In his previous life...
After countless sacrifices, humanity had eventually managed to categorize the terrifying supernatural entities into three general Ranks.
[Malevolent Spirit]: The lowest Rank. Their power is relatively limited, and they are typically immobile—akin to earthbound spirits. In the early stages of their ergence, they often lack any direct ans of attack, relying instead on illusions and ntal influence to drive victims toward death. At this level, an ordinary person wielding the right tools might have a chance of survival. However, as the spirit racks up more kills, it gradually gains the ability to kill directly. Telekinesis, phasing through walls, illusions, and corruption beco standard abilities. At this stage, unless soone has undergone specialized training, an encounter usually ans certain death.
[Vengeful Spirit]: Their power has undergone a qualitative leap. Though still largely bound to their place of origin, they usually possess the ability to kill at a distance. In addition to their basic powers, they awaken unique abilities—manipulating water or fire, casting curses, invading dreams to kill, and other bizarre or terrifying talents that are sotis impossible to comprehend.
[Evil Spirit]: The specifics of this Rank remain unclear. What is known is that after yet another transformation in power, most conventional thods beco completely ineffective against them. Under certain conditions, they can even leave their place of origin and roam freely, becoming living natural disasters. Every appearance results in massive human casualties.
With Silas's current level of strength, he could, at best, deal with a Malevolent Spirit. If he encountered a Vengeful Spirit, he'd almost certainly be dead before he could even think of escaping.
As for Evil Spirits, they were far beyond what a single human could ever hope to handle. Only specific, specialized thods could eliminate them.
Fortunately, entities of that Rank weren't expected to appear for several more years.
[Anomalies], however, stood outside the normal classification entirely—an exception to the system.
Whether human or spirit, once sothing entered their territory, escape was virtually impossible.
They followed a strict kill-on-sight rule.
Their origins were completely unknown.
They were effectively indestructible.
No thod—whether physical or otherwise—could destroy them permanently.
Even if annihilated, they would regenerate in an incredibly short span of ti.
Sotis, simply triggering certain conditions would cause instant death.
Their effects resembled a kind of supernatural law—utterly inescapable.
The only blessing was that, unlike spirits, who retained so degree of thought and intent, Anomalies lacked sentience. They were more like natural phenona, operating purely on instinct, guided by simple emotional triggers like like or dislike. Their movent was also strictly confined to specific areas.
In a way, this actually made them less dangerous.
As long as you avoided their territory, you were safe.
---
As the banquet progressed into its latter half...
Silas noticed that the crowd around a certain elderly gentleman had started to thin.
He turned to Gerwin and gave him a quick word before making his way toward the old man.
The elder appeared to be in his seventies, with a kind and pleasant deanor. One could still faintly see that he had once been a handso man.
He stood around 175 cm tall, his posture upright and firm, completely lacking the usual stoop of age.
He was dressed in an elegant, aristocratic outfit resembling a modern suit, exuding a graceful, composed air—like a true gentleman of the old world.
Just standing there, he gave off a quiet, imposing aura.
As Silas approached, the old man looked at him with calm eyes and asked plainly, "Young man, is there sothing you need?"
To him, Silas seed like just another young man trying to curry favor. Were it not for his refined upbringing, he wouldn't have bothered to respond.
But then Silas leaned in, his tone low and serious:
"Lord Saladin, I've found the man you've been searching for all these years."
CRACK!
The wine glass in Saladin's hand shattered instantly.
The sharp sound drew gasps from the surrounding guests, who stared in confusion, unsure of what had just happened.
Saladin paid no attention to their looks, nor to the glass shards in his hand. His expression twisted as he stared directly at Silas.
"You're sure it's him!?"
Though Silas remained calm internally, he feigned visible anxiety and nodded earnestly.
"Positive. He has a faded yellow-green spider tattoo on the left side of his face, and a limp in his left leg—exactly as you described."
"Hahaha!!"
"Excellent. Truly excellent!"
Saladin laughed manically, all of his forr elegance gone. His expression turned ferocious as he spoke:
"If your intel is correct, then I'll honor my promise. You may ask one thing of ."
Ignoring Saladin's now-wild expression, Silas looked him straight in the eye and said with utmost seriousness:
"I want to beco your disciple. I want to learn your power."
Saladin didn't hesitate.
"Very well. Once I verify your claim and confirm it's true—you will be my disciple."
Around them, the clueless bystanders erupted in shock.
To them, it looked like Silas was making a play to inherit Saladin's fortune after his death.
Everyone knew Saladin had no family. If he were to die, his vast wealth—enough to rival nations—would naturally go to a disciple or adopted heir.
As a result, envious whispers filled the air, with onlookers casting jealous glances at Silas, wishing they could take his place.
Listening to the murmurs around him, Silas rolled his eyes inwardly:
'Idiots. In this era, power is the foundation of everything.'
In this world, supernatural powers had never fully disappeared. They had only faded from public view as modern civilization progressed.
After all, no matter how hard soone trained for ten years, it was still no match for the firepower of a single machine gun.
But now, with the resurgence of supernatural events and the steady rise of ambient energy in the atmosphere year after year…
Abilities once considered weak were beginning to show their true potential again.
One by one, supernatural powers were re-erging and reclaiming their place on the stage.
And according to what Silas knew, Saladin was among the most powerful of them all.
Even during the era of low energy, he could resist most modern weaponry.
At his peak, he could easily defeat the vast majority of Vengeful Spirit-level threats.
Even more importantly—he was known for his good temperant and unwavering sense of honor.
So naturally, with the knowledge carried over from his past life, Silas had approached him without hesitation.
He hoped to use this opportunity to compensate for his own shortcomings. After all, his current powers were mostly fast-tracked, purchased rather than earned. His techniques and real combat experience were lacking—he was still sowhat raw.
And he understood all too well why Saladin had lost control upon hearing that information.
The man they were talking about… had slaughtered all of Saladin's loved ones.
He'd been hunting him for decades.
Anyone would be overwheld by emotion.
____
Translator's Note:
Hey everyone! I've just wrapped up translating my latest fanfic, and now I'm on the hunt for a new one to bring to you all. I'd love to hear your suggestions — maybe there's a great story out there that hasn't been translated yet and deserves so attention!
Before you recomnd anything, though, here are a few conditions I'd like to set:
The main character shouldn't be an idiot — smart, decisive protagonists only!
No unnecessary power hiding. If the MC can solve a problem easily, they should do it.
Absolutely no "good boy" or pushover types.
The MC must be strong, confident, and respected — soone who stands tall in every scene.
Basically, I'm looking for stories where the main character owns their strength and doesn't waste ti pretending otherwise.
So, if you know any hidden gems that fit this style, drop your suggestions below! I'll check them out and maybe one of them will beco my next translation project.
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