! OPEN THE DOOR!"

  Before we could even process it, another voice shouted over the first.

  "MOVE, MOVE!"

  Heavy footsteps. Armor clanking. A full squad.

  Then, a third voice—louder, more commanding, filled with barely contained rage.

  "VALEN MORDANE! COME OUT!"

  The air in the church turned ice cold.

  Javier—formerly Valen—stiffened. His silver eyes darted toward the entrance.

  Lena’s hand shot to her daggers. "Great. So much for a breather."

  Ravyn groaned. "Why do they always have such bad timing?"

  Gabriel looked ready to pass out. "I TOLD YOU ALL THIS WOULD HAPPEN!"

  But before any of us could react—

  A quiet voice, barely above a whisper, cut through the chaos.

  The Saintess—who had remained eerily silent this entire time—finally spoke.

  Her golden eyes widened slightly. Her hands trembled just the smallest bit.

  And then—

  "Dad?"

  The room froze.

  My breath caught in my throat.

  Wait… what?

  The doors slammed open.

  A wave of armored figures poured in—holy knights, their polished armor gleaming in the dim light of the church. They moved with brutal efficiency, weapons drawn, shields raised, ready to strike at a moment’s notice.

  And at the center of it all, standing at the threshold, was a man who radiated absolute authority.

  Baron Callis Evendawn.

  His piercing gaze swept across the room before locking onto Javier—Valen Mordane’s body. His face twisted in sheer disdain.

  "Tsk." The Baron clicked his tongue, stepping forward. "Valen Mordane, you have breached our contract."

  His voice boomed through the church, thick with anger and control.

  Then, his eyes landed on Elza.

  "And my daughter—give her back!"

  The Saintess stood still, her expression unreadable. She didn’t run to him. She didn’t move at all.

  Javier, however, did move.

  He straightened his posture, rolling his shoulders as if shaking off stiffness. Then, in the most casual tone imaginable, he spoke.

  "Your daughter?" Javier raised an eyebrow. "You mean the one you tried to sacrifice?"

  The room shifted.

  Some of the knights faltered. Their fingers tightened around their weapons.

  But Baron Callis? He didn’t even flinch.

  Javier crossed his arms. "Yeah. I’m not giving her to you."

  The Baron’s eyes darkened. "Do you not see the situation right now?"

  He stepped aside slightly, letting the torchlight spill onto the outside streets—revealing dozens more holy knights, standing in perfect formation.

  A full army.

  Lena inhaled sharply. "Well, shit."

  The Baron exhaled slowly, his voice calm but dangerous. "I don’t know what made you change your mind, Valen. I don’t care."

  His tone dropped lower, colder.

  "But right now… you’re as good as dead."

  The Saintess stepped forward, her golden eyes unwavering as she faced her father.

  "Father," she said, her voice calm but cutting, "do you really think that if you kill all of us, you can just hide it?"

  Without a second thought, Baron Callis Evendawn replied, his expression unreadable.

  "Yes," he said. "I can."

  No hesitation. No doubt.

  Lena sucked in a sharp breath. Even some of the knights flinched at how casually he admitted it.

  But Elza didn’t look surprised. In fact, she expected it.

  "I knew you would say that," she said, her voice steady. "Which is why I already prepared for such a case. Just let us leave the kingdom peacefully, and this news won’t spread."

  The Baron narrowed his eyes. "Hah. Are you threatening me? And who would even side with you?"

  Elza’s lips curved into the slightest smile.

  "The High Pontiff."

  The change in the Baron’s face was instant.

  His entire body tensed. His once calm and overbearing demeanor cracked, his jaw tightening. His fingers twitched at his sides.

  For the first time since entering, he hesitated.

  Then—he clicked his tongue in frustration.

  "Tsk. Fuck." His teeth clenched as he turned to the knights. "Let them through."

  The knights immediately stiffened. Some exchanged glances, clearly caught off guard, but no one questioned it.

  A path opened.

  Just like that.

  Gabriel, who had been frozen in pure terror this entire time, finally spoke up in a rushed whisper.

  "Hey, I live here. Am I supposed to just go with you guys now?!"

  I sighed. "Yeah, pretty much."

  Gabriel buried his face in his hands. "Son of a bitch…"

  ...

  Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

  The wagon shifted and creaked, the wooden wheels groaning under the weight of our escape. The kingdom’s towering walls were fading into the distance, swallowed by the night.

  Inside, Father Gabriel sat with his arms crossed, looking absolutely miserable.

  "What the hell?!" he suddenly burst out. "I got kicked out of my own church! And my kingdom!"

  I leaned back against the wooden side of the wagon, exhaling. "It’s better than being dead."

  Gabriel shot me a glare. "Oh, thank you, Eli. That makes me feel so much better!"

  Lena, who had been massaging her temples, groaned. "Just shut up, Gabriel."

  Gabriel immediately straightened up, his expression shifting. "Yes, my angel, it is an honor to hear my name come out of your mouth."

  Lena froze, her eye twitching.

  Gabriel wisely shut up and just sat down.

  Ravyn, who had been eerily quiet this whole time, finally spoke up.

  "Apologies, Saintess, if this wagon does not suit your taste."

  I blinked.

  Lena blinked.

  Even Gabriel briefly forgot his misery to glance at him.

  Why the hell is he talking so formally?

  Elza, sitting across from him, remained composed. Her soft, calm voice reached our ears.

  "It’s fine," she said. "And please, call me Elza. I am no longer a Saintess."

  Ravyn nodded slightly. "Understood."

  Then he leaned back, arms crossed, staring out at the road like nothing was weird at all.

  I exchanged a glance with Lena.

  She mouthed, What the fuck?

  I had no idea either.

  "Ravyn," I said, narrowing my eyes. "What was that? How did you come back from the dead—twice?"

  He barely even glanced at me. "Huh? Why do you care?!"

  I stared at him. "Why do I care?"

  Gabriel threw his hands up. "Because normal people don’t just revive mid-battle like it’s a casual Tuesday!"

  Lena scoffed. "Yeah, what the hell was that? You got impaled, and the next thing we know, you’re standing back up like nothing happened."

  Ravyn sighed dramatically, rubbing the back of his neck. "Ugh. Why are you all so obsessed with me?"

  Mark, who had been silent this whole time, finally spoke.

  "Answer the question."

  The entire wagon went silent.

  Even Ravyn paused for a second.

  Then he sighed, rolling his shoulders. "Tch. Fine."

  He looked at me, his usual arrogance slightly dimmed.

  "Look, I don’t know the details, alright? It just happens. I die. I come back. Shattered Death or some crap." He shrugged. "Not like I chose to have it."

  Lena frowned. "So you don’t know the full extent of your own ability?"

  Ravyn grinned. "Nope. But it sure as hell keeps things exciting, huh?"

  Gabriel buried his face in his hands. "We're all so screwed."

  "Is it a divine blessing?" I asked, watching him closely.

  Ravyn let out a dry chuckle. "Divine blessing? More like a curse."

  His usual smug expression faltered for just a second—just long enough for me to notice.

  Lena caught it too. "A curse, huh?" she muttered, tapping her fingers against the wooden bench. "That mean you can't die? Or is there a limit?"

  Ravyn shrugged. "Haven't exactly tested it."

  Gabriel peeked up from his hands. "So what, do we just assume you can keep dying over and over like some kind of immortal idiot?"

  Ravyn grinned. "Hey, if you wanna stab me and find out, be my guest."

  Gabriel actually looked like he was considering it.

  I sighed, rubbing my temples. "Well, whether it’s a blessing or a curse, you’re still standing, so I guess it doesn’t matter right now."

  Elza, who had been listening quietly, finally spoke.

  "I wouldn’t be so sure about that."

  All of us turned to her.

  She met Ravyn’s gaze, her golden eyes steady. "A power like that… it always comes with a price."

  Ravyn’s smirk didn’t waver, but I saw the slight tension in his jaw.

  "Yeah?" he said casually. "Guess I’ll worry about that when the bill comes due."

  I turned my attention to Mark, who was quietly steering the wagon, his massive frame barely shifting with the bumps in the road.

  "Hey, Mark," I asked, "where are we going?"

  Without missing a beat, he responded.

  "Home."

  I frowned. "Home?"

  Lena raised an eyebrow. "You mean our home, right? Not, like, some cryptic nonsense?"

  Mark simply nodded.

  Ravyn stretched his arms behind his head. "Oh, finally. I could use some rest after, you know, dying twice."

  Gabriel groaned. "You died, got kicked out of a kingdom, and your biggest concern is rest?"

  Ravyn smirked. "Well, that and food. But yeah, mostly rest."

  I sighed, leaning back against the wagon. "Home, huh?"

  Something about that word made me uneasy.

  Because for me?

  I wasn’t even sure where that was anymore.

  ...

  The wagon finally came to a halt.

  I recognized the spot instantly—the same familiar rock, slightly weathered but unmistakable.

  Elza peered out from the wagon, her golden eyes scanning the area. "Is this where you guys live?"

  Ravyn, without a word, hopped out first. He strode over to the rock and placed his hand against its rough surface.

  A soft click echoed, followed by a deep, mechanical grinding noise.

  The rock shifted.

  Stone rumbled as the concealed entrance unlocked, revealing a dark passage leading into the hideout. Cool air drifted from within, carrying the scent of earth and something old.

  Ravyn glanced back at us, smirking.

  "Come inside."

  The moment the entrance opened, Ravyn vanished inside without another word, leaving the rest of us standing outside the wagon.

  Gabriel crossed his arms, scowling. "Why is he in such a rush?"

  Without even thinking, all of us answered at the same time.

  "We don’t know."

  Gabriel threw his hands up. "Of course! Why do I even bother asking?!"

  Lena sighed, stepping off the wagon. "Let’s just go inside before he does something stupid."

  I followed, glancing toward the now-open entrance. Something about Ravyn’s sudden disappearance felt off.

  He wasn’t just eager to be home.

  He was running toward something. Or maybe… away from something.

  And I was wrong. Very wrong.

  The hideout was completely different from how we had left it.

  The piles of gold, weapons, and stolen goods that were once scattered everywhere were now neatly stored in organized stacks.

  The dust-covered tables? Wiped clean.

  The mess of old maps, empty bottles, and half-eaten food? Gone.

  It didn’t look like a rogue hideout anymore. It looked… livable.

  I stepped further inside, trying to process what I was seeing.

  "How the hell…?"

  Lena frowned, crossing her arms. "Did we… get robbed, but like, in reverse?"

  Gabriel blinked. "Okay, who did this? Because I know for a fact it wasn’t Mark."

  Mark shook his head. "No."

  I slowly turned to the only person missing from the wagon.

  Lena caught on immediately. "No way."

  We all turned the corner—

  And there he was.

  Ravyn.

  Sitting at a table, casually drinking from a stolen wine bottle, looking completely unbothered.

  Gabriel pointed at him. "YOU?!"

  Ravyn raised an eyebrow. "Me?"

  I gestured around the room. "You did all of this?!"

  He shrugged, taking another sip. "Yeah. So?"

  Lena stared at him like he had grown a second head. "You—You don't clean. You cause messes. You are a mess."

  Ravyn stretched lazily. "And yet, here we are."

  Gabriel collapsed into a chair. "I have seen too much today."

  I was still struggling to understand it. "But... why?"

  Ravyn finally smirked. "Had to do something while I was waiting for you guys. And, well…" He leaned back, kicking his feet up on the table.

  "Figured you’d be extra confused."

  "You did this in what? Minutes?" I asked, still trying to process what I was looking at. "You were just barely in front of us earlier!"

  Ravyn, without missing a beat, turned to Elza and said, "Yes."

  Silence.

  We all slowly turned to look at each other, realization sinking in at the exact same time.

  "... Ohhh."

  Lena sighed, rubbing her temples. "Right. Of course. Super speed, or some broken rogue skill, or whatever ridiculous ability you have."

  Gabriel just slumped against a wall. "I'm too tired for this."

  Ravyn smirked. "You should’ve seen your faces, though."

  Javier, who hadn’t spoken since we left the kingdom, suddenly tugged my arm.

  I turned, startled. "What?"

  His silver eyes met mine, his expression unreadable. "I need to talk to you."

  My mind immediately went to the worst possible conclusion.

  What the hell? Is he gonna confess to me?!

  Lena, who had been sipping from a flask, choked.

  Ravyn, ever the menace, grinned. "Oho? Eli, didn’t take you for the type to attract ancient swordsmen."

  Gabriel, horrified, leaned away from us like he had just witnessed a crime.

  I cleared my throat, taking a step back. "Uh… talk about what?"

  Javier’s grip tightened.

  "Privately."

  Oh hell no.

  In a small room with only a dim light flickering above us, Javier stepped closer to my face.

  WHAT THE HELL?!

  Instinct kicked in.

  I shoved him back. "Dude, personal space!"

  Javier barely stumbled, just blinking at me. "Ah, sorry." His voice was calm, completely unbothered. "I was just curious about you having Zareth’s Eye."

  My blood froze.

  "Pardon?" My voice came out a little too sharp. "Zareth?"

  Javier tilted his head, studying me.

  Shit. Shit.

  If he knew about Zareth, then he might figure out I wasn’t from this world.

  I forced my expression to stay neutral, but my mind was racing.

  I had no idea if he was friend or enemy.

  And right now?

  I couldn’t afford to slip up.

  "Yes, Zareth," Javier said, his voice calm—too calm. "I remember him. And how he tortured me to death."

  I exhaled sharply. That sounds like something he would do.

  Javier's gaze slowly drifted downward, landing on Nyxrend.

  His silver eyes narrowed slightly. "And that sword… I originally wielded it."

  My grip on Nyxrend tightened.

  For a moment, the air in the room felt heavier. Was he about to demand it back? Was this going to turn into a fight?

  But before I could overthink it further, Javier raised a hand in a calm gesture.

  "Don't worry," he said. "You can keep it. And you don’t have to answer about the eye."

  I hesitated. What?

  Javier folded his arms. "I actually called you in here for a whole different reason."

  I didn’t relax just yet. "Which is?"

  Javier’s expression didn’t change. "The icon on top of your head."

  I blinked. "What?"

  Instinctively, I glanced up. Nothing. Just empty air.

  Javier exhaled, shaking his head. "Ah, my bad. Of course, you wouldn’t see anything." He cleared his throat, his silver eyes narrowing. "But I do."

  He hesitated for a moment before saying, "An eye surrounded by a set of teeth."

  A chill ran down my spine.

  I had never heard anything about an icon being above me. Never felt anything unusual.

  But the way he said it—so casually, yet serious—sent a clear message.

  This wasn’t something normal.

  Javier crossed his arms. "I must warn you—Skill Eater is an incredibly powerful skill to possess. There are two versions of it, and the one you have is the first."

  I clenched my fists. "And what does that mean?"

  Javier’s gaze flickered above my head again, as if reading something only he could see.

  "The one you have," he continued, "helps you adapt to situations and learn fast."

  I swallowed. That… explained a lot.

  "And the other version?" I asked carefully.

  Javier’s silver eyes darkened.

  "The other one," he said, his voice quieter now, "is exactly what the name suggests."

  He paused.

  "It eats skills."

  I narrowed my eyes. "Wait, how did you see an icon?" I stepped closer, lowering my voice. "Can anyone see it?"

  Javier let out a short laugh. "Hahaha, you shouldn't worry."

  Before I could react, he grabbed my shoulders, his grip firm.

  "I can only see it because…" He paused, silver eyes locking onto mine.

  "Because I also wield it."

  Wait… what?

  I tensed. "Hold on—what?"

  Javier let go of my shoulders and sighed. "Remember when I said Zareth tortured me? He did that to make sure I would never be able to use Skill Eater again."

  My stomach dropped.

  Zareth wasn’t just cruel—he was meticulous. If he went that far, it meant he saw Javier as an actual threat.

  I swallowed. "How did he find out?"

  Javier’s expression darkened slightly, like he was recalling something distant—something he regretted.

  "I was hungry for power." He clenched his jaw. "And thus… I revealed myself."

  "Hungry for power?" I asked, narrowing my eyes. "What do you mean?"

  Javier exhaled, his lips curling into a small, almost bitter grin.

  "Well, I was hungry for power. I couldn’t stop." He crossed his arms, leaning back slightly. "I wanted more, to the point where I set my sights on stealing from the Number One Demon Lord."

  I froze. "Mor'Zhul?"

  Javier nodded. "And I failed miserably."

  I swallowed hard. "How far did you get?"

  His grin widened slightly. "I stole their skills up to the 9th Demon Lord."

  I felt my breath hitch.

  "Steal? Stole?"*

  I clenched my fists. "Wait. If you steal their skills, does that mean they lose them? Like, they just… can’t use them anymore?"

  Javier chuckled. "Go ahead and ask your questions."

  I steadied myself. "The way you’re describing Skill Eater… you had the second version, correct?"

  "Yes."

  "Then, when you stole their skills, did you actually take them away? Were they left powerless?"

  Javier shook his head. "Not exactly. I didn’t truly steal them."

  I frowned. "Then what did you do?"

  He tapped his temple. "I copied their powers. Perfectly."

  My stomach dropped.

  That was… insanely powerful.

  One more question burned in my mind. I hesitated, then asked, "Can you still use it? The powers? The Skill Eater?"

  Javier paused. Then, in a calm voice, he said,

  "Yes. Eventually."

  I tensed. "Eventually?"

  He smirked. "Currently, I can only use 1% of my power."

  Before I could ask anything else, the door creaked open.

  Mark stepped in without a word, his towering frame casting a long shadow over the dimly lit room.

  He didn’t speak. Instead, he raised a hand and made a simple gesture—a sharp motion toward the door, then tapping his fingers together.

  Dinner.

  I glanced at Javier, who simply nodded as if nothing we had just talked about was out of the ordinary.

  "Guess that’s our cue," I muttered.

  Javier smirked. "I am starving."

  With that, we stepped out of the room and followed Mark toward the dining table.

  The dining hall was lively—a stark contrast to the storm inside my head.

  Laughter echoed as plates clattered, wine poured freely, and the faint scent of roasted meat and fresh bread filled the air. Lena and Gabriel were already bickering about something stupid, while Ravyn was way too focused on stuffing his face. Even Elza, despite everything that had happened, sat calmly at the table, sipping her drink like nothing was out of place.

  And yet… I barely heard any of it.

  Because my mind was elsewhere.

  Javier’s words lingered in my head.

  "I copied their powers. Perfectly."

  I gripped the edge of the table, staring down at my reflection in the silver plate.

  Skill Eater.

  I had barely scratched the surface of what I could do. Javier had copied the abilities of nine Demon Lords. And if that was the second version of Skill Eater… then what was the first version’s true potential?

  Could I… surpass him?

  Could I surpass everyone?

  If I kept growing stronger, if I truly mastered Skill Eater—then wouldn’t I be able to stand against anyone?

  Even the Demon Lords?

  I exhaled slowly.

  The thought was dangerous. Reckless. But it had already taken root in my mind.

  Did I really need to choose between humans or demons?

  What if I became powerful enough that it didn’t matter?

  What if I simply killed them all?

  I clenched my fists. No. That wasn’t the plan. That wasn’t the mission.

  And yet…

  "Eli?"

  I blinked, snapping back to reality.

  Lena was staring at me, one eyebrow raised. "You okay? You’ve been spacing out for like, a full minute."

  Gabriel, already a little tipsy, waved his cup dramatically. "He’s just thinking about how screwed we all are!"

  Ravyn, mouth full, snorted. "Let him overthink. More food for me."

  I forced a smirk. "Nah, just… taking it all in."

  Lena studied me for a second longer before shrugging. "Whatever you say."

  Javier, across the table, met my gaze briefly. He knew what I was thinking. He could see it.

  But he didn’t say anything.

  For now, I let the tension slip away.

  I pushed the thoughts aside, picked up my fork, and joined in on the chaos.

  Because tonight—for once—felt normal.