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The Spirit Queen and Aiden landed inside the dungeon with a sudden rush of energy. As soon as they were safely within its depths, the Queen’s expression darkened. She seemed troubled but said nothing. Without a word, she turned and swiftly left, disappearing into the garden.
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Aiden watched her go, his mind whirling with thoughts. He had conquered death. He could die an infinite number of times and return without consequence. Yet, the Queen—the Astral Princess—was unwilling to return home. Was she afraid? Hiding from something?
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His lips curled into a smirk. He had become something beyond mortal comprehension, an existence that defied fate itself. The weight of his past, his days as a mere carrier struggling to survive, now felt distant—insignificant. Power coursed through his veins, igniting a bold idea in his mind.
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Without hesitation, he left the dungeon, making his way to the closest city. The familiar streets stretched before him, unchanged, but he—he was no longer the same. His eyes gleamed with newfound authority as he observed the ordinary humans around him. Fragile. Mortal. They lived and died within the boundaries of their limitations. But he? He had broken free.
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Luck had played its part, granting him the spirit pebble, but he had seized the opportunity with his own hands. He had dared to challenge the impossible. And now, he wanted more.
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His gaze traveled across the cityscape until it locked onto the tallest, most opulent building—the Earl’s Palace. A slow smile spread across his face.
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Aiden had never set foot inside the Earl’s estate. He knew nothing of its architecture, its secret passageways, or its defenses. But he didn’t need a map. He could sense it—the concentrated pulse of spirit minerals buried deep within the palace, radiating energy from the heart of the main chamber.
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He wasn’t interested in petty thievery. He wasn’t sneaking in like a common burglar. He would take what he wanted, not as a thief, but as someone with the power and will to claim it.
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Afternoon bled into evening. He waited, watching, memorizing the movements of the guards, the shifts in security. As the city dimmed under the approaching night, lanterns flickered to life in the hands of weary travelers.
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Sitting at a small roadside tea shop, Aiden sipped his drink in silence. The moment was near. He placed a single silver coin on the table—a coin worth far more than the measly copper the tea was worth—and vanished.
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The shopkeeper, upon returning, gasped at the sight of the silver gleaming under the lantern’s glow.
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Meanwhile, Aiden stood before the palace’s main gate, his presence a silent declaration. The guards stationed there had no warning. One moment, he was a shadow against the night; the next, he was in motion.
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In an instant, he dashed forward, leaping effortlessly over the gate. The stunned guards barely had time to react.
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"Did—did you see that?" one stammered, his eyes wide with disbelief.
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"Impossible!" the other muttered, turning to search behind the gate.
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But Aiden was gone.
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Realizing the breach, one of them snapped out of his daze. "Intruder!" he shouted, his voice ringing through the night.
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The alarm had been raised.
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Someone had infiltrated the palace.
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Aiden was already deep inside, moving swiftly through the grand hallways toward the Earl’s treasury. Guards stood stationed at every door, their postures rigid, their eyes scanning for any sign of disturbance. But they never saw him coming.
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With a flick of his fingers, Aiden cast a Sleep Spell. One by one, the guards swayed, their weapons clattering to the ground as their bodies slumped into unconsciousness. But it took him a minute to make them fall asleep—it was a time-consuming spell. Silent. Efficient. Yet, every passing second felt like an eternity. He stepped over them, pressing forward.
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As he approached another corridor, more guards stood in formation, making direct confrontation unwise. He extended his hand, weaving an into the air. The magic rippled, twisting the fabric of reality. Within moments, chaos erupted. Some guards began twirling around as if entranced by an invisible melody, others clumsily reached for each other in bizarre, drunken embraces. Laughter, confusion, and muttered curses filled the hallway.
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Aiden smirked. He needed something more precise.
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He turned a corner and spotted two more guards standing at the next gate. This time, he cast .
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One of the guards suddenly dropped his sword, turning to his companion with wide, adoring eyes. “I love you… I love the way you move,” he whispered, wrapping his arms around the stunned man and pulling him into a passionate embrace.
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The other guard barely had time to react before he too was caught in the spell’s grasp. He clutched at the empty air, whispering, “Mother… you came back…” before sighing blissfully and collapsing into deep slumber.
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Aiden chuckled.
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Moving swiftly, he continued using at every checkpoint. Within minutes, the entire palace was silent, its guards lost in dreams.
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Then, he reached his destination—the .
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A massive, rune-etched door loomed before him, pulsing with protective magic. Aiden pressed his palm against it, but the moment he did, a surge of energy pushed him back. The defenses were too strong.
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Instead of wasting time, he teleported. In an instant, he vanished from outside the vault and materialized within.
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Rows of spirit minerals lined the chamber, shimmering under the dim magical lights. Their energy hummed in the air, but Aiden’s attention was elsewhere. His eyes locked onto a large, ornate box sitting atop a pedestal in the center of the room.
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He stepped forward and opened it.
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Inside lay two golden eyeballs—perfectly preserved, gleaming with an eerie radiance. His breath caught.
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The moment he reached out and touched them, a notification appeared before his vision:
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Without hesitation, he accepted.
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The golden eyes melted into his own, fusing with his very being. A sharp pain shot through his skull as his vision blacked out. For a brief moment, he was blind.
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Then—everything changed.
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When his sight returned, the world no longer looked the same. The granted him a level of perception far beyond his spirit sense. He could now see the energy of everything around him—currents of power, hidden formations, invisible traps.
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And that’s when he noticed it.
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Beneath his feet, an intricate rune glowed faintly. He had already triggered it. There was no turning back.
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Aiden moved quickly, scanning the room with his enhanced vision. At the far end, tucked away in a locked drawer, a tiny, unassuming box pulsed with an immense concentration of spirit power.
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With precision, he snatched it and pried it open.
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Inside, a rested in his palm—small, no larger than a child’s toy, but he knew exactly what he was holding.
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His breath hitched.
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There were only a handful of these in existence—an capable of both offense and defense. The king himself had only a few, and the dukes were each granted one. Yet, here it was, hidden away in the Earl’s treasury.
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Without a second thought, he teleported out of the vault and into the city streets.
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He gazed at the miniature resting in his palm. To the untrained eye, it was nothing more than a trinket, but he knew better. A wouldn’t even begin to measure its worth.
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He could sell it and live like a king.
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Or… he could keep it.
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A slow smile crept across his lips. He knew exactly where he was going to activate this treasure.
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The Earl''s fists clenched as a messenger delivered the news. His treasury had been infiltrated. His jaw tightened, his expression twisting into something between disbelief and rage.
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“Someone dared to rob my castle?” His voice thundered through the halls, sending a chill down the spines of those who heard it. He didn’t wait for an answer. His boots struck hard against the marble floor as he stormed toward the vault, his mind a whirlwind of fury. This wasn’t just theft. This was an attack. A challenge.
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The guards scrambled to keep pace, but their fear was divided—half for the thief, half for the Earl himself.
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Reaching the treasure chamber, he ripped a heavy key from his belt and jammed it into the lock. The enchanted door groaned as it swung open, revealing the dimly lit vault within.
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His breath hitched.
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The protective runes shimmered—a clear sign of forced entry. His pulse roared in his ears as his gaze swept across the chamber, searching. And then he saw it.
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Or rather, he didn’t.
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The pedestal at the center stood bare. The Show Eyes—one of his most prized artifacts—was gone.
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A tremor ran through his fingers as he pressed them to his forehead. That treasure should never have left royal hands. And yet, it had vanished.
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He staggered forward, but his steps faltered as his eyes landed on something far worse.
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A drawer at the far end of the room stood wide open. Empty.
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His heart lurched.
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No. No, no, no—
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He rushed over, hands trembling, praying that his worst fear wasn’t true. But the truth was undeniable.
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The Skyship—his S-Grade artifact—had been stolen.
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His knees nearly buckled.
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If word got out… if the Duke learned of this…
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A cold sweat traced down his spine. The consequences would be unthinkable. His power, his influence—everything he had built—rested on these artifacts. Without them, he was vulnerable. And if he didn’t recover them soon, he wouldn’t just lose his wealth. He’d lose his head.
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No. He wouldn’t let that happen.
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His grip tightened as he yanked a map from his coat pocket. The enchanted parchment pulsed, revealing a single marked location. A dungeon.
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On the outskirts of the city.
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His teeth ground together. His fury burned hotter than ever as he turned to his guards.
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“Sound the war horns.” His voice was ice-cold. “Mobilize the army. Now.”
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A tense silence stretched between them before the guards snapped into action, running to fulfill his orders.
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The Earl reached for his sword. The steel gleamed under the flickering torchlight as he drew it with a slow, deliberate motion.
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“We march tonight.”
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With a sweep of his cloak, he strode out of the vault. Behind him, the first echoes of war drums began to beat.
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Across the city, the war drums pounded like a heartbeat of impending doom. Soldiers rushed to their barracks, strapping on armor, fastening their belts, and securing their weapons. The clang of steel echoed as swords were drawn, shields were hoisted, and protective jackets were strapped in place. The night, once peaceful, was now alive with the hurried footsteps of men preparing for battle.
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But outside the castle, chaos spread like wildfire. The townsfolk awoke in confusion, peering out of their windows, whispering in hushed, frantic voices. What had happened? Why was the army mobilizing?
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The city’s guilds demanded answers, their leaders summoning informants, yet no one knew the cause. Even the city guards, sworn protectors of order, stood bewildered—there had been no enemy, no declaration of war. And yet, the town stirred as if on the brink of catastrophe.