Far from the boisterous tavern, Adam sat on a grassy field at the edge of a serene lake. Twin crescent flanking a whole moon shimmered across the still surface as a cool breeze tousled his hair. The quiet chirping of unseen insects filled the air, but his gaze remained fixed on the mirrored water.
It really is a beautiful night.
He sighed, eyes lifting toward the clear sky. While Dratol’s central districts boasted grand architecture and modern design, he found a quiet charm in the outskirts’ rustic simplicity.
“I don’t think it’s possible to make it back to Varidan Academy tonight,” he muttered, stretching as he picked up an unremarkable pebble.
The men stalling Varidan’s observer should be retreating soon. It won’t take long before they find me.
He flicked the pebble across the lake. It skipped eight times before sinking into the depths.
Adam exhaled and stood, smoothing his wrinkled uniform and brushing loose strands from his face.
“Aren’t you bored yet?” he called out, eyes still on the water. “I’ve been here for two hours already. I can’t wait all day.”
Silence. Only the faint ripples from his last throw disturbed the surface.
He rubbed his temples. They’re really not going to come out, huh?
Reaching for another pebble, he tossed it again. “I can see you—all four of you,” he said calmly. “You’ve been hiding long enough. Might as well show yourselves.”
Still nothing.
Then, as he stepped forward, the lake erupted with bubbles and crossing ripples.
Finally.
He smiled and stopped.
Four figures emerged from the depths, clad in sleek black wetsuits and masks that concealed their faces.
“Impressive,” a deep voice said. “We thought we’d erased every trace of our presence. Seems Varidan students live up to their reputation.”
Adam smiled faintly. “So, even knowing who I am, you still plan to attack me?” His eyes drifted from one assassin to the next. “Tell me—who sent you? Hiring four assassins feels a little excessive, don’t you think?”
“You can ask the judges in the afterlife,” the man replied.
With a gesture, three assassins vanished, reappearing to encircle him and block every exit.
“I’m in a generous mood,” Adam said evenly. “I’ll pay you five times whatever you were offered—and guarantee your lives—if you just give me a name.” His gaze locked on the one still standing in the water, likely their leader. “All I need is a name. It’s a fair deal.”
Laughter echoed across the lake.
“We’ve met plenty of posers like you,” the leader said. “If you’re going to act confident, at least hide your trembling hands.”
Adam’s expression didn’t change.
“And you keep talking about sparing us,” the assassin continued. “What’s a mere E-ranked Awakened going to do?” He scoffed. “You’re lucky the client didn’t request a painful death. We’ll make it quick. Though…” he paused, “we do have to take an eye. Before or after you die? Your choice.”
“Alright then,” Adam said softly. “Come get it.”
[BATTLE MODE: CON 0 (-20) | AGI 38 (+20) | END 40 (+10) | DEX 0 (-20) | STR 30 (+10)]
Adam ignored the message, eyes narrowing on the man still in the water as the liquid around him hardened into crystalline spikes—more than a dozen.
Elemental, huh.
He’d read about them: Awakened gifted with control over natural elements.
The leader gave a small nod, and one of his men advanced in a boxer’s stance. “Don’t struggle, kid. I’ll make this quick.”
Adam vanished, reappearing beside the man like a flicker of shadow. His fist lashed toward the assassin’s throat.
“Attack now!” the leader barked.
Spikes surged from the lake, and twin elemental attacks converged on Adam’s position. The man before him didn’t even dodge—intent on trapping him in a suicidal exchange.
Ruthless. Adam smirked. System—activate illusion inducement.
Mist burst from his form, unseen and undetected. He rolled aside just as the spikes and energy blasts collided, gouging a crater into the earth.
Rising to his feet, he watched the assassin exhale a stream of corrosive acid, once again at the same exact spot he’d just vacated.
They’re attacking like they already know my Blessing.
The barrage didn’t stop. Wave after wave of ability-fueled strikes pounded the ground where he’d once stood. None of the assassins used conventional weapons; their attacks came relentless and calculated.
Finally, the onslaught ceased.
Adam dusted off his coat and approached the nearest attacker. The masked man remained motionless, staring blankly at the crater.
They can’t see me, he mused, fighting back a laugh. I wonder what they’re seeing right now.
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Then came the familiar voice. “Klein, retrieve the target. Take whichever eye you want—but make it clean.”
Adam watched the assassin step forward. It was the same man he’d nearly struck before.
[Do you want to peer into the illusion?]
[Yes!]?[No!]
Adam’s smile widened. He didn’t hesitate; he chose [Yes!].
A veil lifted from his vision. There, lying where the attacks had landed, was a mangled corpse—his own. The only thing that still resembled a human being was the head. Klein crouched beside it, pulling a small dagger from his robe. Without a flicker of hesitation, he plucked the left eyeball free and dropped it into a jar filled with bluish liquid that shimmered like quicksilver.
They really came prepared, Adam noted. Now I’m even more curious who sent them.
“He was all talk after all,” Klein muttered, sealing the jar.
“What did you expect?” another assassin sneered. “Those Varidan brats always think they’re special. They know nothing about the real world.”
“That’s enough,” the leader cut in, voice low and sharp. “Klein, deliver the package to the client. We’ll regroup at the usual spot.”
Klein nodded. “You’re heading to the guild first, right?”
“Of course. It’s best to report completion immediately.” The leader withdrew a small vial from his inner pocket and poured its contents over the corpse. The body melted into a dark puddle that hissed against the earth. “Go on. Don’t keep the client waiting.”
The group dispersed. Klein went eastwards, the rest toward the south.
Adam waited, eyes fixed on the crater that replaced his “corpse.” Moments later, Klein returned, silent as a wraith.
He stopped beside the crater, frowning down at the ground. The jar in his hand was empty.
“What the hell…?” he muttered, scanning the area. He crouched, inspecting the dirt, confusion giving way to unease.
Adam moved.
The illusion inducement would hold as long as he stayed within fifty meters of the original position. He closed the distance in a breath. His right hand clenched, summoning a battle axe—one half of Cataclysm, Runed Blade of Delusions.
Without a word, he seized Klein’s throat with one hand and brought the axe down with the other. Flesh split cleanly. A severed hand hit the grass.
“Each time you stall or lie, I’ll take another piece,” Adam said, voice low and controlled. “Tell me, Klein, who ordered the hit?”
Klein screamed, thrashing beneath Adam’s knee, but the grip only tightened. His severed hand shriveled like dried parchment.
“H-how are you still alive?” he gasped.
Adam swung again, severing the other arm. “Wrong answer,” he murmured. “Who sent you?”
The assassin howled, but Adam didn’t bother to silence him. As long as the illusion held, no one would hear.
“I’ll—kill—”
The axe came down again. The man’s right leg came off below the ankle. “I can do this all day,” Adam said with a grin. “Why prolong it? Talk, and I’ll make it quick. If you’re going to suffer, at least make the people who sent you suffer too.”
“F–fuck you—”
Adam’s next swing took the leg off cleanly at the knee. Klein’s body convulsed, but still he clung to consciousness.
Impressive, Adam thought. He hasn’t passed out yet.
He leaned close, smiling faintly. “You were going to meet the client after this, weren’t you? Don’t insult me by pretending to be ignorant.”
Klein’s only response was another scream.
Adam sighed, almost tenderly, brushing a hand through the man’s hair. “Alright then. Let’s crank this up a notch.”
He tapped Klein’s back. Instantly, the trembling ceased. Blood retreated into his veins. His skin blackened as bluish-purple veins surfaced across his body.
Klein’s screams turned feral, inhuman. He writhed helplessly as the transformation ravaged him.
“Kill me! Please!”
Adam tilted his head, calm and curious. “Who sent you?”
“Dominic… Rowe… Armstrong!” Klein choked. “Please… kill me!”
Adam’s eyes narrowed. That name… wait. Oh. A smile tugged at his lips. The bastard from the airship.
He leaned down, voice low. “Where were you supposed to meet him?”
“In… the alley behind Theodore’s Brewery.”
“How did you know about my Blessing? Did he tell you?”
“Yes,” Klein rasped. “It’s one of the guild’s conditions before accepting a hit. Please… kill me!”
“What’s the name of your guild?” Adam asked without hesitation.
“Kill me—”
Adam swung, severing the man’s other leg. Not a single drop of blood spilled. “What’s the name of your guild?”
“Raventhorn…” The assassin’s voice wavered through broken screams. “Please, kill me.”
“Who finances Raventhorn? The Armstrong family?”
“Y-Yes…”
Adam nodded wordlessly, ignoring the man’s pleas. He flipped him onto his back and ripped off the mask in one fluid motion. The pale, bloodless face beneath trembled.
Without pause, Adam reached for Klein’s left eye and plucked it free. He dropped it into the jar.
System, store this in the inventory.
The jar vanished in silence.
Time to end this, he thought, tightening his grip on the axe.
Then came the voice.
“Adam, this is a meal for us to devour.” The demonic voice thundered within his mind. “Let’s savor his flesh and drink his blood. Rip him to shreds!”
[Skill: Devourer is unstable!]
The hunger returned but this time, there was no pain. Only craving.
Saliva slipped from the corners of Adam’s mouth as he stared at Klein’s body. The assassin’s remaining eye widened in horror.
“Get… get away from me…” he rasped, but his limbs refused to move.
Adam crouched. Wordlessly, he dipped his finger into the gory hollow where the eye had been. Klein’s screams turned animalistic as a force surged from Adam’s gut, flowing into his hand. His fingers blackened, veins dark as tar. The assassin’s body swelled grotesquely, ballooning fivefold until his skin strained to bursting.
Adam withdrew his finger. The assassin was now a perfect obsidian statue; silent, motionless, and dead.
He raised his hand and clenched it. The body convulsed. Blood erupted through the empty socket like a geyser, spiraling into a black vortex above it. Bones snapped. Ligaments tore. Still, Adam’s gaze remained fixed on the swirling blood.
“Fantastic!” the demonic voice exulted. “Drink it, Adam! Drink it!”
Adam looked down. The body was no longer human. Two horns jutted from the skull, limbs regenerated, and beastlike claws replaced fingers. Its regenerated eye glowed faintly red.
“What are you waiting for? Drink it!” the voice roared again.
Instead, Adam extended his hand toward the vortex. The liquid splattered down, coating the creature’s body in a deep crimson sheen.
“You fool!” the demon snarled. “A mere Rank D Awakened is best served as food! It’s not linked with your Omen yet. We can still eat him! Let’s eat!”
Adam ignored it. His tone was calm. “System, establish a connection to my Omen.”
[Establishing Connection to Omen...]
[Congratulations! Skill: Summoner is now in effect!]
Shockwaves rippled from the transformed corpse. The creature’s eyes snapped open, and it rose, towering above Adam.
[Connection Successfully Established.]
It dropped to one knee, bowing low.
[Familiar Successfully Created!]
Name: None
Race: Familiar
Class: Assassin
Omen Rank: E
[Congratulations! You have received 3 Omen Points!]
[Familiar will be transferred to Inventory!]
Before Adam could speak, the creature vanished.
[Inventory]
– Cataclysm, Runed Blade of Delusions
– Sealed Jar
– Familiar (1/50)
“What a waste,” the demonic voice groaned.
But Adam smiled as the notifications flickered away. I did that?
The idea to use Manipulator on the corpse had struck only after the hunger began gnawing again. Of all his abilities, Summoner had confused him most. Every skill came with innate understanding—but not that one. Only when the voice warned him not to connect the corpse to Omen did the knowledge click.
Does this mean I’m an è?ù now? he mused, giggling softly.
He studied his hands, flexing his fingers as the shadows pulsed beneath his skin.
What would happen if I got my hands on a higher-ranked Awakened?
A laugh threatened to escape, and he pressed a hand to his mouth. “I need to calm down,” he muttered, steadying his breath.
He turned eastward, eyes glinting with amusement. “Theodore’s Brewery. Raventhorn. Dominic Rowe Armstrong.”
His smile widened. “This should be fun.”
