My SSS-Rank Class Is Blood Monarch!

“What are you trying to tell me…?” Arthur whispered, his eyes fixated on the abyss below. His voice wavered between disbelief and curiosity. “Whoever—whatever—you are down there, what are you trying to say?”

The air around him had shifted. That same still, dead air now felt alive, brimming with something he couldn’t see but could feel in every bone. The whispers continued, barely audible but unmistakable. They weren’t hallucinations—he was sure of that now. Something was speaking to him.

He strained his ears, leaning closer toward the void. It wasn’t the first time he’d looked into it, but it was the first time he heard something from it. That change meant something. The God sealed below… was aware.

And more than that—it wanted to be heard.

‘Is it asking for help?’ he wondered. The whispers carried with them a strange weight, as if laced with sorrow. There was no rage, no madness in the voice. Only pain. Loneliness. Desperation.

“But Nameless said it lost its mind a long time ago…” Arthur muttered, his brow furrowed in disbelief. “He said the God became nothing more than a beast, an empty shell. Could he have lied? Or worse… was he wrong?”

Logic warred with instinct. No being trapped in utter blackness for thousands of years should have anything left of themselves. The mere sight of that void had nearly broken Arthur the first time—just a glimpse had rattled his soul. How could a God survive in that prison? Let alone speak?

Yet the voice wasn’t deranged. It didn’t lash out or scream. It called to him, its whispers weaving through the silence like threads of ancient song.

Before Arthur could ponder it further—

BANG!

A thunderous crash echoed through the chamber, yanking Arthur violently from his thoughts. His head snapped toward the sound.

Nameless.

He emerged from a side tunnel, dragging behind him a line of prisoners. Shackled. Broken. The people of the Void—his people—marched out in single file, chains clinking with each step. Arthur’s breath caught in his throat.

They were bruised, beaten, terrified. Some limped. Others had dried blood on their clothes or faces. Despair clung to them like smoke.

Arthur’s hands clenched into fists, shackles rattling as he surged forward. “Nameless! Don’t you dare! Let them go!” he roared.

Nameless raised his arms as if addressing an audience, a sick grin plastered across his face. “Ah, Persona. I apologize for the wait. It took me a moment to gather the stars of our little performance.”

“Let them go, Nameless! They have nothing to do with your madness!”

“Tsk tsk…” The man chuckled, his eyes gleaming with that same maddening excitement. “You still don’t get it, do you? They are everything to this moment. I’ve been building toward this for years. Decades. Every soul here—every ounce of pain they carry—will feed into the birth of a new age. And you, dear Persona, you’re the witness. You’re vital for the entire beautiful painting to be finished!”

Arthur could barely hear him. His focus had shifted. Among the prisoners, limping heavily and flanked by two larger men, was a face he recognized.

“Germa…”

The young man looked up at the sound of his name. His battered face twisted with shock and disbelief. “Sir?! What… What are you doing here?!”

“I came to get you out of this,” Arthur said quietly, with unwavering resolve.

“You shouldn’t have come,” Germa choked, tears mingling with the blood on his face. “You could’ve escaped, sir!! You can’t do anything against him!”

Arthur didn’t answer. He didn’t need to. His presence here was already the answer.

Nameless clasped his hands together, pretending to sob. “Such heartwarming devotion. Sniff. I almost don’t want to go through with it.”

“Then don’t!” Arthur shouted. “You still have a choice!”

“No, no… There are no choices left.” Nameless’s voice hardened. “The gears have turned, and destiny waits for no one.”

He yanked the chains, dragging the prisoners toward the edge of the abyss. Arthur’s heart dropped.

“No…” he whispered.

The platform trembled under their feet as they were lined up—right at the precipice, facing the endless void.

Nameless turned to face them, arms spread as if presenting a play. “This is it, everyone. This is the moment that shifts the stars. Your souls will feed the awakening. Your screams will echo through time as the last cries of the old world before the new one is born.”

“You’re insane!” one of the prisoners cried, a woman in her forties with tear-streaked cheeks.

“Insanity is a term for those who lack vision,” Nameless said. “I see clearly. I have never been able to see clearer than this moment!”

He stopped in front of Germa, a twisted smile on his lips.

“You,” he said, tapping Germa on the forehead, “will be the first. Like your father before you, you will lead your people. Right into their fate. A befitting end, if you ask me.”

Germa’s body tensed. His legs resisted, digging into the stone. “My father died protecting people like you would trample. He gave everything to stop men like you. You think this is divine? It’s a massacre. It’s a betrayal of everything human.”

Nameless’s smile never faded. “A necessary betrayal. Go on, then. Embrace your role.”

With that, he shoved Germa forward.

The man stumbled, feet skidding. The edge loomed closer. For a second, it seemed like he would fall—but at the last moment, he regained his balance and stepped back.

He turned slowly to face Nameless, eyes filled not with fear, but defiance. “You’ll regret this. If you wake whatever’s down there, you’ll wish we killed you before it opened its eyes. This world doesn’t need a God—that age is long gone.”

“Oh, but that’s where we differ,” Nameless said, his voice almost tender. “This world needs correction. Make sure to watch from the other side, Germa.”

Then—swish—he vanished in an instant, only to reappear behind Germa. Without hesitation, he kicked him square in the back.

Germa was thrown forward, arms flailing.

“NO!!” Arthur screamed.

Time slowed.

He saw it all—the lurch of Germa’s body, the flash of fear on his face, the way his form seemed to stretch as he was swallowed by the abyss. His scream never came. It was as if the darkness devoured sound along with light.

Arthur stood paralyzed. His eyes locked on the void, unable to look away.

In that moment, something inside him snapped.

A flood of memories surged through him. His childhood. His first encounter with the game. Every friend, his struggles, dreams, lessons, and journey so far. He remembered it all like a beautiful movie from start to finish.

‘I won’t let this happen. I can’t let this happen!’

Arthur’s body trembled. His breathing quickened.

And then—his eyes.

They began to glow. A brilliant, violent red. The same color they always glowed in combat, when his power surged—but this time, it was different. There was a clarity behind it. That faint glow had turned into a raging light.

Nameless turned, sensing the shift.

“…Hm?”

He paused, confused for the first time in a long while.

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