Bellatris stood at the center of the crowd and gave her judgment as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

"Draw."

It dropped like a pebble into a still lake—no warning, no buildup. Just one word.

"W-What?"

"Excuse me?"

Eyes widened.

Mouths dropped.

Confusion rippled through both sides like a shockwave.

Jhin's team blinked in disbelief.

Nazoral's team looked like they'd been slapped.

The one who'd obviously won. The one who'd soloed the dungeon in record time. And yet—

A draw?

Bellatris frowned. "What's with the faces? Y'all look like I just stepped on your pet."

One of Nazoral's teammates stepped forward, face flushed with frustration. "W-With all due respect, Miss Bellatris, Nazoral cleared the dungeon in just over eleven hours. Isn't that clearly superior? How could this possibly be a draw?"

Others echoed the sentiment. Time was a metric. Wasn't it?

But Bellatris just stared at them like they'd missed the obvious.

"Did I ever say this was a race?" she said flatly.

"…What?"

"My condition was to show me a Kyle-style dungeon clear. That's it. And both of them did."

She waved her hand as if dismissing their complaints like flies. They still didn't get it.

"Both sides demonstrated outstanding ability. That was the task."

Still not convinced, Nazoral's team kept quiet—barely.

Bellatris gave a slow, exaggerated sigh and said, "Okay, let me spell it out for the dense ones."

She turned to one of them. "What's your level?"

"Uh… 101, ma'am?"

"And what level were you before the dungeon?"

"…101."

"Right." Bellatris pivoted, now facing Jhin's team. Her eyes narrowed.

"You?" she asked the nearest member.

He cleared his throat. "I'm 107 now."

"Before you went in?"

"97."

The room fell silent.

Same dungeon. Same difficulty. But one team walked out with a 10-level gain across the board.

Bellatris's expression turned sharp.

Someone from Nazoral's side muttered suspiciously, "Maybe it was rigged… Didn't you plant higher-level players from the start?"

Bellatris stopped mid-breath.

"…What did you say?"

Her voice dropped low—too low. The tone sharpened like a blade.

"You think I rigged it?" Her eyes, small and childlike, were now searing hot.

The crowd shrank back instinctively.

She crossed her arms and said coldly, "Both sides completed the assignment. Both displayed K-level dungeon clears. So yes—draw is the right call."

People shifted, murmuring uncomfortably.

Because the truth was—she wasn't wrong.

Nazoral had solo-cleared a D-Rank dungeon in just over eleven hours. Impressive.

But Jhin? He'd turned a bunch of amateurs into near-centurions in less than half a day.

Ten level-ups in one run.

A different kind of mastery—but mastery nonetheless.

Bellatris pinched the bridge of her nose and grumbled, "Or we could just call them both Kyle, you know?"

"No!" someone shouted. "That's unacceptable!"

It was Nazoral's team, of course.

"We demand a rematch!"

Bellatris raised an eyebrow. "Hmm…"

She tapped her chin, then slowly smiled. Not kindly—mischievously.

"Well… how about this?"

Elsewhere – In the Depths

Flickering torchlight cast long shadows over the damp, cold cavern walls. Several hooded figures stood beneath swaying lanterns, their faces hidden behind elaborate masks.

Even if they'd removed their hoods, no one would've recognized them.

Because these people? They were ghosts.

"…So the real Kyle has shown up in Ark," one murmured.

A man known only as Felix—a senior figure in the Company, often called "the Farmer"—nodded gravely.

"His current level?"

"He's around 150, last we heard."

Felix clenched his jaw. "He was barely 100 just days ago…"

"That's Kyle for you. Good thing we found him when we did."

The rest of the room filled with hushed curses and muttering. Every person there had a personal reason to hate Kyle—and most were executives in the Company.

Another voice chimed in. "We heard there's going to be a challenge over the 'Lizardman's Well.'"

"A what now?"

"Bellatris's plan. Based on their contribution there, she'll determine who the real Kyle is."

Felix's eyes narrowed.

That meant Ark had officially declared its intent to raid the C-Rank Dungeon, "The Lizardman's Well."

Smiles twisted across several faces.

"Well then," someone said. "Time to prepare a welcome party."

"Was getting bored, anyway."

Felix scanned the room, tension flickering behind his eyes. His companions, though, looked calm. Too calm.

"Don't get cocky," he said. "It's Kyle we're talking about."

"We know. But he's just a kid now."

"…You remember he took the Ghost Train, right?"

They laughed.

"Still haunted by the past, eh, Croc?" one said mockingly. "Don't be so uptight."

"Not uptight. Just careful."

"You always overthink. You know his current power can't match what he had. This isn't some Ghost Train scenario. This is a C-Rank raid. And he's 150 at best."

"Still…" Felix murmured.

Was he overreacting?

He hadn't been like this before.

The past Kyle isn't the Kyle we're facing now.

This was a C-Rank Dungeon. The boss was level 200. The gap was massive.

There's no way he can change the outcome here…

And then—

A heavy presence stirred near the mouth of the cave.

A dragging sound. A thudding step. And then a deep voice, low and guttural, echoing through the dark:

"You bastards the ones they call Company?"

A hulking figure emerged—not human.

A mouth like a crocodile's. A massive tail dragging along the ground. Scales like armor, glistening under the torchlight.

The Lizard King.

The boss of the C-Rank dungeon "Lizardman's Well."

The final piece in Bellatris's test.

And just seeing the thing made one thing painfully clear:

If they were still worried about Kyle… that might've already been too late.

Bellatris's terms for selecting the real Kyle were simple.

The one who contributed more in the C-Rank dungeon, Lizardman's Well, would be declared the victor.

At first, people balked. That was it? Just contribution? But the more they thought about it, the more it made sense. Soon, cheers erupted across Ark.

A proper wager—fitting for someone called Kyle.

A C-Rank dungeon was finally high enough to serve as a real measuring stick. And not just any dungeon. It was the dungeon. The one that had tormented Ark for far too long.

"Once we clear a C-Rank, we'll know who the real Kyle is for sure."

"No kidding. Bet that fake's sweating right now."

"You wish."

The previous wager had already split Ark down the middle—two rising factions clashing behind their chosen 'Kyle'.

One side, loyal to Nazoral—the polished, domineering player who'd earned fear through brute force and dark charisma.

The other, gathering behind Jhin, whose bizarre yet undeniable dungeon strategy had left players blinking and questioning everything they thought they knew.

Each claimed their champion was the real Kyle. And this time, the outcome would matter more than ever.

It might not even be about who the real one is anymore…

Jhin's gaze swept over the volunteers who'd gathered around him. Familiar faces, and new ones. Some he trusted—others he wasn't so sure about.

Luke hadn't come. He admitted he wasn't strong enough for a C-Rank run.

Caleb had other business, too.

Still, plenty had signed up.

But Jhin knew better than to mistake them for believers.

They're not here because they trust I'm the real Kyle. They're here because they don't want Nazoral to be.

In other words, they were simply betting on the lesser evil.

And Jhin understood them. Nazoral's reign of fear and intimidation had worn thin.

But I'll be damned if I let him take Kyle from me.

Kyle wasn't just a name. It was everything.

He had no backing. No fortune. No titles.

In a world where reality had become a game, that name was his only real asset—his one irreplaceable achievement.

Before they left, Bellatris addressed both parties with her usual detached tone.

"No team-killing, got it? Focus on clearing the dungeon."

She threw in a few more half-hearted warnings, waving them off like it was all a school field trip.

Jhin tuned her out. He was already leading his group through Sector 3 and beyond the Ark's outer defenses.

Just past there: the Lizardman front lines.

Ed, who'd followed him since the D-Rank dungeon, checked the map on his phone.

"If we push through that perimeter, it's a straight shot to the Illumination gate. But I'd suggest we detour. These guys aren't stupid."

Lizardman's Well had first appeared in the Illumination gate the day Exodia 2 opened. After two dungeon breaks, it had become a proper C-Rank.

Which meant—

We'll have to get through the remnants of those breaks before we even touch the real dungeon.

Ed explained as much.

"If we strike first, they'll counter fast. They've got a pattern—go around and hit the Ark directly."

The Lizardmen were smart enough to use that tactic. Their numbers were massive, and while Ark's players were stronger, they were spread thin.

"It's not about who's stronger. It's about who runs out of bodies first."

Which was why most preferred a surgical approach—avoid unnecessary confrontation.

But Jhin shook his head.

"We go straight through."

"What?"

"No reason to worry about Ark anymore."

Why hadn't the Lizardman perimeter ever been broken before?

Because there was no one powerful enough to lead the charge.

If Bellatris joined the raid, Ark would be vulnerable. But if she stayed behind, the dungeon couldn't be cleared.

She couldn't be in two places at once, genius or not.

But now? That was no longer a problem.

KWAANG!

A thunderous crack rang out.

Nazoral's team surged forward like a spear of darkness, his Calamity Dagger slicing through the vanguard.

A swarm of black steel and killing intent pierced into the monster ranks without hesitation.

"They've started," Jhin said. "Let's move."

And so his team followed.

The two forces, like twin storms, ripped through the Lizardman army from opposite flanks.

The perimeter collapsed.

The Lizardmen, true to their nature, attempted a counter—redirecting forces toward Ark in retaliation.

But no one worried.

Not this time.

Because she was there.

Bellatris.

KWAANG!

Jhin's blade sang through scales and sinew. Everywhere he passed, a trail of glimmering frost followed.

On the other side, where Nazoral struck, the world blackened.

A suffocating void followed in his wake.

Ed murmured to himself, staring between them.

"…Honestly, I can't tell which one's real anymore."

All across the battlefield, players shared the thought.

But there would be an answer.

They were headed to the same place.

The C-Rank Dungeon—Lizardman's Well.

Beneath the Surface

The dungeon's entrance yawned before them like a wound in the earth—at least 10 meters wide, a gaping sinkhole.

Its doors looked like something off a submarine—thick, layered, and circular, opening vertically.

Descending into the depths, every breath turned heavy. Every footstep echoed like it had miles to go.

And then—

Awe.

That was the only word for it.

Sunlight filtered through the ceiling of the cavern ahead. The space opened into a massive underground ecosystem, glowing with strange minerals and alien warmth.

It wasn't a cave.

It was a world.

So this is… a C-Rank dungeon in Exodia 2…

Unlike everything they'd seen before, this was no narrow hallway. No series of predictable rooms. This was open terrain—a battlefield.

From a high cliff near the entrance, they could see far into the distance.

And all of them knew it then:

This wasn't just another mission.

It was war.