The news detonated across the world like a mana-bomb.
Every television channel, every social feed, every guild bulletin board lit up within minutes. Headlines screamed in glowing runes and bold text:
"SEOUL AWAKENER UNIVERSITY SHATTERS RECORDS — THREE LEGENDARY CLASSES AWAKENED IN ONE CEREMONY!"
"FORBIDDEN MYTHIC GRADE CONFIRMED — TWO GODS BORN TODAY!"
"Who is Lucas Vanderbilt? Bastard Heir or Hidden Weapon?"
"Golden Heir & Abyssal Sovereign — The Vanderbilt Bloodline Just Rewrote the Future."
Clips of the Abyss Mirror played on loop: Alex's radiant golden figure with six wings, Lucas's emerald skull laughing from the void. Comment sections exploded. Influencers screamed live. Legacy families and top guilds turned their full attention toward Seoul like predators scenting fresh blood.
At Apex Vanguard Guild headquarters, James Vanderbilt sat behind his obsidian desk, reviewing raid reports. The door burst open without knocking.
Marcus, his loyal secretary, rushed in, eyes wide, sweat beading on his forehead.
"Guild Master!"
James didn't even look up at first. "What is it?"
Marcus's voice cracked with disbelief. "Both of your sons… they awakened Mythic classes!"
James's head snapped up. "Huh?"
In the hidden pocket dimension, the Titanbreaker — Thorne Vanderbilt — opened his eyes mid-meditation. The air around him trembled as his brother stepped forward.
The man was bald, thin as a blade, dressed in simple black robes that hid an S-rank aura sharp enough to cut steel. He was the current elder of the guild and Thorne's most trusted enforcer.
"Brother," he said without ceremony, "the university ceremony is over. Alex awakened Golden Heir — Mythic. Lucas, awakened Heir of the Infernal Dominion, also Mythic. Two forbidden classes in one batch."
Thorne Vanderbilt's lips curved into a slow, dangerous smile. The entire realm shook with the weight of his satisfaction.
"It seems my good-for-nothing son finally delivered something useful."
He rose from his meditation platform, mana rippling around his perfect, shirtless form.
"Move the plan forward. And more importantly, keep an eye on those rebels. I will entrust Lucas's safety to you."
The bald elder bowed deeply. "As you command."
**
Far beneath the city, in a sprawling underground base lit by blood-red mana lanterns, the Reapers — one of the most notorious rebel guilds — moved like shadows. Walls were covered in bounty posters of high-ranking guild leaders.
In the leader's private chamber, a woman sat on a throne of black bone and velvet.
Nyxara Kane.
She was a devil in human skin — glossy black hair cascading down her back like liquid night, full lips painted blood-red and shining wetly, heavy gold earrings dangling from her ears. Her breasts were heavy and barely contained by a low-cut crimson corset that left most of her pale cleavage exposed. The rest of her body was pure seduction — narrow waist flaring into wide, dangerous hips, long legs crossed with deliberate grace. She looked like sin given form.
The door chimed.
"Come in," she purred.
A three-foot-tall imp-like man shuffled inside — messy hair, thick glasses, dressed like a nervous nerd. He carried a data crystal in trembling hands.
"Leader… the Seoul University results just dropped."
Nyxara lifted her glass of dark wine halfway to her lips and paused.
The imp continued, voice shaky. "Two Mythic classes. Alex Vanderbilt — Golden Heir. And Lucas Vanderbilt — Heir of the Infernal Dominion. Both confirmed."
Nyxara slowly lowered the glass, a dangerous smile spreading across her glossy lips.
"It seems our guild is about to get very busy with assassination requests."
The imp couldn't stop his eyes from flicking down to her heavy, barely-covered breasts. Nyxara noticed instantly.
She leaned forward, voice turning cozy and sweet. "Do you want to touch them?"
The imp swallowed hard, sweat breaking out on his forehead. Like hell I would. The next second, I'd become your pet meal.
He shook his head frantically. "N-no, Madam."
Nyxara smiled wider, satisfied. "Good boy. Leave the images and go."
He placed a crystal tablet on her desk and scurried out.
Nyxara picked it up. Photos of the new awakeners slid across the screen — Alex, Chloe, Vivienne, Damien… and Lucas.
Nyxara Kane leaned back on her throne of black bone and velvet, the crystal tablet still glowing in her hand. Her glossy red lips curved into a slow, dangerous smile as she stared at Lucas Vanderbilt's photo — the dark-haired young man stepping out of the Crimson Phantom like he already owned the world.
She set the tablet down and let her gaze drift across the walls of her private chamber. Bounty posters covered every inch — high-ranking guild masters, legacy heirs, S-rank politicians. Some were crossed out in blood-red ink. Others still waited.
The Reapers had not always been this organized.
Many years ago, when the First Generation Awakeners rose as gods and carved the world into guilds and bloodlines, not everyone bowed. A small group of survivors — those who had lost families to monster tides, those whose loved ones were sacrificed so the new "gods" could claim dungeons and resources — formed the first rebel cells. One of the group called themselves the Reapers, vowing to cut down the new aristocracy that had replaced the old governments.
At first, they were scattered terrorists. But under the leadership of Nyxara's predecessor, they grew into something far more dangerous: a hidden guild that operated in the shadows between the Gates, striking at supply lines, assassinating key heirs, and spreading forbidden knowledge about how the top guilds hoarded Mythic-grade artifacts and bloodline enhancers.
Nyxara had taken the throne ten years ago after personally executing the previous leader in single combat. She had turned the Reapers into a sleek, seductive machine of terror. Where others used brute force, she used desire, blackmail, and surgical precision. Her underground base stretched for miles beneath Seoul's forgotten districts — training halls, armories, interrogation rooms, and pleasure chambers where captured guild elites sometimes "disappeared" after giving up their secrets.
She ran a manicured nail along the edge of Lucas's photo.
"A nobody suddenly becomes a golden goose," she murmured, voice low and velvety. "I wonder if you'll survive this, handsome."
The short, imp-like subordinate peaking nervously behind the door gap, eyes keep glancing at her breasts.
Nyxara noticed and smiled wider, but she didn't tease him again. Instead, she tapped the tablet, sending the images of Alex, Lucas, Chloe, Vivienne, and Damien to her inner circle.
"Prepare the teams," she said softly. "Two Mythics in one batch changes everything. The big guilds will want them. The legacies will want to own them. We… will make sure neither happens."
The imp bowed quickly and scurried out.
Nyxara rose from her throne, crimson corset creaking as her heavy breasts shifted. She walked to the wall and pinned Lucas's photo in the center of the newest bounty board — right beside Alex Vanderbilt's.
The Reapers had waited decades for a crack in the system this wide.
Now the crack had become a chasm.
And Nyxara Kane intended to drag both golden and abyssal gods into it.