Three days later.

  The arena was no longer an execution ground. It had turned into a temple. And the god standing at the center of the sands wore torn pants and looked mildly annoyed.

  BOOM.

  A massive, two-headed Ogre slammed into the ground. A huge cloud of dust rose into the air. The monster was unconscious. Its legs were tangled in its own chains in such a complex knot that even a seasoned sailor wouldn’t be able to undo it.

  Hope dusted off his hands. He hadn’t thrown a single punch. He had only redirected the Ogre’s momentum, tripped it at the perfect angle, and left the rest to the laws of physics.

  Then he extended his right hand and summoned his scythe. He drove it into the Ogre’s chest and pulled its soul into his scythe amid green lights.

  The silence lasted one second. Then the explosion came.

  “HOPE! HOPE! HOPE!”

  The chants shook the stone foundations of the stadium. This wasn’t the bloodthirsty roar of the first day. This was admiration. This was outright worship. Colorful banners waved in the stands.

  “WE LOVE THE ARCHITECT!”

  “BUILD ME A FUTURE!”

  “MARRY ME, HOPE!”

  Hope ignored the Ogre. He ignored the gold coins thrown onto the sand. Shielding his eyes from the sun, he turned toward the audience. He searched for Lypin’s seat. She was there, as always. Her hands were clasped over her chest as she watched him.

  Hope raised his hands above his head and formed a crooked, slightly uneven heart shape with his fingers.

  He had seen it in an old, torn magazine he found in a pile of trash inside the dungeon. He thought it meant “I’m hungry.” But Lypin seemed to like it. Lypin’s face turned red. She covered her face with her hands. The crowd went insane.

  “HE MADE A HEART!”

  “SO COOL!”

  “HE DOESN’T EVEN CARE ABOUT KILLING!”

  In the tunnel, Deniz leaned against the wall, shaking her head.

  “Incredible,” she muttered. “You treat monsters like pets, you flirt with a special girl, and the people declare you their savior. If you were actually aware of what you’re doing… would you still be this carefree?”

  When Hope entered the tunnel, the deafening cheers began to fade behind him.

  “That Ogre’s balance was terrible,” he said while grabbing a towel. “Its left head was heavier than the right. Born defective… a pitiful situation.”

  “You’re the most famous man in the capital right now,” Deniz said as she walked beside him. “Do you realize that? People are naming their babies ‘Hope.’ I even saw a bakery selling ‘Architect Buns.’”

  “Are they at least edible?” Hope asked seriously.

  “That’s not the point! You’re becoming a symbol.”

  “Why?” Hope said. “That’s not my goal. I just want to go outside and be with Lypin. And being a hero like in the books would be nice too. By the way, is it lunchtime yet? I’m starving.”

  Deniz took a deep breath. “Because you’re different. You’re not an egotistical, bloodthirsty barbarian like the other gladiators. You have powers and a character that no one else can see and most likely will never see again. What other idiot warrior calculates momentum while fighting or makes a heart for a girl after defeating his enemy?”

  Hope genuinely thought about the question.

  “That’s actually a really difficult question.”

  “No, it’s not. No one does that, Hope. No one. That’s exactly why people claim you so fiercely. You’re the second Architect ever seen in history, and you have a strange personality. People need symbols like you. Because people need a symbol in order to live.”

  Hope’s eyes widened as if illuminated.

  “Wow, you really tied that up with a philosophical ending. I liked that. Anyway, can I go eat now?”

  Royal Library

  While the sun shone upon Hope, shadows clung to the highest tower of the castle. King Kharonos stood before a massive window, looking down at the city below. Even from here, he could hear the chants of “Hope.” The hand gripping the window frame tightened. The stone cracked.

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  “They love him,” the King whispered. His voice was cold. Sharp as a razor. “They love a criminal more than their King.”

  Behind him, in the dim room filled with ancient scrolls and dust, the Grand Master coughed nervously.

  “Popularity is fleeting, Your Majesty. Crowds are fickle. Fans cannot be trusted; one day they may love someone else and laugh behind your back. But you are the King. You are authority. You do not need fans.”

  “This isn’t popularity.” The King turned, his cloak flaring. “This isn’t even admiration. This is openly… worship. They look at him and see something unnatural. Different from the other gladiators. Truly irritating. Tell me. Did you find it?”

  The Grand Master trembled. He placed a heavy, leather-bound book on the table. Its cover was made of dragonhide, black as night.

  “As you commanded, I searched the Forbidden Archives. I found the era before the dungeons. Here it is: The Age of the Rift.”

  “Stop dragging it out. Get to the point.”

  The Master opened the book. The pages were yellowed.

  “Five hundred years ago,” he began in a storyteller’s tone, “the sky did not only have clouds. It had a wound. We call it the Rift Catastrophe. Back then, monsters did not live in dungeons. Strange creatures fell from the sky like rain. Humanity stood on the brink of extinction.”

  The King listened with full focus.

  “Armies fell. Magic failed. Prayers went unanswered. And then… He came.”

  The Master pointed to a faded illustration. A lone figure standing before a shattered sky.

  “The First Architect…” the King murmured.

  “No one saw his face. He did not even fight the monsters. He ignored them. He simply walked toward the Rift, stairs formed in the air, and with a single motion, sealed the Rift in the sky.”

  “He… repaired the sky?”

  “He treated reality like a cracked wall, Your Majesty. He stitched the fabric of space itself. According to legend, he created the SYSTEM that governs us today. Levels, classes, skills… all are said to be the creation of the First Architect.”

  “And then?”

  “Then he vanished. After sealing the Rift, he walked further upward into the void and disappeared from sight. But… years later, Dungeons began erupting from beneath the earth. Again, according to legend, it is said that the First Architect gifted the Dungeons to us so that we could survive and grow stronger.”

  The King touched the illustration.

  “A being who truly rivaled the gods,” he whispered. “Perhaps he is God Himself. And now… a child appears with the same Class.”

  “If that boy is descended from the First Architect…” The Master swallowed. “He could destroy the kingdom as easily as pulling a hair from butter.”

  The King smiled. The existence of such a threat within his kingdom excited him. The idea that his own kingdom could be destroyed by a child wounded his ego, yet it also meant he possessed a weapon of tremendous power.

  “Even if he is a threat to the kingdom, we will not kill him. Having an Architect and killing him would be a tremendous waste. But we must conceal this. If other kingdoms learn that there is an Architect here, we may be attacked. We made a mistake.” His eyes gleamed. “But perhaps this situation can work in our favor. If we convince the Architect that the other kingdoms are evil, he will fight at our side.”

  The King closed the book and looked at Lypin.

  “He has a great weakness for this girl. We can use that. For now, let the Architect play in the sand a little longer. Let him think he is a hero. When the time comes… this girl may be lost in an unfortunate accident.”

  Gladiator Canteen

  The smell of boiled cabbage and unidentifiable meat hung in the air. The room was loud. But at its center, there was a circle of silence. Hope sat alone, happily eating his bowl of gray stew. The other gladiators did not approach his table. Their gazes were a mix of fear and respect. Hope did not notice their stares. He was busy with a potato. He had never eaten vegetables in the dungeon. Potatoes had now become his favorite.

  “This food is amazing,” he muttered. “The outside world is incredible.”

  “Is this seat taken?”

  Hope looked up.

  Two figures stood at his table.

  “Don’t worry, we came to introduce ourselves. I’m Field,” said the nervous man. “And this is… NO9.”

  NO9’s body was covered in darkness. The light didn’t know what to do with him. Only his mouth was visible.

  Hope noticed the half-formed lines floating in the air behind him. They were ghostlike, unfinished drafts. It was unclear what they truly were.

  “Do you want some food?” Hope asked.

  Field glanced around. “We didn’t come for food. We came for your eyes.”

  Hope blinked. “The arena is very sandy. Dust gets in them sometimes.”

  NO9 whispered. “You see the lines behind me, don’t you? You also see the walls, the floor, the magic. YOUR EYES SEE EVERYTHING.”

  Hope set down his spoon.

  “Yes. I see how things are built. And how they break. Sometimes how they are supposed to be.”

  Field rolled up his sleeve. A chaotic tattoo.

  “This is the sewer map of the arena. It took me three years to prepare this. And tonight, we’re escaping this damned place. But we got stuck at one point. We need you to open the final gate.”

  Hope looked. He frowned.

  “Who drew this?”

  “A master forger from Block 4.”

  “Completely incompetent,” Hope said flatly.

  Field nearly choked.

  Hope pointed at the tattoo. “This pipe is designed as two meters in diameter, but the pressure valve indicates a high-pressure line. So this isn’t a tunnel. It’s a grinder.”

  He slid his finger downward.

  “This exit doesn’t lead to the river. It goes to the underground monster pens. If you follow this map, you’ll be crushed and fed to monsters.”

  Field turned pale.

  “The real exit isn’t in the sewers,” Hope said. “It’s above. In the ventilation of the VIP lounges. That’s the weakest point. Why are escape plans always through sewers? It’s very cliché.”

  “Above…” Field whispered.

  “Everyone looks down to hide,” Hope said. “But the sky is always open.”

  Field leaned closer. “You talk well, Architect. But for an escape from above, we need a huge distraction.”

  Hope shrugged. “According to what I’ve heard, the Scorch and Zero match is coming soon. They’re strong enough to cause earthquakes, and everyone is waiting for it. You won’t find a better distraction than that kind of fight.”

  NO9’s eyes glowed orange.

  “If the arena collapses…”

  “Then we fly,” Field said.

  Hope looked at the patch of blue sky visible through the window. He thought of Lypin.

  “Actually,” he said. “I can help you. I’ll fix your plan. I suppose I have a reason to run too. But first…”

  He pointed at Field’s untouched bowl.

  “Can I eat that potato too?”