“They said I was too weak to survive. So they left me to die.”

In a world scarred by dimensional rifts, humanity’s only hope lies in Veilwalkers—elite hunters gifted with power by ancient relics. But not everyone is chosen.
Kael Verin wasn’t.

Labeled a failure. Mocked. Dragged through every dungeon as nothing more than bait.

Until one day, his own team—people he trusted—left him bleeding on the floor of a cursed ruin.

That should have been the end.

But something buried deep in the darkness heard him. And it offered a choice.

Not salvation.

Rebirth.

Now bound to an ancient and forbidden relic, Kael rises—not as a hero, not as a savior—but as the first Shadow Ranker, walking a path carved by pain, vengeance, and a power no human was ever meant to wield.

They took everything from him.

Now, he’ll take everything back.

Even if he becomes the monster they always feared he would.

Smoke trailed behind them like a memory they couldn't escape. Kael's body still ached from the fight, but the spear left by General Vaessa—clean, humming with dormant flame—now rested on his back. A symbol of something unfinished.


> "You okay?" Roan asked, voice low, her sharp eyes watching the ruins around them.


> "She didn't want to fight me. She was forced to."


Roan exhaled. "Then maybe it's time we stop Lior from forcing anyone else."


They kept moving. Through sewer paths, forgotten dungeons, and a tunnel carved with old rebel glyphs—until they found the mark.


A small insignia burned into the stone wall:


As soon as Kael traced the mark, three hooded figures dropped from above, daggers gleaming, mana flashing.


> "State your allegiance," one of them growled, a scar cutting across his face like a lightning bolt.


> "We don't serve the guild," Kael said. "And we don't serve the monster running it."


Roan added, "We came to find truth. And we've already killed one of Lior's puppets to get here."


Then one of the Watchers stepped forward and removed his hood.


An older man. Gray hair. Gold tattoo over his left eye.


> "Then welcome to the last fight this world will know," he said.


"I'm Tyran. Former Grand Codex Architect. And I created the system your brother stole."


Inside a hidden chamber lit by glowing veins of mana, Kael learned the truth.


It was a tool—originally designed to help balance mana and prevent war. Classes were meant to be fluid, evolving with one's choices.


He used ancient blood seals, forbidden fusions, and soul-binding to lock people into roles. Created Classless as a control group. Built the Thorn Crown Guild to maintain a caste system—where strength obeyed his order.


> "And you…" Tyran pointed at Kael. "Were the mistake he couldn't predict."


Tyran stepped closer, lowering a bundle of scrolls.


> "The Abyss Monarch and Dawnbringer classes were never meant to be combined. But your soul accepted both. That means the Codex sees you as… an Unwritten King."


Kael's eyes narrowed. "And what does a king rule?"


The Codex Rebellion was scattered—mostly hunted down—but what remained was powerful: rogue spellcasters, former S-rankers, engineers, scholars.


And now, they wanted Kael to lead them.


> "Lior's creating a Class Singularity," Tyran warned. "He's building something that will erase free will. No more evolving classes. No more rebellions. Just hierarchy."


> "And only you have the Codex signature strong enough to destroy the core."


She smirked. "I think you were always annoying. Now you're dangerous. I'm in."


> "We need to wake the last Architect. And she's sealed… inside the Glass Labyrinth."


Chapter 13 - The Codex Rebellion