"I’ll admit it, Lucien Ashborne," the robed man said, his voice echoing in the sudden, ringing silence. "Your skill is almost worthy of being mistaken for me."

I kept my face perfectly blank, leveling the smoking barrel of my rifle directly at his chest. But inside, my mind was spiraling into deep, frantic confusion.

Mistaken for you? I stared at the dual revolvers, the impossible curving bullets, and the dark, heavy coat. A terrifying realization slowly began to dawn on me, pulled straight from my knowledge of Asteria Online’s lore.

Who the fuck are you?

A wild, impossible guess surfaced in my mind, and a violent shiver ran down my spine.

As if hearing my thoughts, the robed man slowly reached up and pulled back his deep hood.

He was an older man, but he carried an undeniable, overwhelming presence. He had stark white hair combed neatly back and a short, impeccably trimmed white beard. His face was surprisingly radiant and unblemished, making him look like a robust, handsome man in his early fifties.

My mind was completely blown.

What are you doing here so early in the plot?! I screamed internally. You are not supposed to come out of hiding until the middle of the second year!

This man was the real Executioner. He was the First Gun Master. He might look like a fit man in his fifties, but he was a relic of the fallen Holy Empire—well over a century old. He had received numerous divine blessings during the old wars, severely slowing his aging process. No one in the current era actually knew exactly how long his lifespan was.

"Looking at your expression," the Executioner chuckled, a low, smooth sound. "I am guessing you have already recognized my identity."

The old master casually spun his revolver, holstered it inside his coat, and walked over to the only armchair in the ruined room that hadn’t been blown to splinters. He sat down, crossing his legs, and looked at me with a deeply amused smile.

"That brings up an interesting question, however," the Executioner continued, resting his chin on his hand. "How do you know my face? I believe very few people left in this era have ever seen me without my hood. And a seventeen-year-old noble from the Capital is definitely not among them."

I swallowed the lump in my throat. I lowered my rifle, my mind racing to formulate a believable lie.

"I heard about you," I began cautiously, slowly lowering my rifle, "from a person who was trapped inside a time-loop dungeon from the old era. Specifically, the Root of Decay, in Ecolological Park of Fern Kingdom"

t wasn’t exactly a total lie. I really had met the lingering remnant of an ancient knight in the Root of Decay dungeon, and it was there that I had acquired the Gun Master training manual that helped me train my divine force.

"Oh?" The Executioner raised a white eyebrow, genuinely intrigued. "There is such a thing? Fascinating."

I kept my hand near my inventory, just in case. "If I may ask cautiously... why are you here?"

The Executioner laughed. "Why else? I came to see the boy who has been impersonating me across the Northern Frontier. And I must say... you do have some impressive skills."

The Executioner’s praise felt almost like mockery to my ringing ears.

"My skills are severely lacking," I replied honestly.

And truly, they were. I couldn’t even touch the hem of his abilities. The Executioner, the First Gun Master, had just proven his legendary reputation was no exaggeration. I dared say, if he hadn’t been intentionally holding back to test me, I would have died with his very first shot at the doorway.

"For your age, they’re exceptional," he countered mildly. "Through our little shootout in the corridor, using the limited cover, we gauged each other’s abilities—whether you were worth utilizing or not. It seems you passed."

"I am honored," I said flatly. "But I have to make something perfectly clear. I never once tried to impersonate you. It’s those fools in the military and the royal faction who keep misunderstanding the situation and making their own dramatic conclusions."

"Don’t be so stiff, kid," the Executioner waved a hand dismissively. "I already know that. Do you really think I came all this way to shoot up an inn without thoroughly investigating you first?"

"So what now?" I asked, keeping my guard up. "Did you just come here to test my reflexes, or do you have a specific objective?"

At that, the Executioner’s amused smile faded, replaced by a solemn, heavy gravity.

"I do have a specific objective," he said quietly. "While investigating your recent... exploits... I came across a very interesting piece of information. A rumor that you are in possession of a certain artifact. I need to check if it is true or not."

I immediately went into full analytical mode. What could it be? Currently, there were only three things in my possession that could possibly catch the eye of a century-old survivor of the Holy Empire: the Primordial Earth Crown, the Pilgrim’s Goblet, and the Rosary of the Weeping Saintess.

But the Pilgrim’s Goblet hadn’t even seen the light of day yet; I had just looted it and it was sitting securely in my spatial inventory. The Earth Crown wasn’t strictly a holy relic.

That left only one logical option.

I reached into my inventory. With a faint shimmer, I pulled out the heavy silver chain holding the brilliant diamond cross.

I stepped forward and gently placed the Rosary of the Weeping Saintess onto the cracked, bullet-riddled tea table between us.

The moment the artifact touched the wood, the Executioner’s calm, radiant eyes wavered violently.

"It’s truly the Rosary..." he whispered, his voice trembling slightly. He leaned forward, but he didn’t reach out to touch it. He just stared at the glowing diamond. "May I ask how you acquired this, Lucien?"

"I obtained it in a hidden dungeon," I lied again. I couldn’t exactly tell him I bought it from a multidimensional System shop. Fortunately, the System had already provided the past of the item. "A paladin’s skeleton was wearing it around his neck.."

"Ah..." The Executioner closed his eyes, a deep, profound sorrow washing over his face. "To hear news of a forgotten comrade in a place like this."

Oh... I thought, slightly taken aback. That’s unexpected. They actually knew each other.

For a long moment, the ruined hotel room was dead silent, save for the whistling wind coming through the shattered windows. The Executioner remained perfectly still, reminiscing about a distant, bloody past that the rest of the continent had long since forgotten.

Finally, he opened his pure white eyes and looked up at me.

"Is there something you want?" he asked, his tone shifting back to business.

"...Do you want the Rosary back?" I asked carefully.

If the Executioner demanded it, I wouldn’t refuse. It would be a massive tactical loss—losing my infinite divine mana battery—but I absolutely did not want to make a blood enemy out of its original owner, a formidable, unkillable powerhouse.

But, to my surprise, he slowly shook his head.

"No, that’s not why I asked," he said, leaning back in his chair. "I only want to reward you for bringing me news of my comrade. And besides... the Rosary is much better kept with you."