The chamber still smelled like burnt magic and bad decisions after my fight with Loki.

  Illusions were peeling away from the walls like cheap wallpaper, and the god of mischief—formerly a problem, currently a glowing cloud of divine leftovers—hovered in front of me waiting to see what I’d do next.

  Most people would celebrate beating a god.

  I, however, had bigger plans.

  Because winning a fight with Loki wasn’t the interesting part. Turning Loki into a guardian spirit bound to me? Now that was the kind of power move that would make the gods start reading the fine print on their contracts.

  I closed my eyes and reached out with my mind, touching the strange, shimmering essence floating in the air.

  Loki’s spirit shifted constantly—male, female, shadow, light, chaos pretending to be order and order pretending to be chaos. Basically the cosmic equivalent of someone who changes their personality depending on who’s watching.

  Perfect.

  “You will still be Loki,” I said calmly, because if you’re talking to a defeated trickster god you should sound confident even if you’re improvising half the ritual.

  “But you’ll be something more than that.”

  The spirit rippled.

  “I’m giving you form.”

  The magic around us brightened as the shape began to solidify.

  “I choose a body that reflects your nature,” I continued. “Duality. Balance. The contradiction that makes you… well, you.”

  The form stretched, twisted, and settled into a tall, elegant figure.

  Pale skin shimmered like moonlight across polished marble. Long black hair fell in waves down the shoulders with streaks of blue glinting through it. Emerald eyes opened slowly, glowing with exactly the kind of clever, dangerous intelligence you’d expect from someone whose hobbies include ruining entire mythologies for fun.

  Runic tattoos traced across the arms and torso like living ink.

  The body itself carried both masculine and feminine traits—perfectly balanced, perfectly unsettling, and exactly the kind of thing Loki would probably design for themselves anyway if given the choice.

  The newly formed guardian looked down at their hands, flexed their fingers, then gave me a sly smile.

  “So this is my new arrangement?” Loki said. “Bound to you… but still allowed to keep my chaos?”

  I shrugged.

  “I’m not stupid enough to remove the chaos. That’s the interesting part.”

  Loki laughed.

  “Fair enough.”

  The bond between us snapped into place like a lock clicking shut.

  Power rushed through the chamber.

  Which was exactly when the universe decided we hadn’t reached the “dramatic divine appearance” quota yet.

  Light flooded the room.

  Not normal light.

  The kind of glowing, golden, suspiciously glamorous light that announces the arrival of someone who absolutely expects their entrance to be admired.

  From that brilliance stepped a woman so radiant she made the chamber look like it needed better lighting.

  Aphrodite.

  Goddess of love, beauty, and apparently dramatic timing.

  Her golden eyes studied me with open curiosity.

  “I have been watching you,” she said, voice smooth enough to make poets quit their jobs.

  Which, honestly, sounded a little creepy until she kept going.

  “You do not command power through cruelty or domination. You build bonds.”

  I glanced at Loki beside me.

  Loki shrugged.

  “Debatable.”

  Aphrodite smiled faintly.

  “I wish to join you.”

  Now normally when a goddess says something like that you expect a test, a duel, or at least a complicated divine contract written in glowing letters.

  Instead she simply stepped closer.

  “Not through battle,” she clarified. “Through choice.”

  Well.

  Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

  That certainly made things easier.

  I held out my hand.

  “Welcome to the team.”

  Her essence flowed into the bond with warm, radiant energy.

  Then came the important part.

  Naming.

  Because every guardian I had followed a rule.

  Four letters.

  Don’t ask why. It just worked.

  I studied her for a moment.

  “Your form stays the same,” I decided. “Female fits your power.”

  She tilted her head.

  “And your name…”

  I grinned.

  “Aphi.”

  She blinked.

  “It means happy.”

  A moment passed.

  Then she laughed softly.

  “Aphi,” she repeated.

  Golden light pulsed around her as she accepted the name.

  Balance settled over the chamber.

  Loki representing chaos.

  Aphi representing love.

  And me in the middle wondering how long this peaceful moment would last before something tried to kill us again.

  The answer turned out to be about five seconds.

  Because the light dimmed.

  The temperature dropped.

  And a presence heavy enough to make even divine magic go quiet stepped out of the shadows.

  Flames curled through darkness as the figure approached.

  Hades.

  Lord of the underworld.

  The god whose reputation alone had probably ruined a few thousand mortals’ sleep schedules.

  His ember-like eyes locked onto me.

  “Cooro…”

  The way he said my name sounded like a warning label.

  “You gather powers beyond your reckoning.”

  Loki smirked beside me.

  Aphi’s golden light brightened defensively.

  I stood my ground.

  “Maybe,” I admitted.

  “But I’m willing to find out.”

  Silence stretched.

  Then Hades smiled.

  Which was honestly more unsettling than if he’d threatened to destroy me immediately.

  “Very well,” he said.

  “Let us see if your ambition survives the darkness that follows it.”

  And just like that, the next trial had officially begun.

  Darkness closed around me.

  Not the comfortable kind that comes when you fall asleep. This one was cold. Heavy. It swallowed the chamber, the gods, the power swirling around us—everything.

  For a moment I thought this was it.

  The final clash.

  The moment Hades would test whether I was worthy of the power I’d gathered.

  Instead, the darkness tightened… and then everything went silent.

  When I opened my eyes, the first thing I saw was light.

  Blinding fluorescent light.

  I squinted, my head throbbing as the world slowly came into focus. A plastic mask covered my nose and mouth, forcing air into my lungs. Something tugged at my arm.

  An IV drip.

  The smell of antiseptic filled the room.

  Hospital.

  I tried to sit up.

  Bad idea.

  Pain exploded through my side like someone had shoved a hot knife into my ribs. My hand trembled as it brushed against the rough hospital gown covering my chest.

  “What…?”

  My voice sounded weak.

  Wrong.

  Then the memories hit me.

  Cold steel.

  Gloved hands.

  A careful incision.

  My kidney.

  The realization made my stomach twist harder than the pain.

  No…

  I didn’t need to look at the mirror across the room.

  The hospital bed.

  The sterile walls.

  The quiet beeping of machines beside me.

  I already knew.

  I wasn’t Cooro anymore.

  I was back in my old body.

  Toby Sampson.

  Toby Sampson.

  Twenty-five years old. Average height. Skinny frame. The kind of body that clearly had never fought monsters or trained with divine spirits.

  My skin looked pale from years indoors. My dark brown hair stuck out in messy directions like I had just rolled out of bed.

  My hazel eyes stared back at me from the reflection of the monitor screen beside the bed.

  Dull.

  Tired.

  Definitely not the eyes of the Trial Runner who had fought gods.

  A faint beard shadow clung to my jaw, making me look more exhausted than heroic.

  I lay back against the pillow, staring at the ceiling.

  “So that’s how it is…”

  The machines beside me kept beeping like nothing important had happened.

  But something inside me refused to stay quiet.

  Even buried under pain and confusion, I could still feel it.

  A spark.

  Cooro.

  The Trial Runner.

  He wasn’t gone.

  Not completely.

  I spent the next week waking up in the same hospital room.

  Most days a nurse wheeled me into the garden area—a small glass room filled with plants and flowers. Sunlight filtered through the windows while butterflies drifted lazily around the space.

  It should’ve been peaceful.

  Instead, my mind kept replaying one memory.

  Megan Samantha Smith.

  The night she came for me.

  The moment everything went wrong.

  I could still feel the fear when her massive boyfriend pinned me down.

  I remembered the calm expression on her face.

  Her short black bowl-cut hair framed her face perfectly. Her red eyes never showed even a hint of hesitation.

  She worked like a professional.

  Quick.

  Precise.

  Cold.

  And when she cut me open to take my kidney… she didn’t look guilty at all.

  The memory made my stomach churn.

  I was staring at the floor of the garden when the TV mounted on the wall flickered on.

  I glanced at it without thinking.

  Then froze.

  The screen showed a battlefield.

  Monsters were falling left and right as a woman moved through them like she owned the place.

  Short black bowl-cut hair.

  Red eyes.

  Black leather armor hugging every curve.

  Megan Samantha Smith.

  The announcer’s voice followed.

  “Known as one of the most efficient A-Rank Adventurers, Megan Samantha Smith has gained fame for her ruthless combat ability and tactical brilliance.”

  I laughed quietly.

  Of course.

  Of course the woman who harvested my kidney was a celebrity in this world.

  Why wouldn’t she be?

  I leaned back in my wheelchair and closed my eyes.

  This world was different.

  Dungeons had appeared.

  People awakened abilities.

  Monsters crawled out of portals like the planet had suddenly decided to turn into an RPG.

  And somehow I had ended up in the worst possible position.

  Level 0.

  Everyone else could level up.

  Grow stronger.

  Become heroes.

  Me?

  I was stuck at the bottom.

  The biggest loser in a world built around power.

  But there were two things the universe didn’t take from me.

  First—my Auto-Loot skill.

  Second—my guardian spirits.

  Loki.

  Ares.

  Aphi.

  O-Ha.

  I could still feel their presence faintly in the back of my mind.

  Which meant one thing.

  The Trial Runner wasn’t finished yet.

  Neither was I.

  Two weeks later the hospital discharged me.

  I rolled my wheelchair out through the front doors and looked at the city stretching out ahead of me.

  Cars.

  Buildings.

  People walking around like portals to monster-infested dungeons weren’t opening across the world.

  “Well,” I muttered.

  “If this world wants to act like a game… I guess I’ll play.”

  The first step was obvious.

  Become a Hunter.

  Enter a dungeon.

  Survive.

  Luckily, I didn’t have to search long.

  Across the street, between two buildings, a swirling red portal pulsed like a heartbeat.

  Classic dungeon entrance.

  I pushed myself forward slowly, my heart pounding harder with every step.

  Fear.

  Excitement.

  Maybe a little stupidity.

  Probably all three.

  The portal loomed in front of me.

  I took a deep breath.

  “Here goes nothing.”

  The moment I stepped inside, reality twisted around me.

  Colors warped.

  The ground vanished beneath my feet.

  Then—

  Everything snapped back into place.

  I stood inside a cavern.

  The air smelled like damp earth and old stone.

  Ahead of me was a massive archway carved from black rock, glowing runes flickering across its surface.

  My first dungeon.

  My grip tightened as I steadied myself.

  Somewhere behind me, I could feel my guardian spirits stirring.

  Good.

  Because I had a long way to climb.

  And this time…

  I planned to break the system.