When Your First Thought Is To Flee...

A mountain extended into the air, standing at a height of about 100 meters tall.

Above this mountain was a flat top, as if having been sliced off smoothly by a blade, and resting on this top was a ten-meter-tall dojo.

Its gate had the image of the head of a demon, and entering into it, it gave a desolate aura as if having been there since the head of time.

A bloodied young man appeared at the steps as he finally climbed up to the mountain top.

His fair white hands were torn apart badly, an injury obtained from climbing the mountain and holding on tightly to the jagged rocks.

The young man fell face flate as he struggled to his knees, sweat and blood dripping down his head, his golden hair stained with a crimson plater hung tightly to his forehead.