Chapter 21: First Veil-Class Ruin
Morning sunlight stretched across Ormolio as Atlas walked through the city streets beneath his black hood.
The city had already returned to its usual rhythm. Carriages rolled over stone roads. Shopkeepers shouted prices from open stalls. Explorers moved between taverns, weapon shops, and the Guild while carrying swords, bows, monster parts, and rolled mission papers. The noise came from every direction, but Atlas kept himself detached from it.
He blended into the crowd.
That was useful.
The folded map from the Guild employee rested in his left hand. Every few minutes, his gaze lowered to it beneath the shade of his hood. Several nearby ruins had been marked across the parchment, each with a rough location, danger estimate, and current access status.
Most ruins were already occupied by parties.
Some were restricted.
Only a few lower-ranked Veil-Class ruins remained open for individual entry.
Atlas had chosen the farthest one.
Less attention.
Less chance of someone watching him too closely.
His footsteps remained steady as he approached the northern district gate. Guards stood near the massive entrance, inspecting travelers entering and leaving the city, but none of them paid him much attention. His clothes, hood, Guild plate, and calm pace created a simple image.
A rookie Explorer.
Nothing more.
That was exactly what he wanted.
Atlas passed beyond the city walls without trouble.
Cold wind brushed against his hood as the sounds of Ormolio slowly faded behind him. The dirt road ahead stretched through scattered forest, uneven ground, and distant hills. Farther away, pale mountains stood beneath the morning sky.
Compared to Ormolio, the outside world felt almost empty.
Atlas lowered his gaze to the map again and adjusted his direction.
The Veil-Class ruin was several hours away from the city, hidden inside an abandoned forest region rarely visited except by beginner Explorers searching for easy rewards or desperate ones trying to earn quick money. Its distance made it inconvenient for most parties. For Atlas, that inconvenience was the main benefit.
He walked at a calm pace afterward.
Not rushed.
While moving, his thoughts remained on his body.
His right hand brushed against a nearby tree branch while passing.
Crack.
The branch shattered beneath his fingers.
Atlas stopped.
Silence followed.
He looked at the broken wood, then exhaled faintly.
"...Damn this, it’s still too much."
Even after leaving the Eternal Ruin, his body remained difficult to control. Every casual movement carried more force than intended. Every step required adjustment. Strength 9 had helped him survive, but outside the ruin, that same strength became a risk. A careless touch, careless step, or careless reaction could attract attention.
Inside the Eternal Ruin, overwhelming strength had been necessary.
Outside, control mattered more.
Atlas resumed walking, this time keeping his movements lighter. His breathing slowed naturally, and his steps became more measured against the dirt road.
Several minutes passed.
Then he bent his knees slightly and leaped over a shallow stream cutting across the forest path.
The jump should have been simple.
Instead, his body launched far higher and farther than expected.
Wind rushed past his hood. Atlas’s eyes widened slightly before he landed almost fifteen meters away with a heavy thud, cracking the ground faintly beneath his boots.
He steadied himself at once.
Then sighed.
"...Damn."
Too much strength.
Too little control.
Atlas stared at the cracked earth for a few seconds before continuing forward.
This time, his thoughts became more focused.
’Strength is not the problem anymore.’
His gaze sharpened beneath the hood.
’Control is.’
That conclusion had become more obvious with every movement since escaping the Eternal Ruin. His body had changed too quickly. Strength, Agility, Stamina, and Spirit had all been written into him in an extremely short time. The Codex had given him power, but it had not given him experience using that power.
Spirit was the worst part.
Strength affected his body directly.
Agility affected movement.
Stamina stabilized him.
Spirit felt like amplification and energy both at once.
It moved beneath the surface, present but unfamiliar. Atlas had awakened it, but he had not controlled it. It had only reacted when forced by the Codex, when his body changed, or when pressure rose inside him.
That unsettled him.
Power that could not be controlled was not power.
It was danger to himself.
Atlas continued walking through the forest, sunlight slipping through the dense branches above. Distant animal calls echoed between the trees, and the wind moved across the leaves in uneven waves.
Then a faint tremor spread beneath his feet.
Atlas stopped instantly.
Small pebbles near his boots vibrated across the ground before becoming still again.
He looked down.
Then frowned slightly.
’Spirit leakage?’
The possibility came quickly.
His thoughts had sharpened while thinking about power, and somehow the Spirit inside his body had reacted. It was faint, but still enough to affect the ground beneath him. If that happened in the city or inside the Guild, someone sensitive might notice.
Atlas remained motionless for several seconds and slowed his breathing.
The faint pressure around him disappeared.
His gaze darkened beneath the hood.
"...I really need to learn control."
If Spirit kept reacting subconsciously, it would eventually expose him.
And exposure could become fatal.
Hours passed.
The forest became denser the farther he traveled. Eventually, the dirt road disappeared beneath thick roots, uneven ground, and overgrown vegetation. Atlas stopped relying on the map constantly and began using landmarks instead.
Old hunter instincts returned quietly.
Broken branches.
Animal tracks.
Moisture in the air.
Wind direction.
Uneven growth around old stone paths.
Everything gave information if he looked properly.
Eventually, Atlas slowed his steps.
Something stood ahead, partially hidden behind enormous trees and thick roots.
The ruin.
Atlas approached cautiously.
As he moved closer, the structure became clearer.
Compared to the Eternal Ruin, this place looked small and worn. It resembled an old stone temple buried beneath the forest after years of abandonment. Cracks spread across the outer walls. Broken pillars leaned near the entrance. Thick roots wrapped around the stone, and vines covered most of the visible structure.
Nature was slowly swallowing the ruin.
Atlas’s gaze rose toward the double doors at the center.
Black stone.
Old.
Heavily worn.
Yet despite the decay, faint glowing runes remained etched across the surface. Weak silver light pulsed beneath dirt, vines, and roots, like the ruin still had enough power to keep its entrance sealed.
Atlas observed it silently.
Then he compared it to the Eternal Ruin.
The Eternal Ruin had felt alive, ancient, and suffocating even before he entered. Its pressure had been enough to make death feel close from the beginning. This ruin felt smaller. Quieter. Almost harmless.
The thought surfaced naturally.
Atlas’s expression sharpened.
’No.’
Underestimating ruins was stupidity.
He knew that better than anyone now.
Even a weak ruin could kill careless Explorers. Beginner ruins were still ruins. The only difference was scale, not safety.
Atlas approached the entrance slowly. His footsteps echoed faintly against the cracked stone around the structure. The air grew colder near the doors. No birds sang. No animals moved close. The forest noise faded behind him until only silence remained.
He stopped before the massive double doors.
Up close, the damage was clearer.
Several sections of stone had chipped away completely. Deep claw marks stretched across parts of the surface, as if creatures had tried to tear their way out from inside long ago. The runes beneath the roots flickered weakly, unstable and dying compared to the crimson runes of the Eternal Ruin.
Atlas lifted his right hand.
Then pressed his palm against the center of the doors.
For a moment, nothing happened.
Then a soft vibration spread through the ancient stone.
The runes glowed slightly brighter.
Roots trembled.
Slowly, the massive doors began opening inward.
Stone scraped against stone. Dust fell from above, and the sound echoed heavily through the abandoned forest. Atlas remained still, watching as darkness revealed itself inch by inch beyond the entrance.
No violent tremor.
No overwhelming pressure.
No faceless monster waiting in front of him.
Only darkness.
Quiet and deep.
The entrance opened fully after several more moments. Cold air drifted outward from inside the ruin.
Atlas narrowed his eyes and glanced behind him.
The forest remained silent.
Empty.
For a brief moment, he remembered the first time he entered the Eternal Ruin.
No.
He had not entered.
He had been thrown.
Like disposable trash.
A commoner sacrificed for royal greed.
The memory returned sharply.
Fear.
Helplessness.
The certainty of death.
Atlas’s gaze darkened beneath the hood.
Then he looked back toward the Veil-Class ruin before him.
This time was different.
Very different.
Atlas adjusted his hood and stepped closer to the entrance.
No fear surfaced.
Only caution.
And awareness.
His fingers brushed faintly against his chest beneath the black attire.
The Bloodbound Codex remained there.
Warm.
Silent.
Waiting.
Atlas exhaled quietly.
Then spoke.
"...This time..."
His voice was low.
Calm.
"...I entered by my own choice."
The words disappeared into the silence.
Without another pause, Atlas stepped forward.
Darkness swallowed him gradually as he crossed the entrance, his black attire fading into the shadows beneath the ancient structure while cold air brushed past him from deeper inside.
Behind him, the massive double doors began closing again.
Stone ground against stone, and faint silver runes flickered weakly beneath the roots wrapped around them.
Deep within the Veil-Class ruin—
its newest Explorer had entered.
