A new year had dawned.
Every year, the Magnus Duchy hosted a New Year’s celebration. Though the biting cold froze everything in its path, keeping the event modest in scale, it remained a time-honored tradition.
During the daylight hours, small festivities and a long-awaited market unfolded on the frozen streets. When night fell, families would gather to enjoy a feast together.
The same went for the Magnus family estate. Except, for them, the definition of family was far broader than it was for commoners. With so many people gathered under one roof, what began as a simple meal naturally evolved into a grand banquet. Among the countless relatives carrying the blood of the Magnus line, only a chosen few were permitted into the estate to attend the event.
Nigel, the sole son of the Duke of Magnus, was also scheduled to attend the banquet.
“I don’t want to go.”
“M-My lord…”
“I’m just saying.”
Nigel gave a casual shrug to Danil, his servant, who looked utterly flustered. But Danil was far too pale to take it as a mere joke.
His trembling hands began fumbling to button Nigel’s coat—missing the mark a good thirty times for each one. Lately, it seemed Danil had grown a bit more comfortable around Nigel, but now that he was up close and personal, the tension was evidently too much for him.
“Danil, would you mind fetching me some gloves?”
“Wh-which gloves?”
“The purple ones.”
While Danil left in search of gloves that didn’t actually exist, Nigel finished buttoning up and adjusted his clothes in the mirror.
Normally, preparations like this would’ve been handled by Inas. Inas took genuine joy and pride in dressing Nigel from head to toe, grooming him with meticulous care. Nigel liked it too—he’d stubbornly insisted on letting only Inas dress him, ignoring his father’s disapproval entirely.
I wonder what Inas is doing right now.
Given his current status, he wouldn’t be allowed into Orchid Hall, where the banquet was being held. He was probably outside. Then again, knowing Inas, it wouldn’t be surprising if he snuck in somehow…
Nigel squeezed his eyes shut. Left alone, his mind was drifting too much. Maybe it’d be better to get swallowed up in the chaos of the banquet.
“Danil!”
He’d been about to tell him to just bring the black gloves if he couldn’t find the purple ones, when—crash! Something fell with a loud bang.
“What happened?”
Nigel rushed over to the dresser. His clothes had been ransacked, and the dresser itself was half toppled, its contents scattered everywhere.
“I-I’m sorry… I couldn’t even find the gloves…”
“It’s fine. There weren’t any purple gloves to begin with.”
“W-What?”
Danil looked completely shaken. Nigel had asked for something that didn’t exist on purpose—it was a gentler way of excusing Danil than outright telling him he was useless.
Danil’s pale face felt oddly unfamiliar. Nigel didn’t remember seeing him before, and while he didn’t recall every servant’s face, those who’d been around for a while usually stuck in his memory. He suspected Danil had probably been fired before for incompetence.
He considered scolding the boy, but Danil was already trembling so hard that Nigel couldn’t bring himself to say anything harsh. As he sighed, Danil flinched.
“T-Then, I-I…”
“Don’t be scared. Just don’t clean this up yourself—call someone else. And be more careful next time.”
“…Yes.”
Muttering gloomily, Danil nodded. Nigel told him to handle the cleanup and stepped out.
The moment the door shut behind Nigel, Danil’s expression twisted in silent misery. He bit his lip and glared at the closed door. His gaze brimmed with rage—though it didn’t last. Soon, he dropped his head.
“……”
And from the shadows that had been watching the two, something silently followed after Nigel and vanished.
***
As Nigel entered the banquet hall, all eyes turned toward him.
Until last year, all attention had gone to Etna, the heir. As the sickly second son, Nigel had been completely overlooked. But now, as the Duke’s only remaining son, and with whispers of a divine revelation making their rounds, the stares converging on him were numerous.
Any average noble child might have trembled under such scrutiny—but Nigel’s core was that of a Magnus Duke. A little attention wasn’t enough to rattle him.
And yet, Nigel was frozen solid—though for a completely different reason.
According to Glarus’s quest, today was the day. Etna would return. Whether he’d make a grand entrance before everyone or reappear in secret was unknown, but either way, Nigel’s mouth was dry with tension. As he anxiously scanned the crowd, his father, Ruder, gave him a concerned look.
“Nigel. If you’re unwell, you should rest.”
“Then I’ll just sit for a bit.”
Without hesitation, Nigel retreated to a corner. Thankfully, Ruder’s subtle signal kept others from approaching him.
Settling in, Nigel quietly waited for Etna’s return.
But Etna didn’t appear as quickly as he’d expected. Considering Glarus had once descended like a god the moment Nigel entered the temple, he figured the return would be just as theatrical. The tension that had him on edge slowly eased.
He let himself relax into the seat and looked around.
Orchid Hall, crafted from meticulously carved stone and adorned in gold, gleamed wherever one turned their gaze. Nigel studied a tapestry woven with the Magnus family’s long history—the founding duke raising an army against evil gods, mad dragons, and monsters. The bloodline’s legacy was one of sword and battlefield.
As he examined each embroidered detail, he glanced away.
Even though only a limited number of guests were allowed inside, Orchid Hall was packed. Everyone seemed genuinely happy. Sure, they all had their shadows, but at least they were free from the absurdities of loops, systems, and the surreal—focused solely on the present.
In another timeline, Nigel might’ve been among them, laughing thoughtlessly… or sulking to pass the time.
Ruder had occasionally checked in on him, but for the most part, Nigel was alone. Sitting there in the vast Orchid Hall, he felt completely isolated. If Inas had been there, maybe it wouldn’t have felt so empty.
Suddenly, his vision flickered—blinking in and out.
And then, everything changed.
Nigel blinked. Orchid Hall, which had been tranquil just moments ago, was now drenched in blood.
The once-beautiful tapestries lining the walls were soaked so thoroughly they were unrecognizable. Blood flowed across the stone floor like a river.
The people who’d been laughing and drinking were gone—nothing remained but corpses.
It had to be another hallucination. It always was. But knowing that didn’t make the horror any easier to stomach.
Only two people remained standing amidst the carnage.
Nigel and Inas.
Inas was drenched in blood. His sword dripped with it, caked thickly like he’d cut down dozens—maybe hundreds. And yet, Nigel alone remained untouched, as though reality itself had bent to spare him.
But his expression—his expression looked as though he’d seen something worse than death.
“P-Please… save me…”
“Nigel.”
Inas rushed toward him, but hesitated to reach out, perhaps worried about staining him with blood.
It was Nigel who grabbed at him first.
“Save me, Inas. Please, save me. I don’t want this. I don’t want it. I DON’T!”
“Nigel!”
Inas shouted, and Nigel flinched violently. His gaze lost focus. A tear slipped from his eye.
Inas grasped his trembling arms, but Nigel’s face remained blank and dazed, his head drooping as if he were a lifeless doll.
“You are safe. No one will harm you.”
“No…”
Nigel shook his head weakly, resisting Inas’s grip—though it took no effort to subdue him.
Moments later, Nigel slowly raised his head. In the darkness, deep shadows carved terror into his face.
“Inas, please…”
“Nigel. I swear on my soul—I’ll protect you.”
His voice was firm, unwavering. Reassuring, almost.
But Nigel’s face twisted in revulsion.
Then he laughed—a long, unhinged laugh that filled the death-soaked hall. When it finally stopped, his face was a mask of cold distrust.
“Liar.”
His voice, thick with hatred, rang through the bloodied Orchid Hall like a curse.
And with that word, everything around him began to turn pitch black.
***
“Nigel!”
Ruder’s voice snapped him back to consciousness.
Nigel jolted awake, drenched in sweat as though he’d been pulled from the ocean. His cheeks were wet with tears.
His blurry vision took in his surroundings. A small antechamber attached to Orchid Hall.
“Dad… why…?”
“You were sleeping—having a nightmare. I brought you here, but then your body started shaking like you were seizing… Are you all right?”
“Yes. I’m fine. I guess it just startled me.”
“I should call the court physician.”
“No, I’m okay…”
Nigel looked around. The blood-soaked vision of Orchid Hall still clung to his eyes. He wanted to imprint the real, untouched room into his brain.
And then—his gaze met a pair of eyes watching him from behind a small window.
Glinting gold irises stared at him from outside.
“AAAHHHHHHH!”
“Nigel?”
“S-S-Someone—there’s someone out there!”
Nigel trembled violently, pointing toward the window. Ruder’s face twisted in confusion, then quickly turned to alarm. He drew the sword from his belt and shielded Nigel.
“Who’s there?!”
A pale hand casually opened the window. And the face that popped in left both Nigel and Ruder stunned.
“It’s me, Father.”
The intruder greeted them like nothing was wrong—it was Etna.
Etna looked… strange.
His hair had turned completely white, like an old man’s. His eyes shone a bizarre, unnatural gold. His face was the same, but with the color changed, he felt oddly foreign—like he wasn’t their blood relative anymore.
And yet, without question, it was Etna.
“…What is this…?”
Even Nigel, who had already been warned by Glarus, was shaken. For Ruder, the shock was overwhelming. A man who had never once fallen ill in a lifetime of war now looked like he might faint.
“Dad!”
“Father. And Nigel. It’s been a while.”
Etna climbed in through the window and approached them with a warm greeting.
Ruder shoved him away, then turned to Nigel, his face filled with disbelief.
“Nigel… Is this… really…?”
“Yes, Father. I told you. It’s him.”
Nigel glanced at Etna.
Character Info Window
Name: Etna Roth Montstein
Class: Avatar of Glarus
Level: 97
HP: 16,553/16,553
MP: 5,428/5,428
<View Stats>
<View Skills>
Only one thing had changed: his class now read Avatar of Glarus. A deeply ominous title for Nigel, who harbored nothing but suspicion toward Glarus.
But aside from that, Etna’s status was identical to before.
If not for the new title, he looked exactly like his old self.
“…This is insane…”
Ruder’s voice was hoarse with disbelief. His eyes were hollow with shock, as if he were staring at a ghost.
“I know it’s hard to believe, Father. I can barely believe it myself.”
“Etna…”
“But I can explain everything.”
His voice was clear, composed. His posture, his etiquette—every small movement radiated confidence and poise. His gentle gaze toward his father, the affection in his eyes for his brother—it was all exactly like the Etna they knew.
Ruder stared, torn between wanting to believe and being unable to accept it.
Then, he raised his sword and struck at Etna.
