Chapter 62

The Human Realm had changed endlessly for thousands of years. All life had evolved through that flow of time. And amid that ceaseless cycle of birth and decay, a new lifeform came into being—TripClone.

Created by Elius, the Creator God of all dimensions, the number of existing TripClones could never exceed thirty.

They dwelled mostly in places unseen by others. Their current habitat lay at the far eastern edge of the Arkanis Continent—known as the Second Great Mystery. Despite the warm eastern climate, the entire land was buried under snow and ice.
Except for a handful of dragons, no other beings knew of their existence.

TripClones had no gender. Yet their outward forms were identical to that of human men—so much so that, if placed beside a human, one could not tell who was who.
And perhaps their most striking feature: all thirty looked exactly the same.

Height. Appearance. Body. Every aspect identical.

They always acted in groups of three—ten trios in total. Another defining trait of the TripClones was their silence. They were a race of warriors who spoke little and lived for combat.

Mentally, reason occupied over ninety-five percent of their being; emotion barely existed.
Their average lifespan was three thousand years. When one of the trio died, the remaining two would merge their flesh and blood to recreate the third anew.

Now, these taciturn, battle-loving beings sought to leave their frozen prison.

Fwoooosh—!

The wind that tore across the land was cold enough to seep into bone, far harsher than any winter’s night. Each gust brought a storm of snow that swallowed sight itself. And from somewhere within that blizzard came inhuman roars—proof enough that Ice Trolls lived here.

All around stretched only mountains and snow piled so deep that the original landscape could no longer be recognized. Jagged cliffs cut the sky; sharp peaks pierced the clouds. The merciless cold, the mountain ranges that blocked every path, and the blinding snowstorm together forged an environment as cruel as the Demon Realm itself.

This place—called one of the Two Great Mysteries of the Arkanis Continent—was nothing less than a land of death. And yet, here lived creatures that looked human—though they were anything but.

At the heart of this vast land stood ten small structures. To call them buildings was generous—they were little more than shelters made from packed snow. The settlement sat surrounded by towering mountains shaped like a funnel, trapping layers upon layers of snow within. And on top of that snow stood thirty humanoid beings.

TripClones.

At a glance, one could see they stood in groups of three, expressionless faces turned toward one another. The central trio was encircled by the others, forming a silent ring.
Each wore a black outfit of unknown origin—its color stark against the white world around them. All stood over one hundred seventy-five centimeters tall, their bodies lithe and balanced.

From within that perfect symmetry, the TripClones at the center—the ones surrounded—spoke in unison, their blank faces unmoving.

“I will go.”

“I want to see it.”

“Move aside.”

Their voices overlapped, blending together until it was impossible to tell which one had spoken. Their tones were identical—indistinguishable echoes in the frozen wind.

“Why?”

“The reason?”

“Explain.”

This time, the voices came from the TripClones surrounding the central trio. They spoke almost simultaneously, but if one listened closely, it was possible to tell which voice came first.

“Battle.”

“A new race.”

“Battle.”

The three at the center spoke in turn. But when the first and last repeated the same word, the two turned toward each other and tilted their heads slightly—still expressionless. Such repetition was rare among them. Perhaps because of that, the surrounding TripClones also tilted their heads, mimicking the gesture of the two who had spoken alike.

It would have looked comical—dozens of identical faces all tilting their heads in unison—if not for the utter lack of emotion. Instead, the sight was unsettling in its eerie uniformity.

“Understood.”

“Go.”

“Let’s return.”

The pair who had spoken turned their backs and stepped toward the nearest snow shelter. Judging by their tone, they seemed to be the representatives of the group.
As they left, the other eight trios followed in perfect synchronization, entering the other buildings one by one with steady, identical strides.

Within moments, the surroundings emptied—only the central trio remained. They slowly scanned the area, then once again exchanged words, nearly overlapping as before.

“Should we go now?”

“Sounds good.”

“Let’s.”

As soon as the first spoke, the other two agreed. The three of them began climbing the mountain with incredible speed, moving as if the very ground propelled them upward.
In seconds, they had leapt out from the snowy basin where the shelters stood. They paused briefly, scanning their surroundings again before continuing their conversation.

“Left? Right?”

“Straight.”

“Left.”

Apparently, they followed the principle of majority rule. With that, they shot off toward the left, their speed blurring their forms against the white world. The wind howled fiercely in their wake, but the freezing cold—harsh enough to paralyze an ordinary human—didn’t seem to touch them. Expressionless as ever, they ran with relentless precision.

A massive roar followed where they passed, a gale tearing through the air.

KWA-A-AANG!

The shockwave exploded again as the trio dashed across the snowfields, the sound of air itself being ripped apart echoing behind them. At this pace, they were heading straight toward the Poseidon Kingdom—where the demonkin, Hiberio, resided.

Moving at a speed beyond human comprehension, Hiberio soon arrived before the gates of a bustling human city. There, he was stopped by the guards stationed at the entrance.

“Stop right there! Show me your travel permit or identification!”

One of the guards raised his halberd, speaking in a threatening tone. Yet behind that stern expression, his thoughts boiled in frustration.

Damn it. Why’s he so damn handsome?

This particular guard—who had just barked the order—had always suffered from a crippling inferiority complex about his looks. Ugly. No—truthfully, downright hideous. He had been mocked for it since childhood. He’d grown up kind-hearted and gentle, never causing trouble, but the scars on his heart only deepened with time. Eventually, unable to contain his anger, he snapped—and beat every one of those who used to mock his face to a pulp.

He and his family were soon expelled from their quiet village because of that incident.
Given that his massive build and terrifying strength left his victims barely recognizable, it wasn’t exactly an unjust outcome at the time.

After relocating to the city, his family tried to settle down and live honestly. But the teasing never really stopped—if anything, the bigger population only meant more people to mock him. And whenever his temper got the better of him, he’d lash out violently, ending up behind bars more times than he could count.

Still, fate took a strange turn—one of the city’s guard captains befriended him, and through that connection, he eventually earned a post as a gate guard. By then, people had learned to mock him only behind his back. Whenever townsfolk gathered for drinks, they shared stories about the ugly guard—his looks, his temper, and his many misadventures. It made for excellent bar chatter.

Of course, anyone unlucky enough to be caught talking about him paid dearly for it.
No one dared to intervene when he snapped—getting involved only meant joining the beating.

Years of ridicule had turned his personality savage. He especially couldn’t stand handsome men. Whenever he saw one, he’d pick a fight just to ruin that perfect face. Not nobles or knights—those he only cursed inwardly—but ordinary men like Hiberio? Fair game.

Right now, that very hatred was blazing inside him as he stared at Hiberio. The man before him exuded elegance, his features refined to the point of nobility. Anyone would have mistaken him for a highborn lord.

And in a way, they wouldn’t be wrong. In the Demon Realm, Hiberio was indeed of noble blood—the son of the Demon King.

“Hey, Rookie. He looks like a noble. Let it go.”

The other guard beside him whispered softly. And of course, there was no way Hiberio didn’t hear it.

‘A noble?’

The question flickered briefly in Hiberio’s mind before fading just as fast. It wasn’t worth wasting thought on a human blocking his way. The mere delay irritated him. Rather than enter the city, Hiberio decided to search from above—to sense the strongest presence in the area—and turned back toward the sky.

“Damn it… huh? Did that bastard just ignore me? Tch. Handsome men like him deserve to die. It’s because of guys like that I’m still single.”

The rookie clenched his teeth as Hiberio turned away. To him, that graceful retreat looked like pure arrogance, as if he’d been dismissed without worth. The anger boiling inside finally exploded.

“Hey!”

Hiberio stopped mid-step, turning his head slightly. His voice was cold enough to freeze the air.

“Are you talking to me?”

Oh hell. What did I just do? Shit, shit, shit. Think, Rookie, think—there has to be a way out of this!

The moment Hiberio spoke, an unfamiliar dread washed over the guard. Panic overtook him as his heart pounded violently in his chest. And then, in a desperate attempt to escape the situation, he acted.

“Y-you! Yeah, you! Where do you think you’re going?!”

The rookie’s face twisted awkwardly as he shouted, jabbing his finger toward something beyond Hiberio. He started marching in that direction—purely by coincidence, it was toward Hiberio himself.

The guard beside him thought he’d lost his mind. Yet seeing his colleague confront what looked like a noble stirred an odd admiration; he unconsciously clenched his fists in silent support.

To any onlooker, his back looked heroic—like a lowly guard bravely defying a noble’s arrogance. But when Hiberio glanced toward the human striding toward him, he realized the man’s eyes weren’t fixed on him at all, but somewhere behind.

Deciding the outburst hadn’t been directed his way after all, Hiberio resumed walking.
A moment later, he rose effortlessly into the air.

The guards watching froze in disbelief, their jaws slack.

“Is… is he a mage?”

The trembling words left one guard’s mouth. If that handsome stranger really was a mage, then both he and the rookie would already have been turned into frogs—or worse. The thought alone sent a shiver down his spine.

The rookie, who had been mid-gesture with his arm still raised, suddenly found his body frozen stiff. He couldn’t move a muscle.

His thoughts weren’t far from his comrades’. For low-ranked guards in a backwater city like this, mages were not awe-inspiring figures—they were terrifying. They’d grown up hearing stories: mages experimenting on corpses, turning people into toads for pets… To them, “mage” meant danger and evil incarnate.

“Strange human,” Hiberio muttered, hovering high above.

He looked down with an expression halfway between curiosity and indifference.

Having lived his whole life in the Demon Realm, human culture and behavior were utterly foreign to him. The difference between demonkin and human thought was vast—so vast that without effort, the two species could never truly understand one another. They were simply too different.

“Still, the presence I’m seeking isn’t here.”

Lifting his gaze westward, Hiberio frowned slightly. He could feel something emanating from that direction—three distinct pulses of powerful energy. Though he couldn’t identify them clearly, he decided to head there. The power was strong enough to warrant investigation.

With that, Hiberio sliced through the air, wings of mana rippling behind him.

Fwoooosh—

The sharp wind keened in his wake as his form vanished into the horizon.

Flap-flap—

Birds scattered wildly across the blue sky, startled by his sudden flight.

“What was that…? I can’t tell,” Hiberio’s voice lingered faintly in the air before dissolving into silence.

The scene shifted to a land of vivid green—alive with the glow of nature’s mana. Crystal-clear streams wound through fields of emerald grass, and the breeze carried the scent of wildflowers dancing across open plains. It was, in every sense, a paradise on earth.

There, walking leisurely down a sunlit path, were a female elf and a human man. The elf, with her graceful figure and radiant beauty, wore a light-blue dress that bared her thighs. Each gust of wind lifted her long green silk-like hair, gleaming under the sun, and the subtle glimpse of her pointed ears lent her an enchanting charm.

Beside her walked a human man so beautiful even other men would envy him. His features were sculpted to perfection, his lips tinged crimson, his skin pale as snow, and his hair shimmered with a deep sapphire hue.

“I sense demonic energy,” the elf said, brushing her hair back with a voice as cool and clear as running water.

“I know,” the man replied curtly.

“Hmph. Your tone hasn’t changed at all.”

The elf puffed her cheeks and looked up at him with mock annoyance.

“Well, that’s just how I am,” he said, smiling faintly, his expression touched with wry amusement.

It was the kind of smile that could make any woman’s heart skip a beat. Fortunately, the only woman here was the elf—otherwise, the air might have been filled with fluttering hearts.

“So what business would a demon have in the Human Realm?” she asked, returning to the topic as if the earlier exchange hadn’t happened. Her voice remained soft and melodic.

“Hard to say,” he answered. “It doesn’t seem to be for a hostile reason. We’ll observe first.”

“I see. And the demon came alone.”

The elf sat gracefully on the soft grass, her long legs folding neatly beneath her. Her exposed thighs gleamed in the sunlight, but even that added only to her elegance.

“And alone, he wouldn’t dare challenge a dragon,” the man said, standing beside her, his posture proud.

There was unmistakable pride in his tone when he said dragon—the pride of one speaking of his own kind.

“Oh my~ How very impressive, Lord Blue Dragon~” the elf teased, her lips curving into a playful smile.

It was so charming and endearing that one might feel an irresistible urge to embrace her on the spot.

The man—no, the Blue Dragon—looked down at her with eyes full of affection. The two had recently welcomed a hatchling into the world. They were husband and wife.

Overhead stretched a vast blue sky; before them rolled green fields and a shining sea.
White clouds drifted lazily above as golden sunlight poured down, illuminating the Green Dragon and the Blue Dragon—making the couple appear all the more divine.