novelraw Prologue [Volume 3]
Prologue [Volume 3]
Lee Hyunwoo was a regressor.
He stood before the Rift of Divine Will that was vast and unmoving, looking like an imposing existence that dominated the space around it. Layers of pale light and shadow folded into one another within the rift’s circular boundary with the steady inevitability of a system preparing to enact judgment. Divine warriors were gathered nearby, watching in silence, aware of the upcoming battle that would decide their fate.
In his first life, Hyunwoo had been pure of heart, and standing here had filled him with anticipation and pride. He had believed that having the God of War, Aurelion, as his patron god meant that strength and resolve alone were enough to carve a path through Divine Will. True, that belief had carried him further than most, but it had also taught him that even survivors were disposable once their role had been fulfilled.
Behind him, the presence of the God of War pressed down upon the gathered people. Aurelion did not announce himself with words or visions. His will manifested only as pressure, as if demanding that those who bore his authority endure whatever awaited them and emerge sharpened by it. There was no promise of protection in that presence, only expectation.
Hyunwoo flexed his right arm slightly as he spoke in a low voice. “The first Battle of Divine Will… The opponents are the God of Deceit and the Goddess of Imagination.”
The side he needed to watch out for the most was the God of Deceit’s. Their divine warriors matched his own faction in overall strength, and more importantly, they had no lack of fanatical people who would willingly risk—even sacrifice—their lives if it meant securing victory. Hyunwoo remembered clearly that it had been the God of Deceit who ultimately claimed victory in this Battle of Divine Will.
However, this time would be different. Hyunwoo was now a peak Daleth-rank divine warrior, standing on the precipice of advancing to He rank once he fulfilled the remaining prerequisites. He was the strongest divine warrior on his side, its undisputed champion. The Battle of Divine Will was divided into several stages, and he was confident to advance after the first stage was cleared.
Aside from that, his friends and comrades were all still alive. Kim Taegon, Park Sooyeon, Ethan Caldwell, Elena, and the others… all of them had grown far beyond what they had achieved in his previous life. This time, he would not allow anyone to fall before him… especially Park Sooyeon. He could still remember her dying in his arms…
He shook the thought aside.
Compared to the God of Deceit’s faction, the Goddess of Imagination’s side was not worth worrying about. Their truly strong divine warriors could be counted on one hand, fragmented into small factions constantly vying for internal influence. Their supposed leader, Graham, was mediocre at best. Still, there were a few individuals worth noting, namely the genius swordswoman Erika and the maniac therianthrope Kaela. Even so, they were not worth focusing on.
Still, winning this Battle of Divine Will was only the first step toward his ultimate goal, which was to reach godhood and take control of his own fate.
He had fought through countless scenarios, shifting alliances, and the quiet culling that took place once the gods stopped pretending the battle was fair. When the battlefield narrowed and the true struggle began, he had endured long enough to understand what the war was truly for. Unfortunately, that understanding had come too late.
Aurelion might be a decent god compared to many others, rewarding his divine warriors according to their strength and potential. But in the end, they were still no more than pawns. Hyunwoo remembered how his friends had been cast aside once their potential was exhausted, left to wither until the inevitable claimed them.
Even so, Hyunwoo was not arrogant. Despite all his preparations, he had rejected early recognition, avoided drawing unnecessary attention, and structured his progress to remain viable long after others burned themselves out chasing immediate rewards. And now, at last, those choices were beginning to pay dividends.
Hyunwoo inhaled deeply, then exhaled, steadying his thoughts. Footsteps approached from behind, familiar enough that he did not need to turn to know who they were.
“Hyunwoo! So this is where you were,” Kim Taegon said, draping his arm casually over Hyunwoo’s shoulder.
Taegon was taller than him by a small margin, broad-shouldered and powerfully built, with short black hair that never quite stayed neat, no matter how often he cut it. Dark steel gauntlets covered his hands, their surfaces etched with runes. They were the kind of weapons favored by someone who fought on the front lines and fully expected to be hit.
Park Sooyeon stepped closer, meeting Hyunwoo’s gaze with a quiet smile. She wore light ceremonial armor layered over flexible fabric, silver-white in color, while holding a long priest staff. Her long black hair was braided neatly, and not a strand was out of place. Her expression was calm in a way that came from certainty rather than naivety. Unlike Taegon’s overwhelming presence, Sooyeon was calm and restrained, like someone who would support him from behind no matter what.
Ethan and Elena followed just behind. Ethan stood tall, blond hair cropped short, posture straight and disciplined as he wore his polished silver knight armor. Elena, by contrast, carried herself with composed confidence, dark reddish-brown hair falling past her shoulders and crimson-accented armor hugging her frame. Her gaze was steady and unflinching, a faint smirk tugging at her lips as one hand rested on the hilt of her weapon.
Hyunwoo looked at them and allowed himself a confident smile. All of them were alive, standing ready, and something in his chest loosened for the first time since his return.
With their support, he was ready to change the future and face whatever came his way.
***
The Rift of Divine Will did not intimidate him.
If anything, it felt familiar.
On the opposite side of the square, beneath the shadow cast by the Rift’s distorted light, the divine warriors aligned with the God of Deceit had already gathered. Their formation was orderly, disciplined in a way that had nothing to do with camaraderie and everything to do with belief. At their center stood the man they followed without question.
He wore a half mask of dark, matte metal that covered the upper half of his face, leaving only his mouth and jaw exposed. The mask bore no ornamentation, only clean lines shaped to conceal his face. Beneath it, his expression was calm, almost serene, even as the weight of divine authority pressed down upon the gathered divine warriors.
His build was imposing. Broad shoulders stretched the fabric of his coat, and his large frame gave him the impression of someone more accustomed to standing on the front lines than anywhere else. Even standing still, there was a sense of restrained power about him, as though violence was a tool he could reach for at any moment without hesitation.
The divine warriors around him watched in silence. Some clasped their weapons tightly. Others pressed clenched fists to their chests in reverence. A few lowered their heads, murmuring quiet prayers.
He was not merely their strongest combatant. He was Velkhar’s—the God of Deceit’s—apostle.
“The Battle of Divine Will is not a test of strength,” the masked man announced, his voice carrying effortlessly across the gathering. “It is a test of conviction.”
Many of them straightened at once.
“Those who believe this is a contest of honor will die early,” he continued. “Those who chase personal glory will be discarded even faster. Our god does not require heroes. He requires blind faith and outcomes.”
His uncovered mouth curved slightly into a cold smile.
“Victory does not belong to the brave. It belongs to those willing to sacrifice themselves.”
The pressure around them changed subtly, like a whisper crawling along the edges of thought. The God of Deceit was listening. Always listening.
The apostle raised a single hand, and the murmurs ceased instantly.
“You already know what is expected of you,” he said. “Sacrifice is not a loss if it secures the future. Deception is not cowardice if it leads to victory. And death is acceptable if it advances the board.”
No one objected nor hesitated. They had been shaped for this since the first moment they set foot in the divine kingdom. Many of them wore fanatical expressions, as though they had been indoctrinated for years.
The masked man turned his gaze toward the Rift, staring straight through it. He knew that somewhere beyond it stood enemy divine warriors who believed strength, bonds, and resolve would carry them through. However, he did not share that faith. Such beliefs were nothing more than naïveté born of weakness, and he would crush anyone who stood in his god’s way.