Silence fell over the underground stone hall once again, but it was a completely different kind of silence. It was no longer the sacred tranquility of an ancient monastery, but a silence as heavy as an invisible iron curtain. The air was still thick with the faint scent of ozone, like the smell of earth after a thunderstorm, a remnant of the immense energy that had just been transferred and fused into Owen’s body.

He was still sitting on the cold stone floor, but the chill no longer penetrated his body. On the contrary… he felt a heat circulating within him like never before. He was trying to regulate his breathing and familiarize himself with the “ocean” of mana that had now become a part of him. It was no longer a shallow F-level puddle, but a vast, deep expanse, unbelievably calm and powerful… The feeling was both awesome and captivating at the same time.

Tenzin unclasped his hands. He straightened up with a smile of genuine delight. The smile softened the wrinkles of age on his face. “Congratulations, 69th Guardian… You have accomplished what few could. The Essence of Dreams has now accepted you.”

However, the smile remained on the old monk’s face for only a moment before it quickly faded, replaced by a look of urgent concern, as if an alarm was ringing in his mind. The sudden change made Owen, who was about to express his thanks, stop the words at his lips.

“I do not wish to rush you like this…” Tenzin said, his voice returning to a solemnity, deeper than before. “Especially after your spirit has just been through the most grueling of tests… but the situation is no longer favorable.”

The old monk spun around to the staircase leading to the outside world, his gaze seeming to pierce through the dozens of meters of thick stone walls to the forest above.

“Some ‘nightmares’ have already escaped from the seal of the Dream Dimension.”

Those words made Owen’s heart jolt as if it had been yanked. The air that had just felt so powerful now turned chilling.

“I can still contain them for now within the ‘veil of mist’ you saw,” Tenzin pointed in the same direction. “But it is merely buying time. They are gnawing at my seal as quickly as a swarm of starving termites. If this is left for much longer… I fear even I will not be able to control it.”

He turned back to meet Owen’s eyes directly. The gaze that had always been so calm was now filled with unconcealed urgency. “And when that happens… your friends and the others trapped in there will no longer be facing mere ‘illusions’ from their subconscious… but they will become ‘tangible’ beings… monsters from nightmares that will hunt them down and tear them to pieces, to savor the taste of fear and despair.”

Immense pressure slammed into Owen. He felt as if a heavy stone was crushing his chest, making it hard to breathe. The images of Clara, Damian, and Julian in mortal danger flashed clearly in his mind. He had to go save them… now!

But then another harsh reality intruded on his thoughts…

‘Damn it… my quota for [Scales of Covenant] this month is already used up!’

The thought made cold sweat bead on his hairline like mushrooms. The feeling of power from a moment ago vanished in an instant. To fight tangible “nightmares” without his most powerful trump card was no different from sending an unarmed soldier to war. The confidence he had just gained was shaken to its core, but there was no way he would let Tenzin know this secret. It was the one weakness that could ruin everything.

Owen swallowed hard, trying to hide his anxiety behind the calmest expression he could muster, before choosing to bring up another real problem he had. “I understand the situation,” he said, pushing himself to his feet with a steady motion. “But… I don’t even have my own ‘weapon.’ How am I supposed to fight with just my bare hands and a power I can’t even control well yet?”

It was a perfectly reasonable excuse for a newly awakened… and the only part of the truth he dared to speak.

Tenzin nodded slowly, as if he had already anticipated this. The trace of worry on his face relaxed slightly, becoming one of understanding. “I know,” he said in a calmer voice. “That is what I am about to arrange for you… A Guardian cannot fight with bare hands.”

The old monk turned and led the way to another stone wall on the other side of the hall. “Follow me. I will take you to… the ‘Dream Armory’… a place filled with the weapons of past Guardians… and the place where you will choose your new partner.”

…..

Tenzin led Owen down a dim stone corridor that branched off from the main hall in silence. With every step deeper, the surrounding atmosphere grew noticeably colder. Only the faint, orange glow from magical torches that blazed at intervals along the walls cast their two shadows, long and distorted, upon the ancient stone walls like formless, dancing phantoms.

Finally, they came to a stop before a massive stone door. It was a door with no handle, hinges, or any visible mechanism. The door was carved with complex patterns of stars and waves that seemed to move slowly, as if alive.

Tenzin placed his palm gently on the center of the door. A soft blue energy spread from his hand, flowing along the carved lines until the entire door lit up, before the stone door, which must have weighed several tons, slid open silently as if weightless, revealing only a darkness as deep as a starless night.

The moment the door opened, the air inside rushed out to hit Owen. It was a dense and complex aura… the smell of old metal, of dry and brittle leather, of the dust of time, and most distinctly, the “aura of power” that was so dense it was almost tangible. It made the ocean of mana in Owen’s body vibrate slightly, as if responding to the call of its kin.

Tenzin stepped inside and lit a new magical torch in the center of the room. The flame flared, chasing away the darkness, revealing a sight that made Owen’s eyes widen to their absolute limit…

They were standing in a large circular hall, nearly fifty meters high. The surrounding walls were filled with shelves and display stands holding hundreds, even thousands of “weapons.” Each piece was shrouded in a faint aura of power, making the entire room look as if it were filled with a collection of multi-colored stars.

There were longswords that shone with a silver light like the moon, spears with heads of ice crystals that emanated a faint chill, bows made of wood as black as night, a giant scythe with a terrifying purple aura, and countless other strangely shaped weapons he had never seen before in his life. Every piece looked ancient and had been through countless battlefields, bearing the marks of honor.

Tenzin swept his gaze around with respect. “This is the ‘Dream Armory’… the repository for the arms that past Guardians received from the Dream Dimension.” He turned to Owen, his voice tinged with solemnity. “As the new Guardian, you have the right to choose one weapon from this place… But remember… you are not always the one who chooses the weapon. Sometimes… it is the weapon that chooses its master. Use your heart to feel… and you will know which one is your true partner on the battlefield.”

Owen felt like a child who had stumbled into the largest toy store in the universe. He swallowed with excitement, but at the same time, felt an immense pressure. He had to choose the best weapon… and the fastest… to go save his friends.

He began to walk slowly down the aisle, his eyes sweeping over the incredible array of weapons. But he knew in his heart that his combat skills lay in his fists. He was therefore only looking for weapons like knuckles, bracers, or gauntlets.

After walking around for a while, he noticed something unusual… in the center of the room, there was a jet-black stone pedestal, standing alone. There were no other weapons within a radius of several meters, as if they were either “afraid” or “showing respect” to what was on that pedestal.

On the stone pedestal, a pair of “blood-red armored gauntlets” lay. They were iron gauntlets, crudely made but looked strong and durable. Every part was covered in nicks and scratches from frantic battles. Sharp spikes protruded from the back of the hands. They had no visible aura of power like the other weapons… but Owen felt a strange and powerful “pull” from them, stronger than anything else in the room, as if a voiceless whisper was calling to him from the depths of his soul…

When Tenzin saw that Owen was walking straight to that cursed pedestal without hesitation, the atmosphere around the old monk suddenly changed completely. The warmth and kindness from a moment ago vanished, replaced by a coldness and solemnity, like a stone statue.

“Please stop, Guardian…” he said, his voice flat, yet it echoed throughout the hall. “I do not recommend you choose that weapon… No… I must warn you, do not even think of touching it.”

Owen turned back, surprised and confused. He had never seen Tenzin act like this before.

Tenzin sighed softly before clasping his hands behind his back with a solemn air. “You are not the first to be drawn to it… and likely not the last,” he said, glancing at the blood-red gauntlets with a complex expression.

“The monastery’s records state…” Tenzin began to recount, his voice changed, as if he were relaying words from ancient pages. “…long ago, in a lost dimension, there was a legend of the ‘Berserker Fist King’ of an ancient barbarian tribe. A man born with unparalleled combat talent. The power of his fists could shatter mountains and split the earth. He fought to protect his tribe, his family, and his land with all his might, until he was revered as a god.”

“But his excessive power became a double-edged sword…” Tenzin continued, his voice tinged with bitterness. “…The elders of the tribe, and even his own wife and children, began to fear his ‘limitless’ and ‘uncontrollable’ power. They saw him as a monster in human form who could destroy everything at any moment… So, they planned to betray him in the cruelest way imaginable.”

The old monk’s eyes shone with sorrow. “On the night of a victory festival, they poisoned his food. But with a body stronger than any mortal, the poison only weakened him… and in that moment, the ones he loved and trusted most made their move… His own son led the soldiers, spearing him from behind.”

“The pain of such a crushing betrayal made the Fist King’s emotions explode… sorrow, disappointment, vengeance, and a dark despair. He released all the power he had in a single ‘punch’ to the sky… A brilliant white light covered the entire land, and when it faded… everything was erased from history, leaving only a massive crater and the scorched remains of a land… and these gauntlets absorbed all of his emotions, creating one of the most powerful ‘Nightmare Knots.’”

Tenzin concluded in a serious voice, “It is a cursed weapon. Everyone who has tried to use it has had to ‘pay a price’ of the most twisted kind imaginable. Some past Guardians said it whispered for them to carve out the hearts of their own wife and children as a sacrifice. Some were ordered to kneel before it for 5 years without eating or drinking, and some were ordered to sacrifice a thousand innocent lives to unleash its power… all prices that no one could pay.”

Tenzin looked deep into Owen’s eyes. “To this day, no one has been able to use it… It is not a weapon, but the cruelest spiritual test… You may try, but I do not recommend choosing a weapon with no ‘certainty’ in such an urgent situation, because it may devour you before you even have a chance to act.”

…..

Owen stood motionless before the jet-black pedestal. Tenzin's terrifying warning still echoed in his head… ‘it may devour you before you even have a chance to act.’

Every rational part of his brain screamed at him to turn back… to run and grab another, “safer” weapon… one without a horrifying legend and a crazed curse attached.

But his instincts screamed louder…

He looked deep into the blood-red armored gauntlets… and he could feel it… the echo of the violent emotions hidden within… The pain of betrayal… the endless rage… the dark despair… and at the center of that crazed emotional storm… he could sense a core of “protection” that still remained… a pure desire to protect those he loved… now buried under the ruins of despair.

The faces of Clara, Damian, and Julian, trapped in the veil of mist, flashed in his mind. He clenched his fists… He didn’t have enough time to learn or train with an unfamiliar weapon. He needed power that was “decisive” and “immediate,” and deep in his heart, he felt these gauntlets were the answer…

It was the most dangerous shortcut… but it was the only path he could see right now.

Owen took a deep breath, deciding to trust his instincts. He ignored Tenzin’s worried gaze, stepped forward with determination, and placed his palm on the blood-red armored gauntlets without hesitation.

The moment his skin touched the cold metal…

Owen’s entire world shattered!

The sound and light of the armory vanished in an instant, replaced by a deafening silence and complete darkness. He felt his spirit being yanked from his body at high speed… torn to pieces and reassembled in another dimension.

When he came to, he was no longer standing in the armory… but on a land of death. The ground beneath his feet was cracked, black ash. The sky was a distorted blood-red, like an open wound that would never heal. The entire area was filled with the scorched skeletons buried under piles of ash. The air was filled with the smell of burning and a sorrow so heavy he could barely breathe.

And in the center of that barren land… Owen saw “him.”

The figure of a tall, powerful man with fiery red hair and eyes that blazed like embers. He wore only old leather pants, his upper body bare, covered in muscles and countless scars. He was kneeling on the ground, one fist pressed into the cracked earth, as if bearing all the pain of this world alone.

The moment Owen appeared, the man slowly looked up. His fiery eyes fixed on Owen directly. An immense, invisible pressure radiated from his body, making Owen feel as if a whole mountain was pressing down on him, nearly forcing him to his knees.

The Fist King’s voice sounded directly in Owen’s head. It wasn’t a spoken voice, but a roar that shook his very soul.

“Another fool… drawn in by the aura of my pain… You desire my power? The power that destroyed everything I loved… Answer me… what will you do with this power!”

Owen gritted his teeth until his jaw trembled, resisting the immense pressure. He stared back into those fiery eyes without fear and replied with a clear and firm thought.

“I want the power to protect… to protect the ones I care for… to protect them from tragedy… and I am certain my end will not be like yours!!”

The answer made the Fist King’s crazed eyes grow calm for a moment. He saw something in Owen… a determination similar to his own in the past… before everything collapsed.

The Fist King rose to his full height. His body was as large and formidable as a giant from legend.

“Protect? Fine words… All power has a ‘price’… My power was born from the loss of everything… If you truly desire my power… you must prove to me that you are ready to ‘pay a worthy price’!”

The Fist King’s eyes shone brightly, as if seeing through Owen’s body to the core of his deepest, hidden power.

“That power you hide… that power of the covenant you cherish like a priceless treasure… Give it to me… Not for a day… not for a month… but give it to me for 12 months! After this, you will be able to rely only on your own ‘true strength’!”

Suddenly, the familiar choice system screen appeared before Owen. But this time, it didn't give three options as it usually did. It was a “Spiritual Covenant” with only the words “Accept” or “Refuse.”

[The spirit of the ‘Berserker Fist King’ has acknowledged your potential.]

[He offers you the right to possess the ‘Gauntlets of the Fallen King.’]

[Price: Forfeit the ‘Permanent Covenant’ quota of [Scales of Covenant] for a period of 12 months.]

[Warning: This is a spiritual covenant that cannot be reversed or canceled.]

[Do you accept?]

[Accept / Refuse]

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