《Just an Extra》 Read First Hi, and welcome to my first novel! This is a passion project for me. I got into light novels a couple of months ago and came across The Author¡¯s POV by Entrail_Ji. It inspired me to try writing a novel with a similar vibe. While this story takes place in a different world with unique characters and settings, The Author¡¯s POV was a major inspiration, so I highly recommend checking it out I promise you won''t regret it.The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings. As for me, this is my first time writing something serious. I¡¯ve dabbled in writing before, but now I¡¯m trying to make something engaging. Most importantly, this story is for fun. It¡¯s a way for me to write and pass the time. I¡¯m currently a senior in high school, so updates may be erratic¡ªthere won¡¯t be a fixed upload schedule. Feedback is always appreciated, whether good or bad, and I won¡¯t delete comments. Once again, be sure to check out The Author¡¯s POV by Entrail_Ji. Take care of each other. Prolouge The classroom was alive with chatter, students laughing and trading stories as they packed their bags. Desks scraped against the floor, sneakers shuffled toward the door, and the low hum of after-school plans filled the air. But in the midst of it all, one student remained motionless¡ªhead down, cheek pressed against his forearm, a thin trail of drool glistening under the flickering fluorescent lights. The bell rang, sharp and final. Chairs screeched, voices spiked in excitement, and the classroom emptied in waves. One by one, they left. Nobody stopped. Nobody spared a glance at the boy lost in sleep. A silence settled over the room. Then¡ª ¡°Hey.¡± Soft. Barely more than a whisper. The boy stirred, a quiet groan slipping from his lips as his eyelids fluttered open. His vision blurred for a moment, adjusting to the dimming daylight outside. The classroom was empty now, except for one figure lingering near the desk¡ªhis teacher, arms crossed, staring at him with an unreadable expression. There was no one else. He blinked, sleep still heavy in his bones. ¡°...Huh?¡± The teacher sighed. ¡°Class ended ten minutes ago.¡± The boy wiped his cheek with the back of his sleeve, feeling the dampness of drool, and let out a tired grunt. Right. He¡¯d fallen asleep again. Rubbing a hand over his face, he straightened, blinking away the haze of sleep. His voice came out quieter than intended. ¡°I¡¯m¡­ uh¡­ sorry.¡± The teacher waved off the apology with a slight shake of the head. ¡°No need to be sorry. Didn¡¯t get enough sleep last night?¡± The boy exhaled through his nose. ¡°No¡­ not really.¡± The teacher leaned against the desk, arms still crossed, studying him. ¡°Video games?¡± His tone was knowing, casual¡ªprobably recalling the medieval battle royale that had just hit the market. It was all anyone had been talking about lately. The boy hesitated. His fingers curled around the strap of his bag as he stood, shoulders stiff. ¡°I¡­ I haven¡¯t played any games for a little bit now.¡± The teacher raised an eyebrow but didn¡¯t push. ¡°Good for you,¡± he said instead. ¡°Video games can be bad for the mind.¡± There was no malice in the words, but something about the way they were said made the boy¡¯s grip tighten. He slung his bag over his shoulder. ¡°Yeah,¡± he muttered, not quite agreeing, not quite disagreeing. The conversation felt finished, but for some reason, neither of them moved. The boy shifted on his feet, grip tightening on the strap of his bag. His throat felt dry, and for a second, it seemed like he wanted to say something else¡ªsomething more. But the moment passed. ¡°I¡¯m gonna leave,¡± he muttered finally, before turning on his heel and rushing out of the room. Mr. Dimmick watched him go, his expression unreadable. The classroom door swung shut with a soft click, leaving behind only the faint echo of hurried footsteps fading down the hallway. ¡°Be safe,¡± the teacher said, though he knew the boy was already too far away to hear him. He exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. This was the first time in weeks the kid had shown up to class. It wasn¡¯t like anyone talked about it openly, but people knew¡ªteachers, students, the administration. The boy bounced from place to place, couch to couch, never settling, never staying. Not because of anything he¡¯d done. Just¡­ life. And that was the worst part. Mr. Dimmick sighed, glancing at the empty desk where the boy had been moments ago. Smart kid. If things were different¡ªif he had stability¡ªmaybe he wouldn¡¯t be sleeping through class, wouldn¡¯t be barely scraping by. The teacher lingered for another second before finally turning back to his desk, the weight of unspoken thoughts settling in his chest. Alex stepped out of the school and into the city¡¯s restless pulse. The streets were alive¡ªhorns blaring, people weaving through the sidewalks in tangled clusters, voices blending into an overwhelming hum. Even after a few months in New York, the crowds still made his skin crawl. Everything moved too fast, too loud, too much. He adjusted the strap of his bag and kept walking, head low, trying to focus on the pavement beneath his feet rather than the crush of people around him. Bzzz. His pocket vibrated. A call. Pulling out his phone, he glanced at the screen. The name Mom stared back at him. He hesitated. Then, with a quiet breath, he swiped to answer. ¡°Alex, how was your first day?¡± Her voice was warm, familiar¡ªlike she was trying to sound upbeat for his sake. ¡°It was¡­ fine,¡± he said, weaving between pedestrians. ¡°You do anything fun?¡± ¡°Not really.¡± A pause. Then, ¡°Do you remember how to get here?¡± Alex swallowed. His grip on the phone tightened. ¡°Yeah¡­ I remember.¡± ¡°Call me if you need anything.¡± She was about to hang up when the words slipped out of his mouth before he could stop them. ¡°Wait.¡± A beat of silence. ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± Alex opened his mouth, then shut it again. The buildings around him all looked the same, towering and gray, stretching far beyond what felt manageable. His pulse quickened. ¡°I don¡¯t know the way back¡­¡± Another pause. This time, heavier. ¡°Then why did you say you did?¡± ¡°I, uh¡­ I don¡¯t know,¡± he admitted. ¡°I¡­ I¡¯m sorry.¡± A sigh on the other end. ¡°I¡¯ll send you the address.¡± ¡°Thank you.¡± A moment later, his phone buzzed again¡ªthis time with a message. The address appeared on the screen. Alex tapped it, letting the maps feature load. A blue line stretched across the screen, guiding him home. Or, at least, to where home was for now. He exhaled, staring at the glowing screen in his palm before stuffing the phone back into his pocket. Then, adjusting his bag again, he followed the path. Alex followed the map¡¯s glowing blue line until it led him underground. The subway station was dim, lit by flickering overhead lights that cast long, restless shadows against the concrete walls. The air was thick with the mingling scents of sweat, metal, and something vaguely damp. People milled about, some standing near the edge of the platform, others scrolling through their phones, lost in their own worlds. He didn¡¯t bother finding a bench. Instead, he sank down against a cold, graffiti-stained wall, stretching his legs out and letting his bag rest beside him. The ache of the day settled into his bones, but he ignored it. Pulling out his phone, he tapped open a novel. He¡¯d read this one hundreds of times¡ªfront to back, back to front. He could probably recite entire passages if he wanted to. It wasn¡¯t the best story, not compared to the ones that had taken the internet by storm. But none of that mattered. Because for some reason, he always came back to this one. The story followed a boy from a small, forgotten village in a world teeming with demons, orcs, dwarves, and elves¡ªraces that had long fought for dominance. One day, the demons came, razing everything to the ground. His parents died screaming, their blood soaking into the dirt. But for some reason, the demons let him live. A cruel mercy. Left with nothing but the ashes of his home, the boy was granted a system. It would guide him, mold him into a hero, someone strong enough to slay the demons and save the world. Alex stared at the words on his screen, his thumb hovering over the text. It wasn¡¯t just the story that drew him in. It was him¡ªthe boy, the way he never crumbled, never stopped moving forward despite everything. Despite the loneliness. Despite the uncertainty. Alex had always looked up to him. After all, their backstories weren¡¯t so different. A gust of wind rushed through the station, signaling the train¡¯s arrival. Alex sighed, locked his phone, and pushed himself to his feet. Alex strolled over to the train getting in and standing using a pole for support. Alex could never forget the day his parents died. It wasn¡¯t just a memory¡ªit was the memory. The first one he ever had. Preschool. Sitting in a too-big chair outside the principal¡¯s office, legs swinging above the floor, confused at why they¡¯d pulled him out of class. Then the door opened, and a woman he barely knew knelt down to his level, voice trembling as she spoke. Even she had trouble getting the words out. A semi-truck. The driver fell asleep behind the wheel. Swerved into the next lane. Head-on collision. Both killed on impact. He was too young to understand it then, but he remembered the way the room had felt¡ªsmaller, like the walls were pressing in on him. Someone hugged him. Someone else murmured empty words meant to soothe, but they barely reached his ears. At least it had been instant. At least they hadn¡¯t suffered. That¡¯s what he told himself. Alex exhaled and dragged his gaze back to his phone, opening his contacts. His thumb hovered over one name. Mom. He stared at the screen for a moment. It was strange, seeing that name again. He¡¯d met the woman a few days ago, but it didn¡¯t matter. It didn¡¯t hurt to pretend. It was nice having messages pop up with Mom in the notification bar¡ªeven if they weren¡¯t real. ¡°Get off me!¡± A sharp voice yanked him out of his thoughts. Across the train, a middle-aged man jerked his shoulder away, glaring at the teenager slumped against him. The kid blinked awake, eyes still heavy with sleep. ¡°S¡ªSorry,¡± the teenager mumbled, sitting up straight. The man scoffed. ¡°You better be.¡± The apology should¡¯ve been the end of it. But the teenager¡¯s expression twisted, his exhaustion giving way to anger. ¡°What did you just say?¡± he snapped, shoulders tensing. Just like that, the air shifted¡ªsharp, brittle, like a match was about to be struck. Alex sighed through his nose and turned away, tuning them out. He tapped his screen, pulling his novel back up.Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings. The argument faded into background noise. Yelling, muttered insults, the distant sound of the train rattling over tracks. Alex stepped off the subway and into the cool evening air. The city felt different at this hour¡ªcalmer, but not quiet. The hum of distant traffic, the occasional honk, the murmur of passing conversations¡ªit all blended together into something oddly familiar. Following the GPS, he navigated the streets until he reached an apartment building. It was nicer than most places he¡¯d stayed in before, with clean brickwork and a lobby that didn¡¯t reek of old carpet or cigarette smoke. He pushed open the door, took the stairs two at a time, and stopped at 735. His hand hovered over the doorbell for a second before he pressed it. Footsteps approached from the other side. A lock clicked. The door swung open, revealing Lauren. She looked like someone straight out of a magazine¡ªcasually stylish without trying. Her black hair was streaked with pink highlights, the color framing her face in a way that made her glasses seem like the perfect accessory rather than an afterthought. ¡°Hi, Mrs. Lauren,¡± Alex said. She clicked her tongue. ¡°Sweetie, you don¡¯t have to ring the doorbell. You live here now. And stop with this ¡®Mrs.¡¯ stuff.¡± Alex shifted on his feet. ¡°Sorry¡­¡± ¡°There it is again.¡± She folded her arms, raising an eyebrow. ¡°I¡¯ve lost count of how many times you¡¯ve apologized since you got here.¡± ¡°Oh¡­ uh¡­ yeah. I¡¯ll try to stop.¡± Lauren sighed, shaking her head with a smile. ¡°Come on, stop standing in the hallway like a lost puppy. Get inside.¡± Alex nodded and stepped in, toeing off his shoes and placing them neatly by the door before slinging his bag onto a chair near the entrance. The apartment was nice. Not in an overly fancy way, but it felt like a home¡ªwarm, lived-in. The furniture actually matched, the walls weren¡¯t bare, and there were little touches everywhere¡ªbooks stacked on the coffee table, a blanket draped over the couch, a soft glow from the kitchen light spilling into the living room. It was probably one of the best places he¡¯d ever stayed. He knew better than to expect anything permanent, but for once, he¡¯d caught a break. Lauren and Nick had taken him in as foster parents, and they weren¡¯t just going through the motions. They were kind. Lauren had even taken the whole week off work to stay home with him. She¡¯d probably used some of her vacation days for it, but it wasn¡¯t about that. It was the thought that counted. And Alex wasn¡¯t sure what to do with that. Nobody had ever done something like that for him before. It was a new feeling¡ªone he wasn¡¯t sure how to process. ¡°Stop standing there and come in,¡± Lauren said, arms crossed as she watched him linger in the doorway. ¡°Sorry,¡± Alex muttered automatically. Lauren let out a slow breath. ¡°Alex.¡± He winced. ¡°¡­I¡¯ll try harder.¡± ¡°Good.¡± Her expression softened. ¡°Now, go sit on the couch. Nick¡¯ll be home soon, and we¡¯ll start dinner.¡± Alex nodded and made his way over, sinking into the couch. It was firm but comfortable, the kind of furniture people actually took care of. He stared at the blank TV screen, his fingers idly pressing into the cushion. A few minutes later, Lauren walked over, grabbed the remote, and powered it on. The screen flickered to life with the familiar logo of The History Channel. Of course. Nick¡ªthe other half of this whole foster parent thing¡ªwas obsessed with history. Lauren had mentioned it a few times, saying he could spend hours watching documentaries on ancient civilizations, military campaigns, and obscure royal bloodlines. Lauren tossed the remote at him. Alex barely caught it in time. ¡°You can change the channel if you want,¡± she said. ¡°Thank you¡­¡± Alex murmured, setting the remote down on the end table. He wasn¡¯t going to touch it. Didn¡¯t want to mess with anything. The TV droned on. "King Henry is known for his wives, but what many don¡¯t know is his fascinating lineage, which spans back hundreds of years¡­" Alex¡¯s fingers twitched. Lineage. The word sat heavy in his chest. He never knew much about his own. His mom had cut ties with her entire side of the family long before he was born¡ªnever spoke about them, never gave a reason. His father¡¯s side was even smaller. No siblings, no extended family. Just his grandparents, both long gone. His grandfather had died from ALS¡ªLou Gehrig¡¯s Disease. A genetic death sentence. His grandma passed from breast cancer shortly after Alex was born. That left him. Alone since he was four. Alex exhaled through his nose, leaning back into the couch. The narrator on the TV continued droning on about royal bloodlines, but his mind was already somewhere else. ¡­ Lauren glanced at Alex, her heart sinking a little. He barely moved¡ªjust sat there, staring at the TV like it was background noise to whatever was really going through his head. His hands stayed clasped in his lap, his shoulders tense even though he was supposed to be relaxing. It was like he was here but not here, floating just beneath the surface of the moment. She and Nick had given him space, hoping he¡¯d settle in on his own terms. But in the past few days, he¡¯d spent almost all of his time in his room, only coming out when absolutely necessary¡ªto grab food, use the bathroom, maybe drink some water before retreating again. He was quiet. Withdrawn. Always on edge in a way that wasn¡¯t immediately obvious, but she could feel it, like a hum of static in the air around him. It wasn¡¯t hard to understand why. The first time she heard his story, she had to walk away for a minute. Orphaned at four. That alone had been hard enough to stomach. But then came the rest. Bouncing from home to home, never staying long. Sometimes the families just couldn¡¯t take care of him anymore. Other times, they simply chose not to. Some decided fostering wasn¡¯t for them. Some moved on. And the last one¡­ Lauren swallowed. The last foster parent had died¡ªa mugging gone wrong. And just like that, Alex had been on his own again. No home, no safety net. Just drifting between shelters, sleeping in places no kid should ever have to sleep, surviving off whatever scraps of kindness the world had left to offer. That lasted over a month. Now, he was here. And she wanted this to be different. She needed it to be different. But Alex¡­ Alex was avoiding them. Not in an obvious way¡ªhe wasn¡¯t cold or rude¡ªbut he kept to himself like he was trying to disappear into the walls. Like if he wasn¡¯t seen, then maybe they wouldn¡¯t remember he was there. Maybe if he stayed quiet, if he didn¡¯t take up too much space, they wouldn¡¯t get tired of him. Wouldn¡¯t decide they¡¯d had enough. Wouldn¡¯t send him away. Lauren exhaled slowly, watching him from the corner of her eye. She wasn¡¯t going to let that happen. Not this time. The door creaked open, pulling Lauren from her thoughts. A man stepped inside¡ªa little over six feet tall, with blonde hair that swept to the side in a way that looked effortless, and a build that spoke to regular workouts. His presence was casual but commanding, like he¡¯d just stepped in from a long day of work and was settling into something familiar. ¡°Hey, Lauren, how was your day?¡± Nick asked, kicking off his shoes by the door and tossing his jacket onto the back of a chair. ¡°Kinda boring, but I managed,¡± she replied, her voice light but distracted. ¡­ Alex couldn¡¯t help but listen to the exchange, a small knot tightening in his stomach. ¡®I forgot to ask her about her day¡¯ he thought. She¡¯d asked about his. Why hadn¡¯t he asked about hers? He hadn¡¯t meant to be rude, but it felt rude now. He hadn¡¯t even thought about it. ¡°Hey, buddy, how¡¯s it going?¡± Nick¡¯s voice cut through his thoughts, and Alex glanced up, finding him leaning against the couch, his gaze drifting over to the TV. ¡°I¡¯m good. You?¡± Alex responded quickly, making sure to ask about his day. ¡°Busy, but I made it through.¡± Nick grinned, picking up on the shift. ¡°The History Channel, huh? King Henry! Did you know his dad was the first Tudor king of England?¡± ¡°Tudor?¡± Alex asked, his curiosity piqued despite himself. ¡°Yeah. The Tudor dynasty ruled England from 1485 to 1603,¡± Nick explained, his voice light with enthusiasm. ¡°Interesting,¡± Alex murmured. It wasn¡¯t exactly riveting stuff, but these small, easy conversations were like breathing air after being submerged underwater for too long. No pressure, no expectations. Just people talking. Nick¡¯s passion for history was genuine, and the more Alex listened, the more he realized how rare it was to see someone so... invested. It was kind of contagious. Before the conversation could carry on, Lauren¡¯s voice broke in from the kitchen. ¡°Sorry to interrupt, but dinner¡¯s ready. Nick, go change.¡± ¡°What did you make?¡± Nick called back, already heading toward the bedroom. ¡°Spaghetti,¡± Lauren replied, her tone softening. ¡°Sweet!¡± Nick¡¯s voice echoed back, and then the sound of a door clicking shut followed as he disappeared. Alex stood up, following Lauren into the kitchen, where she handed him a plate. He scooped a generous serving of noodles onto it, drizzling the sauce carefully over the top. The kitchen smelled warm and inviting, like home should. He felt a flicker of something¡ªcomfort, maybe. It wasn¡¯t permanent, not yet. But it was a start. Sitting down at the table, he stared at his plate for a moment. Spaghetti. Simple, but filling. Something about it felt safe. Nick came out of the bedroom and grabbed a plate, settling into the chair across from Alex. Lauren followed, sitting between the two of them at the edge of the table. The easy rhythm of family life, something Alex hadn¡¯t really known, settled over the room as they dug into their dinner. ¡°You do anything at school today?¡± Nick asked, glancing up from his plate with an eyebrow raised. ¡°Not really,¡± Alex said, his voice quiet but not defensive. Just¡­ matter-of-fact. ¡°On your first day back, you did nothing at all?¡± Nick pressed, as if trying to get him to admit something. ¡°Well, I got to my first class,¡± Alex started slowly, ¡°which was a welding class. The teacher played a video on welding for the whole period. Then I had mythology, where I just did some busywork about Zeus. After that was weight training, where I followed what the teacher put up on the board. Then lunch. And finally math, where I kind of¡­ fell asleep.¡± Nick chuckled lightly, the sound warm but teasing. ¡°Well, it seems like you did a lot today.¡± ¡°Yeah, I guess I did.¡± Alex mused, taking a bite of his spaghetti. The conversation shifted naturally as Lauren and Nick took over, their voices a comforting hum in the background. They talked about the city, the world, and¡ªinevitably¡ªmoney. Alex listened without truly engaging. It wasn¡¯t that he wasn¡¯t interested. He just felt... out of place in those conversations. Like he wasn¡¯t quite part of it yet. The new family settled in for the night. Lauren sat in her chair, scrolling through videos on her phone. Nick sprawled out on the couch, flipping through TV channels, and Alex... well, Alex sat in the quiet corner of the couch, his phone in hand, the glow of the screen illuminating his face as he read his novel. The words on the screen were familiar, the story comforting in its consistency. It wasn¡¯t the best novel, but it was his favorite. He¡¯d read it over and over again¡ªlike an old friend he could always return to. The room hummed with the soft sounds of evening: the distant murmur of the TV, the gentle tapping of Lauren¡¯s fingers on her screen, and the steady swiping of Alex¡¯s finger as he turned the pages of his novel. It felt... normal. And for the first time in a long while, normal didn¡¯t feel like a bad thing. Before long, the time to sleep snuck up on them. ¡°Good night, Alex,¡± Lauren said, her voice soft as she turned off the lights in the house. ¡°Night, buddy,¡± Nick added, his voice warm and steady. ¡°Night...¡± Alex replied quietly, his words almost a whisper, but they carried more weight than he intended. He felt something stir in him¡ªa flicker of something he wasn¡¯t used to. Alex walked into his room, shutting the door behind him. It was a quiet, simple thing, but for him, it felt like an action full of meaning. He was alone, but not lonely. That was nice, he thought as he climbed into his bed. The mattress, though humble, cradled him in a way no bed had in years. It was a strange, almost foreign comfort. He pulled out his phone again, the soft glow of the screen illuminating his face as he continued reading. The words wrapped around him like a familiar blanket. As the minutes passed, sleep crept closer. Slowly, Alex placed his phone on the charger, turned onto his side, and closed his eyes. The hum of the house outside his room felt steady. Safe. And for the first time in... well, years, Alex went to bed feeling comfortable. Comfortable in a way he hadn¡¯t felt in a long time. The kind of comfortable that made him believe maybe tomorrow could be a little better than today. Alex¡¯s eyes snapped open, his heart thundering in his chest as the heat of the room pressed in on him like a suffocating weight. The stench of smoke burned his nostrils, sharp and acrid, and the flickering glow of flames cast dancing shadows on the walls of the bedroom. He blinked, confusion clouding his mind as his gaze swept over the room, now consumed by fire. ¡°What the¡­?¡± The inferno crept along the edges of the room, licking at the walls, curling around the furniture like some malevolent force. The air felt thick, heavy with the heat and the scent of burning wood. The heat pressed against him from all sides, sharp and invasive, like the room itself was a living thing, trying to suffocate him in its fiery embrace. How had he not woken up from this? How was he not choking from the smoke? The sound of the fire was deafening¡ªcrackling, popping, the furious roar of flames eating up everything they could reach. He could hear the wood splintering, the sound of his own pulse beating wildly in his ears, and then¡ªa loud crash. Alex¡¯s head whipped upward, his eyes widening in shock as the floor above him gave way with a deafening roar. He could see it all happening in slow motion, the heavy weight of the ceiling crashing down toward him like some massive, unstoppable force. No! Time seemed to stretch as the beams above collapsed, the heavy debris falling straight toward him. He could feel the heat intensifying, the flames getting closer, curling around the edges of the falling debris. His instincts screamed at him to move, to get up, to run. But there was no time. The floor above groaned and cracked, the weight of it unbearable, and with an earsplitting crash, the ceiling shattered, sending debris crashing down toward him, the roar of flames and the destruction swallowing everything in its wake. The last thing Alex saw before the weight of the world caved in on him was the floor above him coming down in a brutal, unforgiving crush. Everything went dark. ¡­ Alex jolted upright, his breath coming in ragged gasps, his body drenched in sweat. His heartbeat thundered in his chest, the phantom heat of the fire still clinging to his skin. He ran a shaky hand through his damp hair, exhaling sharply. ¡°It was just a dream¡­¡± he muttered, his voice hoarse, like he¡¯d inhaled smoke. His shoulders slumped slightly as he tried to steady his breathing. But something was wrong. The room was¡­ off. The sheets beneath his fingers were rougher than what he was used to. The air smelled different, carrying a faint scent of something unfamiliar. The walls, the ceiling¡ªnone of it looked right. His belongings were nowhere in sight. The creaking of wood beneath his shifting weight was different from the floor he knew. His stomach twisted. This isn¡¯t my room. He looked down. The clothes on his body weren¡¯t his either. A loose-fitting shirt and pants, made of coarse material he didn¡¯t recognize, replaced the ones he had gone to bed in. What the hell is going on? His fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt. His breathing picked up again. He forced himself to stay calm, to think, to rationalize¡ªbut nothing made sense. ¡°Am I still dreaming?¡± The moment the words left his mouth, the world seemed to shift. A flicker of light. A sharp ping¡ªnot a sound, but a sensation, like something pressing against the inside of his skull. Then, suddenly, something appeared before his eyes. Floating. Clear, yet solid. An interface of some kind, glowing faintly in the dim room. ===Status=== Name: Maximus Augustus Rank: F Strength: F Agility: G Stamina: F Mana Capacity: G+ Intelligence: G Luck: E Charm: E New World Fear. It crept into Alex¡¯s chest like ice, coiling around his ribs, tightening with every second he stared at the glowing interface before him. His fingers twitched. His breath felt too shallow, his thoughts spiraling. ¡®Maximus? Augustus?¡¯ The names sounded foreign on his tongue, heavy with history¡ªRoman, weren¡¯t they? But why? And these stats¡ªwhat was this? A game? A hallucination? His pulse hammered as his feet moved on instinct, skidding toward the nearest wall. His hands fumbled over the surface, desperate to find something¡ªanything¡ªfamiliar. A switch, a lamp, a window. Something real. Something that made sense. His fingers brushed against a small switch. He flicked it. Click. Harsh yellow light flooded the room, forcing his eyes to adjust. He blinked rapidly, taking in his surroundings for the first time. The space was¡­ simple. One large room, sparsely furnished. The kind of place that felt neither welcoming nor lived in¡ªfunctional, but devoid of warmth. A bed, neatly made with white sheets, sat against one wall. In the corner, a metal desk stood beside a small bookshelf. A kitchenette occupied the far side of the room, its appliances minimal. A few dressers lined the opposite wall, and next to them¡ª A closet. His gaze flickered across the walls, finally catching on the posters scattered haphazardly across them. He barely processed the images, his mind too preoccupied, too wired. Alex''s hands trembled as he pulled the phone out of his pocket. It was sleek, slightly different from what he was used to, but close enough that his fingers instinctively knew where to go. He tapped the contact labeled Mom and pressed call. A dial tone. Then, almost immediately, the call was answered. "Hey, Max! It¡¯s quite early to be calling on a weekend. Did my package arrive?" Alex froze. That wasn¡¯t Lauren. The voice was unfamiliar¡ªwarm, motherly even, but not the one he had expected. His grip on the phone tightened. His heartbeat thundered in his ears. Who the hell was this woman? His mouth felt dry. His thoughts scrambled for a response, but the words wouldn¡¯t come. He hung up. The call ended with a sharp beep. Alex stared at the screen, his reflection faintly visible on the blackened display. The green eyes that weren¡¯t his. The unfamiliar face that now belonged to him. His stomach twisted. His breathing still felt too fast. He needed a mirror. Alex turned sharply, his body moving before he could think, speed-walking toward the only other door in the room. The bathroom. Alex flung the door open, his breath coming in shallow gasps as he stepped inside the bathroom. His hands trembled as he gripped the sink¡¯s edges, forcing himself to look up at the mirror. A stranger stared back at him. The face wasn¡¯t his. His old self¡ªdark hair, dark eyes, sharp but unremarkable features¡ªwas gone. Instead, the reflection showed someone else entirely. Chocolate-brown hair, slightly tousled. Green eyes, vibrant like a dense forest under the sun. His facial features were sharper, more defined, unfamiliar yet unsettlingly natural. He ran his fingers across his jaw, feeling the smooth skin, tracing the contours of a face that didn¡¯t belong to him. His throat tightened. ¡°Who¡­ am I?¡± The words barely escaped his lips, a whisper drowned by the rush of blood in his ears. His hands moved down, running over his arms, his torso. He wasn¡¯t out of shape, but he wasn¡¯t particularly strong either. Average height. Average build. Nothing remarkable. Panic settled in. It clawed up his throat, his heart pounding erratically against his ribs. His breathing grew ragged as he stumbled back into the room, his mind screaming for answers. He needed to know. He tore the room apart, pulling open drawers, yanking clothes from the closet, overturning whatever he could get his hands on. Items scattered across the floor¡ªshirts, pants, notebooks, trinkets. Nothing told him who he was. His eyes darted to the metal desk.This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. A single card sat on its surface. His fingers barely brushed it before¡ª Pain. A searing, mind-numbing agony ripped through him. His entire body locked up as if something was tearing him apart from the inside out. It felt like fire in his veins, like invisible hands crushing his skull. He collapsed to the floor, unable to even scream. The world blurred, his vision tunneling as white-hot pain drowned out everything. Seconds stretched into minutes. And then, as suddenly as it came, the pain vanished. Gasping, Alex forced himself onto his hands and knees, sweat dripping onto the floor beneath him. His muscles ached, his limbs felt weak, but he pushed himself upright, his hands gripping the desk for support. His gaze landed back on the card. This time, text filled his vision. User ID: Maximus Augustus Program: Nexus Hero Program Year 1 School Rank: 2789/3150 Potential: D- Rank Profession: Assassin / Swordsman Nexus¡­ Maximus stared at the walls, his eyes scanning the posters again, as if hoping¡ªdesperately¡ªthat he had misread the names. But there they were. Frederick McCaffery. Emily Talbott. Ryohei Ribayashi. Titans. The strongest of the strong. Names that echoed across battlefields and legends. Heroes he had read about over and over, their victories, their struggles, their inevitable fates. A chill crawled up his spine. His knees buckled, and he dropped to the floor, gripping the metal desk for support as he slid down. His head fell against his knees, arms wrapping around himself as if he could squeeze out the gnawing dread spreading through his chest. He didn¡¯t want to be here. This world was not a good one. It was cruel, ruthless. A place where monsters, demons, and humans alike slaughtered without hesitation. A place where artifacts with the power to level cities were fought over. A place filled with death. Lauren and Nick were the best people he had ever met. Kind, warm, real. They had given him a home. A real home. He had barely started to believe in it, barely allowed himself to think that maybe¡ªjust maybe¡ªhe had finally found somewhere to belong. And now it was gone. Ripped away from him the moment he let himself hope. His hands clenched into fists, nails digging into his palms. His breathing was shallow, unsteady. He tried to think, to ground himself, but the weight of it all threatened to crush him. He had read this story before. He knew what kind of world he was in. And he knew exactly how easily someone like him could die in it. Ding dong. Max flinched. His mind was still heavy, still reeling from the cruel shift of reality, but the sound grounded him. He forced himself up, muscles stiff, and walked toward the door. Opening it, he was met with an empty hallway. No footsteps, no fading presence¡ªjust a single cardboard package sitting on the ground. His eyes flicked to the corridor. Identical doors lined both sides, stretching into the distance. It was eerily silent, sterile, like something out of a military dormitory. He grabbed the package, shut the door, and carried it inside. Sitting on the floor, Max ripped the tape off, peeling back the flaps. Inside, neatly packed, were clothes, toiletries, and a couple of books stacked on top of each other. Resting on top of it all was a folded note. Unfolding it, his eyes traced the familiar yet foreign handwriting. "Congrats on making it into Nexus, Max! We are all proud of you! Stay safe!" At the bottom, three signatures: Mom. Dad. Octavia. Max stared at the words, his grip tightening around the paper. ¡®Mom. Dad.¡¯ A hollow feeling settled in his chest. He put the note aside and started pulling out the clothes¡ªhoodies, t-shirts, pants. All neutral colors. Functional. Nothing flashy. Then came the books. The standard Nexus curriculum¡ªthick, dense manuals, covering combat theory, mana manipulation, tactics, survival techniques. The kind of stuff every student needed to know. But at the very bottom of the stack, something stood out. A book with no title. No cover. Just plain black. His fingers brushed against the material, feeling the rough texture of its spine. Carefully, he opened it. The moment he did, the words on the pages shifted. Letters scattered, rearranging themselves as if they were alive, before finally settling into coherent text. Max¡¯s pulse quickened as he read. It wasn¡¯t about him. It was about the protagonist of the novel. Collin Du Plessis. Max skimmed through, his breathing shallow. The story was unfolding exactly as he remembered it¡ªCollin settling into his room, then heading to test out the training facilities. His eyes darted to the metal desk. He searched the surface until his hand landed on a pencil. With hesitant fingers, he erased the sentence. The moment he lifted the eraser, the words blurred, shifting again. Collin Du Plessis would now go to the training facilities first, then return to his room. Max¡¯s grip on the book tightened. His heart pounded as realization sank in. He could change the story. But should he? What kind of butterfly effect would even the smallest alteration cause? Had something already changed just by him being here? His fingers trembled over the paper. Slowly, carefully, he erased the words again, rewriting them exactly as they had been before. The text scrambled once more, settling back into its original sequence. Max exhaled, tension draining from his shoulders. He couldn¡¯t afford to mess with it. Who knew how fragile this world¡¯s balance was? Who knew what would happen if he altered the course of a story already set in motion? Max exhaled, forcing himself to push past the storm of emotions raging in his head. He couldn''t sit here and drown in his thoughts¡ªnot in a world like this. He needed information. He needed a plan. His eyes swept over the room, searching for anything useful. His gaze landed on the desk. He rummaged through the drawers until he found what he was looking for¡ªa plain, spiral-bound notebook. Empty. Unmarked. Perfect. Grabbing a pen, he sat down at the desk, flipping open to the first page. He hesitated for only a second before pressing the pen to the paper. Everything I know about the novel. The words came quickly after that, spilling out in hurried strokes, page after page filling up with everything he could remember. He kept writing, details flowing in a controlled frenzy. Every arc, every major event, every critical character. The betrayals, the alliances, the moments that shaped the story. The more he wrote, the more he remembered. His mind sharpened, pieces clicking together. By the time he finished, hours had passed. His hand ached, and his back was stiff. Figuring it out Max stepped out of his dorm, the cool morning air greeting him as he took his first real look at Nexus Academy. Towering buildings with sleek, modern architecture stretched into the sky, their glass reflecting the soft hues of dawn. The main building, a behemoth of steel and stone, loomed ahead like the heart of a machine¡ªcold, imposing, and filled with the brightest, most dangerous individuals in the world. ¡®At least I¡¯m in Valthesis and not Zephiron. I hate water,¡¯ Max mused, glancing around at the bustling students. Valthesis, the central city where Nexus stood, was a hub of power, influence, and history. It was a far cry from Zephiron, the coastal city known for its naval dominance and deep-sea horrors lurking beneath the waves. But he wasn¡¯t here to admire the scenery. Max had a mission. He knew things that no one else did¡ªburied secrets, hidden dungeons, forgotten relics. The novel had laid them out in plain text, waiting for the protagonist to stumble upon them. But Max wasn¡¯t going to wait. He was going to take the first step, rewrite fate before it could script him out of existence. Max pulled out his phone, scrolling through the unfamiliar interface until he found the map function. A quick search brought up the nearest subway station¡ªhis best bet for getting around unnoticed. He memorized the route, then slipped the device back into his pocket. Leaving Nexus, he stepped into the heart of Valthesis. The late afternoon glow cast long shadows across the streets, the city alive with movement. Stalls lined the sidewalks, vendors shouting over the din, trying to sell everything from enchanted trinkets to off-brand hero merchandise. The scent of grilled meat, fried dough, and something vaguely metallic from the alchemist¡¯s district filled the air. Heroes in full armor strode through the streets, some bearing the insignias of famous guilds, others just students or low-ranked professionals trying to make a name for themselves. Towering buildings loomed overhead, their neon signs and holographic billboards flashing advertisements for combat gear, mana boosters, and the latest heroic exploits. Cars zipped by on the main roads, sleek and modified to withstand the occasional superpowered brawl. Every now and then, Max spotted a hover vehicle, reserved for the wealthiest elite or government officials. Despite the chaos, there was a rhythm to it all, a strange harmony between normal life and the extraordinary. Max kept his head down, hood up, hands in his pockets. He didn¡¯t want attention. Max¡¯s sneakers scuffed lightly against the pavement as he made his way down the bustling streets toward the subway station. The city around him felt both foreign and overwhelming. People swarmed past him in every direction, each with their own sense of purpose, their hurried footsteps blending into the hum of city life. Max, however, moved with a kind of quiet urgency, his head down and his hoodie pulled low over his brow, doing his best to blend into the shadows of the crowd. The entrance to the subway station loomed ahead, a dark mouth in the side of the street, a constant flow of people descending into it, their faces all distant and unreadable. Max hesitated just for a moment before stepping down into the cool, dimly lit stairwell that led into the underground. The air smelled faintly of metal and dust, and the walls were lined with chipped tiles that reflected the harsh overhead lights. The sound of distant trains rumbled through the station as the faint stench of oil and old concrete filled his senses. Reaching the bottom of the stairs, Max found himself in the main hall of the subway station. The space was wide and echoing, the clatter of footsteps reverberating off the concrete walls. Neon signs above blinked with various route numbers and ads for everything from cheap protein shakes to superhero training programs. Max¡¯s heart thudded in his chest as he made his way to the ticket counter. He couldn¡¯t shake the feeling of being out of place, surrounded by strangers in a world that felt nothing like the one he knew before. The subway station felt like a bridge between two realities¡ªone where he had been, and the strange new world he was trying to navigate. He gripped his ID in his pocket, feeling the cool weight of it against his skin, as he waited for his turn at the counter. Max approached the counter, his hands stuffed deep into the pockets of his hoodie. He kept his gaze low, avoiding eye contact with the station lady as she finished typing away at her keyboard. ¡°One ticket to station 46, please,¡± Max muttered, his voice barely rising above the low hum of the station. The lady didn¡¯t seem to notice his unease as she typed away, the sound of keys clicking filling the silence between them. After a few moments, she printed out the ticket stub and slid it across the counter with a smile. Max handed her his student ID without looking up, the cold metal of the ID card slipping into her warm palm. She glanced at it before nodding. ¡°Oh, you must be part of the new batch of first years! I hope you do good out there," she said with a cheerful tone that, despite its warmth, only made Max feel more out of place. Max cleared his throat, an awkward pause stretching between them. ¡°Uh¡­ yeah, I¡¯ll, uh¡­ I¡¯ll do that,¡± he said, his voice trailing off as he quickly grabbed the ticket and his ID. The lady giggled lightly, something that made the back of his neck burn with embarrassment. ¡°Thanks¡­¡± Max mumbled under his breath as he turned to walk away, already wishing he could disappear into the crowd. He could feel her gaze lingering for just a second longer than he liked, her laughter still echoing softly in his ears as he shuffled quickly through the station, desperate to put distance between himself and the awkward exchange. Max stood by the platform, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his hoodie, the faint hum of the subway¡¯s distant arrival vibrating through the air. The bright fluorescent lights above flickered every few seconds, casting a harsh, unnatural glow over the space. He kept his eyes fixed on the rows of advertisements that adorned the station walls, each flashing with loud, colorful promises of new products, services, and events. One ad stood out to him¡ªa towering poster showing a group of smiling, armored heroes. The text blared: Join the Vanguard: Shape Your Future in Nexus! He stared at the image, the bold characters boasting the same name as the academy he now found himself enrolled in. Below the smiling faces of heroes, there were smaller ads for upcoming hero battles, weapons training, and even classified missions for ¡®elite recruits.¡¯ It was hard to ignore the gnawing feeling in his gut that this was a world where violence and glory went hand in hand.Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. As the subway train¡¯s distant roar grew louder, Max¡¯s mind wandered again, unable to fully grasp the surreal nature of what had happened. How had he ended up here? In a strange city, in a strange world, enrolled in an academy for heroes¡ªheroes he used to read about in novels. How did he fit into this world, or even worse, how would this world fit him? He caught his reflection in the glass of an ad kiosk¡ªhis face looked just as confused as he felt. Max¡¯s reflection blinked back at him, the boy in the mirror just a stranger to him now. The weight of his thoughts pressed on him like a heavy cloak. A loud thud followed by a metallic screech echoed through the station as the subway train slid into view, the front lights blinding and reflecting off the steel of the train''s exterior. Max blinked, shaking off the uncomfortable feeling, and watched as the doors opened with a hiss. He stepped forward. The subway car was packed, bodies pressed against each other in the early evening rush. Max squeezed into an empty space by the door, his eyes scanning the crowd, trying to avoid standing out. People of all ages were scattered around, some glued to their phones, others lost in quiet conversations. A few wore armor, or at least the kind of gear that looked like it could be easily transformed into battle-ready armor with a flick of the wrist. Heroes, or those hoping to become heroes, Max guessed. He tried not to stare too long, his discomfort growing at the realization that he was among these people now. He let out a small sigh and turned his attention to the walls instead. They were plastered with bright, glossy travel brochures, each filled with vibrant images and bold promises of adventure. Most were focused on the neighboring districts. Max slid through the crowd, cautiously reaching for the stack of brochures. He grabbed one without a second thought, feeling the weight of it in his hands, and he retreated to the farthest corner of the car. He opened the brochure on Valethesis, flipping through its glossy pages. The city practically screamed history¡ªrich, grand, heroic. Every other page was filled with advertisements for various sections of the city: Nexus Academy (the crown jewel of the city), Valethesis: The heart of humanity. A city of opportunity. Heroes make history here. Max felt a slight pang in his chest as his gaze landed on the section about Nexus. He should have felt more excited, more relieved, but instead, there was a growing knot in his stomach. The more he read about this place, the more real it became¡ªand the more terrifying it seemed. History had been built by people like the ones around him¡ªheroes, villains, and all the chaos in between. But then, his eyes narrowed at a section talking about the ¡°amazing city life¡±, the ¡°vibrant culture¡±, and ¡°excellent infrastructure¡±. For a moment, his mind wandered, drawn to the idea of the people here, the buildings, the rhythm of it all. He tried to hold onto that thought, the small part of the brochure that made him feel something other than dread. Thank god I got the best city to come back to life in. His thoughts were interrupted as the train jerked forward, and the noise of the wheels against the tracks grew louder. Max glanced up at the window, his reflection still haunting him, but for a moment, he focused on the city outside. Maybe it wouldn¡¯t be so bad, he thought. Maybe this world had a place for someone like him, someone who didn¡¯t want attention, someone who just wanted to survive. The idea felt almost comforting¡ªuntil reality slammed back into him, reminding him that even in a city like this, heroes were built on blood and sacrifice. ¡°Arriving shortly.¡± The voice over the intercom was dry, mechanical, but it stirred something inside Max. His chest tightened, a mix of anticipation and anxiety building up with every word. He looked around the subway car, feeling the weight of the world pressing against his shoulders. This wasn¡¯t his world¡ªno, he was just passing through, trying to make sense of everything that had already been decided for him. But for now, all he could do was move forward. The train screeched to a halt, jerking Max out of his thoughts. The doors opened with a hiss, and the cool night air rushed in, heavy with the scent of earth and something else¡ªfresh, untouched. He stepped out, one foot after the other, the clack of his boots on the platform sounding louder than they should. Max didn¡¯t look back as the subway doors slid shut with a quiet thud. The train was gone, leaving only the lingering hum of machinery behind. He walked off the platform, feeling the pulse of the city slowly fade as he left the station. His eyes adjusted to the dimming light, the sun just a sliver on the horizon, casting a pale glow over the dirt paths leading away from the heart of the city. The streets grew quieter, the sounds of distant traffic and chatter swallowed by the growing wilderness around him. The path ahead was worn but still clear, as if it had been traveled before¡ªby someone, something. It wasn¡¯t long before the crumbling edge of civilization began to fall away, replaced by the thickening embrace of the forest. The trees loomed taller, their branches creaking in the wind, like ancient sentinels watching over a world that didn¡¯t care about time. The dirt underfoot was soft, spongy with the remnants of a day¡¯s rain, and the air was thick with the scent of wet earth and leaves. Max¡¯s skin tingled with the sharp scent of pine and damp moss, and his boots sank slightly into the mud as he walked deeper into the woods. As night began to fall in earnest, the first signs of the creatures who owned this forest made themselves known. In the distance, he could hear the soft hum of insects, a constant symphony of buzzing and chirping that seemed to echo through the trees. It was peaceful. Max glanced up at the sky, watching as the last remnants of daylight faded into the horizon. The shadows of the trees grew longer, creeping across the forest floor like silent, lurking creatures. The air was growing cooler now, and the chorus of crickets and rustling leaves filled the stillness around him. He needed to wait. So, Max found a large, weathered log lying near the path and sat down with a soft sigh. His legs were stiff from the walk, and the rough bark of the log dug into his thighs, but he didn¡¯t mind. He needed the moment of stillness, the quiet that enveloped him as the night began to unfurl. Max picked up a long stick from the ground, its end cracked and jagged from some long-forgotten use. He twirled it between his fingers for a moment before pushing it into the dirt at his feet. The soil was loose here, moist from the earlier rain, and as he scraped the stick through the earth, it left behind a soft trail¡ªa line in the dirt that didn¡¯t really matter, but it was something to focus on. The repetitive motion soothed him. ¡­ ¡®Finally.¡¯ The last threads of daylight had finally disappeared, and the moon hung low in the sky, casting a pale silver light over the forest. Max¡¯s heartbeat quickened as he scanned the darkened woods, his eyes fixed on the task ahead. The cool air carried the faint hum of night creatures, but all he could focus on was the glimmering light he had been waiting for. It flickered, just as he had anticipated. A faint, almost imperceptible glimmer that caught his eye through the thick branches of the trees. He didn¡¯t hesitate. His feet shifted into motion, and he started running, the forest stretching out before him in a blur of shadows and moonlight. He could feel time pressing in on him, urging him faster. The moon climbed steadily in the sky, and with each passing second, the pressure grew heavier. He had no time to waste, not now. His breath came in steady bursts as he navigated the uneven ground, dodging branches and rocks. His pulse pounded in his ears, and yet the world around him seemed impossibly still¡ªtoo quiet, as if even the forest itself was holding its breath. Max pushed himself harder, muscles burning with the effort, until the light finally came into full view¡ªa soft, steady glow against the trunk of an ancient tree. The light seemed to pulse, beckoning him forward. Without thinking, he surged toward it, his boots thudding softly against the dirt. As he reached it, he noticed something¡ªa shift in the ground beneath him. The moment his foot touched the earth where the light had shone, the ground gave way beneath him. His body jerked forward, but there was no surface to land on. He fell, the world twisting around him as he plunged into the darkness. First Step Crash. Max hit the ground with a sickening thud, pain jolting through his body like a shockwave. The impact knocked the wind out of him, and for a moment, all he could do was lie there, dazed, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps. ¡°Ugh¡­¡± A groan escaped his lips as he forced himself upright, his limbs sluggish from the fall. His knees wobbled beneath him, unsteady, the sensation of freefall still lingering in his bones. He blinked rapidly, trying to adjust, but there was nothing to adjust to. The world around him was empty. Pitch black. No walls. No floor. No ceiling. Just an endless abyss of darkness stretching in every direction. It was suffocating¡ªthick, heavy, pressing in on him from all sides like a living entity. His own breath sounded deafening in the silence, his heartbeat a steady drum against his ribs. Max flexed his fingers, his senses on high alert. The air was stale, void of any scent or movement. No wind, no shifting of space, just absolute stillness. He reached down, feeling the ground beneath him. Cold. Solid. Stone, maybe? But it was impossible to tell with no light to guide him. ¡°Ahh, finally! Someone with the good sense¡­or utter lack of it¡­ to stumble into my humble abode! Now, before you go screaming about demons and curses, let¡¯s get one thing perfectly clear¡ªI may be dead, but I¡¯m not gone. No, no, no. That would be boring. And I do so despise boredom. So, tell me, dear trespasser, what exactly brings you down here? Treasure? Power? Or just an unfortunate misstep in the dark? Hmm, let me guess¡ªfate led you here. Ah, fate! Always dragging poor, unsuspecting fools into the most deliciously terrible predicaments.¡± ¡°I¡¯m here for¡­¡± Max hesitated, the weight of his words pressing against his throat. Should he lie? Say he had stumbled in by accident, feign ignorance, and hope to slip away unscathed? Or should he tell the truth¡ªthe real reason he had sought out this forgotten tomb? He exhaled. Lying wouldn¡¯t work. Not with him. Straightening his back, Max spoke, his voice steady despite the tension tightening his chest. "Noctyros. I¡¯m here for your manual and your sigil." The darkness did not respond. For a moment, nothing. The cold weight of the underground pressing in around him. Then¡ªlaughter. Not loud. Not booming. But deep, curling at the edges with something ancient and amused. The air itself seemed to shift, as though the shadows breathed. ¡°Ahh, bold, are we? Confidence! How refreshing! Or maybe just foolish¡ªI do so love when the two blur together. So, you seek my manual and my sigil? Tsk, tsk. You march into my tomb, call upon a forgotten name, and demand my legacy as if it were some bauble waiting to be claimed. Tell me, what makes you think you are worthy of what I once was? Of what I still am?¡± ¡°I am because I found your tomb,¡± Max said, his voice firm despite the cold weight pressing down on him. He could feel it now¡ªNoctyros'' presence. A formless thing, vast as the night itself, lurking in the unseen corners of this forgotten crypt. Silence. Max continued. ¡°It has been thirty years since your disappearance and unknown death,¡± he said, his words cutting through the emptiness like a blade. ¡°The world has moved on. Your name has faded from history, your legacy buried beneath newer heroes and louder stories.¡± The air stirred. A shift. Not of wind, but of something older¡ªsomething watching. Max inhaled, steadying himself. He knew who Noctyros was. A hero built not on glory, but on sacrifice. A man who had done the impossible time and time again, only to be cast aside when he was no longer needed. ¡°But I don¡¯t think you care if I¡¯m worthy or not,¡± Max said, his voice unwavering. ¡°Because if you did, this tomb would have had a trial. A test. A guardian to keep me out.¡± Max didn¡¯t flinch. The weight of Noctyros¡¯ presence bore down on him, pressing against his skin like unseen hands. ¡°Yes,¡± he said simply. ¡°Because you want me to.¡± Silence. A stillness deeper than death itself. Then¡ªmovement. Not physical, not tangible, but a shift in the very air, as if the crypt itself exhaled. "Hah¡­ clever again." Noctyros¡¯ voice curled around the edges of the darkness, thoughtful now, considering. "You see what others would miss. Good." The formless presence loomed, vast and unseen. "I was cast aside. Forgotten. The world did not mourn me¡ªit replaced me. New heroes, new legends. And yet, here you stand, speaking my name when no one else remembers. Asking for my sigil, not to honor me, but to carry what I once was. To change what I could not." Another shift, a slow, inevitable unraveling. "Very well." The air crackled. Something unseen coiled around Max¡¯s outstretched hand, ancient and heavy. Cold, searing, alive. "Take it. Take what remains of Noctyros. And when you walk from this tomb, know this¡ª" The darkness trembled. "I will not speak to you again. This is my last gift, my last mark upon the world. Use it well¡­ or become as forgotten as I was." The sigil burned into Max¡¯s palm, and the voice of Noctyros faded, swallowed by the silence he had left behind. Torches came ablaze all around the room. There was a black statue in the center of the room, Noctyros the infamous trickster and assassin dressed in his gear stood in stance. Max looked at his palm and saw nothing, the sigil left no mark. Max checked his stats. Name: Maximus Augustus Rank: F Strength: F Agility: G Stamina: F Mana Capacity: G+ Intelligence: G Luck: E Charm: E Profession: Assassin/Swordsman Manual: 5-Star Nightstalker - Created by Noctyros, the 5-Star Nightstalker focuses on speed, deception, and precision¡ªkilling from the shadows before engaging in direct combat. Every movement is calculated, every strike aimed at a vital point. Max''s smile deepened as he stood there, feeling the weight of what he had just secured. One of the most powerful manuals in the world of assassins¡ªand it was his now. His fingers flexed, feeling the tingling sensation of the sigil, despite it not being visible. Endless potential. That phrase kept repeating in his mind, like the hum of a siren calling him forward. The power was in his hands now, a dangerous, slippery thing that could evolve and adapt, all depending on how he wielded it. But it wasn¡¯t just about the power. The sigil¡¯s true gift wasn¡¯t its immediate effects¡ªit was what came after. A promise of growth, limitless potential. The kind that could make him stronger than even the most legendary heroes of this world, the kind that could lead him to unimaginable heights.If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. Max couldn¡¯t help but smirk again. He had heard about it. Noctyros. The assassin who lived only in the shadows, literally and metaphorically. A character introduced after the main story ended, in a side-story that was only mentioned in passing. The author had crafted Noctyros as an afterthought, something for the die-hard fans, a hidden jewel in the corners of a forgotten tale. A figure so powerful that it was almost laughable. But Max knew better than anyone. Max had read every scrap of information the author had ever put out. Every tweet, every post, every interview, and every unlisted reference buried deep in side stories and commentary. He was a fanatic in the truest sense of the word, and this story, these heroes, were a world he knew inside and out. So when the author mentioned, almost as an afterthought, how Noctyros'' sigil worked? He paid close attention. Max¡¯s eyes drifted over the tomb¡¯s interior, the stone walls bathed in an eerie glow that only seemed to accentuate the quiet desolation. He¡¯d combed through every corner, every crack, but nothing had been left behind. No treasure, no hidden weapons, nothing that could aid him further. The tomb seemed almost intentionally bare, as if someone had purposefully erased its secrets, or perhaps, it was never meant to be found in the first place. Frustration gnawed at him, but it wasn¡¯t something he would show. Instead, he turned his gaze to the statue standing tall in the middle of the room. Max approached slowly, every step deliberate. The air in the tomb was thick with age, the weight of forgotten centuries pressing in on him. As he drew closer to the statue, he noticed something faintly etched into the base¡ªwords so faded they were almost indiscernible at first. He crouched down, the dust beneath his fingers soft as he wiped away years of grime, until the words became legible: "Forgotten Hero." ¡­ Max ascended the narrow, crumbling stairwell, his boots sinking into the moss that clung to the stone steps like a living thing. The air felt damp and heavy, thick with the smell of decay, while the faint hum of insects filled the silence. Each step brought him closer to the surface, yet the walls seemed to close in, whispering the history of the forgotten tomb. At the top of the flight, a stone pedestal stood, aged and weathered by time. A button, worn smooth by countless years, sat at its center, almost inviting him to press it. Max hesitated only for a moment, knowing what it signified. His fingers brushed the stone, pressing it gently. A deep rumble echoed through the tomb as the rock before him began to shift, grinding against its ancient frame. The earth seemed to groan in protest as the massive stone rolled aside, revealing the world beyond. The starlit sky greeted him, the distant glow of the moon casting shadows on the hilltop. Max''s heart raced as he stepped into the fresh air, the weight of the tomb finally lifting from his shoulders. He didn¡¯t look back immediately. Instead, he took a moment to let the stillness of the night wash over him. The tomb, its secrets, its history¡ªit was all locked away behind him now. The stone door slid back into place with a soft click, its surface blending seamlessly with the hillside, as though it had never been disturbed. Max pulled out his phone, his fingers cold against the smooth surface of the screen. He swiped it to life, the map glowing brightly in the darkening air. His eyes narrowed as he scanned the blinking dot that marked his location. ¡°Where am I?¡± He zoomed in on the map, finding the route to the nearest station. It wasn¡¯t far¡ªmaybe a few miles from here. Max set the course and sighed, grateful for the simplicity of the task ahead. At least, for now, he didn¡¯t have to think about what came next. The forest around him felt almost... alive, but not in the way it should. The trees swayed, but there was no wind. The path ahead was shrouded in mist, a quiet, creeping fog rolling over the ground, making everything feel hazy. Max tightened his grip on his phone and started walking, keeping his steps steady and purposeful. His heart was still racing, but he wouldn¡¯t let himself get lost in the panic. He had something he needed to do, and it was all he could focus on. He pulled his jacket tighter against the growing chill, feeling the weight of the night settle in around him. ¡­ Max arrived at the station, the silence around him pressing in. There were no eyes on him, no one to care whether he was there or not. It was just him and the space, a quiet backdrop to his movements. He approached the bench beneath the overhead canopy, offering minimal shelter from the light drizzle that had started to fall. He pulled out his ID, swiping it through the nearby machine. The screen flickered to life, showing a map of the area. It was simple, functional¡ªnothing to grab attention. Max scanned through the stations, his eyes moving over the names until one caught his eye. The closest station to Nexus. Max tapped it, the ticket printer buzzing to life. He grabbed the ticket, sliding it into his pocket. ¡­ Max stood by the platform, his eyes flicking between the rolling cityscape and the tracks ahead. The train rumbled into view, its headlights slicing through the evening haze like a predator stalking its prey. It screeched slightly as it came to a halt, the doors opening with a soft hiss, almost as if inviting him inside. Without a second thought, Max stepped forward and walked through the threshold, his footsteps light on the metal floor as he chose a seat by the window. The train jerked once, then smoothly began its descent back into the city ¡®Pretty successful day¡­¡¯ Max thought, leaning back in his seat. ¡®I think I¡¯m getting a little comfortable with this world too. Just a little.¡¯ Max looked out the window as the rain fell in a steady rhythm, each drop streaking across the glass like thin veins. The city lights flickered to life as the train rumbled through, a cascade of colors spilling across the wet streets. The buildings around him seemed to glow, their edges softened by the misty air, as if the whole city was wrapped in a thin veil of light. The contrast between the slick, rain-soaked roads and the sharp, artificial brilliance of the lights was almost surreal. Streetlights painted pools of gold on the wet pavement, and the headlights of passing cars created trailing ribbons of light that stretched out into the distance. ¡­ The train pulled into the station with a quiet screech of metal against metal, and Max stepped off, his boots hitting the wet pavement with a soft thud. He could feel the cool air seeping through his jacket as he pulled it tighter around himself, the rain misting down on the street. This time, Max decided to challenge himself. No map. No shortcuts. He¡¯d find his way back to Nexus on his own terms. The thought of it gave him a small sense of purpose. The streets were nearly empty, the wet pavement gleaming under the flickering city lights. A few people scurried past, heads down, their umbrellas mostly useless against the sideways rain. It wasn¡¯t much of a challenge in the end¡ªNexus was so massive it loomed over every corner of the city, its towering spires visible no matter where you stood. But the feeling of taking the long way was enough. The little victories mattered to him. By the time Max reached the gates of Nexus, the rain had softened into a steady drizzle. The large iron gates creaked open, the usual hum of activity nowhere to be found. The outside of the school was empty, no students or faculty lingering outside in the rain. ¡®Everyone must be inside,¡¯ Max mused. ¡®Makes it easier for me.¡¯ He moved through the campus, not in a hurry but not taking his time either, just gliding through the shadows of the walkways, the rain pattering on the stone pathways. His footsteps were quiet, careful¡ªhe didn¡¯t want anyone to notice him out here, especially with the late hour. Getting caught out in the rain wasn¡¯t the kind of rumor he wanted circulating. But as he walked, something caught his eye¡ªa figure out in the rain. He squinted looking at the figure. ¡®Oh shit¡­ That¡¯s Ophelia.¡¯ Max¡¯s heart skipped for a second as he recognized the girl standing alone in the rain. Test tubes were lined up neatly in front of her, droplets of water clinging to the glass, the rain blurring the air around her. She wasn¡¯t just some student here¡ªshe was someone important. Someone who could be a problem if they crossed paths too soon. Without thinking, Max speed-walked, almost slipping on the slick ground as he hurried toward the dorms. His movements were fast but calculated, every step designed to avoid drawing attention. It was the last thing he needed: anyone noticing him. He just wanted to slip by unnoticed. Max made his way through the darkened courtyard and up the stairs to the dorm building, slipping inside with a quiet exhale of relief. He couldn¡¯t help the small sigh that escaped his lips as he glanced back at the empty, rain-soaked campus. For a second, it felt like the whole world had just frozen, every shadow too heavy with possibility. ¡®That was close,¡¯ Max thought, rubbing a hand through his wet hair. Ophelia, the others¡ªhe¡¯d keep his distance from them for now. If he was going to survive this place without stirring up anything unwanted, it was better to stay under the radar. The less they knew, the better. He moved quickly through the halls of the dorm, the faint hum of the building his only company as he returned to his room. Max sat down on his bed with a long stretch, his muscles protesting as he finally let his body relax. The tension he''d been carrying since arriving in this world seeped out of him, but it was quickly replaced by a dull, nagging sense of unease. He hadn¡¯t fully adjusted yet, and something about this place still felt off. With a huff, he pushed the thoughts away, and turned to his desk, grabbing his notebook and a pencil. The small creak of the chair echoed in the room as he flipped through the pages until he found a blank one, its emptiness waiting for his pen. He placed the pencil to the paper, its tip scratching against the surface, and began to write. The plan. Max paused for a moment, the pencil hovering above the page. This wasn''t just any plan¡ªthis was his lifeline, his framework for navigating this chaotic, unfamiliar world. He exhaled slowly, then wrote the first point. 1. Don¡¯t mess up the storyline since the heroes won in the end. That was non-negotiable. He didn¡¯t care about getting involved in their battles or saving the world. His job was simple: stay out of the way. The heroes had done their part, and now it was his turn to be the unseen observer, the one who kept his head down. Messing with things was out of the question. He couldn''t afford it. Not if he wanted to get out of here.
  1. Try not to interact with the main characters unless necessary. Like a butterfly effect where one was going to die.
Max paused again, the pencil held just above the page. Interacting with them was dangerous, but sometimes, it was unavoidable. He couldn¡¯t just sit back and let someone important get killed, because of a butterfly effect. The slightest misstep could throw everything off balance. He scribbled the next point down quickly.
  1. Find a way back home.
The hardest part. He didn¡¯t know where to start. He didn¡¯t know how to even begin looking. But this was the one thing that kept him going¡ªhe had to find a way back. A way out of this world that wasn¡¯t his. He let the pencil hover for a second longer before finishing the last point.
  1. Live long enough to figure that out.
Max smirked at the simplicity of the last line. That was the bottom line, wasn¡¯t it? He wasn¡¯t stupid. He knew he needed to survive first, and everything else would come after. Survival was the key. No matter how long it took to find his way back, he had to stay alive to do so. He set the pencil down on the desk with a soft tap. The plan was simple, but it was enough. It was all he needed. Keeping things straightforward would make it easier to navigate, easier to survive. Max leaned back in his chair and stared at the list. There was nothing to do but wait. Because tomorrow was the first day of the Academy. He wasn¡¯t going to rush things. 2 A Riiiiiiing. Max groaned, his hand lazily swiping at the alarm before he even opened his eyes. His body felt heavy, sluggish from exhaustion, and for a brief moment, he forgot where he was. Then it hit him. ¡®Right. This world.¡¯ With a sigh, he rubbed his eyes, forcing himself to sit up. The dim light filtering through the curtains barely illuminated the room, but it was enough. He blinked a few times, his mind slowly catching up to his body. Swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, Max pushed himself up and stretched, his joints popping in protest. He rolled his shoulders before dragging himself toward the bathroom. The cold tiles sent a small shock through his bare feet, but he ignored it, reaching for the shower¡¯s dial. The pipes groaned before water cascaded down, steam slowly filling the small space. He braced himself, then stepped under the spray, letting the hot water wash away whatever grogginess still clung to him. ¡­ Max finished his shower, toweling off his hair as he walked into the small dorm kitchen. Opening the cabinets, he found the previous Max¡¯s stash¡ªor lack thereof. Bread. Just bread. Max sighed, grabbing a slice and tossing it into the toaster. It wasn¡¯t much, but it was better than nothing. As he waited for it to crisp, he leaned against the counter, arms crossed. ¡®I need to learn how to cook,¡¯ he mused, staring at the bare shelves. The thought of surviving on basic meals for the foreseeable future wasn¡¯t appealing. The toaster popped, and Max took his sad excuse for breakfast over to his desk. Sitting down, he pulled out his phone while taking a bite of the toast. His curiosity got the better of him¡ªwhat did entertainment look like in this world? He scrolled through various videos, most of them information-heavy. There were news updates, historical documentaries, even combat technique breakdowns, but very little in the way of mindless entertainment. No trending music videos, no flashy influencer drama¡ªjust knowledge, neatly packaged for consumption. ¡®Huh. Guess this world doesn¡¯t do escapism like mine.¡¯ After a few minutes of aimless browsing, he finally settled on something useful. Beginner¡¯s Guide to Making Potions. ¡­ Max slipped on his shoes, tightening the laces before standing up and grabbing his bag. With a quiet sigh, he stepped out of his dorm room, shutting the door behind him with a soft click. The hall was already busy with students heading toward their classes, their footsteps echoing off the polished stone floor. Falling into step with the crowd, Max kept his gaze forward, listening to snippets of conversations as he walked. Some students were still groggy, yawning between words, while others chatted excitedly about today¡¯s lessons. Nexus had an undeniable energy in the mornings, a mix of anticipation and routine. Outside, the cool air brushed against his face, carrying the scent of damp earth from the previous night¡¯s rain. The academy grounds stretched wide before him¡ªconcrete paths winding between towering buildings, banners swaying lightly from the high walls. Even though he had walked this path before, it still felt surreal. Max arrived at his destination, stopping just short of the door. His eyes landed on the brass plaque mounted at eye level. A-2 The numbers gleamed under the hallway¡¯s soft lighting, a stark reminder that this was it¡ªhis first official class at Nexus. He exhaled slowly, rolling his shoulders as if shaking off invisible weight. The muffled sounds of students talking filtered through the thick wooden door. Laughter, hushed conversations, the occasional scrape of a chair¡ªnormal classroom noise. But to Max, it felt like a barrier, one he wasn¡¯t quite ready to cross. ¡°What are you doing? Get out of the way.¡± A sharp, impatient voice cut through the hallway noise behind him. Max turned around, already forming a response, but the words died in his throat the moment he saw her. His stomach twisted. Dread seeped into his bones. Of all people¡­ She was breathtaking, to put it mildly. Her brown hair fell in soft waves just past her shoulders, looking effortlessly perfect, as if every strand was in its rightful place. Piercing baby blue eyes, the kind that could see right through a person, locked onto him with irritation. Her skin was flawless, a complexion unmarred by even the smallest blemish. And that was just her face.Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation. Max swallowed. Skylar. He had just broken rule number two. The girl scoffed. "Are you deaf? Move!" Before Max could react, she pushed past him with enough force to make him step back. She didn¡¯t spare him another glance as she walked into the classroom, her presence commanding attention from the other students inside. Max looked around the room, taking in the people who unknowingly made up the story of his new life. His eyes moved from Skylar, the tomboyish girl with a confident stance and a touch of rebellion in her eyes, to Ophelia, who already had the sharp, calculating look of someone who¡¯d prefer to be in her lab than dealing with all this nonsense. He could already sense her intelligence, but more importantly, her disdain for the less academic types. Then there was Takahiro, who radiated arrogance. His uniform was perfectly neat, not a wrinkle in sight, and he carried himself like he was already better than everyone in the room. Max could feel the weight of Takahiro¡¯s smugness even from the back corner. Lastly, Evelynn, the number one guild leader¡¯s daughter. Her eyes were cold, though it was obvious she didn¡¯t want to show it. Her demeanor was composed, hiding whatever emotions lay beneath the surface, but Max could almost hear the internal struggle. They were all there¡ªjust as they should be, based on everything Max had studied about this world. Not wanting them to look back, Max pulled out his phone and continued watching his potion video, his focus shifting to the content. The familiar hum of the class around him slowly faded, replaced by the low buzz of the video. ¡°Attention class!¡± Wham¡ª The ground rumbled, sending a shockwave through the room. The force was so strong that Max¡¯s phone nearly slipped from his hands, and his body jerked from the sudden pressure. A gust of strong wind surged at the class, knocking nearly everyone back. Some students were able to brace themselves, but the rest¡ªlike Max¡ªwere caught off guard. He felt himself being shoved back, and with little time to react, Max''s head collided with the wall with a sickening crack. The impact shot a sharp sting through his skull, and for a brief moment, his vision blurred. ¡°Goddammit.¡± Max groaned, holding the back of his head as a dull ache pulsed there. ¡°Quit your slacking, there will be none of that in this class.¡± Isabell spoke out, her voice sharp and commanding, cutting through the low murmur of the class. "I¡¯m Isabell Bauer and will be your instructor for your time at Nexus." Max¡¯s eyes flicked toward her, his mind processing her words. Isabell, he thought, narrowing his eyes. Her presence alone demanded attention, as if the air itself thickened when she spoke. She was dangerous, a force to be reckoned with. Rank-wise, she was among the top 200 in the hero rankings, a testament to her skill and strength. But Max knew there was much more to her than just her rank. Her figure was something that could make even the most stoic person take a second look. With a striking, almost otherworldly beauty, she held an unnerving poise, like someone who knew exactly how to command the room without even trying. Her movements were fluid, deliberate¡ªeach one calculated with an elegance that had a certain... power behind it. Max¡¯s thoughts briefly flickered to her specialty¡ªan art she practiced that made her a lethal opponent to demons. But it wasn¡¯t just physical prowess she was known for. The way she carried herself, the way she spoke¡ªit all held a subtle, almost intoxicating quality. She had a skill that could manipulate emotions and attraction, making it easier for her to fight male demons. The side effect? That same seductive aura worked on human males as well. Max could already sense it, the effect she had on the room, on the class. Several male students were staring a bit too long, some shifting uncomfortably in their seats. Even the few who had managed to maintain their composure still seemed on edge, almost as if they were subconsciously drawn to her. It wasn¡¯t lost on Max, how she wielded that power with such control. ¡°Since this is the first day, it will be short, and we¡¯ll be going over rules and expectations. But first¡ªattendance,¡± Isabell said, her voice crisp and authoritative. Max winced as she called his name. ¡°Rank 2789, Maximus Augustus.¡± Oh no¡­ I¡¯m the weakest in class, Max thought, the words hanging in the air like a weight on his chest. It wasn¡¯t a new feeling for him¡ªbeing the lowest ranked always felt like a burden, but hearing it said aloud in such a clinical, almost indifferent tone made it sting all the more. Max raised his hand in acknowledgment, trying to make himself as small as possible. Isabell¡¯s eyes flicked toward him for just a second, tapping her tablet, and moving on to the next student. The class seemed to breathe a collective sigh of indifference. She worked her way through the roster, each name ticking by, until she reached the very top. ¡°Rank 1, Collin Du Plessis.¡± The room went quiet. Max¡¯s breath caught, and his eyes instinctively turned toward the door. The atmosphere shifted as if the very air had thickened with the anticipation of what was to come. The creak of the door echoed, cutting through the silence. ¡°Sorry I¡¯m late. Something came up.¡± Max¡¯s gaze locked onto the newcomer. Collin Du Plessis. A figure like a mountain. His black hair fell neatly around his face, and his brown eyes held a depth that spoke of countless battles won. His body was muscular, not in the way of bodybuilders, but in the natural, dangerous strength of a person who had honed every muscle for survival and battle. His presence demanded attention the moment he stepped into the room. Damn¡­ Max thought, momentarily awestruck by the sheer aura the man radiated. He looks like someone who could single-handedly bring down an entire army. ¡°Are you Collin?¡± Isabell asked, her voice still even, betraying no sign of surprise. ¡°Yes.¡± Collin¡¯s response was simple, direct. His voice was anxious. ¡°Take your seat,¡± Isabell said, barely looking up from her tablet. Max couldn''t help but feel a surge of envy. ¡®If it were me, I would''ve been kicked out for being late. Hell, I¡¯d probably get in trouble for just existing in the same space¡¯. He glanced around the room, noting the looks of awe and almost fear from some of the other students as Collin walked toward his seat. ¡®Must be nice being ranked 1.¡¯ Collin took a seat with the ease of someone who was used to being at the top of every room. He didn¡¯t need to prove anything to anyone. No one would challenge him. Max couldn''t help but feel the weight of that reality, that gap between their worlds. Weapon Selection ¡°Now that attendance is taken care of, follow me. We will go to the weapon room,¡± Isabell said, turning on her heel and walking toward the door. The class fell into line behind her. Max dragged his feet slightly, finding himself at the very back of the line, which suited him just fine. They moved through the halls of Nexus, the echoes of their footsteps filling the space. The academy¡¯s design was futuristic¡ªsteel walls reinforced with glowing mana inscriptions, sleek metallic doors leading to different training facilities, and overhead chandeliers pulsing with energy instead of flames. The atmosphere screamed prestige and power. Eventually, they arrived. Isabell pushed open a set of large, reinforced doors, revealing the weapon room. The moment Max stepped inside, his breath caught. The room was massive, more of an armory than a simple storage area. Weapons of all shapes and sizes lined the walls, displayed in an almost artistic fashion. There were swords, both standard and curved. Spears rested in racks, their tips gleaming under the artificial light. Bows of different sizes were propped against the far wall. Rows of daggers sat in open cases, their handles gleaming in the light. Even stranger weapons¡ªones designed for monster trainers and specialized combatants¡ªwere set aside in separate sections. The air itself smelled of steel, leather, and excitement. ¡°You will pick your weapon today, and it will remain your weapon for the duration of your time at Nexus. There will be no returns, no switching unless there are specific circumstances,¡± Isabell announced, her voice sharp and leaving no room for argument. The moment she finished speaking, the students dispersed, moving through the room with excitement and curiosity. Some rushed straight for the swords, grabbing hilts and testing their weight. Others examined bows, drawing back phantom arrows to test the tension. Skylar was already eyeing a shortsword with an almost greedy look, while Takahiro casually inspected a set of twin daggers, spinning one between his fingers with ease. Max glanced up, curious about what the others were choosing, but instead of studying the weapons, most of the boys were fixated on the door. Their gazes were locked, their movements sluggish, as if they were caught in a trance. Furrowing his brow, Max followed their line of sight and caught a glimpse of Isabell leaving the room. Her long, flowing hair trailed behind her as she exited, her posture effortlessly elegant. The effect was immediate¡ªshoulders tensed, hands paused mid-reach, and a few students blinked rapidly as if trying to shake themselves out of a daze. ¡®Oh¡­ that effect is strong,¡¯ Max thought, watching them struggle to refocus. Some of the boys cleared their throats and awkwardly turned back to the weapons, pretending nothing had happened. Others, like Takahiro, seemed unaffected, his eyes still scanning the dagger selection without pause. Max shook his head. It was a reminder of why Isabell was so dangerous¡ªher charm was a weapon in itself, even without her trying. Max weaved his way through the crowd, slipping past students who were still admiring the weapons. The dagger section was less crowded, occupied by Takahiro and a few others who inspected the blades with trained eyes. Rows of daggers lined the display¡ªsleek, curved ones for quick slashes, thick-bladed ones for brutal strikes, and even some with serrated edges designed to tear through flesh. Each weapon gleamed under the artificial lighting, the steel reflecting Max¡¯s face as he ran a finger along the handles. Takahiro stood nearby, his expression unreadable as he tested the weight of a narrow-bladed dagger. His movements were methodical, almost second nature, as if he had handled weapons his entire life. Max, however, wasn¡¯t looking for anything flashy. He reached for the most unremarkable set¡ªa pair of standard daggers with no engravings, no ornamentation. Just pure practicality. The blades were of average length, the edges sharp but nothing extraordinary. The handle was simple grey wood, sturdy but devoid of personality. This would do. Without hesitation, Max turned away from the selection, ignoring the more extravagant choices, and made his way toward the door. Others were still browsing, but he had no reason to linger. ¡­ Max found his way to the public training grounds, a vast open space lined with reinforced flooring to withstand constant abuse from students testing their weapons. Overhead lights buzzed faintly, casting a sterile glow over the facility. Training dummies were scattered throughout, some already bearing the marks of overzealous swings, while others stood untouched, waiting for fresh abuse. He adjusted the straps on his holster, feeling the weight of the daggers settle against his thighs. The fit was snug, but not restrictive¡ªgood. Max exhaled, rolling his shoulders before focusing on the simplest, most fundamental skill: drawing his weapon. He gripped the handle of his right dagger and pulled. It snagged slightly against the holster. He reset. Again. This time, he tried to minimize wasted movement, angling his wrist just right. Another fraction of a second shaved off. Again. Again. A rhythm formed. Draw, return. Draw, return. Before long, students started filing into the training grounds. A few tested their weapons on dummies, some sparred with each other, and a handful simply observed. It was clear that many were eager to prove themselves. It didn¡¯t take long for some to take notice of Max. A few snickers echoed from nearby. "Is that all he''s doing?" one student muttered, loud enough to be heard. "Guess some people just don¡¯t have talent," another added with a chuckle. Max tensed but kept his focus. He wasn¡¯t even in the center of the grounds¡ªhe had positioned himself in a far corner, away from the main action. ¡®Why are they looking at me?¡¯ Max thought, anxiety creeping in. He wasn¡¯t bothering anyone. He had intentionally chosen a spot away from the crowd. ¡°Attention!¡± The voice rang out across the training grounds, sharp and commanding. Max turned his head to see Isabell standing at the entrance, arms crossed, her presence instantly drawing attention. The murmurs and side conversations died down.If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. ¡°I figured most of you would head to the training grounds to break in your weapons, so I¡¯ll make this quick,¡± she said, scanning the crowd. ¡°I¡¯m here to observe and answer any questions you might have.¡± Almost immediately, students flocked toward her. Some were eager to receive advice, while others, particularly the guys, seemed more interested in simply being close to her. Max stayed where he was, rolling his shoulders as he continued practicing his draw. ¡®She¡¯s a good teacher¡­¡¯ he thought, watching her engage with the students. Despite her intimidating presence, she didn¡¯t dismiss anyone outright. Even the most clueless questions were met with straightforward explanations. Max¡¯s attention shifted to the other side of the training grounds, where Collin du Plessis was practicing. The rank one student stood tall, his sword slicing through the air in a seamless arc. Each swing was precise, measured, and effortless. His form was perfect¡ªno wasted movement, no unnecessary flourishes. Max narrowed his eyes. ¡®It looks so effortless.¡¯ He knew enough to recognize skill when he saw it. ¡®If I didn¡¯t have a five-star manual, I wouldn¡¯t even come close to his level.¡¯ Max leaned against the cold steel wall of the training ground, watching the other students swing, stab, and fire off attacks with their new weapons. Some were naturals¡ªCollin, for example, who moved with the kind of effortless grace that only came from years of experience. Others fumbled, still trying to get used to the weight and feel of their chosen weapons. Max, meanwhile, hadn¡¯t even touched his daggers since picking them up. Instead, he stood there, thinking. Nightstalker. A five-star manual. An assassin¡¯s art. One of the deadliest combat styles in the world, designed to kill before a fight could even begin. Max crossed his arms. The manual¡¯s techniques played through his mind like a film reel, each movement carefully choreographed for maximum lethality. Speed. The foundation of Nightstalker. The first step dictated everything¡ªplant your foot and go. There was no slow buildup, no wasted motion. If you weren¡¯t fast enough to close the gap before your opponent reacted, then you were already dead. ¡®Problem is¡­ I¡¯m slow.¡¯ Max knew his limits. His reflexes were decent, but his raw speed was lacking. He wasn¡¯t built like an assassin¡ªyet. He sighed. Precision. Nightstalker didn¡¯t rely on drawn-out fights. Every strike aimed for a vital point¡ªthe throat, the arteries, the spine. Hit the right spot, and it was over in an instant. ¡®No room for error.¡¯ Max had never fought with daggers before. His muscle memory was nonexistent, his accuracy untested. If he missed even slightly in a real battle, he¡¯d be the one on the ground instead. He clicked his tongue in frustration. Deception. The most complicated part of the art. Nightstalker wasn¡¯t about fighting fair¡ªit was about winning. Throw sand in the eyes. Fake an opening. Drop oil at their feet, then set them ablaze. If done correctly, an opponent wouldn¡¯t even realize they were dead until it was too late. ¡®That part¡­ I can work with.¡¯ Max had no assassin¡¯s training, no muscle memory for daggers, no honed speed. But trickery? That was something he understood. He smirked slightly. If he couldn¡¯t match them in raw talent, then he¡¯d just have to outthink them. ¡­ A man stepped onto the training grounds, his yellowish-blonde hair ruffling in the wind as he surveyed the area. He was tall, with a relaxed posture that barely concealed the power behind it. Warren, a man whose presence seemed to demand attention without uttering a word. ¡°Any good ones to start out?¡± Warren¡¯s voice was confident yet it had an easygoing quality to it, like a question one would ask in a casual conversation. Isabell, standing nearby with her usual air of authority, didn¡¯t flinch at the intrusion. She had heard this kind of question before. ¡°Yeah, a couple,¡± she answered without a second thought, her voice measured and calm. ¡°Like who?¡± Warren asked, his curiosity piqued, though his tone remained nonchalant. He folded his arms over his chest and leaned slightly to the side, clearly at ease. Isabell¡¯s gaze flickered to the students around her for a moment, then back to Warren. ¡°Collin, Ophelia, Skylar, Evelynn, Takahiro, Wei Zhen.¡± Warren¡¯s lips curled into a small, knowing smirk. ¡°That¡¯s expected with their families.¡± A flicker of annoyance passed over Isabell¡¯s features, but it was brief. ¡°You¡¯d be surprised.¡± Warren shrugged it off, the edge of his skepticism still lingering in his voice. ¡°Any of them you get your eye on?¡± Isabell¡¯s gaze sharpened. ¡°Collin.¡± Warren raised an eyebrow. ¡°The kid who set a new record in training and rank¡­ what was it? D-rank?¡± ¡°That¡¯s exactly why,¡± Isabell said, her voice unwavering. Her focus was locked on Warren now, no hint of humor in her words. There was something in her eyes¡ªsomething guarded. She knew what he was insinuating. Warren tilted his head slightly, a faint chuckle escaping his lips. ¡°Little suspicious that a kid with no impressive lineage could set those records, don¡¯t you think?¡± Isabell¡¯s eyes narrowed, the air around her growing slightly colder. ¡°Warren, I was there. I can assure you, he¡¯s that talented.¡± Warren¡¯s smirk deepened, but there was something darker beneath the surface. ¡°The Forbidden Rose speaks so highly of him, huh? Then he must be a real talent.¡± Isabell¡¯s expression didn¡¯t waver, but there was a glint in her eye¡ªsomething dangerous flickering beneath her calm exterior. ¡°Show some respect, Warren,¡± she said, her tone taking on a dangerous edge. ¡°Even if you have a powerful family, I¡¯ll still kill you if you call me that again.¡± Warren blinked, caught off guard by the venom in her words. His playful demeanor faltered for a brief moment before he quickly recovered. ¡°Just a joke, Isabell,¡± he said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. Isabell¡¯s gaze shifted back to the group of students, but Warren¡¯s voice cut through her thoughts. ¡°Hey, who¡¯s that idiot in the corner?¡± Warren asked, his tone half-amused, half-curious. Isabell glanced over, following his line of sight. Her eyes landed on Max, who was in the far corner of the training grounds, meticulously pulling his daggers in and out of their holsters. He was repeating the action over and over, with no noticeable change in speed or precision. Warren¡¯s laughter rang out, a sharp sound that carried across the open air. ¡°What¡¯s he doing, practicing for an invisible fight?¡± Isabell didn¡¯t immediately respond. Instead, she pulled out her tablet, scrolling through the data to find Max¡¯s profile. Her fingers hovered over the screen for a moment before she spoke, her voice flat. ¡°Maximus Augustus¡­16¡­ son of a guild director in Valthesis¡­ talent assessment... D.¡± Warren chuckled, his expression dripping with condescension. ¡°And that¡¯s why family and backing matter. People like him, with below-average parents, could never hope to come near the top.¡± Isabell glanced at the tablet, her brow furrowing for a moment. She wanted to offer a counterpoint, something¡ªanything¡ªbut the truth of it hit her. Max was barely making an effort. His movements lacked any sense of intention or commitment. ¡°Well¡ª¡± Isabell started to speak, but her voice trailed off. She couldn¡¯t refute Warren¡¯s words this time. Max wasn¡¯t just underperforming; he seemed to be doing the absolute bare minimum. Max¡¯s motions were mechanical, lifeless even. It was like he wasn¡¯t even trying to improve. She almost wanted to tell him to at least act like he was putting in some effort¡ªswing the daggers with more force, feign a little intensity, or take a break to look like he was thinking. But no, he simply stood there, doing the same motion. ¡®At least act like you¡¯re swinging them, or something,¡¯ Isabell thought, her eyes narrowing slightly. ¡®Anything else. At least give some illusion of effort¡­¡¯ But even as she thought this, her gaze lingered on Max, wondering why someone would show up, equipped and ready to train, only to completely waste their time. Was it arrogance? Laziness? Or something else entirely? The uncertainty gnawed at her. Warren, still watching Max, leaned back with a smug grin. ¡°I mean, look at him. If that¡¯s the future of Nexus, maybe I should start looking into a different career.¡± Isabell didn¡¯t respond right away. Her eyes never left Max. There was something... off about the way he trained¡ªor rather, the way he wasn¡¯t training. Revelation Max sighed, rolling his shoulders as he holstered his daggers for the final time that day. His hands ached, fingers sore from hours of repetition. It was monotonous, sure, but necessary. ¡°Wrap it up for today. I¡¯m happy with what I saw from most of you¡­ most.¡± Isabell¡¯s voice rang through the training grounds, sharp and carrying a hint of amusement. Then, after a beat, she added, ¡°Some need to put forth a little effort.¡± Max immediately felt eyes locking onto him. A few students snickered under their breath. Others whispered. He didn¡¯t need to turn around to know he was the unspoken target. ¡®Nothing I can do about it now. Guess I¡¯ll just have to deal with the stares,¡¯ Max thought, exhaling through his nose. ¡®Progress is progress, though. I can confidently say I¡¯m close to achieving the first step.¡¯ Without another word, he turned on his heel and made his way toward the exit. The other students were still gathered in small groups, chatting, comparing techniques, or discussing their weapon choices. Max stepped out of the training grounds, his body aching from repetition. His shoulders slumped slightly, exhaustion settling in as he made his way back to the dorms. The sun was beginning to dip below the horizon, casting long shadows across the academy¡¯s steel and glass buildings. Just as he entered the dormitory, a voice called out. "Hey, you had some cool moves back there. You care to share them?" The sarcasm in the boy¡¯s tone was blatant, and a few chuckles followed. Max barely spared him a glance before continuing forward. "I didn¡¯t know they let idiots into Nexus," another chimed in with a sneer. Max kept his expression blank, his steps unfaltering as he reached his door and unlocked it. He''d dealt with worse before. This was nothing. Stepping inside, he shut the door behind him and let out a deep breath. The dorm was quiet. No taunts, no stares¡ªjust silence. He peeled off his training clothes, tossing them into a corner, and made his way into the shower. The warm water hit his skin, easing the tension in his muscles. ''It''s only the first day, and people are already watching me, '' Max thought, running a hand through his wet hair. ¡®I¡¯m already failing my plan¡­¡¯ He dried off and threw on some comfortable clothes before collapsing onto his bed with a tired yawn. His body wanted to sleep, but his mind felt restless. To distract himself, he pulled out his phone and opened a simple mobile game. The bright screen illuminated his face in the dim room as he tapped away, zoning out. Minutes passed, and then his eyelids grew heavy. His grip on the phone loosened, and before he realized it, sleep overtook him. ¡­ Max rubbed his eyes groggily as he stared at the screen of his phone. The soft light from the display illuminated his tired face, and the time registered in his mind. Thank god I didn¡¯t sleep all the way into the night... he thought, stretching his arms above his head. He could feel the lingering fatigue, but he pushed it aside. Guess I could train a little more, I still have time. With a soft grunt, Max swung his legs off the bed, the cool floor against his feet grounding him as he shook off the last traces of sleep. He didn¡¯t bother changing back into his training clothes¡ªhe was sure the halls would be mostly empty by now. Grabbing his shoes, he slipped them on and headed for the door. As Max walked through the quiet halls of the academy, the low hum of the building seemed to amplify the distance between him and the rest of the world. The students who passed him gave him barely a glance. He didn¡¯t mind¡ªhe¡¯d long gotten used to being ignored. But as he turned a corner, he saw them. Five students came walking toward him, and as they did, a clear path seemed to open up for them. The others, students and faculty alike, instinctively stepped aside, pressing themselves to the walls. Max automatically flattened his back against the stone of the hallway, not wanting to be in the way. "Geez, everyone is getting out of our way like we have a plague," Skylar remarked with a sharp grin, her voice carrying through the quiet space. She sounded almost amused by the treatment. "Guess we¡¯re some big shots," she added with a casual laugh. "Yeah," Collin agreed, his voice calm and easygoing as he nodded. "I didn¡¯t expect to get treated like this just because we¡¯re high-ranked." Takahiro laughed, a smug edge to his tone. "Please, it¡¯s because I¡¯m here." Ophelia, walking a few steps behind Takahiro, subtly distanced herself from him, her expression one of slight annoyance, clearly not fond of his boasting. Evelynn, ever the stoic one, walked silently beside them, her face as unreadable as always. Max glanced up at them briefly as they passed, but kept his head low to avoid being noticed. Collin, however, seemed to have noticed something. "Did anybody else see that guy in the corner, the one practicing his daggers? We just passed him." "Daggers?" Skylar scoffed. "Oh, that one guy in the corner who kept taking his daggers out and putting them back... I think he might have a mental problem or something." "Yeah... him," Collin said awkwardly, scratching the back of his head, unsure of what to make of the strange behavior. "Yeah, what was his name again?" Skylar asked, her voice trailing off as if waiting for someone to provide the answer. Nobody responded. Nobody knew who he was.If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. Takahiro rolled his eyes and sighed. "He¡¯s just a loser anyway. Let¡¯s get some food. I¡¯m starving." "Wait a second," Skylar called out, but Takahiro was already walking ahead, not bothering to listen as he headed down the hall toward the cafeteria. Max remained in the corner, barely visible as the group continued their conversation. They seemed to have forgotten him already, their attention shifting to more important things. Yet, Collin looked back for just a moment, his gaze lingering on Max in the hallway. The guy in the corner¡ªthe one with the daggers, the one no one knew. Max had stepped aside for them, made space without a word, just like he always did. It was nothing to Max, but something about the situation made Collin pause. He quickly shook the thought off. ¡®Probably nothing¡¯, he told himself. Takahiro''s voice broke through, dismissing the moment entirely. "Come on, we¡¯ve got better things to do." ¡­ Max pushed open the door to the training ground, relieved to find it empty. The quiet, open space stretched out before him, the sound of his footsteps echoing slightly on the polished floor. No distractions, no prying eyes¡ªjust the perfect setting to finally test the first step of Nightstalker. A small smile tugged at his lips. ¡®This is good, I wanted to try the first step.¡¯ he thought. Max adjusted his grip on his daggers, ready to see if the speed he¡¯d worked on would finally come through. Max took a deep breath. He had spent hours working on the basics, preparing for this moment. The first step of Nightstalker¡ªthe very essence of speed¡ªwas now within his reach. ¡®Okay... let¡¯s try it,¡¯ Max thought as he planted his foot, feeling the familiar weight of his blades. In one fluid motion, Max propelled himself forward with everything he had. BOOM. The force of his motion echoed through the training ground, sending a shockwave across the space. Max''s body was already halfway to the far wall before he even realized what had happened. The gust of air and the sound of his shoes scraping the ground were all he heard as he skidded to a stop, panting lightly. ¡®What... what?¡¯ Max blinked, looking around. The distance he''d covered was impressive¡ª10x more than he expected. His heart raced with a mix of surprise and excitement. ¡®Does that mean my speed stat is separate from my sword manual?¡¯ Max glanced back at where he had been standing just moments ago. There was no denying it. He had moved faster than he had ever imagined possible. The realization hit him like a wave, and a broad smile spread across his face, followed by a short burst of laughter¡ªgenuine, unguarded laughter. ¡®Finally. I caught a break.¡¯ Max stood there for a moment, catching his breath, savoring the small victory. It was the first tangible sign of progress he¡¯d felt in a long time. He looked around, still alone in the training ground, the space echoing with the last remnants of his movement. Max planted his foot once again, the anticipation buzzing in his veins. His heart raced as he prepared to test his newfound speed, to push himself even further. Crack. The sharp sound of his foot hitting the ground rang out, and Max shot forward, propelled by the force of his own body. His mind was focused, adrenaline coursing through him as he moved faster than before, but this time, there was a slight shift in his perception. The moment he reached the spot where he''d started, he felt a wave of fatigue sweep over him. It wasn''t as if his body had failed him, but more as if his energy had been drawn out too quickly. He stumbled slightly, feeling the drain on his mana. His breath came in shallow bursts, and he could feel the weight of his efforts pressing against him. ¡®Half my mana¡¯s gone¡­¡¯ Max winced but didn¡¯t let the setback discourage him. He took a slow, steadying breath, focusing on the progress he''d just made. He stood there for a moment, catching his breath, giving his body a brief respite. The success of the first attempt filled him with a renewed sense of purpose. ¡°Progress is progress,¡± Max muttered to himself. He knew there was still much to learn, but this felt different. This felt like the first real step toward mastering the Nightstalker style. And that was something worth celebrating, even if only for a moment. Buzz buzz. Max¡¯s phone vibrated in his pocket, pulling him out of his thoughts. With a sigh, he glanced at the screen. ¡°Mom¡­¡± Act natural. Focus. Normal, normal, normal. He didn¡¯t even bother looking up at the training ground as he answered, slipping the phone out of his pocket. ¡°Hello?¡± ¡°Why haven¡¯t you been answering my texts?!¡± Max¡¯s mom¡¯s voice rang out. Max had seen her texts but hadn¡¯t responded, not really knowing why he¡¯d avoided it... well, he kind of did. He was afraid and anxious about it. ¡°Oh, uh¡­ I¡¯m sorry¡­ just been busy with Nexus,¡± Max said, his words slower than usual. ¡°Okay¡­ okay, just don¡¯t do it again,¡± she ordered, her tone softening. ¡°Hey, can I talk to Maxy?¡± a little voice in the background piped up. Max¡¯s heart skipped. ¡°Your sister wants to talk to you,¡± his mom said, and Max froze. The phone shuffled, and then her voice came through, small and soft. ¡°Maxy?¡± Max blinked, feeling a mix of emotions¡ªthis was it, the first time talking to his sister. ¡°Hey¡­¡± He hesitated, the weight of the moment sinking in. ¡°Hey¡­ Octavia.¡± ¡°I learned that the sky can be different colors! Like when it¡¯s orange and purple, it means it¡¯s time for sleep! And there¡¯s lots of big, big clouds that float like cotton candy!¡± Max smiled, feeling a warmth he hadn¡¯t realized he needed. ¡°Orange? Purple? Oh, you mean when it gets late and the sun sets.¡± ¡°Yeah!¡± Octavia exclaimed. ¡°I wish I could grab one of those cotton candy clouds!¡± Max chuckled. ¡°I¡¯ll grab one of those clouds for you next time we see each other. Can¡¯t say it¡¯ll be as big as the clouds, though¡ªI can¡¯t carry that much.¡± ¡°Promise?¡± she asked, the excitement in her voice undeniable. ¡°Promise,¡± Max said, his voice a little steadier than before. ¡°Thank you!¡± Octavia giggled, the sound bright and innocent, before the phone shuffled again. ¡°Well, now I¡¯ll have to explain why she can¡¯t eat clouds. Thank you, Max,¡± his mom¡¯s voice said, a bit exasperated but amused. ¡°Sorry,¡± Max mumbled, smiling at the sound of his sister¡¯s joy. ¡°You¡¯re fine. Anyways, I was just checking in, making sure everything¡¯s okay.¡± ¡°Thank you,¡± Max replied, his heart lighter than when he¡¯d picked up the phone. ¡°Before I let you go, have you been eating on time?¡± she asked, her voice a little more serious. ¡°Yeah, I have,¡± Max said, trying to sound confident. ¡°When was the last time you ate then?¡± she pressed. ¡°Oh¡­ uh¡­ this morning¡­¡± Max winced, realizing he hadn¡¯t eaten much since then. ¡°MAXIMUS AUGUSTUS!¡± his mom¡¯s voice rose in exasperation. ¡°GO EAT SOMETHING RIGHT NOW.¡± Max winced. ¡°Okay, okay, I will¡­¡± ¡°Maxy is in trouble!¡± Octavia¡¯s voice squealed from the background. Max smiled, shaking his head. ¡°Okay, okay, I¡¯ll eat. I promise.¡± ¡°Good. Well, we¡¯ll let you go. Love you,¡± his mom said, her voice softer now. ¡°Love you, Maxy!¡± Octavia chimed in. ¡°Love you guys too¡­¡± Max said quietly, the words feeling a little more natural this time. Max hung up. ''This isn''t so bad,'' he thought. Hopeless Max let out a quiet sigh as he slipped his phone back into his pocket. The warmth from the call still lingered, but now reality settled in¡ªhe needed to eat, or else he¡¯d be hearing max mom¡¯s voice ringing in his ears for the rest of the night. He stepped out of the training grounds, making his way toward the cafeteria. The halls were quieter now, save for the occasional group of students chatting as they passed by. When he finally reached the cafeteria doors and stepped inside, the noise hit him all at once. ¡®So this is where everyone is¡­ ¡® Max thought, scanning the packed room. The large space was filled with students sitting in groups, laughing, talking, and eating together. Some sat alone, absorbed in their meals or staring at their phones, while others stood near the counters, waiting for their orders. The low hum of conversation mixed with the clinking of trays and the distant whirring of kitchen appliances. Max''s gaze drifted toward the long, winding line leading up to the food counter. He barely held back a groan. ¡®Do I really wanna wait in a line that long¡­?¡¯ His stomach made the decision for him with a low, uncomfortable growl. ¡®Yeah, I do. Max''s mom was scary enough on the phone. Or well¡­ I guess my mom¡­?¡¯ His thoughts faltered for a second as the weight of his situation resurfaced. A mother who had no idea she wasn¡¯t actually talking to her original son. The thought unsettled him, but there was nothing he could do about it now. ¡®This is confusing¡­¡¯ Shaking off the thought, Max exhaled and stepped into line, resigning himself to the wait. ¡­ Max found himself at a crossroads as he inched closer to the front of the line. It was only now, standing before the massive menu screen, that he realized something troubling¡ªhe had no idea what to order. His eyes scanned the glowing display, filled with dishes that looked as foreign to him as the world itself. ¡®Groom Root Stew¡­ Voidberry Tart¡­ Shadowfinn Eel¡­¡¯ Max furrowed his brows. ¡®What the hell are these things?¡¯ He had read the novel. He had lived in this world for a little while now. But food? This part had never been important enough to be described. Before he could think too much about it, he was suddenly at the front of the line. "Next," the cafeteria worker called out, looking at him expectantly. Max blinked, realizing he was holding up the line. ¡°Oh¡­ uh¡­¡± He quickly glanced back up at the menu, searching for something¡ªanything¡ªthat looked remotely familiar. His gaze darted over the exotic and bizarre-sounding meals until he spotted two words that felt like a beacon of hope. "Can I get¡­ a grilled cheese?" It was the first item he actually recognized, and he latched onto it like a lifeline. The cafeteria worker gave him a bored nod, tapping at the screen. "Yeah, sure. Go wait by the counter." Relieved, Max exhaled and stepped aside, making his way over to where the finished orders were being placed. He could feel a few impatient students behind him shaking their heads, but he ignored them ¡­ Max paid for his meal and left the cafeteria, carefully balancing his tray as he stepped outside. The evening air was crisp, a gentle breeze carrying the distant chatter of students who had chosen to eat outdoors. Lanterns lined the walkways, casting a warm glow over the stone-paved courtyard. He scanned the area, looking for a quiet place to sit. Most of the tables were occupied with groups of students chatting and laughing, but in the farthest corner of the outdoor seating area, he spotted it¡ªa single-seat table, tucked away from the main crowd. ¡®Perfect.¡¯ Max made his way over and set his tray down, settling into the chair with a sigh. The solitude was welcome. He unwrapped his grilled cheese and took a bite. His eyes widened. ¡®Oh my god.¡¯ The moment the sandwich hit his tongue, an explosion of flavor overtook his senses. It wasn¡¯t just good¡ªit was unreal. The cheese was a perfect blend of multiple kinds, rich and gooey, stretching with every bite. The bread was toasted to golden perfection, crisp on the outside but soft enough inside to complement the melted cheese. It was buttery, warm, and just salty enough to make his taste buds sing. ¡®This is divine. The gods themselves must have crafted this.¡¯ Of course, it also helped that he hadn¡¯t eaten much today. Hunger made everything taste better, but still¡ªthis was easily the best grilled cheese he¡¯d ever had. He leaned back in his chair, savoring the last few bites before finally finishing his meal. ¡®Welp, I still got some time before bed¡­ guess I¡¯ll just train my daggers again. I¡¯m still a pretty long way from mastery.¡¯ Max stretched his arms before standing up, tossing his trash into a nearby bin. The meal had refueled him just enough¡ªhe wasn¡¯t exhausted, and his body still had energy to burn. It was better to train now than lie in bed restless.If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. The walk back to the training ground was quieter than earlier. Most students had either retired to their dorms or were still hanging around the cafeteria, enjoying their free time. The campus lights illuminated the pathways, casting long shadows across the polished pavement. As Max stepped into the training hall, the distinct whoosh of a blade cutting through the air caught his attention. ¡®Collin.¡¯ Inside, Collin was practicing his sword swings against one of the reinforced training dummies. His movements were precise, fluid, and controlled. Each strike carried power, but there was no wasted energy. The sword moved as if it were an extension of his body, slicing through the air with an effortless grace that only came from discipline and experience. Max watched for a moment, observing the way Collin reset his stance after every swing, his breathing measured, his focus unwavering. ¡®Man, I wonder how much money it costs for those dummies¡­ or for any of these facilities. Nexus Academy is stacked.¡¯ His eyes drifted to the walls, lined with various types of training equipment¡ªautomated dummies, weight stations, and even magical reinforcement barriers for high-level sparring. ¡®At least a trillion crowns for everything, right?¡¯ He shook his head, pulling out his daggers. Without another thought, he moved to his own corner of the training ground, ready to get to work. ¡­ Isabell let out a quiet sigh as she rubbed her temples. Today had been exhausting¡ªback-to-back meetings, paperwork, and administrative nonsense that kept her from actually doing what she enjoyed: teaching. She had been on her way to retire for the night when she happened to pass by the training hall. Out of habit, she glanced through the window, expecting an empty room. Instead, she saw Collin, diligently practicing his swordsmanship. Her steps slowed. The way he moved, his form precise and controlled, was almost hypnotic. The blade glided through the air in perfect arcs, his stance resetting with each swing. It was clear he had put in the time¡ªhis technique was clean, his movements efficient. ¡®At least someone is putting in the effort,¡¯ she thought with a small, approving nod. Curious, she pulled out her tablet and stepped inside. The soft hum of the training hall greeted her, the air thick with the faint scent of metal and sweat. Then, she noticed another figure. Her eyes flicked to the far side of the room, where another student was training¡ªor at least, appeared to be training. It was him. That same student from earlier. The one she had kept an eye on during dagger training. Maximus Augustus. At first glance, it looked like he was working on his weapon technique¡ªbut then she realized something. He was doing the exact same thing he had been doing during class. Pulling out his daggers. Putting them back. Pulling them out. Putting them back. Over and over again. A puzzled frown crossed her face. ¡®Why is he still doing that?¡¯ Isabell shook her head, watching him for a few moments longer. Isabell watched as Collin turned toward her, wiping sweat from his brow. His breathing was steady, but the slight rise and fall of his chest told her he had been at this for a while. "Miss Isabell, what are you doing here?" Collin asked, his tone laced with mild surprise. She smirked, tilting her head slightly. "Well, I am a teacher, so I can be here whenever I want," she teased. Collin looked confused. "I¡¯d like for you to stop practicing on dummies for now," she said, her tone more serious. "Huh? Sorry?" Collin blinked, his brows furrowing in confusion. "Why?" Isabell tapped a few times on her tablet before turning it around for him to see. The screen was filled with data¡ªgraphs, percentages, and intricate numbers tracking his movements in real-time. "Your hand-eye coordination needs work," she explained, zooming in on a particular stat. "Right now, your body isn¡¯t keeping up with what your brain is telling it to do. You¡¯re only landing 70% of your intended strikes." Collin¡¯s lips parted slightly. "Only 70%?" Isabell nodded. "If your opponent was moving¡ªif they were fast, unpredictable¡ªyou¡¯d be missing a lot more than that." She crossed her arms. "You¡¯ve got the fundamentals down, but your reactions need sharpening." She turned and pointed toward a door on the far side of the training hall. "You should use the gravity room instead. It''ll force your reflexes to improve and help your brain sync up with your body." Collin followed her gaze, nodding slowly as he processed her words. Then, a small smile formed on his lips. "Alright, thanks for the advice," he said, rolling his shoulders before making his way toward the gravity room. Isabell watched him go, satisfied. At least one of her students was taking her words to heart. But as she turned back around, her eyes landed once again on Max, still standing in the corner, still drawing and sheathing his daggers. Isabell¡¯s sharp voice cut through the training ground like a blade. ¡°Hey! Stop!¡± Max froze, his grip tightening around his daggers. His body went rigid, and for a brief second, his mind raced in panic. He turned his head hesitantly, his green eyes locking onto the approaching figure. The moment he recognized her¡ªa teacher¡ªhis dread intensified. ¡®Rule 2¡­ Rule 2¡­ ¡® Max¡¯s thoughts scrambled. Isabell¡¯s gaze swept over him as she closed the distance, taking in the details for the first time. He had chocolate-brown hair, bright green eyes that seemed both sharp and cautious, and a face that¡ªif she was being honest¡ªwas a little too nice-looking for someone so... hopeless. She crossed her arms. ¡°Maximus¡­ What are you doing?¡± Max hesitated. ¡°M-Max is fine¡­¡± ¡°Alright, Max,¡± she repeated, tilting her head. ¡°What exactly are you doing?¡± ¡°Training¡­¡± he answered, though even he knew how weak that sounded. Isabell sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. ¡°That is not training. I could walk into a first-grade classroom at Valthesis and find kids doing the same thing.¡± She gestured to him. ¡°Aimlessly pulling out your daggers isn¡¯t going to get you anywhere.¡± Max frowned slightly. ¡°Well¡­ I struggle to pull out my blades in time, so I¡¯m trying to fix that.¡± For a moment, Isabell just stared. What? Did she hear that right? ¡®How do you even make a mistake like that?¡¯ she thought, utterly baffled. ¡®A stupid mistake like that¡­ and this guy is enrolled at Nexus?¡¯ An awkward silence stretched between them. Isabell exhaled through her nose, then spoke in a flatter tone. ¡°Just get a bigger scabbard so you don¡¯t have to reach so far to grab them.¡± Max blinked. ¡°Alright¡­¡± That was it? He just accepted that advice and moved on? Isabell felt a migraine coming on. This kid was seriously testing her patience. Deciding it wasn¡¯t worth the energy, she turned away, waving a lazy hand over her shoulder. Before leaving, she glanced back one last time¡ªjust in time to see him go right back to pulling out his daggers the same way. Her eye twitched. ¡®He¡¯s hopeless.¡¯ Shaking her head, she muttered under her breath, ¡°If that¡¯s what you wanna do, I won¡¯t force you. My job is to guide students, not drag them forward when they ignore me.¡± With that, Isabell added Max to her Hopeless List and walked off, already regretting spending even this much time on him. Alchemy Shop As Isabell disappeared from sight, Max exhaled, running a hand through his hair. ¡®She probably hates me.¡¯ He caught her last glance before she left¡ªthe look of someone who had completely written him off. ¡®Yeah¡­ I¡¯m definitely on her hopeless list.¡¯ Not that he could blame her. His ¡°training¡± probably looked ridiculous from the outside. But it wasn¡¯t like he could explain that he wasn¡¯t used to these daggers, that every movement still felt slightly off, that he was trying to build muscle memory in the only way he knew how. Shaking his head, Max slid his daggers back into their scabbards one last time. He¡¯d done enough for today. With a stretch, he turned toward the exit, his body already feeling the exhaustion settle in. The halls were quieter now, most students either asleep or finishing up their own training. He walked through the academy grounds, the cool night air brushing against his skin. By the time he reached his dorm, he didn¡¯t even bother turning on the lights. Kicking off his shoes, he collapsed onto his bed, letting out a deep breath. ¡­ Max stepped out of the classroom, letting out a quiet sigh. ¡®That was painfully dull.¡¯ The second day at Nexus Academy had been nothing but endless tours. Lecture halls, dorm buildings, training grounds¡ªnone of it was particularly useful to him. Not yet, anyway. Phone in hand, he followed the glowing blue line on his GPS through the busy streets. Nexus City was massive, and without the built-in navigation, he was sure he¡¯d have gotten lost by now. ¡®Thank god for GPS¡­¡¯ After a few minutes of walking, he arrived at a small alchemy item shop tucked between two larger buildings. A chime rang as he pushed the door open. ¡°Welcome!¡± A middle-aged woman greeted from behind the counter. She had sharp, observant eyes and wore a dark blue apron dusted with dried herbs. Max stepped forward. ¡°Hey, uh¡­ do you have any straw?¡± The woman blinked. ¡°Straw?¡± ¡°Yeah.¡± She tilted her head slightly. ¡°Haven¡¯t had anyone ask for that in years.¡± ¡°Do you have any?¡± ¡°I might, but it¡¯ll be old.¡± ¡°That¡¯s fine.¡± She gave him a curious glance before disappearing into the back. Max waited, glancing around the shop. The shelves were packed with neatly labeled jars¡ªpowdered moonroot, crushed ember leaves, bottled mist essence. After a few minutes, the woman returned, carrying a dusty burlap sack. ¡°Here. The last batch I¡¯ve got.¡± Max took it from her and nodded. ¡°How much?¡± ¡°Ten crowns.¡± Swiping his card through the reader, he heard the soft ding of the transaction going through. ¡°Thanks for your business,¡± the woman said, a small smile on her face. ¡°Hope you cook up something good with that.¡± Max shook his head. ¡°I¡¯m not cooking anything.¡± That made her pause. ¡°Then¡­ why do you need straw?¡± Max hesitated for a second before answering. ¡°I¡¯m making a training dummy.¡± The woman stared at him. Then, she let out a quiet chuckle. ¡°Kid¡­ what¡¯s your name?¡± ¡°Max.¡± ¡°I¡¯m Riley,¡± she said, crossing her arms. ¡°Nice to meet you.¡± ¡°You too,¡± she said, though her expression still held amusement. ¡°Back to the point, though¡ªnobody makes training dummies out of straw anymore.¡± ¡°I figured that much, but I can¡¯t really practice on the new dummies,¡± Max admitted. Riley raised an eyebrow. ¡°Why not?¡± ¡°Too many people watching.¡± It was a partial truth. The real reason was that the academy¡¯s dummies could analyze his movements, and if anyone got a hold of that data, they¡¯d realize something was off. The 5-Star Nightstalker manual wasn¡¯t meant to be seen. ¡°Oh¡­¡± Riley hummed in understanding. ¡°You must be an academy student.¡± ¡°Yeah. Nexus,¡± Max confirmed. A grin spread across Riley¡¯s face. ¡°Knew it. I get a few Nexus kids in here every now and then.¡± ¡°Really?¡± ¡°Why do you think I picked this spot for my shop?¡± She gestured around the store. ¡°Closest alchemy ingredient shop to Nexus. Any student needing materials for a project ends up here eventually.¡±Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. Max nodded. ¡°Must be a cash cow.¡± ¡°You have no idea,¡± Riley said with a smirk. ¡°So, back to my question¡ªwhy don¡¯t you want people looking at you?¡± Max hesitated. ¡°Uh¡­ just ¡®cause.¡± Riley studied him for a moment. ¡°Yeah, I kinda figured. You seemed pretty shy when you walked in.¡± Max awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck. ¡°Sorry.¡± ¡°¡®Sorry¡­¡¯¡± Riley mocked in a playful voice. ¡°Don¡¯t apologize for nothing, kid. And don¡¯t worry so much about what other people think.¡± Max let out a quiet exhale but didn¡¯t respond. That was easier said than done. ¡°Anyway,¡± he said, changing the subject. ¡°Do you have any insight on how to actually make one?¡± ¡°That depends. What¡¯s your budget?¡± Max pulled out his phone and checked his balance. ¡°Nine hundred ninety crowns.¡± Riley whistled. ¡°No wonder you¡¯re looking for a cheap option.¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± Max said. ¡°A straw dummy seemed cost-effective.¡± Riley tapped her fingers against the counter, thinking. ¡°If you¡¯re dead set on making one, you¡¯ll need something to reinforce the straw. A leather covering would keep it from falling apart too fast. Zipties or rope to hold it together. Maybe some wooden support for the frame.¡± ¡°That works,¡± Max said. ¡°Good news for you,¡± Riley said, turning to head toward the back. ¡°I¡¯ve got everything you need right here.¡± Max nodded, waiting as she disappeared into the storage room. As he stood there, he glanced at the burlap sack of straw in his hands. Riley returned from the back room, arms full with the materials Max needed. She set them down on the counter with a light thud. ¡°That¡¯ll be sixty crowns.¡± Max swiped his card without hesitation. The reader beeped, confirming the transaction. As he reached for the materials, Riley leaned against the counter, arms crossed. ¡°Why don¡¯t you just build it here?¡± Max blinked. ¡°You sure?¡± ¡°Yeah. You¡¯re already here, and I¡¯m curious to see how this turns out.¡± Max shrugged. ¡°Alright.¡± Grabbing the wooden support beam first, he set it upright in the middle of the shop floor. A thought crossed his mind. ¡°Wait¡­ why do you even have a wooden support beam in an alchemy ingredient shop?¡± Riley smirked. ¡°Because of people like you¡ªwho need weird things at random times.¡± ¡°¡­Checks out,¡± Max muttered. He grabbed a handful of straw and began layering it around the beam, starting from the top and working downward. The process seemed simple enough. Seemed. As he crouched down to secure the waist section, he felt a slight shift in the balance of the straw. Then¡ª Fwump! The entire structure collapsed on top of him, sending loose straw flying everywhere. Max sat there, frozen under the heap of his failed creation. ¡°Don¡¯t laugh.¡± His voice was instant, firm. ¡°I need silence.¡± Riley lasted all of two seconds before bursting into laughter. ¡°Pfft¡ªHow did you even manage to do that?!¡± she wheezed, barely able to breathe. ¡°I don¡¯t know!¡± Max groaned, shaking off the straw. ¡°I swear I have the worst luck.¡± Riley wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. ¡°Alright, alright. Here, I¡¯ll hold it while you wrap it.¡± Max eyed her suspiciously as he stood. ¡°If you let it fall on me again, I¡¯m gonna be upset.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t worry, I¡¯ve got the grip strength of an SS-rank hero,¡± Riley said, flexing her fingers dramatically. Max sighed, picking up the straw again. ¡°That doesn¡¯t inspire confidence¡­¡± Max carefully tied off the last piece of straw, securing it tightly as he glanced up at the dummy, which was finally beginning to take shape. Riley held the frame steady, her hands strong as she supported it without a word. Max quickly wrapped the leather around the straw, his hands moving with purpose. The texture of the leather was rough against his fingers, but it gave the dummy a solid, finished look. Once everything was covered, Riley grabbed a marker and drew several red lines over the dummy¡ªtarget areas marked on the chest, neck, and abdomen, the vital points for a precise strike. The sight of the finished dummy made Max feel a small sense of pride. He stepped back to inspect it, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. ¡°Beautiful,¡± Riley said with a satisfied nod. ¡°Thanks, Riley.¡± Max replied, brushing some straw from his hands. ¡°You¡¯re welcome, and have fun carrying it.¡± Riley grinned, the hint of mischief returning to her eyes. Max glanced down at the dummy, its weight not quite as daunting as he expected, though it was far heavier than he wanted to admit. "Oh... yeah," he muttered. With a final nod to Riley, Max lifted the dummy, feeling its awkward bulk. He gave Riley a small, appreciative nod on the way out of the shop. Riley waved as he left, and Max stepped out into the street, the dummy awkwardly slung over his shoulder. ¡­ By the time Max made it back to the dorm, the campus had quieted down. Most students were either in training or hanging out with friends, leaving the hallways almost empty. The stillness made Max feel a bit more comfortable, and he took a slow, steady breath as he walked through the corridors. If anyone saw him, he figured they either didn¡¯t care or didn¡¯t bother to ask about the dummy. He was fine with that. He slipped into his room, setting the dummy down with a quiet thud. For now, it was done. Now he could focus on the next step¡ªtesting it out. Max set his daggers down on the floor for a moment, taking a deep breath before getting into position. His muscles were already aching from the constant practice, but he couldn''t afford to stop now. He reached for the hilts of the daggers, fingers curling around the grips as he raised them into a ready stance. With a swift movement, Max launched himself forward, executing the first step from the manual¡ªa lightning-fast strike. He shot toward the dummy with an explosive force, but as he reached the target, both he and the dummy collided with the ground in a messy tangle of limbs and straw. The impact was rough, sending a sharp throb through his head. "Goddammit," Max muttered, rubbing his forehead as he groaned. "Why did I think using that much force was a good idea?" He grimaced, pushing the dummy back into its upright position. His movements were slower now, but only out of necessity to recover. With a deep exhale, Max reset himself. His daggers felt like an extension of his own arms, the weight of them natural, even comforting. He wasn¡¯t about to give up. He took his stance again, adjusting his grip as he focused on the next attempt. This time, when he launched himself forward, there was more control. He moved fluidly, as if everything had clicked into place. His daggers sliced through the air with precision, landing perfectly in the red-marked target areas on the dummy. The sharp sound of the blades making contact was satisfying. ¡®I''m getting somewhere,¡¯ Max thought, a brief flicker of satisfaction crossing his mind. He didn''t stop there. Max repeated the motion over and over, each time refining his form, recalculating his momentum. He focused on speed, on the flow of his movements, his timing. Every strike became sharper, faster. The dummy felt less like an obstacle and more like a gauge for his improvement. Hours passed without him noticing. Time seemed to blur together as he fell into the rhythm of his training. He reset the dummy again and again, pushing himself further, testing his limits. When the first signs of exhaustion began to creep in, Max realized he¡¯d spent most of the evening working without rest. But it was time to call it quits. With a final sigh of frustration and satisfaction combined, Max wiped his brow. The room was silent, save for the quiet sound of his breathing and the faint hum of the distant campus. He sheathed his daggers and, with a grunt, dropped onto his bed, letting the quiet darkness pull him into a much-needed rest. Mistake Theory The third day of classes had arrived, bringing with it the first Monster Anatomy and Training lesson. This course focused on understanding, taming, and, if necessary, eliminating monsters. The instructor, Professor Elias Crombwell, wasted no time getting to the good part. At the front of the classroom, laid out on a massive steel table, was the carcass of a Mad Wolf. Even in death, its sheer size was imposing. The beast¡¯s nine-foot frame stretched across the surface, its jet-black fur matted with dried blood. Its muscles, even in their lifeless state, were thick and coiled, as if the beast might still spring to life at any moment. Crombwell, his ever-present grin plastered on his face, ran a gloved hand along the creature¡¯s side. "Take a good look, class! This is a Mad Wolf, one of the deadliest predators in the wild. Its predecessor, the common Gray Wolf, only stood about four feet tall. That¡¯s a five-foot difference¡ªenough to make you rethink calling this thing a ''wolf'' at all." He grabbed a hooked metal tool from the tray beside him and pried open the beast¡¯s mouth, revealing rows of jagged, yellowed fangs. Even without movement, the jawline was terrifying, the canines thick enough to punch through bone. "The Mad Wolf boasts a bite force of nearly ten tons per square inch. That means if one of these gets its teeth around you"¡ªhe abruptly snapped the jaw shut, the sound echoing through the silent classroom¡ª"you won¡¯t have time to scream." Some students flinched at the sound. Others stared with wide eyes, taking notes. Max, however, just observed in silence. He didn¡¯t need a demonstration to recognize the raw killing power in front of him. "As tamers¡ªor in some cases, future monster slayers¡ªyou need to understand their anatomy. If you can¡¯t control a monster, you must learn how to kill it." Crombwell moved to the side, flipping through a thick manual before glancing back at the class. His eyes gleamed with anticipation. "Humans have spent years researching why monsters mutated after the Break. Why did they grow in size? Why did they turn on their owners¡ªon humans as a whole?" Professor Cromwell¡¯s voice carried through the lecture hall, his excitement barely contained. He adjusted his glasses, his sharp eyes scanning the students like a predator. "My team and I have cracked the answer. Now, can anyone tell me why?" A few hands shot up. Cromwell''s gaze swept the room before zeroing in on Max. "How about¡­ you on the right?" Max blinked. Looked around. Then pointed to himself. "Yes, you!" "I uh¡­ didn¡¯t have my hand raised¡­" "I know, I¡¯m trying to keep you engaged in class," Cromwell said, lips curling in amusement. ¡®He¡¯s one of those teachers.¡¯ Max thought bitterly. Still, with the entire class now watching him, he sighed and forced an answer. ¡°So¡­ um¡­ monsters are called violent and um¡­ unpredictable so¡­. well¡­ I think we are looking at it wrong¡­ Us and monsters are kinda like putting oil and water into a water bottle¡­. No matter how much we shake the bottle, it won¡¯t mix until we force it to¡­ so.. I uh¡­ I think monsters operate on a different frequency of mana than we do¡­ so we should try to understand their frequency of mana¡­ If we were to use frequency techniques like the uh¡­ three-star Mindwave Synchrony, we could understand th¡ª" "WAIT! GO BACK!" Max flinched as Cromwell¡¯s voice boomed through the room. "Pardon¡­?" Max said, completely thrown off. "REPEAT WHAT YOU SAID!" The professor¡¯s eyes were practically glowing with excitement. "Why are¡­ why? What? What¡¯s going on?" Max asked, glancing around in confusion. "JUST REPEAT YOURSELF!" Max hesitated, then cautiously started again. "Well¡­ I think that monsters are called violent¡ª" "NOT THAT PART!" Cromwell cut him off again, leaning forward like he was about to pounce. Max threw his hands up. "What do you want from me¡­?" The professor suddenly froze, as if just now realizing how he looked¡ªa grown man practically lunging at a student mid-lecture. A tense silence settled over the classroom. Students exchanged glances. Clearing his throat, Cromwell forced himself to relax. His excitement hadn''t faded, but he at least dialed it down a notch.Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more. "...Sorry about that," Cromwell muttered, adjusting his glasses. His previous outburst had rattled the room, but the excitement in his eyes hadn''t dimmed in the slightest. "Continue." "Continue what¡­?" Max asked, still wary. "Student, please repeat what you said about frequencies," Cromwell pressed, his voice more measured now, but still intense. Max hesitated. He already regretted speaking up in the first place, but now backing down would only make it weirder. "...That monsters¡¯ mana might be on different frequencies from what we know¡­ so we should try to be on the same frequency as them¡­?" For a second, Cromwell didn''t even blink. Then¡ª Ding dong. Ding dong. The class bell rang. Max practically bolted out of the classroom before the professor could even open his mouth again. His heart pounded as he made his way back to his dorm, moving so fast he barely registered his surroundings. ¡®Why did he get so excited? It¡¯s basic knowledge¡­¡¯ He closed the door behind him, locked it, and leaned against the wall, catching his breath. His mind raced, piecing together the obvious answer. ¡®Wait¡­ what I said wasn¡¯t discovered yet¡­¡¯ Max groaned, rubbing his temple. ¡®Son of a bitch.¡¯ He had years of knowledge from the future, things that might seem like common sense later but were still undiscovered now. His slip-up had just hand-delivered groundbreaking research on a silver platter to a professor eager to claim it. ¡®I need to be more careful¡­¡¯ He ran his hands through his hair. How do I fix this? He needed a solution¡ªfast. Then it hit him. Collin''s notebook. Max scrambled to his desk, flipping it open. His eyes scanned the pages until he found it: ¡®Professor Cromwell will ask the students for the mysterious theory giver¡¯s name until the second-lowest rank in the class tells him.¡¯ Max narrowed his eyes. Grabbing a pen, he crossed out the entry and replaced it with: ¡®No student knew his name.¡¯ As soon as he finished writing, a sudden, familiar drain spread through his body. Max¡¯s vision blurred. His limbs locked up. It felt like his mana was being yanked straight out of him. He barely had time to process what was happening before his body went completely still¡ªand he collapsed onto the floor. ¡­ Collin stepped out of the classroom, hands in his pockets, tuning out the professor¡¯s frantic questioning behind him. Cromwell¡¯s voice carried down the hall, desperate, relentless. "Who was it? Someone in this class knows! Speak up!" Not a single student answered. Collin smiled. It was funny. He casually walked down the corridor, dodging a group of first-years chattering about their next class. The whole situation played back in his head. ¡®I would¡¯ve left in a hurry too if the professor was this crazy over a theory¡­¡¯ Cromwell had looked possessed back there. But Collin wasn¡¯t sure what intrigued him more¡ªthe professor¡¯s obsession or the theory itself. ¡®Who the hell even came up with that?¡¯ He thought back to the moment it was said. The voice hadn¡¯t been familiar, and whoever it was had barely spoken up before bolting. ¡®That guy¡¯s gotta be a ghost. No name, no presence, just dropping that insight and vanishing.¡¯ Collin smirked. ¡®Genius theory, though. Whoever came up with it has a smart way of thinking¡­ and an even smarter way of hiding.¡¯ ¡­ ¡®Cromwell¡¯s not an idiot. He¡¯s probably just gonna check the student roster or registry or something like that¡­¡¯ Max sighed, lying back on his bed, staring at the ceiling. At least he¡¯d bought himself a day of peace. ¡®I need to remember¡ªI¡¯m still in a book world. I can¡¯t just slip up like that.¡¯ He thought over his next move. How was he supposed to explain this? ¡®Mana frequencies were covered just the class before¡­ Maybe I can play it off as a lucky guess. A random thought. People get those all the time, right? And it¡¯s not like I have a high talent rating or impressive stats. No one¡¯s gonna suspect me of being some genius.¡¯ It was flimsy, but it was a plan. Max exhaled through his nose, dragging a hand down his face. "This is so burdensome..." he muttered. His eyes flickered toward the straw dummy propped up in the corner. His mind drifted to the Nightstalker manual¡ªthe technique he actually needed to be working on. ¡®I should probably train Nightstalker instead of stressing over this.¡¯ Max sat up, shaking off the lingering thoughts. Max set up the dummy, rolling his shoulders before slipping into his stance. The dorm room was dimly lit, the setting sun casting long shadows across the floor. With each strike, each precise movement, he felt the rhythm of Nightstalker becoming more natural¡ªsharper, faster, more seamless. Time blurred. The only sounds in the room were the whispering air as his daggers cut through it and the faint rustle of the straw dummy. Sweat clung to his skin, but he didn¡¯t stop. Not yet. ¡®I should probably stop¡­ but¡ªone last strike.¡¯ Max steadied his breath and shifted his weight. His footwork was flawless¡ªhis movement ghostly, soundless. In an instant, he appeared in front of the dummy, his blade slicing clean through a vital point. And then¡ª A strange sensation rushed through his body. A pulse, a shift¡ªlike something had clicked into place. Max froze. His breath caught in his throat. His body felt different. Lighter. Smoother. Like he¡¯d unlocked something buried deep within his muscles. His eyes widened. ¡°Mastery¡­ Mastery!¡± A rush of excitement surged through him as the realization hit. ¡°I mastered Nightstalker!¡± He clenched his fists, feeling the energy humming beneath his skin. This was it. This was progress. And it was only the beginning. VR The next day, Max did his best to keep a low profile, but it was clear people were paying more attention to him than usual. Every so often, he¡¯d catch a student stealing glances his way. He hunched slightly in his chair, pretending not to notice. ¡®Maybe I should¡¯ve just kept my mouth shut yesterday¡­¡¯ Instead of dwelling on it, Max forced himself to focus on today¡¯s lesson¡ªengineering. Surprisingly, he found it interesting. That was¡­ unusual. ¡®Is it the previous Max? Did I inherit some of his interests?¡¯ He frowned slightly at the thought. Engineering had never fascinated him before, yet here he was, listening intently. At the front of the classroom, Professor Jarman adjusted his thick-rimmed glasses, his voice carrying an undeniable enthusiasm. "Using an X380 processor, we are able to separate light into multiple beams. When paired with a Z10809 board, it can capture human movement at light speed, allowing us to construct a real-time holographic image." The professor tapped a panel on his desk, and a shimmering blue projection of a humanoid figure appeared above it, twisting and rotating in midair. Murmurs of intrigue spread across the classroom. Max leaned forward slightly. ¡®That¡¯s actually¡­ kind of cool.¡¯ The chime of the bell echoed through the classroom. "Well, that is the end of class. Enjoy the rest of your day." Professor Jarman said, his tone as calm as ever. Chairs scraped against the floor as students packed up and filed out. Max followed suit, slipping out the door with his hands in his pockets. So far, Jarman was easily his favorite professor. He wasn¡¯t arrogant. He didn¡¯t carry himself like some untouchable scholar, lording over students with an inflated sense of superiority. No, Jarman was different. Most professors at Nexus walked around with what Max privately called a ¡°Professor Complex¡±¡ªas if just being in their presence was a privilege. They acted like their word was absolute, like they were on some higher plane of intelligence that students could only hope to understand. Jarman? He actually taught. He explained things clearly, answered questions without condescension, and most importantly¡ªhe treated students like actual people. Max made his way to his next class. Tactics and Cooperation. The moment he stepped inside, the professor handed out uniforms to the students. Max took his and made his way to the changing room, slipping on the suit. Immediately, he felt the compression. "They weren¡¯t lying when they said this thing was skin-tight," Max thought, shifting uncomfortably. "I can feel it compacting my body." He flexed his arms experimentally. His movements felt stiff, restrained, like his whole body was being wrapped in resistance bands. Max turned to the mirror, grimacing. "This is embarrassing..." he muttered under his breath. Still, there was no choice but to go with it. With a sigh, he left the changing room and stepped back into the classroom. The sight that greeted him was bizarre. Rows upon rows of VR stations stretched across the room¡ªhundreds, maybe even thousands. Each one was sleek, high-tech, and humming faintly with power. Slowly, more students arrived, gathering in front of the professor. Max glanced around, noticing something¡ª Most of the boys walked like he did, their movements rigid, almost robotic. Others, though, walked with ease, as if the suit barely affected them. "Probably isn¡¯t their first time in VR," Max thought, watching them move naturally. At the very least, he was glad they had separated the boys and girls for this part. ¡®It would¡¯ve been embarrassing for everyone otherwise¡­¡¯ ¡°Attention please.¡± Max turned his head as the professor stepped out of the changing room. Luka Novac, as he was called, had a head of messy black hair and a scruffy beard. His grin was wide, almost mischievous, as if he were always in on some secret joke. Max¡¯s sigh was almost involuntary. "Luka Novac. How am I going to deal with him?" Max thought, his mind already racing through possibilities. Luka wasn¡¯t just any professor. He was one of the first antagonists, a notorious figure who¡¯d signed a contract with a demon from the greed faction. The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. "At least I¡¯m not as popular or as skilled as Collin..." Max mused, his lips twisting into a brief frown. "It¡¯d be a headache to have the attention of every antagonist." Luka moved to the monitor at the front of the room, his fingers dancing over the keyboard. The low hum of the machine seemed to match his own energy, as though both he and the system were in sync. A few moments passed before Luka spoke again, his voice loud and clear. ¡°Maximus Augustus, pod S12, please.¡± Max glanced around, his eyes narrowing when he caught the faint snickers from a few students scattered around the room. "Why? I haven¡¯t even done anything yet." The thought barely registered before it morphed into annoyance. It wasn¡¯t the teasing that bothered him¡ªit was the sudden, unwanted attention. "Better not to let them mess with my excitement." Max tried to shake off the feeling, pushing forward toward the pod designated for him. His mind was already racing ahead¡ªhe was about to experience VR for the first time. Not just any VR, but the most advanced simulation system ever created. He¡¯d read about it before, but nothing had prepared him for this moment. The thrill was palpable in his chest, pushing aside his irritation. Max stood still, the hum of the room vibrating around him as he waited for the professor to finish calling out names. His pulse quickened as the last student stepped into their pod. "Maximus Augustus." A smooth, automated voice echoed through the room, cutting through the murmurs of the students. Max¡¯s heart skipped a beat, but he steadied himself, taking a breath. "Are you ready?" Max hesitated for a split second, but then he nodded. "Yes." The voice was unwavering, methodical in its efficiency. "Okay. Going in 5...4...3...2...1." In an instant, the world around Max seemed to evaporate. The room fell away, replaced by a sudden rush of wind in his ears. He felt the sensation of movement without any sense of direction, as though he were falling through an invisible current. His eyes widened. Whoosh. The feeling was surreal. He couldn¡¯t tell if he was flying or if the environment was moving around him. The world was a blur, an ever-changing vortex of lights and sounds. The sharp wind rushed past him, making his hair whip and his senses sharpen, only to disappear into a silence so complete it almost felt like a vacuum. Shwoom. The sensation shifted. A mechanical noise echoed in his ears. Processing information. Max¡¯s body felt lighter, as if his very existence was being scanned, broken down, analyzed. His vision flashed with an array of bright lights¡ªdazzling, almost blinding¡ªbefore settling into a soft focus. Retina scan. A thin red beam flickered across his eyes, verifying his identity. He felt no discomfort, just an eerie sense of being evaluated, his very essence mapped and recorded. Fingerprint check. Max raised his hand instinctively, a subtle pulse running through his skin as the scan took place. He could feel his heartbeat syncing with the pulse, a strange sensation of his own body confirming its authenticity. Genetic scan. The world seemed to freeze for a moment, everything around him fading into a dull blur as his genetic blueprint was assessed. Max wasn¡¯t entirely sure how they did it¡ªmaybe it was the combination of magic and technology¡ªbut it felt almost like they were unraveling him, piece by piece. User information loaded. Max blinked as the data streamed into his vision, everything flashing into view like an informational overlay. He saw a series of numbers, percentages, and statistics that felt impersonal¡ªclinical even. Welcome Maximus Augustus. Rank 2789/3150, confirm access Y/N Max¡¯s eyes locked onto the floating prompt. The numbers flashed, indicating his rank in some grand system, but it wasn¡¯t the rank that caught his attention¡ªit was the confirmation prompt. He didn¡¯t hesitate, the cold precision of the process pulling him forward. His finger hovered over the glowing Y button, and with a sharp press, he confirmed his access. Whoosh. The world snapped into focus, and Max found himself standing in a stark white room, blinking as the unfamiliar surroundings registered in his mind. The air was crisp and smelled faintly sterile, the kind of clinical environment he imagined a high-tech lab might feel like. A gentle hum buzzed from the walls, and he saw four other students scattered across the space, looking just as confused as he felt. Max took a steady breath, his gaze shifting over the others. He couldn''t help but notice the varying degrees of discomfort on their faces¡ªno one seemed particularly thrilled to be here. They were all just waiting for something, for the next step. "Rank 954, Jaspar Kato." A guy standing near the center stepped forward, his features average in every sense of the word. His dark hair was a little unkempt, and his eyes were distant, perhaps a bit too nonchalant for the situation. He gave Max a brief glance but didn¡¯t seem interested enough to make conversation. "Rank 671, Zara Alvarado." The next person, a girl with warm, brown curly hair and a smile that was almost kind, met Max¡¯s eyes. She was attractive¡ªpretty, even¡ªbut there was something about her gaze that suggested she wasn¡¯t in the mood to entertain anyone. "Rank 439, Elias Muller." A blonde guy stepped up next, his blonde hair a little messy but not in a careless way. It looked styled just enough to appear effortlessly tousled. His sharp blue eyes flickered over the group, then back down at the floor as he kept to himself. "Finnian O''Conner, Rank 854." A red-haired guy with a noticeable twinge of freckles nodded toward Max, but he didn¡¯t say anything more, just settled into his space with an air of quiet confidence. Then, the atmosphere shifted as the last guy stepped forward. Max¡¯s gaze landed on him¡ªhe was huge. He towered over the rest of the group, a hulk of a man with a buzzcut and a permanent scowl that made him look like he was always on the edge of a fight. He carried a spear like it was an extension of his own body, and the glint in his eyes said that this was someone who didn¡¯t tolerate weakness. "Rank 68, Justin Steele." Max¡¯s stomach churned when he heard the name. He knew exactly who Justin was¡ªone of Takahiro¡¯s lackeys. Justin was the kind of guy who idolized Takahiro to the point of obsession. He followed him around like a shadow, always doing his bidding without question. The whole ¡®worshipping the strong¡¯ mentality had a disturbing edge to it, and Max wasn¡¯t particularly fond of it. Max stepped forward slowly. "Maximus Augustus... Rank 2789..." he said, his voice barely above a murmur, but enough to get the attention of the group. The others turned toward him briefly, scanning him with a mix of disinterest and condescension. It was clear they weren¡¯t impressed. Max could practically feel the judgment radiating off of them. "Useless." Justin sneered, dismissing him with a flick of his eyes. Max had expected it, but hearing it aloud still stung. He wasn¡¯t here to make friends, anyway. The less attention he drew, the better. Max let out a quiet sigh, folding his arms across his chest as he leaned against a nearby wall. He wasn¡¯t going to dignify Justin¡¯s remark with a response. ¡®It¡¯s fine,¡¯ Max thought, ¡®I¡¯ll just wait for the professor to give instructions.¡¯ He stayed there, in his corner, watching the others¡ªJaspar absentmindedly glancing around, Zara playing with a strand of her hair, Elias staring at his feet, and Finnian... well, Finnian was the most relaxed of them all. They would learn that Max is a surprisingly petty person. First Challenge ¡°Group 8, can you hear me?¡± Luka¡¯s voice echoed from above, clear and authoritative. ¡°Say ¡®copy.¡¯¡± ¡°Copy,¡± Jasper said first, his tone neutral. ¡°Copy,¡± Zara followed, sounding focused. ¡°Copy,¡± Elias muttered. ¡°Copy,¡± Finnian added casually. ¡°Copy,¡± Justin said with an air of impatience. Max paused for a second before letting out a sigh. ¡°Copy.¡± ¡°Perfect. Everyone¡¯s here,¡± Luka¡¯s voice came through again, steady and professional. ¡°Listen carefully, because I will only explain this once.¡± Max and the others stood in silence, waiting. ¡°Today¡¯s difficulty will be on the lighter side, considering most of you are experiencing VR for the first time. As you may have already guessed, the students around you are your designated group. Work together.¡± Max noticed a few glances exchanged, some evaluating, others indifferent. ¡°And before any of you start complaining about matchups¡ªthe groups were formed using a specialized algorithm to ensure balance. It is flawless¡­ with a few exceptions.¡± Max caught the brief stares directed at him. He sighed internally. ¡®Not my fault,¡¯ he thought. ¡°You will be dropped into a randomized terrain, generated by the system. Your objective is simple: survive for one hour. There are additional achievements that can earn your team extra points. However, if you die before time runs out, your extra points won¡¯t count.¡± Luka¡¯s voice turned slightly amused. ¡°Oh, and your team gets bonus points for every surviving member, so try not to get each other killed.¡± A soft beep sounded, signaling the countdown. ¡°You have one minute to strategize. Best of luck.¡± ¡°And whichever group scores last¡­ will be kicked out of the class.¡± Silence. Then, the glares intensified. Max felt their eyes burning into him, judgment already cast. ¡®Luka¡¯s plan is already working,¡¯ he realized, watching the subtle tension ripple through his group. It was classic psychological warfare¡ªturn them against each other, break their confidence, and when they felt lost, offer them an easy way out. A demon contract. Max knew the truth. No one was getting expelled. This was just Luka¡¯s way of chipping away at their resolve, pushing them toward desperation. ¡°You.¡± A sharp voice snapped him out of his thoughts. Max turned. Justin Steele. ¡°Hm?¡± Justin¡¯s gaze was cold, unyielding. ¡°You better survive. Or else.¡± A crushing weight suddenly pressed down on Max¡¯s shoulders. His knees buckled, hitting the floor before he could stop himself. Justin was using his pressure. ¡°Understand?¡± Justin asked, his tone dripping with superiority. Max clenched his teeth. His nails dug into his palm, but he forced out the words. ¡°Got it¡­¡± Justin smirked, satisfied. ¡°Good.¡± Max stayed still for a moment, the humiliation burning into him. ¡®I¡¯m still so weak¡­¡¯ Max thought. ¡®I have to get stronger. Faster. That can never happen again.¡¯ A countdown began. ¡°Alright, simulation begins in¡­ 5¡­ 4¡­ 3¡­ 2¡­ 1.¡± Swoosh. Max saw trees coming out of the ground and soil starting to form all around him. Max put his hand out touching a tree. ¡®Wow¡­ this feels completely real¡­¡¯ Max thought as he took a deep breath, feeling the crisp air fill his lungs. This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience. (Rank 2789: Maximus Augustus. Group Points: 6.) A glowing notification hovered in front of him. He reached out and swiped it away with a flick of his fingers. Silence. Max turned, scanning the unfamiliar landscape. His group was nowhere in sight. ¡®Just like I remember¡­ I¡¯ll probably be on my own.¡¯ It wasn¡¯t surprising. The simulation had always worked this way¡ªisolating some, forcing others together. And right now, Max was alone. His grip tightened. ¡®I might have to kill someone¡­¡¯ He exhaled sharply, shaking the thought from his head. It¡¯s not real. It¡¯s not real. It¡¯s not real. He reached for his daggers, pulling them free from their holsters. The familiar weight settled in his hands. A quick spin, a shift in his grip¡ªgood balance, sharp edges. Functional. Lethal. ¡®Luka¡¯s going to target the top 500¡­ so I should be left alone.¡¯ He ran through his mental map, recalling where the major players would be. Collin and Takahiro in the mountains¡­ Evelynn and Ophelia by the ocean¡­ Skylar in the desert¡­ That meant¡ª ¡®No important characters in my zone. Good.¡¯ Max exhaled, tucking his daggers back into place. Max took a steady breath and started moving. The terrain was a dense, overgrown forest with twisted trees and vines that clawed at his clothes as he slipped through. Every step was calculated, every sound analyzed. His heartbeat remained steady, but his mind was on high alert. ¡®I can probably achieve the extra points¡­ before the beasts are sent out to hunt us. I just need to find the hidden task.¡¯ That was the tricky part. None of the main cast ever came to this zone, meaning Max had no prior knowledge of what to expect. But he had a general idea of how the game worked¡ªtasks were always tucked away in the furthest corners of each zone. He kept low, weaving through the foliage, keeping an ear out for movement. His shoes made little sound against the damp earth. (Teammate Elias died. Group points: 5.) A small notification appeared before vanishing as quickly as it came. ¡®Yikes¡­¡¯ Max grimaced. That was fast. Either Elias was reckless, or something was lurking closer than expected. At this rate, more than half the group would be dead before the hour was up. And Justin would be pissed. Max exhaled through his nose, stepping over a broken branch as he walked. The forest stretched endlessly ahead¡ªtwisting roots, damp earth, and the occasional glimmer of moonlight filtering through the canopy. The faint scent of rain lingered in the air, mixing with the metallic tang of blood. He found a lake not long after, its surface still, reflecting the night sky like a polished mirror. Crouching by the edge, he scooped up a handful of water and took a slow drink. A crisp notification flickered in the corner of his vision. (Teammate Jaspar has died. Group points: 4.) Max wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, watching the number settle. At least Justin wouldn¡¯t be singling him out when this was over. The bushes behind him rustled. Max turned. A boy stepped out, his uniform a little scuffed but otherwise intact. He looked about Max¡¯s age, though something about the way he carried himself¡ªrelaxed but measured¡ªset him apart from the usual dead weight in these trials. The two stared at each other for a moment, sizing each other up. Then the boy spoke. ¡°Rank 652, Richard Hill.¡± Max didn¡¯t hesitate. ¡°Rank 2789, Max Augustus.¡± Richard¡¯s lips curled into something that wasn¡¯t quite a smile. ¡°Well. Looks like I got lucky.¡± Max didn¡¯t respond. ¡°I found the hidden task,¡± Richard continued. ¡°But I can¡¯t do it alone.¡± Max raised an eyebrow. ¡°You need help?¡± Richard nodded. ¡°Yeah. Come on. We¡¯ll split the points.¡± That was a lie. Points couldn¡¯t be split. But Max didn¡¯t call him out on it. If Richard was leading him to the task, that was good enough. ¡°Alright,¡± Max said. Max followed Richard, his steps light but deliberate on the uneven forest floor. The tension between them hung thick in the air¡ªlike a wire pulled taut, ready to snap. Richard glanced back, his expression unreadable. ¡°Another member of my group is there with me. Don¡¯t be surprised.¡± Max¡¯s lips pressed into a thin line. ¡®You tell me that now, after leading me into this mess?¡¯ ¡°Got it,¡± Max muttered, the words coming out flatter than he intended. He kept his eyes on Richard¡¯s back, the slightest twitch in his body betraying his unease. ¡®He¡¯s going to use me somehow... He¡¯s got some angle I don¡¯t see yet... probably ends with him trying to kill me.¡¯ Max¡¯s hand flexed, fingers itching at the thought. ¡®Which means I¡¯ll have to kill him. When he least expects it. It¡¯s not personal. This isn¡¯t real. It¡¯s just another game. Just a game...¡¯ He swallowed, the knot in his throat tightening with each step. ¡®It¡¯s fake. It¡¯s all fake. And when the moment comes, I¡¯ll end it before he can make a move. I¡¯ll end it. I have to.¡¯ ¡°Here we are.¡± Richard¡¯s voice broke the silence, and Max followed him out of the dense forest into a wide clearing. A calm pond stretched out before them, its surface shimmering in the light. The water was impossibly clear, a deep, vibrant blue that seemed to hum with an unnatural energy. It caught the sun¡¯s rays, casting a kaleidoscope of reflections across the surrounding grass, the gentle ripples distorting the image like a broken mirror. A few animals, deer maybe, wandered up to the edge of the water, pausing to drink without a hint of fear. It was the kind of place that would have felt peaceful, serene¡ªif Max hadn¡¯t known better. ¡°Welcome back, Richard!¡± The voice was light but carried a disturbing edge, the kind that always sounded too sweet for comfort. A boy with fiery red hair stepped out from behind a cluster of rocks, his posture loose, relaxed. Too relaxed. He looked at Max with a tilt of his head, his eyes scanning him up and down like an object. Richard grinned, gesturing to Max with an almost exaggerated flourish. ¡°Hey, Harry. I got the perfect man for the job.¡± Harry¡¯s smile twisted, turning into something darker, more dangerous. The change was subtle, but Max caught it. The boy¡¯s eyes glinted with something hungry, something that had no place in this moment. ¡°Oh?¡± Harry¡¯s tone was almost playful, but it carried the weight of a promise. ¡°Is that him?¡± Max¡¯s gut clenched. His instincts were screaming, but he forced himself to stand still, to breathe. He had to play along, for now. Pond Harry lifted a hand and pointed to a small island in the middle of the pond. A lone tree stood at its center, its branches twisted like skeletal fingers reaching for the sky. Beneath it, a single flower rested against the roots¡ªdelicate, untouched. ¡°That flower,¡± Harry said, his voice light, almost casual. ¡°We need it for the extra points.¡± Max¡¯s eyes drifted to the water, its glassy surface rippling ever so slightly. Beneath it, a shadow moved. Slow. Patient. The outline was massive¡ªcoiling, shifting just beneath the surface. A sea monster. Of course. ¡°You¡¯ve noticed it, haven¡¯t you?¡± Harry continued. ¡°We need a distraction to grab the points.¡± Max didn¡¯t respond. He already knew what was coming. ¡®They¡¯re going to leave me.¡¯ He let the silence drag for a moment, then exhaled. ¡°Uh¡­ is it possible for me to say no?¡± Harry¡¯s smile didn¡¯t fade. If anything, it widened. ¡°Why would you decline?¡± Behind him, Max heard Richard shift¡ªjust slightly. Not a full step. Just enough to prepare. Harry tilted his head, red hair catching the light. ¡°Shouldn¡¯t a lower rank bow down?¡± ¡®Oh my god¡­¡¯ Max forced his expression into something neutral. Maybe even reluctant. ¡°Okay¡­ it¡¯s not like I can fight you anyway.¡± Harry¡¯s grin stretched. ¡°Perfect. Let¡¯s go.¡± Richard moved first, rushing into the water without hesitation. Harry followed, his boots splashing against the shallows. Max stayed where he was. ¡°Hold on,¡± he said, crouching down. He let his fingers sink into the damp earth, gathering a handful of sand. ¡°I need a moment to mentally prepare.¡± Harry scoffed. ¡°What¡¯s there to prepare for? You just gotta go be bai¡ª¡± Max moved. His dagger was in his hand before the sentence finished, his body already shifting forward. The blade found Richard¡¯s throat in one swift motion. A clean, practiced thrust, straight through the windpipe. Richard¡¯s eyes widened. He let out a choked sound before crumpling into the water, blood spilling in thick, red ribbons across the surface. At the same time, Max flicked his wrist. The handful of sand exploded into Harry¡¯s face. Harry staggered back with a snarl, hands flying to his eyes. ¡°YOU¡ª¡± Max didn¡¯t let him finish. He stepped in and drove his second dagger into Harry¡¯s neck. A sharp, wet gurgle. The fight was over before it even started. Harry collapsed, clutching at his throat, his body twitching for a few moments before finally going still. Max exhaled, his breath shaky as he watched the blood swirl into the water, tendrils of red unraveling into the deep. It spread slowly at first¡ªthen faster, devoured by the currents, pulled into the depths where the sea monster waited. ¡®It¡¯s not real.¡¯ He clenched his jaw. His fingers felt numb. His body still tingled with the ghost of the last movement, the final thrust, the way the blade had slid in so easily. ¡®It¡¯s not real.¡¯ His thoughts pressed against his skull, circling, tightening. ¡®It¡¯s not real. It¡¯s not real. Oh my god, it feels so real.¡¯ He looked down at his hands. A faint tremor ran through his fingers. ¡®I killed someone. I killed multiple people.¡¯ His stomach twisted. He forced himself to breathe¡ªdeep, slow. Inhale. Exhale. Again. Again. His heartbeat steadied, though the hollow feeling in his chest didn¡¯t fade. A minute passed. Maybe more. Then, finally, he spoke, voice hoarse. ¡°Okay¡­ okay¡­ I need to get the flower.¡± His eyes shifted to the bodies. Harry¡¯s corpse lay twisted where it had fallen, his lifeless eyes still half-open, frozen in an expression of shock. Richard¡¯s wasn¡¯t much better¡ªhis throat an open ruin, blood pooling around his collar. Max swallowed. He stepped forward and grabbed Harry¡¯s body. ¡°Jesus¡­¡± he muttered under his breath. The weight was heavier than he expected. With a grunt, he hoisted it up and threw it into the pond. The splash was loud, too loud. It sent ripples racing across the surface. The shadow below stirred. Max didn¡¯t stop to watch. He turned and did the same to Richard, his grip firm but mechanical, as if detaching himself from what he was doing would make it easier. Another splash. Another ripple. Then the water erupted. If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. A massive shape lunged up from beneath, its jagged mouth splitting wide as it clamped down on the first corpse. Bones cracked, flesh tore, and in seconds, the body was gone¡ªdragged beneath the surface in a violent swirl of blood and teeth. Max watched for a moment, waiting, calculating. The monster¡¯s attention was elsewhere now. He sprinted forward and dove into the water. Cold. It bit into his skin, sent a shock through his limbs, but he pushed forward, arms cutting through the surface as he swam hard, fast. The island wasn¡¯t far. A dozen strokes. Maybe less. His feet hit the shallows, and he scrambled onto the shore, dripping, heart pounding. There it was. The flower. Bright blue, petals delicate, speckled with hints of green. Max reached out¡ª The moment his fingers touched it, the flower shimmered, then dissolved into nothing. A chime echoed in his head. (Maximus Augustus +1 point. Pond Trial. Group points: 5.) Max let out a breath, shaking his wet hair out of his eyes. ¡®Nice. Now Justin won¡¯t have any reason to be mad at me.¡¯ Another notification appeared. (Teammate Justin Steele has died. Group points: 4.) Max stared. Then blinked. ¡°¡­C¡¯mon. Really?¡± he muttered, rubbing a hand down his face. ¡°That¡¯s kinda embarrassing.¡± He turned back toward the water. The monster had finished its meal, the surface of the pond calm once more. "Okay..." Max mumbled, glancing at the timer. (Time remaining: 20 minutes.) He exhaled through his nose. "Haven''t seen any monsters besides the trial one... Guess it''s smooth sailing." Still, he didn''t slow down. The forest stretched around him, dense and shifting, shadows creeping between the trees as the light dimmed. He kept moving, weaving through the undergrowth with no set direction¡ªjust enough to stay unpredictable. If anyone was tracking him, they¡¯d have a hard time keeping up. A soft chime echoed in his mind. (Teammate Finnian has died. Group points: 3.) Max glanced at the notification, his face unreadable. ¡°At this rate, we might finish exactly in the middle,¡± he muttered. His voice was quiet, barely above a whisper, but in the stillness of the forest, it felt louder than it should have. He adjusted his grip on his dagger and kept moving. The trees began to thin. The air grew crisper, cooler. Then, after another few minutes, the ground sloped upward, leading him to the edge of a cliff. Max stepped forward, boots scraping against the rock. Below, a vast mountain range stretched before him, jagged peaks cutting into the horizon like the teeth of some ancient beast. Rivers of mist coiled through the valleys, their silvery tendrils shifting as the wind carried them. The mountains had a strange beauty to them¡ªboth haunting and serene, as if untouched by time. For a moment, Max just stood there, taking it in. Then he checked the timer again. (Time remaining: 3 minutes.) The sun was setting, half of it hidden behind a massive peak. The sky burned in hues of orange and deep violet, casting long shadows over the terrain. Max let out a slow breath. Ding! (Time left: 00:00:00. Congratulations on completing the test. You will be logged out of the capsule.) Swoosh. The world faded. When Max opened his eyes, he was in a stark white room, the sterile brightness almost blinding after the dim hues of the simulation. His muscles tensed instinctively before his mind caught up. He wasn¡¯t in the forest anymore. He wasn¡¯t on that cliff. He was back. His gaze flickered around. Four other students stood in the room, looking just as dazed as he felt. ¡®Only four others?¡¯ His mind ran through the possibilities. ¡®Did only five people survive in my area? No¡­ They probably got transferred to another zone. Or maybe not many were placed in my sector to begin with.¡¯ A voice cut through his thoughts. "Can you guys hear me?" Luka¡¯s voice echoed from the ceiling, calm and authoritative. "Congratulations on finishing the test. It was designed to measure your survivability in unfamiliar environments¡ªto see how well you could adapt when left on your own. Whether it was through luck, scheming, or pure strength, at the end of the day, you lasted the full hour. So hold your head high." A pause. Then¡ª "The group rankings will be displayed on the monitor." Swoosh. A screen flickered to life on the wall, but Max barely spared it a glance. "Yikes¡­" he muttered, exhaling as he removed the VR headset. The moment it lifted off his head, exhaustion slammed into him like a brick wall. His limbs felt heavier, his thoughts sluggish. He ran a hand through his hair. "Is this what VR feels like all the time?" Shaking off the fatigue, Max stepped out of the capsule¡ªonly to immediately feel six sets of eyes lock onto him. The weight of their gazes pressed down on him. He glanced at his groupmates, reading their expressions¡ªrelief, disappointment¡­ and fear? Fear? His brows furrowed. ¡®Why are they looking at me like that?¡¯ A feeling crawled up his spine, an instinct honed from experience. Slowly, he turned¡ª And met Justin¡¯s eyes. The guy was staring daggers at him, jaw tight, shoulders rigid. Max didn¡¯t flinch. Didn¡¯t react. But internally, the pieces clicked. ¡®He¡¯s mad.¡¯ Max¡¯s thoughts ran cold. ¡®But I survived. I even got an extra point. Why is he looking at me like that?¡¯ Then it hit him. ¡®He thinks I stole his spotlight.¡¯ "Congratulations to those who passed," Luka¡¯s voice carried across the room, even and controlled. "I¡¯ll make this quick¡ªyour group¡¯s ranking is displayed on the monitor. Take a look and see where you stand." Max¡¯s gaze flicked to the screen. Collin¡¯s group¡ª1st place. Takahiro¡¯s group¡ª2nd. Skylar¡¯s¡ª6th. Evelynn¡¯s¡ª7th. Ophelia¡­ in Takahiro¡¯s group. Then his own. ¡®11th place.¡¯ Max exhaled through his nose. ¡®A little below average.¡¯ ¡®Not terrible. Not great. Just¡­ forgettable. Which, all things considered, was probably for the best.¡¯ Luka continued, a hint of amusement in his tone. "Last year, nine groups had no survivors. This year, we only had eight. Feel free to use this as bragging rights." He let that sit for a moment before adding, "And no¡ªwhoever finished last won¡¯t be kicked out. I only said that to give you all a little motivation." A few students let out relieved sighs. Others, the more competitive ones, looked annoyed. "Class dismissed." Max was already moving before Luka had finished speaking. The weight of lingering stares burned at his back, but he didn¡¯t acknowledge them. Instead, he kept his pace even, calculated¡ªnot hurried, but purposeful. The moment he reached the changing rooms, he did move faster. Stripping off the academy-issued gear, he swapped into his uniform, rolled his shoulders, and pulled open the door. The halls were mostly empty. Good. Keeping his head down, Max walked with quiet efficiency, slipping through the corridors with the ease of someone who didn¡¯t want to be noticed. By the time he reached his dorm, he stepped inside, shut the door, and leaned against it, exhaling. Silence. For the first time since the test ended, Max allowed himself a moment to breathe. Then, without another thought, he locked the door. Black Market Max kicked off his shoes and let out a deep breath. He sat on his bed, running a hand through his hair. ¡®Justin did what he wanted.¡¯ Max frowned. But strength alone wouldn¡¯t be enough. Power wasn¡¯t just about fighting¡ªit was about resources. And if there was one thing Max knew for sure, it was that money made things a lot easier. ¡®Well, I don¡¯t have rich parents, so I¡¯m gonna need money.¡¯ Stocks were probably the best bet. He already knew what was about to happen¡ªhe just had to take advantage of it. ¡®What would I need¡­ Potions, for sure. Equipment, definitely. Artifacts. The stronger they were, the more expensive, but the right one could make all the difference.¡¯ ¡®What stocks to start with¡­¡¯ ¡®Axion.¡¯ They were about to crash soon. Max exhaled. ¡®That settles it.¡¯ ¡­ Max walked through the bustling streets of Valthesis, eyes scanning the crowds as he checked his balance. Student: Maximus Augustus Balance: 978 C Could be enough. But not nearly enough to make what he had in mind work. He needed more¡ªway more. And the best way to get it? Run a dungeon. A low-ranked one to start, just to get a feel for it. Max continued down the street, his boots tapping lightly against the cobblestone. After a few minutes, he came across a stall selling hooded scarves. ¡°Five Crowns for each one,¡± the vendor said with a tired smile. Max nodded, selecting an all-black scarf and handing over the Crowns. The man didn¡¯t even glance up, as if it wasn¡¯t worth the effort to engage further. Max wrapped the scarf around his neck, then spotted a mask stand nearby. The vendor¡¯s assortment was simple, but Max was looking for something specific¡ªa black mask. He quickly bought one, the fabric cool to the touch as he adjusted it to cover his face. ¡®Rule one of the black market: Don¡¯t let anyone know your identity.¡¯ With his new gear in place, Max felt a little more prepared for what lay ahead. ¡­ Max walked through the narrow alleyway, the dim glow of the streetlights barely reaching him. At the end, a large black door stood, looking out of place in the quiet street. Klung. Klung. Klung. He paused, standing still as the sound echoed from behind the door. After a few moments, it creaked open, and two men in dark suits stepped out. They scanned Max, their eyes calm but observant. ¡®They¡¯re C rank.¡¯ Max thought, noting their sharp focus. One of the men spoke, his voice deep but steady. ¡°What are you here for?¡± Max replied without hesitation, ¡°I saw a crow fly over here at midnight.¡± The man didn¡¯t react much. ¡°Crows fly all around here at night.¡± Max nodded. ¡°Because the wolf howls at the moon.¡± The two men exchanged a quick glance, then nodded in unison. Without a word, they opened the door wider, allowing Max to step inside. Max walked through the quiet hub, a place where the only sound was the faint shuffle of footsteps on the floor. Stalls lined the walls, but no one spoke, their faces hidden beneath hoods or masks, their movements deliberate and cautious. The silence was almost oppressive, broken only by the occasional clink of metal or the soft scrape of a chair. ¡®Words can''t even describe this place¡­¡¯ Max thought.¡¯ It looks so cool.¡¯ Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation. He moved through the stillness, the air thick with a strange sense of anticipation, until he reached a bar at the far end. The bartender didn¡¯t acknowledge him as he took a seat on one of the stools, his eyes downcast, as if everyone here knew the value of silence. Max rested his head on his right hand, staring at the counter for a few minutes, then switched to his left, letting the time pass without a word. A hooded man slid onto the stool beside him, his presence barely noticeable despite the emptiness around them. ¡°How can we help you?¡± the man asked, his voice low, cutting through the silence like a whisper. Max turned toward him, keeping his tone steady. ¡°I¡¯m looking for an information broker. Silas.¡± The man didn¡¯t respond immediately. He simply turned his head slightly to look at Max, his face unreadable beneath the hood. ¡°Are you sure about your request?¡± His voice was quieter this time, more measured. Max gave a small nod, his expression calm. ¡°Positive.¡± The man sighed softly, the sound almost inaudible in the quiet, then stood up. ¡°Silas will be with you soon. We hope he satisfies you with his service.¡± Max nodded back, not speaking as the man faded into the stillness. Fifteen minutes passed in the stillness of the bar before the door creaked open again. A taller, hooded man walked in, his presence almost imposing despite the silence. He moved with confidence, his footsteps steady as he approached the counter and slid into the seat next to Max. ¡°Silas, here at your service.¡± His voice was deeper than Max had expected, smooth but carrying an undercurrent of authority. Max didn¡¯t waste time. ¡°I need a broker.¡± Silas raised an eyebrow but kept his expression neutral. ¡°My commission is 5% of all profits. Depending on the work, the terms could go up.¡± ¡°That¡¯s fine.¡± Max replied without hesitation. Silas studied him for a moment, his gaze steady. Max seemed calm, collected, but there was something about him that didn¡¯t quite fit. For someone to ask for a broker with such high demands, it wasn¡¯t typical. This wasn¡¯t a common request. Silas leaned in slightly, his voice lower now. ¡°What¡¯s your plan?¡± Max leaned back in his seat, thinking through his words. ¡°First, I want to put all my money into Velroix stocks. Axion is about to take a dive, but Velroix is going to soar.¡± He glanced at Silas. ¡°You¡¯ll handle the investing for me. I want to remain anonymous.¡± Silas took a moment to process this. He was quiet for a beat, his eyes narrowing slightly as he considered Max¡¯s words. ¡°That¡¯s your plan?¡± Silas asked, doubt slipping into his tone. Max nodded, waiting for him to speak. Silas felt a strange tension rise in his chest. This wasn¡¯t just an ordinary request. Betting against a giant like Axion and supporting a smaller company like Velroix? It seemed like a foolish gamble. But then again, that¡¯s why Max came to him ¡ª no other broker would have taken the risk. Silas had his doubts, and everything in him screamed that this wasn¡¯t just about stocks. He couldn¡¯t deny the request, though. It was against the principles of being a broker to turn someone down, especially with a payment on the line. Silas¡¯s mind raced. ¡®Is this person going to kill someone important?¡¯ His instincts told him no ¡ª he didn¡¯t think Max could take down a high-profile target, at least not without making a mess. Still, there was something about him that gave off a feeling of control. ¡®Does he know something I don¡¯t?¡¯ Silas thought, his hands resting on the counter. ¡°Okay, so how much are you planning on investing?¡± Silas asked, leaning forward slightly. ¡°Right now, I have just under 950 crowns,¡± Max replied, his gaze steady, unaffected. ¡°950?¡± Silas repeated, his voice tinged with disbelief. ¡°That''s... that''s barely enough to get started.¡± Max nodded, not fazed. ¡°I¡¯m aiming for more. My goal is to eventually reach anywhere between 10,000 to 100,000.¡± Silas blinked, taken aback. What kind of small-time investment is this? he thought, trying to wrap his head around Max¡¯s words. ¡°Well, how exactly do you plan on making that kind of money?¡± Silas asked, raising an eyebrow. Max leaned back, his expression unfazed. ¡°I¡¯m going to run a dungeon and¡ª¡± Suddenly, Silas fell off his chair, landing with a dull thud. He lay there for a second, staring up at the ceiling as if contemplating his life choices. ¡°Oh, what have I done to deserve this?¡± Silas muttered, his voice a mix of exasperation and disbelief. Max couldn¡¯t help himself and burst out laughing. He watched Silas in amusement, shaking his head. ¡°It¡¯ll be fine, you just have to trust me,¡± Max said between laughs. ¡°Let¡¯s talk specifics.¡± Silas groaned but climbed back into his seat, rubbing his temples. ¡°Fine. Let¡¯s get this over with.¡± ¡°I still need your help with something else,¡± Max continued, his tone now serious. ¡°I need a monster corpse broker.¡± ¡°Checks out,¡± Silas said, nodding, his tone flat as if resigned to the absurdity of the situation. ¡°I¡¯m going to do an F-ranked dungeon,¡± Max added. The words hung in the air for a moment before Silas¡¯s eyes widened in horror. ¡°F-ranked¡­ oh no.¡± He paused for a long beat, staring at Max. ¡°Well, F-ranked monster corpses usually go for about a thousand crowns... five thousand for boss monsters, and maybe a hundred thousand for a core, depending on its size. But, if you¡¯re shooting for ten thousand at least, you¡¯re going to need storage big enough to hold about ten monster corpses. You sure about this?¡± Max met his gaze without hesitation. ¡°Wouldn¡¯t have asked for you if I wasn¡¯t.¡± Silas studied him for a long moment, his brow furrowed. This was risky¡ªstupid even. But something about the way Max spoke... there was no doubt in his eyes, no uncertainty. And that was both unsettling and strangely reassuring. ¡°Alright,¡± Silas sighed, sitting back in his chair. ¡°Since you¡¯re my only client, I¡¯ll help you however I can. But don¡¯t say I didn¡¯t warn you.¡± Max extended his hand, a sharp contrast to Silas¡¯s wary gaze. ¡°We¡¯ve got a deal,¡± Max said, his voice steady. Silas hesitated, then reached out to shake Max¡¯s hand. There was a strange weight in the air, a sense that both of them knew they were about to dive into something far more complicated than either could predict. Supplies Parting ways with Silas, Max wove through the dimly lit market, his eyes scanning the countless stalls lining the underground bazaar. The scent of metal, leather, and something faintly herbal lingered in the air, mixing with the quiet murmurs of masked figures exchanging goods. This place was a hidden world in itself¡ªone where identities didn¡¯t matter, only transactions did. Reaching a currency exchange booth tucked between a weapons stall and a potion vendor, Max pulled out the sleek black card Silas had given him. The card was smooth to the touch, weighty in a way that signified its importance. He handed it to the employee behind the counter¡ªa man in a plain gray hooded cloak whose face remained entirely shadowed. The man took the card without a word and inserted it into a reinforced metal box sitting on the counter. A moment later¡ª Ding. A soft chime echoed as a thin slit opened on the box, sliding the card back out. The employee retrieved it and handed it back to Max. ¡°How much?¡± the man finally asked, his voice dull and uninterested. ¡°900,¡± Max replied without hesitation. The employee nodded, placing the card into a scanner beside him. A faint blue light flickered over it before the screen confirmed the transfer. With a small click, the machine sealed the deal. "Everything is set. Please enjoy your visit," the employee said, his tone monotonous, as if he had done this a thousand times before. Max gave a slight nod, pocketing the card before quickly moving toward the bustling stalls. Max moved through the stalls at a steady pace, keeping a mental catalog of everything that caught his interest. The underground market had no shortage of rare and illicit goods¡ªenchanted gear, alchemical concoctions, even monster parts preserved in jars. After a few minutes, he spotted what he was looking for¡ªa vendor selling dimensional storage devices. A necessity for what he had in mind. The merchant was an older man, dressed in a simple brown coat with reinforced leather gloves. The display behind him showcased a variety of storage artifacts, ranging from palm-sized rings to bulky metal crates inscribed with glowing runes. Max already knew the problem before even asking. The bigger the storage, the higher the price. And he wasn¡¯t exactly working with unlimited funds. Still, he had no choice. Carrying monster corpses one by one back to the dungeon entrance wasn¡¯t just impractical¡ªit was an open invitation for someone to rob him blind. "How much storage can 700 crowns get me?" Max asked, keeping his voice casual. The vendor scratched his chin, considering. ¡°700? Hm¡­ that''ll get you about 50 cubic meters.¡± Max nodded. It wasn¡¯t massive, but it was more than enough for an F-rank dungeon run. "Perfect." He scanned his card. The vendor gave a brief nod and handed him a small, black metallic cube no larger than a sugar cube. ¡°Just pour a little bit of mana into it to open the inventory. Think of where you want the item to go, and it''ll be stored automatically. Don''t lose it¡ªit¡¯s bound to you now." "Got it." Max pocketed the cube. Now, for the next issue¡ªa weapon. Nexus-issued weapons were strictly regulated and couldn¡¯t be taken off school grounds, which meant Max needed to buy his own. And if he was going to run a dungeon alone, he couldn¡¯t afford something flimsy. He exhaled and glanced around. Max navigated the winding paths of the underground market until he finally found what he was looking for¡ªan armory. The shop was tucked between two larger stalls, its entrance dimly lit by flickering lanterns. A faint scent of burning metal and oil lingered in the air, and the steady clanking of metal against metal echoed from deeper inside. Stepping in, Max let his eyes scan the displays. Rows of weapons lined the walls, from swords to spears, some pristine, others showing signs of wear. He wasn¡¯t here for anything flashy¡ªjust something practical and cheap. ¡°Hello?¡± Max called out. A burly man behind the counter, clad in a soot-stained apron, turned his gaze toward him. A blacksmith. "Welcome," the man greeted, his voice low and gravelly. Max didn¡¯t waste time with small talk. He moved toward the dagger section, picking up a pair of simple, unadorned blades. The moment his fingers brushed against them, a status window materialized in front of his eyes. ¡ª Iron Daggers Rank: F ¡ª Basic, but functional. That was all he needed. ¡°Can I test them?¡± Max asked, giving them a light twirl in his hands. "No," the blacksmith replied flatly. The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. "Yeah, figured," Max muttered, glancing at the edges. They weren¡¯t the sharpest, but for an F-rank dungeon, they¡¯d do. ¡°Do they come with a scabbard?¡± The blacksmith grunted and disappeared into the back. A moment later, he returned, dropping a black leather scabbard onto the counter. "Yeah," he said. "How much?" "100 crowns." Max didn¡¯t hesitate. He handed over his card, watching as the blacksmith swiped it through a clunky, rune-etched register. Ding. Transaction complete. "Thanks," Max said, securing the scabbard to his belt and sliding the daggers into place. The blacksmith simply gave a short nod before turning back to his work. Max stepped outside, adjusting the strap on his storage cube. With his funds running low, Max turned his attention to essentials¡ªfood, water, and potions. He made his way through the crowded market, his eyes scanning for an alchemy shop. It didn¡¯t take long before he spotted one, its entrance adorned with glowing vials and dried herbs hanging from the ceiling. Pushing open the door, he stepped inside. Shelves lined the walls, stacked with potions of various colors, some shimmering faintly under the dim lighting. The air carried a faint, herbal scent. A shopkeeper glanced up from behind the counter. "Looking for something specific?" "Yeah, I¡¯ll take one low-grade healing potion and one low-grade mana recovery potion." "That¡¯ll be 50 crowns total." Max handed over his card, watching as the transaction went through. ¡ª Remaining Balance: 128 C ¡ª Pocketing the two potions, he left the shop and headed for a discount store. It was smaller, packed with shelves stocked with ration packs, water bottles, and other adventuring necessities. The sign on the front read ¡®Bulk Bargains¡¯ in faded gold lettering. Max quickly picked out ration packs and water bottles, getting as much as his remaining money would allow. Ding. Transaction complete. Stuffing everything into his dimensional storage, he gave a quick nod of satisfaction. With supplies taken care of, Max made his way toward the Dungeon Finders¡ªthe true heart of the underground market. Arriving at the massive metal doors, Max took a moment to glance around. This entrance was similar to the one leading into the underground market, but far more fortified¡ªthick steel, reinforced edges, and subtle glowing runes etched along the frame. A pedestal stood in front of the door, holding a single red button. He pressed it. Buzz. A brief pause. Then¡ª Whoup. A black box emerged from a hidden compartment in the pedestal. Max slid his card into the slot. A soft hum followed as the box scanned and verified his credentials. A second later, the card was ejected. Then¡ª Clunk. Hiss. The massive doors groaned as they unlocked and swung open. Max stepped inside. The air shifted instantly¡ªcooler, quieter, heavier. The interior was stunning. It was like walking into a French chateau¡ªbut ten times the size. Towering ceilings, elaborate chandeliers, and vast marble floors stretched endlessly in all directions. Arching staircases led to higher levels, their intricate railings glinting under the golden lights. Yet, despite its grandeur, the place wasn''t a luxury estate. It had the aura of something far older. And at the very center of the hall, stationed behind a lavish desk, sat a single receptionist. As Max approached the receptionist¡¯s desk, he took in the details of the woman sitting behind it. She was neatly dressed in a formal black uniform, her posture straight, her expression neutral¡ªefficient, professional, and completely uninterested in anything beyond her job. "Welcome to Dungeon Finders. How may I help you?" she asked, her voice smooth but devoid of warmth. "I''m looking to enter a dungeon," Max replied. Without hesitation, she reached under the desk and retrieved a sleek black tablet, handing it to him. "This contains the list of currently available dungeons. Please select one that fits your criteria." Max took the tablet, his eyes scanning through the list. Each dungeon was labeled by rank, location, and current occupancy. Most of the F-rank dungeons were overcrowded with newbies, small guilds, and cautious explorers looking for easy profits. Not ideal. He kept scrolling until his gaze landed on one with noticeably fewer participants. Knox Dungeon. A low-entry F-rank dungeon with one of the smallest active player counts. "This one," Max said, setting the tablet back on the counter. The receptionist gave a small nod and tapped on her own device, bringing up the dungeon''s contract. A thin sheet of enchanted paper materialized in her hands. She slid it toward Max. "The terms are standard," she began, her tone flat. "Dungeon Finders takes a 10% cut of any loot acquired inside. There is also an entrance fee of 25 crowns. All equipment must be inspected before and after entry to prevent smuggling. You are permitted to stay inside for up to 30 days¡ªafter which, a search and rescue team will be deployed if you do not return." Max skimmed the contract, though he already knew what to expect. Dungeon Finders had strict policies, but they were fair. They didn¡¯t care what you did inside, but they made damn sure you didn¡¯t cheat them. Satisfied, he grabbed the black ink pen attached to the contract, signed his name, and slid it back across the counter. The receptionist took the contract, gave it a brief glance, then slipped it into a dimensional storage device embedded in her desk. The document vanished in an instant, its details now officially logged. "Follow me." Without waiting for a response, she turned and led Max through a series of well-lit hallways. The interior of Dungeon Finders was nothing like the dark, crowded markets outside¡ªit was clean, sleek, and efficient, built for one purpose: processing dungeon entrants as quickly as possible. After a few turns, they arrived at a waiting area. Several people were already seated, some casually scrolling through devices, others sharpening weapons or checking their gear. The room was quiet, the tension thick. Everyone here had one thing in common¡ªthey were about to risk their lives. The receptionist handed Max a small, white ticket. Guest 9845126. Gate 367. "Wait until your number is called. Good luck." Her tone was as indifferent as ever. Max took the ticket, tucking it into his pocket. "Thanks." With that, she left, disappearing down the hallway. Max scanned the room before finding an empty seat in the corner. He sat down, leaning back slightly as he let his mind settle. First Dungeon ¡°Guest 9845126.¡± The voice echoed through the room, its calm yet commanding tone cutting through the soft hum of the waiting area. Max stood up, his nerves a bit more tense than before. He walked towards the door, his ticket still clenched in his hand. As soon as he stepped through, the world tilted beneath him, and a sudden weightlessness took over. "Woah!" Before he could process what was happening, the floor dropped out from beneath him. The portal sucked him in with a force that made his stomach lurch, and Max felt a brief moment of panic. He had been expecting a smooth transition, but this? Everything spun. When the world settled, he landed with a thud¡ªnot on soft ground, but on something harder. Stone? He groaned, pushing himself up from the cold surface beneath him. Max blinked rapidly, trying to adjust to his surroundings. He was in a long hallway, dimly lit by flickering torches. Guards in plain, unremarkable uniforms stood at every door along the walls, their eyes fixed forward. They didn¡¯t seem bothered by Max''s sudden arrival. Out of nowhere, a voice boomed, breaking the eerie silence. ¡°Well, well! The ol¡¯ surprise portal drop! Gets a new guy every time!¡± Max turned to see a man shuffle toward him, an older figure with a balding head and a half-smoked cigarette dangling from his lips. His face was weathered, but his smile was easy, despite the grime that clung to him. ¡°Welcome to the dungeons, Max! I¡¯m Gerry, and I¡¯ll be your guide.¡± Max stood up, brushing himself off, still catching his breath from the unexpected fall. ¡°That scared the crap outta me.¡± ¡°You¡¯ll get used to it.¡± Gerry chuckled. ¡°And that was the easy part. The real fun¡¯s inside the dungeon.¡± ¡°I hope not. I¡¯m only in an F rank,¡± Max said, his voice flat. The words barely carried through the still air. ¡°So? Fun¡¯s to be had anywhere,¡± Gerry replied, his tone light, though there was a hint of something else there¡ªperhaps a knowing smile hiding behind his cigarette. He took another drag, exhaling the smoke slowly, as if savoring the moment. ¡°F rank¡¯s gonna be a little challenging for you... no offense.¡± Max glanced sideways at Gerry, trying to meet his eyes but finding himself caught in the haze of smoke. ¡°I know... I¡¯m trying to improve,¡± he muttered. ¡°That¡¯s the only thing we can do. Get a little better every day,¡± Gerry said, starting to walk ahead, his boots making a rhythmic thud against the floor. Max followed, the silence between them not uncomfortable, but filled with the unsaid. ¡°I try, but sometimes I feel like I hit a wall,¡± Max¡¯s words were quiet, barely above a whisper, as though saying them out loud would somehow make it more real. Gerry chuckled softly, shaking his head as he continued walking. ¡°Heh, you sound like the rest of ''em. Everyone hits a wall eventually.¡± He paused, glancing back at Max. ¡°But here¡¯s the thing¡ªit ain¡¯t about how hard the wall is. It¡¯s about how many times you can smack your face into it and still get up. The real trick¡¯s just keepin'' at it, even when it feels like you¡¯re goin'' nowhere.¡± Max¡¯s jaw tightened, frustration bubbling up again. ¡°Easy for you. You have to at least be an A rank.¡± Gerry stopped walking for a second, letting the cigarette hang loosely from his lips. He gave a short chuckle before shaking his head. ¡°A rank, huh? That¡¯s just a title, kid. Doesn¡¯t mean you don¡¯t hit walls. You know what makes the difference? It ain¡¯t the rank. It¡¯s what you do when you¡¯re stuck. When your body¡¯s tired, when your head¡¯s sayin¡¯ ¡®just quit,¡¯ and you keep goin¡¯ anyway.¡± If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. Max let the words settle in, but it was hard to fully believe them. The exhaustion, the constant pressure¡ªit all felt so real. He muttered, ¡°That¡¯s what I¡¯ve been doing... and still, I feel stuck.¡± Gerry exhaled slowly, the smoke drifting into the air like his thoughts. ¡°That¡¯s ¡®cause you¡¯re not a high rank. You¡¯re still young, so you got time.¡± ¡®I don¡¯t have a lot of time with everything coming¡­ ¡®The weight of the future pressed against his chest, heavy and suffocating. ¡°Guess I do...¡± Max said, his voice betraying a quiet bitterness that didn¡¯t quite match the words. Gerry, seeming to sense the shift in the air, turned to him, a soft smirk on his face. ¡°See? What I always say is... it¡¯s okay to take some time for yourself. Have a rest, y¡¯know? Can¡¯t always go at it full throttle.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll try,¡± Max said, his voice quieter, unsure if it was a promise or just an acknowledgment. Gerry clapped him on the shoulder, his tone light but warm. ¡°Hey, if nothing else, you¡¯ve made it this far.¡± Max didn¡¯t respond. There was no need. The words hung in the air between them, simple but heavy with meaning. ¡­ ¡°Thing 1 and Thing 2. I¡¯ve returned with a client,¡± Gerry called out with a grin, his voice carrying through the air like he was addressing a crowd rather than the two stone-faced guards standing sentinel by the gate. The guards didn¡¯t move an inch. Their eyes remained fixed ahead, expressions as impassive as statues. Gerry chuckled, shaking his head with a playful roll of his eyes. ¡°I¡¯ll get a response outta you guys someday... someday,¡± he muttered under his breath, though Max could tell it was more of an inside joke with himself. He looked back at Max with a smirk, as if sharing some kind of secret. ¡°Don¡¯t mind ¡®em. They¡¯re about as talkative as that wall you talk about,¡± Gerry said, jerking his head toward the silent guards. Max raised an eyebrow. ¡°Seem like it. Like British guards,¡± he remarked with a hint of humor in his voice. Gerry glanced sideways at him, an amused look flickering across his face. He paused, then raised an eyebrow in mock confusion. ¡°British guards? Britain hasn¡¯t been a thing for forever.¡± Max blinked, suddenly feeling self-conscious. ¡°My bad¡­¡± He rubbed the back of his neck, sheepish. ¡°Uh¡­ yeah, sure, your bad,¡± Gerry replied with a chuckle, clearly not bothered by the slip. He turned his attention back to the portal as his card slid through the scanner, the device making a soft beep before the shimmering gateway flickered to life. The portal opened with a low hum, and Gerry stepped aside to let Max through. Before Max could step forward, Gerry handed him a small, sleek button. ¡°Here,¡± he said, holding it out. ¡°Emergency call button. If you run into something that¡¯s too much for you, just hit this. The guards¡ªwell, probably me, honestly¡ªwill come runnin¡¯. But just a heads-up, it¡¯ll cost you. Don¡¯t go pressin¡¯ it willy nilly.¡± Max nodded, feeling the weight of the button in his hand. It was small, but the implications of it were heavy. ¡°Thanks, Gerry,¡± he said, his voice a little shaky, though he tried his best to hide it. ¡°Wish me luck.¡± Gerry gave him a wide grin and a theatrical flourish. ¡°I wish thee luck in thy aventure into thy dungeon,¡± he said in a grand, exaggerated tone, stretching out his words like an actor playing a part. Max raised an eyebrow, caught off guard by the sudden shift, but he quickly played along, dipping into a dramatic bow. ¡°I thank thee for thy kinship,¡± he said, his voice deep and formal, a playful glint in his eyes. Gerry burst into laughter, clearly enjoying the exchange, and gave Max a small salute. ¡°Break a leg, kid,¡± he said, his tone shifting back to something a little more grounded, but still with a warm, almost fatherly undertone. Max stood up straight, his heart thudding in his chest as he took one last deep breath. He could feel the weight of what was coming¡ªthe dungeon, the monsters, everything that was about to unfold. But he wasn¡¯t about to back out now. With a quick nod to Gerry, he stepped through the portal, the shimmering light swallowing him up as the world around him faded away. Max blinked as his eyes adjusted to the harsh, glaring sunlight. The air was dry, thick with the scent of dust and decay. As he surveyed his surroundings, he realized he was standing in a vast desert. But unlike any desert he had seen before, the sand here was a deep, crimson red, as if it had soaked up the blood of countless battles over the centuries. The ground was scarred with uneven, jagged cracks, like deep wounds that had never healed. The horizon stretched endlessly, a sea of desolate dunes, with no sign of life except for the occasional gust of wind that swept the sand into shifting patterns, creating temporary landscapes that were as fleeting as the thought of safety in this place. Max couldn¡¯t help but feel a chill creep down his spine as the weight of the environment settled in. There were no plants, no signs of water¡ªno hint of survival beyond the brutal, arid expanse. This place was inhospitable, a battlefield frozen in time, and everything here seemed to whisper of violence and death. ¡®Well, I kinda expected this,¡¯ Max thought, his gaze drifting over the sand, now noticing the scattered remnants of what might¡¯ve been bones¡ªhuman or monster, it was hard to tell. He tightened his grip on his dagger, his thoughts sharpening like the edge of his weapon. ¡®No vegetation, no food, no water... just monsters waiting to tear me apart. Great.¡¯ Monster Hunting Max trudged through the endless red dunes, his shoes sinking slightly with each step. The dry wind howled around him, carrying with it the scent of rust and decay. Scattered throughout the wasteland were sun-bleached bones, remnants of whatever had once lived¡ªand died¡ªhere. Some were small, likely the remains of lesser creatures, but others were massive, half-buried in the sand, their jagged edges standing like the ribs of a forgotten colossus. Then, in the distance, he spotted something different. Structures. Faint outlines of what had once been homes and farms, now nothing more than ruins swallowed by time. As he neared, Max saw that the wooden houses had long since collapsed, their frames blackened and brittle. Some looked like they had been burned, while others had simply rotted away under the relentless desert sun. The fences surrounding the farms were shattered, their wooden posts jutting from the sand like broken spears. Whatever had happened here, it hadn''t been peaceful. Max stepped into what remained of a farmhouse, its roof partially caved in, casting jagged shadows over the dusty floor. He ran his fingers along a crumbling windowsill, the old wood turning to powder beneath his touch. The silence here was unsettling¡ªthick, heavy, like the ruins themselves were holding their breath. He sighed, dropping his pack onto the floor and sitting against a half-broken wall. His body ached from walking, and the heat had already begun to take its toll. He pulled out a water bottle and took a slow sip, rationing it carefully. There was no telling when he¡¯d find more. His gaze wandered around the ruins as he rested. A farm in the middle of this place? It didn¡¯t make sense. There was no water, no soil rich enough to grow crops. ¡®Are dungeons just fragments of other worlds sucked into a portal?¡¯ The author of the novel never explained where dungeons came from¡ªjust that they existed. Self-contained worlds, filled with monsters, waiting to be cleared. ¡®Interesting theory¡­¡¯ His thoughts were interrupted by the rhythmic crunch of footsteps against the sand. Multiple. Close. Max¡¯s body tensed as he instinctively pressed himself against the broken wooden wall. Slowly, he peeked through the cracks of a shattered window. A patrol of goblins marched past the ruins. Max counted. ¡®Nine¡­ ten¡­ ten total.¡¯ They were armed with crude weapons¡ªrusted blades, wooden clubs with jagged stones tied to them. Their shrill chatter and sharp laughter carried through the still air. He wasn¡¯t sure what they were talking about, but it didn¡¯t matter. If they found him, they wouldn¡¯t bother asking questions. Max adjusted his grip on his daggers, their cool weight reassuring in his hands. He waited, controlling his breathing, until the last goblin passed. Then, like a shadow slipping between cracks of light, he moved. The first goblin never saw it coming. A flicker of steel¡ªsilent and precise¡ªslid across its throat. It collapsed without a sound. Max¡¯s speed was overwhelming. By the time the second goblin turned in confusion, its vision was already darkening from a dagger buried in its neck. The third and fourth barely had time to register the attack before they too fell, their bodies crumpling to the ground. By the time the fifth goblin¡¯s lifeless body hit the sand, the others had realized something was wrong. But it was too late. From their perspective, all they saw was a blurred shadow weaving between them, moving too fast to follow. A sudden breeze, a flash of silver¡ªthen darkness. The last goblin let out a shriek, trying to raise its weapon, but Max was already there. One last step, a downward slash, and silence returned to the desert. The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings. The bodies lay still, their weapons discarded in the sand. Max¡¯s dagger struck one in the neck and he did it again for 4 more goblins. After the fifth one the goblins realized what was going on but it was too late. Their reflects were too slow to react to Max. ¡®Jesus¡­¡¯ Max thought, the heat of the desert sand pressing into his legs as he sat there. ¡®That made me dizzy...¡¯ He glanced down at his clothes, now drenched in the goblins'' blood. The vibrant red stained his shirt, pants, and gloves. The sight almost made him sick, but he couldn''t afford to dwell on it. ¡®This is gonna be a bitch to clean,¡¯ Max thought, exhaling a frustrated sigh. His hands, slick with blood, wiped across his forehead in a futile attempt to clear his thoughts. After a few minutes of sitting still, trying to regain his composure, Max rose to his feet, shaking off the weight of the moment. His legs felt unsteady beneath him, but the adrenaline was starting to wear off, and he could feel the weight of his exhaustion creeping in. Pulling out his storage cube, Max poured a little mana into it, watching as the small object expanded. With a slight hum, the lid popped open, revealing the vast, empty interior that seemed to stretch beyond its size. He took a deep breath and began placing the goblin corpses inside one by one. The blood had already started to seep into the sand, leaving dark stains in its wake. Max frowned as he carefully cut open each body, searching for anything of value¡ªa core, maybe something that could be sold. But there was nothing. No precious treasure, no loot worth the effort. Frustrated, he tossed the last goblin¡¯s body into the cube, sealing it shut with a soft click. The lack of any useful find gnawed at him, but he couldn''t let it stop him now. He¡¯d have to keep moving forward, especially if he wanted to make the money he¡¯d promised. Max wiped his hands off, trying to ignore the sticky feeling. Max continued his trek through the desert, each step sinking slightly into the soft red sand. The sun beat down relentlessly, casting a shimmering heat haze over the barren land. Every so often, small, scuttling creatures would burst from the earth, their spindly legs moving in a flurry of motion. Max didn''t hesitate, his dagger flicking out with practiced precision, slicing through the creatures and retrieving their cores, all while maintaining a steady pace. He didn¡¯t know how long he¡¯d been walking, or how many monsters he¡¯d slain at this point. The sun was beginning to dip lower in the sky, the air thick with the dust kicked up by the wind. A subtle shift in the ground¡¯s vibrations caught his attention. He froze, every muscle tensing as he carefully scanned his surroundings. Something¡¯s coming. A rumble vibrated underfoot, the sand cracking and shifting. Max¡¯s hand instinctively tightened around the hilt of his dagger. Then, from beneath the sand, a massive figure erupted into the open¡ªa bone beast. The creature was a towering figure of skeletal remains, its body about 12 feet long, and its skeletal arms gripping a jagged bone sword that looked far too large for any normal creature. Its bones were chipped and stained, but its movements were fluid, like an ancient predator reawakened from its slumber. The bone beast let out an eerie, guttural screech as it loomed over Max, its hollow eyes locking onto him. The stench of old death filled the air, and Max felt his pulse quicken. ¡®A bone beast here? I guess it¡¯s a weaker one,¡¯ Max thought, analyzing the creature¡¯s form. ¡®But it¡¯s still a problem.¡¯ The bone beast let out another screech before charging, its bone sword raised high, its footsteps sending tremors through the ground. Max¡¯s body reacted before his mind did. He took a single step back, then pushed forward, his muscles exploding with energy. The sand kicked up beneath his boots as he launched himself at the beast. With a swift motion, Max¡¯s dagger flashed through the air, slicing clean through the beast¡¯s leg. The bone shattered under the force of the strike, sending a spray of debris and dust into the air. The beast let out a howl of pain, stumbling on one leg, but it wasn¡¯t done. It swung its massive bone sword down toward Max, who, in the split second it took the beast to wind up, spun on his heel, turning mid-motion. In one fluid motion, Max brought his dagger down on the beast¡¯s exposed skull. The blade cut through the bone with ease, the sound of cracking echoing through the desert air. The beast collapsed to the ground with a heavy thud, its body shaking as it fell into the sand. Max stood over the lifeless creature, watching as the last tremors of its movements ceased. His breath was steady, though his heart pounded in his chest from the adrenaline. ¡®Good thing these things still need a brain,¡¯ Max thought, wiping the sweat from his brow as he examined the creature¡¯s remains. The skull, cracked and shattered, was a telltale sign that the bone beast had no chance. Max bent down, his dagger still in hand, and retrieved the bone sword the creature had been wielding. It was heavy, but well-crafted, and despite the damage it had taken, it might still be useful. He crouched, reaching into his storage cube, and with a flick of his wrist, both the beast and the sword vanished into the dimensional space. The cube hummed faintly in his hand, the monsters and their spoils safely sealed away for later examination. Max stood up, taking a long, steadying breath. A sandstorm had begun to pick up, the winds blowing harder, causing the dry, hot air to bite at his exposed skin. Mummy Max pushed forward through the sandstorm, his skin stinging under the relentless assault of the wind. Every step felt like trudging through knee-deep water, the shifting dunes threatening to swallow his footing. The heat clung to him, mixing with the coarse grains scratching against his face. Then, out of the haze, something caught his eye¡ªa shape partially buried in the sand. He moved closer, crouching down to get a better look. A body. The corpse was fresh¡ªno signs of decay, no scavenger marks. The sand had started to settle over him, but the way it clung to the skin told Max he hadn¡¯t been dead for long. Max brushed some of it away, revealing a face frozen in a grimace. ¡®No wounds. No dried blood. No signs of a struggle.¡¯ He frowned. If the man had been attacked, there¡¯d be injuries. If it was dehydration, his body would show the signs¡ªsunken skin, cracked lips worse than what Max saw now. But there was no foam around his mouth, no evidence of vomiting or seizures that came with severe heatstroke. ¡®If he was alive when the storm hit, he might¡¯ve suffocated¡­¡¯ Max checked his own face covering, tightening it. The sheer force of the storm was enough to fill a man¡¯s lungs with sand, and once it got in deep enough¡ªhe¡¯d choke, his airway clogging until he suffocated. He reached for the body¡¯s pockets, patting them down for anything useful. Empty. No ID. No storage cube. ¡®No supplies, either?¡¯ That was odd. Even a rookie wouldn¡¯t come this deep into a dungeon without basic gear. Either he lost his pack before he died, or someone had already looted him. Max exhaled sharply, standing up. "Sorry," he muttered under his breath. There wasn¡¯t much else to say. He couldn¡¯t afford to linger. The storm wasn¡¯t letting up, and he wasn¡¯t keen on testing how long he could last breathing in this much sand. With one final glance at the corpse, Max turned and kept moving. Max pressed forward, his steps sluggish as the sandstorm battered him from all sides. Each gust carried fine grains that stung his skin and forced him to keep his head low. He took another step¡ª Clang. His foot caught on something solid, nearly sending him sprawling. Regaining his balance, he looked down, brushing some of the sand away with his boot. A jagged piece of metal jutted out from the ground. The dull sheen of rust coated its surface, its hilt barely recognizable. An old sword. ¡®Rusty, nearly falling apart... has to be ancient.¡¯ Max crouched and reached for it. The moment his fingers brushed against the corroded metal¡ª Whoosh. The wind around him shifted. Not gradually, but all at once. A circular void formed in the storm, as if an unseen force had swept the sand away in an instant. Within the cleared space, something unnatural was revealed. Bones. Shattered armor. Rusted weapons. Skulls half-buried in the sand. A battlefield. Max¡¯s breath caught in his throat as he slowly stood up, scanning the eerie scene. Skeletons, some still clutching broken weapons, littered the ground. The silence pressed against him, thick and absolute. The storm, which had howled relentlessly moments before, had gone completely still. ¡®What is happening?¡¯ The air felt heavy, suffocating in its stillness. Not even the faintest breeze stirred the sand. It was unnatural. Wrong. Max tightened his grip on his dagger, instincts screaming at him. Max tried to move, but his boots sank deeper into the sand. A sickening realization struck him¡ªquicksand. Before he could react, the jagged sword he had touched shifted. The sand beneath it stirred, and something began to rise. At first, it looked like a corpse. Wrapped in decayed, tattered linen, its sunken eye sockets were hidden beneath layers of aged fabric. But this wasn¡¯t just a dead body. The thing moved. The mummy knelt in the sand, fingers twitching before gripping the rusted sword like it had never let go. A dry, rasping breath hissed from beneath its wrappings. Then the ground rumbled. Around him, more figures began clawing their way free from their sandy graves. Their bandaged forms shuddered and twisted as they emerged, gripping weapons corroded by time¡ªbroken spears, chipped axes, curved blades with edges dulled by centuries. One by one, they rose. Max''s muscles tensed as he yanked his legs, trying to break free from the quicksand¡¯s grip. The mummies stood motionless at first, their heads tilting toward him in eerie unison. Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions. Then, as if something unseen had commanded them¡ª They charged. Max¡¯s breath came in short, sharp bursts as he clawed at the sand around his legs. The grains slipped through his fingers, filling back in as quickly as he dug. The warriors were almost upon him¡ªragged bandages fluttering, rusted weapons raised, hollow sockets locked onto him. His foot budged¡ªjust barely. That was enough. Max activated Nightstalker. Gone. He reappeared behind one of the mummies, dagger flashing. The blade sank into its spine, severing through brittle bones and dried flesh. The creature stiffened, then collapsed in a heap. Max didn¡¯t stop. He twisted, lunging toward the next, slicing through its throat with brutal precision. The mummy gurgled as its body crumpled, hitting the sand in a lifeless heap. But just as he turned his attention to the others¡ª Rustle. His instincts screamed at him. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw movement. The first mummy¡ªthe one he had just cut down¡ªwas rising again. Its broken body reformed, bandages pulling together like sinew, the rusted sword clutched once more in its bony grip. Max¡¯s stomach twisted. Max¡¯s heart pounded in his chest as he felt the weight of the mummies pressing in from all sides. They were relentless¡ªswarming, attacking, and regenerating faster than he could take them down. His mind raced, calculating each movement with the precision he had honed over time. One of the mummies swung its rusted sword. Max ducked, but the blade whistled past, just missing his neck. Another strike. He sidestepped and slashed, but the creature was already stepping back, too quick for his attacks to land cleanly. He needed a different approach. Max¡¯s eyes locked onto the kneeling mummy, the one at the center of the cluster. It had to be the source, the one that was controlling the resurrection of the others. Max¡¯s hand clenched around his daggers. The air around him seemed to thicken as he took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the moment, and then¡ª Nightstalker. He shot forward, faster than the eye could follow, vanishing into the sandstorm¡¯s haze. His form blended with the shifting winds, a mere shadow to the mummies. In an instant, he was there, right next to the kneeling figure. He struck. The daggers sank deep into the mummy¡¯s chest, but¡ª No. The skin was tough, leathery, and his blades stuck, grinding against the wrinkled, desiccated flesh. The mummy groaned, its body shifting unnaturally as it stood. Too late. Before Max could react, the creature¡¯s cold, bony hand shot out, grabbing him by the throat. His body was lifted off the ground, and with an almost casual flick, it threw him into the sand. Max¡¯s back hit the earth with a brutal thud. The air whooshed out of his lungs. He gasped, the impact rattling his teeth. Max¡¯s arms and legs burned with the strain, but he didn¡¯t give in. He rolled, using the momentum to stand, barely avoiding the swipe of a mummy¡¯s bone sword. His breath was ragged, but he didn¡¯t have time to slow down since the mummy was racing at him again. Max¡¯s body was a blur of motion, every fiber of his being focused on staying one step ahead of the relentless assault. His legs moved like pistons, shifting him just out of reach of the mummy¡¯s sword as it swung down with terrifying precision. The air around him crackled with the force of each strike, the sand swirling in chaotic gusts as the battle raged on. The mummy¡¯s sword came down again, a swift arc that would have cleaved him in half if not for his quick reflexes. Max twisted his body, his shoulder and back burning with the effort, and he managed to slip under the blow. but the momentum forced him down onto the sand. He didn¡¯t have time to think. The mummy loomed over him, its eyes hollow, its face a grotesque mask of decay. It raised its sword high, intent on finishing him. Max¡¯s instincts kicked in. His dagger flew up in a desperate, almost instinctual move, deflecting the strike just enough so it didn¡¯t hit his chest, but the edge of the blade sliced into the sand instead. The shock of the hit rattled his wrist, but he didn¡¯t hesitate. His other hand shot out, the dagger plunging into the mummy''s exposed neck with a sickening crunch. The mummy hissed, its grip on the sword faltering. Max didn¡¯t let up¡ªhe stabbed again, targeting the vital points, his blades flashing in the sandstorm like twin beams of death. Each strike was precise, driven by pure desperation. But the mummy wasn¡¯t finished. With a low, guttural growl, it swung its sword down at him again, the force of the blow so powerful that Max was forced to dodge sideways, just out of the way. His ribs screamed with pain as a fist connected with his side, the force nearly knocking him back down. He gasped, the air knocked out of his lungs. The mummy¡¯s fist swung upward in a vicious arc, catching Max in the chest. A feint. Max¡¯s mind raced as he fought to regain control of the situation. The sword strike had been nothing but a distraction. The real danger came from the strength of the mummy¡¯s fists, its brutal power catching him off guard. He stumbled back, struggling to find his footing, his breath ragged as pain shot through his ribs. The mummy didn¡¯t wait. It was already raising its sword again, preparing for another deadly strike. ¡®I¡¯m gonna have to use Nightstalker fully¡­ Hope I don¡¯t pass out from exhaustion,¡¯ Max thought, his body already burning from the relentless movement. The sand was sticking to his skin, his breath ragged and uneven, but he couldn''t stop. Max¡¯s vision sharpened as he activated Nightstalker, his body becoming a mere shadow, too fast for the mummy to follow. He shot forward like a blur, hitting vital points¡ªbam¡ªhis dagger slicing across the mummy¡¯s ribs, bam, another strike to its shoulder, bam, he hit its leg, cutting deep. The creature was swinging its sword wildly, trying to anticipate where Max would strike next, but it couldn¡¯t keep up. Max stayed one step ahead, his movements fluid, a dance of death that blurred the line between reality and shadow. The mummy¡¯s sword lashed out again, but Max was already gone, only a flicker of darkness remaining in the air where he had been. His dagger found its mark each time¡ªan attack to the stomach, the chest, the joints¡ªweakening the creature more and more with every strike. The mummy tried to retaliate, its sword cutting through the air, but Max had already closed the distance. He launched forward, his foot planting firmly on the mummy¡¯s chest, using it to pivot as he spun around and drove his dagger into the creature¡¯s neck. The blade sank deep, piercing the creature¡¯s throat with a sickening squelch. The mummy¡¯s body shuddered, its sword dropping from its hand as it collapsed to the ground with a resounding thud. The mummy, its body creaking and groaning as if defying its own mortality, slowly pushed itself up from the ground. With a resounding thud, it dropped to one knee, its head bowed in an eerie semblance of respect. Max, his body drained of every last ounce of energy, barely registered the motion. His limbs refused to cooperate, his vision blurred at the edges. The heat, the adrenaline, the exhaustion¡ªall of it crashed into him at once. His knees buckled, and he staggered forward, only to collapse face-first into the sand with another thud. His mind slipped away before he could even process what had happened. The last thing he heard was the sound of the mummy¡¯s slow, ritualistic bow. Then, darkness claimed him. Solas ¡°Ughhhh¡­¡± Max groaned, his head throbbing as he pushed himself upright. A sharp ache ran through his body, his muscles stiff from exhaustion. His vision was hazy, but as it cleared, he noticed movement on his arms. Bugs. Dozens of them¡ªsmall, skittering things with too many legs¡ªcrawling over his clothes, his skin. His breath hitched, and in an instant, he was thrashing, frantically shaking them off. He swiped at his arms, his legs, his shoulders, sending the creatures scattering into the sand. A shiver ran down his spine as he stood up quickly, still brushing at his clothes just to make sure none had clung on. His heartbeat slowed, but the lingering feeling of their tiny legs still crawled over his skin. Then, he noticed the shadow cast over him. It wasn¡¯t from a rock or ruin. It was moving. Max turned his head, his body tensing on instinct. The mummy. The same undead warrior he had fought stood just a few feet away, silent and unmoving, its tattered wrappings fluttering slightly in the hot wind. But it wasn¡¯t attacking. It had been¡­ shielding him from the sun? Max swallowed, unsure of what to make of the strange scene. "Uh¡­ thanks?" The mummy didn¡¯t react, didn¡¯t acknowledge his words in any way. Instead, it slowly dropped to one knee, like a knight kneeling before a lord. Max remained still, watching warily as the mummy reached into its decayed robes, fingers wrapped in brittle cloth digging for something hidden beneath layers of old fabric. Then, it pulled out a blue crystal. The gem shimmered faintly, pulsating with an unnatural light, as if something was alive inside of it. Max hesitated. Every instinct told him this wasn¡¯t normal, but his curiosity got the better of him. Carefully, he reached out and grasped the crystal. The moment his fingers curled around it¡ª Crack. The crystal shattered in his grip, splintering into a dozen tiny shards that dissolved into the air like dust caught in the wind. And from its remnants, something emerged. A ghostly, humanoid figure flickered into existence before him, its form shifting like smoke, its edges blurring and twisting as if it couldn''t quite hold itself together. It had no face, no features¡ªjust a glowing blue silhouette hovering inches above the ground. Max felt his pulse spike. His grip tightened on his daggers. Then, the figure spoke¡ªnot with words, not with sound, but with something deeper. A voice pressed directly into his mind, echoing through his skull like a long-forgotten memory. "Good. You''re alive. That could have gone much worse. I know you have questions. They can wait. Focus. You¡¯re dying of thirst.¡± Max swallowed thickly, his throat dry and raw, the heat gnawing at him like an unrelenting beast. His mind was still reeling from the vision, but his body had other priorities. With a shaky breath, he reached into his storage cube, channeling a small pulse of mana to activate it. The air rippled slightly as the cube responded, and Max pulled out a flask of water. He uncapped it hurriedly and took a long, greedy gulp, the cool liquid soothing his throat instantly. The relief was almost overwhelming. Max sat back on his heels, eyes narrowed in thought. He looked at the crystal, now shattered into pieces, and the faint figure of the ghost that hovered before him. The truth, or at least some part of it, was starting to take shape, but it wasn¡¯t enough. It was like trying to solve a puzzle with half the pieces missing. ¡°Who are you? Why did you come out of the crystal?¡± Max asked, his voice steady but full of curiosity. The ghost didn¡¯t move at first, its ethereal form shimmering in the dim light. After a moment, it spoke in a voice that sounded like a whisper carried by the wind. ¡°I was an adventurer. Died here, in this dungeon. The crystal... it¡¯s a conduit, a link between worlds.¡± Max processed the words. "So, you''re... like a spirit? Trapped here?¡± ¡°Not exactly,¡± the ghost replied, the edges of its form rippling as it spoke. "More like a remnant. A piece of me that remains, bound to the dungeon. The crystal connected me to this world long enough to pass on what little I know.¡± Max¡¯s brow furrowed as he tried to understand. He had heard of souls lingering in places, but this was different¡ªmore deliberate, like the dungeon itself was a tether. ¡°So dungeons are like when parts of worlds get locked into a space?¡± Max ventured, trying to make sense of it all. The ghost''s form flickered slightly, as though it was contemplating the question before answering. ¡°Dungeons are ruptures in the fabric of worlds, fractures where parts of different realities are pulled into one place. They¡¯re not just places¡ªthey¡¯re locked fragments of other worlds, isolated and twisted together. Every dungeon is a chaotic convergence of things that don¡¯t belong in the same space¡ªpeople, creatures, landscapes, even concepts. What you¡¯re standing in is the result of one of those ruptures. These places aren''t natural, but they¡¯re not accidents either.¡± The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. Max blinked at the ghost¡¯s explanation. A convergence of things that didn¡¯t belong? It was like the dungeon was a stitched-together mess of different worlds, held in some twisted, unnatural balance. It didn¡¯t sit well with him. If this was true, then it was no wonder the monsters, the creatures, and even the environment here felt so out of place. Nothing seemed to belong. ¡°So, how are they made?¡± Max asked, his voice more cautious now, the weight of the ghost¡¯s words settling heavily on his shoulders. The ghost paused, and for a moment, the air between them seemed to thicken. ¡°Dungeons appear without warning, and no one¡¯s ever been able to understand why or how they¡¯re created. There are theories, of course. Some say it¡¯s the result of powerful magic gone wrong. Others think it¡¯s the result of old gods or forces beyond comprehension. But no one has the answers.¡± Max took in the information, processing the chaos and uncertainty of it all. It was like a storm brewing, one that no one could predict. ¡°So¡­ no one really knows how they¡¯re made? Not even the scholars?¡± Max asked, a trace of disbelief in his voice. The ghost shook its head, the faint light of its form shifting. ¡°No one.¡± Max exhaled slowly, absorbing the weight of the ghost''s words. "Then my theory might have some weight behind it." The ghost¡¯s figure flickered again, as though acknowledging his words. ¡°Possible,¡± it said simply. Max stood still for a moment, the quiet stretching between him and the figure that had just emerged. His gaze was calculating, not giving away much, but there was a faint curiosity lingering in his eyes. Max tilted his head slightly, his tone casual, almost indifferent. ¡°Well¡­ is this goodbye?¡± The figure¡¯s form flickered before speaking, its voice calm and unshaken. ¡°No. I¡¯m with you until you leave this place.¡± Max paused, a slight raise of his brow the only sign of interest. ¡°Then what is your name, at least?¡± There was a brief silence before the figure responded, its tone steady and unwavering. ¡°Solas. Solas Williams.¡± Max studied the figure for a moment longer, a faint glimmer of recognition or curiosity in his eyes. He nodded slightly, acknowledging the name without saying much. ¡°Max.¡± The exchange was simple, efficient. Yet, the air around them felt heavy with something unspoken. Solas¡¯s voice remained unchanged, but there was a subtle, almost imperceptible shift¡ªlike an acknowledgment, or perhaps a form of respect that didn¡¯t need to be verbalized. ¡°Pleasure to meet you, Max,¡± Solas said, and his voice, though flat, carried a weight of experience, something that Max could sense without fully understanding. Max¡¯s response was brief but genuine, his voice still measured, but there was a slight note of recognition beneath the surface. ¡°Pleasure.¡± For a moment, neither of them spoke, the only sound the low hum of the surrounding desert. Max¡¯s mind, ever analytical, was already processing what Solas had said. The ghost¡ªthis entity¡ªwasn¡¯t just here as a guide, but something more. The words ¡°I¡¯m with you until you leave this place¡± resonated in a way that hinted at more than a simple accompaniment. Max wondered how much of his fate, and this dungeon¡¯s, Solas had seen. Solas didn¡¯t seem to want to elaborate, and Max wasn¡¯t one to push unnecessarily. Max spoke with calm certainty as he looked over the mummy¡¯s remains, his expression neutral. ¡°I¡¯m going to take the mummy¡¯s corpse since it does sell for a lot.¡± Solas¡¯s voice was steady, almost detached as he responded. ¡°It¡¯ll fetch a good price, no doubt. People have a market for the unusual, especially here. Just remember, there¡¯s no telling what kind of trouble could follow you with something like that.¡± Max remained unbothered, the faintest shrug moving his shoulders as he casually dismissed the caution. ¡°I can handle it.¡± Solas didn¡¯t offer further commentary, his voice devoid of any real concern or encouragement as he replied simply, ¡°We¡¯ll see.¡± Max, without hesitation, moved swiftly to store the mummy¡¯s corpse. The motion was efficient, and with a flick of his wrist, it vanished into the storage cube. He was methodical, his focus already shifting ahead. Without another word, they began walking once again. The desert stretched endlessly before them¡ªsand dunes rising like silent sentinels, the ruins they passed speaking of an age long past. The wind picked up, shifting sand like a veil over forgotten memories. Despite the desolation, there was an undeniable sense of purpose in their strides. ¡°I see three people on the ground ahead,¡± Solas said, his tone level, his attention fixed on the figures in the distance. Max glanced ahead, his expression unreadable as he processed the situation. ¡°Same. Did they die out here?¡± Solas paused, the air thick with a brief silence before he spoke again. His voice was flat, matter-of-fact. ¡°Most likely. This place has a way of claiming those who don¡¯t watch their steps. But... you never really know for sure.¡± Max¡¯s eyes narrowed slightly as he thought about their next move. ¡°Should we help them?¡± He hesitated, then clarified his own role in the situation with a cool tone. ¡°Or should I help them?¡± Solas didn¡¯t seem to register any difference between the two. His voice remained neutral, offering no real advice, just an acknowledgment of the harsh truth that surrounded them. ¡°If they¡¯re alive, they might not stay that way long. But it¡¯s up to you. Help them, or don¡¯t.¡± Max let the words hang in the air for a moment, weighing the consequences, the possible risks. He had no reason to help, but then again, he didn¡¯t necessarily need a reason to. Max frowned, his mind working as he approached the three men lying in the sand. "But why didn¡¯t they press their emergency buttons?" he mumbled, mostly to himself. Solas responded, his voice flat as ever, ¡°A battle has taken place here. Look at the sand.¡± Max glanced down, taking in the disturbed terrain¡ªfootprints, smudged blood stains, and broken weapons half-buried in the sand. "Yeah¡­" Max muttered, his eyes scanning the area. "There was one." Kneeling down next to the first man, Max gently checked his pulse. The faint thrum beneath the skin was weak but present. ¡°He¡¯s alive,¡± Max said, his voice deadpan. He rubbed his temples for a moment, his expression unreadable. ¡°Don¡¯t know if I¡¯m shocked that he is still alive or the fact that he isn¡¯t dead yet. Either way, he was left here by something.¡± Solas remained silent, but his presence was a constant undercurrent to the situation. Max pulled out his storage cube with a swift motion, retrieving a few bottles of water. He opened one and carefully tilted the man¡¯s head back, pouring water into his mouth. The man coughed, his body jerking upright as he began gulping down the water in desperate thirst. Max repeated the process for the other two men, pouring water into their mouths, watching as they stirred slightly in response, taking in the hydration. Their breathing became a little more regular with each swallow. Max didn¡¯t let his guard down, still unsure of what had left these men in such a state. Nafka Max remained still, watching the group with an unreadable expression. Their exhaustion was clear¡ªtheir limbs sluggish, their breathing shallow. One of them, a man barely holding himself upright, muttered, ¡°Thanks¡­¡± The gratitude was automatic, like a reflex rather than something consciously felt. Max¡¯s response was just as empty. ¡°Welcome¡­¡± His voice carried no warmth, no real connection. Just a reply. A moment of silence settled between them, stretching longer than necessary. Then, Solas¡¯s voice brushed against Max¡¯s mind like a whisper through the wind. "Why didn¡¯t they use their emergency buttons?" The question carried weight, the kind that lingered. Max didn¡¯t answer immediately, his gaze flickering over the group as his thoughts churned. One of them¡ªa girl, her hands trembling¡ªfinally pressed the emergency button on her device. The signal would call for rescue, yet something about the act felt delayed¡­ forced. Solas¡¯s voice slipped back into Max¡¯s mind, his tone even, but tinged with something hard to define. "Took them long enough." A pause. Then, softer, more pensive: "They hesitated. You noticed that, right? That wasn¡¯t relief¡ªit was doubt." Max¡¯s eyes narrowed slightly as he processed the implications. Solas¡¯s presence flickered at the edge of his awareness, his next words drifting like an afterthought. Max¡¯s eyes flickered over the exhausted group, their ragged breaths barely audible over the shifting sands. Their hesitation hadn¡¯t gone unnoticed. ¡°Why did it take so long for you to use it?¡± Max asked, his tone neutral but firm. The girl swallowed, exchanging uncertain glances with the others before finally speaking. ¡°Well¡­¡± She hesitated. ¡°It didn¡¯t work last time.¡± Max¡¯s gaze sharpened. ¡°Didn¡¯t work?¡± ¡°Yeah. We all pressed ours, but nothing happened,¡± she admitted, her voice tinged with unease. Solas¡¯s presence flickered beside Max, his voice slipping through like a whisper on the wind. "And there it is." There was no shock in his tone. "Not a mistake. Not bad luck. If all of them failed, that means one of two things." A pause. Then, calm and absolute: "Either something is blocking the signal¡­ or someone doesn¡¯t want them leaving." Max¡¯s eyes narrowed as he watched the group of three, tension thick in the air. ¡°Why would it be doing this?¡± he asked, his voice low, a hint of disbelief creeping in. The girl began to speak, ¡°We came across a demo¡ª¡± Before she could finish, there was a sudden, sickening sound. All three of their heads exploded in a burst of blood and bone. The force of it knocked Max back a step, his body frozen in shock. He watched, eyes wide, as their bodies crumpled to the ground, their life snuffed out in an instant. ¡®Oh¡­ oh my god! What... what is going on?!¡¯ Max¡¯s thoughts pounded in his head. The world around him seemed to warp, time slowing as his body struggled to process the violence that just unfolded. He staggered back, his heart pounding so loud he could hear nothing else. His mind scrambled, desperate to make sense of it, to find a reason, a cause, anything to explain what had just happened. But there was nothing. Only the gruesome remnants of the people who had been, seconds before, alive and breathing. Max clenched his fists, trying to steady himself, but the horrifying image of what he had just witnessed was already burned into his mind. Solas remained composed, his presence unwavering, untouched by the sudden violence. His tone was calm, almost detached, as if the brutality was just another part of this twisted world they were navigating. ¡°Well,¡± he said, his voice smooth and unfazed, ¡°that answers that.¡± This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience. The flickering presence in Max¡¯s mind remained neutral, analytical, as though it had expected this outcome. ¡°Something didn¡¯t want them talking,¡± Solas continued, his tone devoid of emotion. ¡°And it wasn¡¯t interested in being subtle about it.¡± Max stood frozen for a moment, his mind reeling from what had just happened. But before he could fully process it, Solas¡¯s voice returned, dry and matter-of-fact: ¡°You should probably move. Quickly.¡± Max snapped back to reality, adrenaline surging through him. He didn¡¯t need to be told twice. He turned on his heel, instinct driving him to move away from the gruesome scene. He could feel the weight of Solas¡¯s words lingering, but there was no time for questions. Something was out there, and it was hunting them. Max walked, every step calculated, head on a swivel, his senses heightened. The sands around him felt endless, shifting, concealing whatever threats lay beneath. His mind raced. ¡°She was going to say demon. There must be a demon out here. But how?¡± Max muttered to himself, his gaze flickering between the dunes, searching for any sign of movement. Solas¡¯s voice came through, steady and calm, as always, almost like he was a spectator to Max¡¯s thoughts rather than a participant. ¡°Mana shield,¡± Solas replied, his tone almost dismissive as if the answer was obvious. ¡°Keeps everything out that comes in. Or opposite, my theory.¡± Max didn¡¯t slow, but the words hung in the air, the weight of them settling in his mind. A slight flicker in Solas¡¯s presence followed, and then the voice resumed, more thoughtful, as if he was analyzing the situation from every angle. ¡°A demon could easily be manipulating the shield. Blocking interference. Keeping its presence hidden.¡± Max¡¯s brow furrowed, the realization hitting him hard. That would explain everything¡ªwhy the signal had failed, why it seemed like something had been orchestrating events behind the scenes. It was all adding up, but the question now was: how to deal with it? ¡°I can probably deal with a F rank demon¡­¡± Max said to solas. Solas¡¯s voice, though calm, carried an edge of something like bemusement, almost as if he were humoring Max''s confidence. Max¡¯s thoughts swirled, weighing the risks against his own confidence. "An F rank demon, huh?" He mused aloud, the tone skeptical but not entirely dismissive. The thought of facing a demon like that, even if it was hidden behind layers of magic and deceit, didn¡¯t faze him entirely. Solas¡¯s voice came through, unyielding and clinical, grounding him back to the reality of the situation. ¡°Sure, you could probably deal with one. If it were alone. But I doubt that¡¯s the case here. F rank demons don¡¯t hide behind shields, and they don¡¯t block emergency signals. You¡¯re probably dealing with something far worse.¡± The pause stretched, a moment for the weight of those words to settle in. ¡°But, if you¡¯re certain, go ahead. Just don¡¯t get yourself killed in the process.¡± ¡°He could have help. You can¡¯t be above an F rank monster in here. Either way, I think I can kill this demon.¡± Max and Solas walked in silence, their footsteps soft against the shifting ground. As they moved forward, the terrain gradually changed. The sand underfoot became darker, more brittle, as the blackened surface stretched ahead. Above them, the ceiling glowed faintly, with crystal lights casting a cool, eerie glow. Solas''s voice broke the quiet, calm and unaffected as he surveyed their surroundings. "Coal." Max glanced around, his senses tingling with an unspoken warning. Solas continued, his voice matter-of-fact, almost clinical. "The blackness you see... it''s the result of the earth turning into coal. Heat and pressure warp the sand and stone over time. It¡¯s a natural process in certain areas. Turns everything dense, brittle," he explained, his tone flat but precise. "This place doesn''t support much life, and the air¡¯s thick with sulfur. It''s unstable. Be mindful of your steps." Max nodded, eyes scanning the horizon as he absorbed the information. "Something feels off," he said, the unease creeping in. Solas¡¯s presence remained steady in his mind, like a constant, analytical presence. "I feel it too. Stay alert. Whatever is ahead, we¡¯ll need to approach cautiously." Max nodded again, his instincts on edge. As they continued walking, Solas¡¯s voice broke through once more, quieter but sharper. "Goblins ahead." Max''s eyes sharpened as he focused on the silhouettes ahead, barely visible through the shifting blackness. The goblins were scattered, moving in jerky, uneven steps. Max¡¯s hand twitched towards his weapons, instinctively gauging the distance. "How many?" he asked, voice low. "Four," Solas replied. "They¡¯re not organized. It seems like they¡¯re either patrolling or searching for something. Doesn''t look like they¡¯ve spotted us yet." Max crouched low, using a small mound ahead as cover. His eyes narrowed as he scanned the goblins, observing their movements carefully. Quietly, he crept closer, his feet light against the coal-laden ground. The Nightstalker manual''s teachings buzzed in his mind, the speed, deception, and precision guiding every motion. With the goblins still unaware of his presence, Max struck. In a blur of motion, he darted forward, drawing his weapon in a single, fluid movement. The goblins never saw him coming. One by one, he dispatched them with swift, calculated strikes, each blow a deadly pinpoint to vital areas. The night¡¯s silence broke only by the soft thud of their bodies hitting the ground. The last goblin collapsed, its body crumpling to the coal-covered earth. Max stood still for a moment, letting the adrenaline drain from his system. His breathing was steady, his body already resetting as the fight was over. Solas¡¯s voice cut through the silence, his tone flat but intrigued. "Interesting sword art." Max sheathed his weapon, his expression unreadable. "An older one," he replied, almost absently, as he turned to collect the fallen bodies. The air was thick with the scent of sulfur and the remnants of battle, but Max''s mind was already moving forward. He opened his storage cube, placing the goblins'' corpses inside with practiced ease. The remains vanished into the cube with little more than a faint shimmer of light. Solas, unfazed, simply watched, his presence flickering at the edges of Max''s mind. "Not a bad way to handle them." Max didn¡¯t respond immediately, focusing on the task at hand. Once the bodies were securely stored, he straightened and surveyed the area. The path ahead was clear¡ªfor now. He adjusted his gear and motioned for Solas to move forward. "We keep going," Max said simply, his eyes scanning the blackened landscape ahead. Castle ¡°You should rest,¡± Solas said. ¡°Even just for a minute. You¡¯ve been walking a lot, and I know the explosions are still on your mind.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll be fine,¡± Max replied, shaking his head. ¡°Besides, you were the one who told me to move quick. Didn¡¯t exactly leave me much time to dwell on it.¡± His voice was steady, but his mind wasn¡¯t. The image of the bodies¡ªthe sheer suddenness of it all¡ªclung to him like a stain that wouldn¡¯t wash away. He exhaled sharply. ¡°Their heads though¡­ Jeez. There was so much red on the sand. Everything they ever loved, hated, felt¡ªjust gone in an instant. Don¡¯t think I can ever forget that.¡± Solas was quiet for a moment, his presence flickering, as if weighing Max¡¯s words. Then, he spoke, voice calm but certain. ¡°You won¡¯t.¡± A pause. Not comforting, not dismissive¡ªjust the truth. ¡°That kind of thing sticks with you. The mind doesn¡¯t just erase it, no matter how much you want it to.¡± Max swallowed. He knew that already. Solas continued, his tone shifting, quieter now¡ªalmost reflective. ¡°But you¡¯ll get used to it.¡± Max let out a dry breath, more of a scoff than a laugh. ¡°Yeah. Probably have to.¡± His fingers curled slightly. ¡°That¡¯s kinda scary though. Getting used to people dying.¡± Solas didn¡¯t hesitate. ¡°It is.¡± Another pause, and then, softer, something more thoughtful. ¡°The first time, it hits you like a hammer. The second, it lingers. After that¡­ it fades. Not because you want it to, but because it has to.¡± There was something in his voice¡ªsomething distant, like he was sifting through his own memories. ¡°Survival makes sure of that.¡± A moment of silence stretched between them before Solas spoke again, quieter now, less of a warning. ¡°Just be careful what you let yourself get used to.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t think I¡¯ll have a choice in the future,¡± Max said. Solas¡¯s response was calm, steady. ¡°Maybe not.¡± A pause. The weight of inevitability settled between them. ¡°But there¡¯s a difference between having no choice¡­ and convincing yourself you don¡¯t.¡± His presence flickered¡ªthoughtful. Max exhaled sharply. ¡°Easy for you to say. You don¡¯t know what¡¯s going to happen.¡± Solas didn¡¯t miss a beat. His voice remained steady, unaffected. ¡°Neither do you.¡± Silence stretched for a moment, just long enough for the thought to sink in. Then, a slight shift in his tone¡ªsomething almost wry. ¡°That¡¯s the thing about the future. No one knows how it plays out¡ªuntil it does.¡± Another beat of silence. Then, quieter, more measured: ¡°But I do know one thing. The moment you believe you have no control¡­ is the moment you actually lose it.¡± Max clenched his jaw. He couldn¡¯t explain how he knew what was coming. And he knew Solas wouldn¡¯t understand. "Let''s stop dwelling on it," Max said. Solas didn¡¯t argue. His response was simple, steady. "Alright." A brief pause, then an observation¡ªneutral, detached. "Dwelling won¡¯t change anything, anyway." And just like that, he let it go. As Max cut down another low-level creature, its body crumbling into dust, Solas¡¯s voice broke the silence. This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience. "Monotonous, isn¡¯t it?" A pause¡ªjust long enough for the words to settle. "You move forward, kill, collect¡­ what? Experience? Resources? It all starts blending together after a while." Another monster lunged. Max struck it down without a second thought. Solas continued, unfazed. "So tell me, Max. What exactly are you working toward?" "Money," Max said. "Then putting it in stocks." Solas let out a low, amused hum. "Practical. Cold. You¡¯ve got the long game in mind." A pause. Then, with the same even tone: "But stocks? In this economy?" A flicker of dry humor, but beneath it, something else¡ªcalculated interest. "So you¡¯re not just thinking about surviving. You¡¯re thinking about stability. Future-proofing." Another beat of silence as Max cut down another monster. "And what happens if the market crashes? If the world changes faster than your investments can keep up?" "I have a good feeling mine won¡¯t," Max said. Solas gave a quiet, thoughtful hum. "Confidence. Or intuition?" A pause, as if weighing the distinction. Then, with measured curiosity: "Alright. Say you''re right. Say your investments hold. What then? What''s the endgame?" Another monster fell, its corpse vanishing into dust. "You stacking money just to have it? Or is there something you actually want?" ¡°Always nice to have money, but yeah, there are some things I wish to buy,¡± Max said, the weight of the words hanging in the air. ¡°Like artifacts.¡± Solas didn¡¯t respond immediately, his silence stretching just long enough for Max to wonder if he had overstepped. But then, Solas¡¯s voice came through, steady and calculating as ever. ¡°Artifacts.¡± A brief pause. "Now that''s an investment with immediate returns." Another beat of silence, then: "Power, utility, leverage... depends on what you''re looking for. So, what kind?" Max could feel the subtle pressure in his words. It wasn¡¯t casual curiosity¡ªit was a probe, a subtle challenge. Solas was testing something. Max didn¡¯t hesitate. "Power." The response was simple, to the point. Solas¡¯s tone didn¡¯t shift, but there was a flicker of something behind the words. "Of course," he said. A thoughtful pause followed, then: "Power¡¯s a solid investment. Reliable. It doesn¡¯t crash like the market, doesn¡¯t vanish like gold." ¡°What¡¯s that in the distance?¡± Max asked. Solas¡¯s voice shifted, no longer casual, but sharp with focus. "A red castle... in the distance?" He trailed off, as if considering the sight before them. "That''s... unusual." Max and Solas continued their journey toward the castle, the landscape growing darker as they approached. The stone walls loomed ahead, jagged and worn with age, but still standing resolute. Max¡¯s fingers brushed lightly against the cool surface of the stone wall as they walked, feeling the texture beneath his hand, searching for any sign of an entrance. His eyes scanned the area, focused but calm, until his hand slid across a weathered crack in the wall. A faint creak echoed in the still air as a heavy gate slowly shifted open. The faintest movement¡ªalmost imperceptible¡ªwas all it took for Max to notice. He stepped forward, slipping through the gate with little more than a glance at Solas, who followed without a word. Max¡¯s steps were silent, steady, as he crossed the threshold into the castle itself. The interior of the castle was dim, the walls lined with faded tapestries and shattered stone. Ancient columns stretched upward, reaching for the ceiling, which was nearly obscured by thick layers of dust and cobwebs. The air felt thick with history, like the stone itself was burdened by the weight of forgotten memories. ¡°Ah¡­ another wanderer. You are far from home, aren¡¯t you? Alone, lost, or perhaps¡­ hiding from something? Tell me, stranger, what drives you to step into my domain, uninvited and unknown?¡± The demon¡¯s voice held a cruel edge, trying to mask the amusement with an air of mockery, as if it found some twisted joy in the intrusion. Max''s gaze shifted downward, and there it was¡ªsitting on a throne at the far end of the room, a demon. Unlike the monstrous beasts Max had encountered before, this demon resembled a human, though its features were slightly distorted, as if something ancient and cruel twisted beneath its skin. The demon¡¯s skin was pale, almost ghostly white, but with an unnatural sheen that caught the faint light. Its eyes were the most striking feature¡ªcompletely black, with no iris or pupil, just an endless void staring back. It was the kind of gaze that could pierce right through you, leaving an unsettling feeling in its wake. The demon''s long black hair cascaded down its back in waves, and its face was sharp and angular, with high cheekbones and a jawline that could cut glass. A cruel, knowing smile played on its lips, revealing pointed teeth that weren¡¯t quite human. It wore dark, elegant robes¡ªimpeccably crafted, but far from ordinary. The fabric seemed to shimmer slightly, almost alive, as if woven from the very shadows that filled the room. It was a figure that radiated power, poised and confident in its unearthly presence. Max felt a strange tension in the air, a weight that pressed on his chest as the demon¡¯s gaze locked onto him, its eyes unblinking, unreadable. Solas''s voice was low, almost a whisper, though there was a sharpness to it. ¡°Didn¡¯t expect this.¡± Max¡¯s heart pounded in his chest, the weight of his own thoughts pressing against his ribs. ¡®I¡¯m not powerful enough to fight a demon. I probably can¡¯t even touch a demon,¡¯ he thought, his mind spiraling for a moment. Panic threatened to creep in, the crushing reality that this might be the end. ¡®I might die here¡­ Oh god, I can¡¯t die here.¡¯ He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself, but his chest tightened with each inhale. His thoughts were sharp, frantic, like a blade bouncing between panic and denial. The demon¡¯s gaze never wavered, its smile still stretched across its face, studying Max with amusement. Max¡¯s hands clenched into fists at his sides. I have to move. I can¡¯t freeze now. Every instinct screamed for him to act, to do something. Anything. But there was nothing¡ªhe was out of his depth. Pain Max stood frozen, his breath shallow. The weight pressing down on him was suffocating, like an unseen force wrapping around his body, squeezing the air from his lungs. It wasn¡¯t just the raw power emanating from the demon¡ªit was the intent behind it. Cold. Curious. Amused. With a shaking hand, Max reached into his pocket, his fingers brushing against the cold, smooth surface of the device. His thumb pressed down on it, hard. ¡°¡­Ah.¡± The voice echoed through the chamber, deep and smooth, carrying an almost lazy amusement. ¡°A quiet one.¡± The demon¡¯s presence loomed, unseen yet overwhelming, filling every inch of space with something ancient and unknowable. ¡°Silence is a dangerous thing in a place like this, you know. It leaves room for¡­ interpretation.¡± Max¡¯s pulse pounded in his ears. His muscles locked in place, instinct screaming at him to move, to run, but his body refused to listen. Solas¡¯s voice slipped into his mind, calm but edged with something sharp. "It¡¯s testing you. Picking at the edges, seeing where you fray." A pause. Then, quieter, more deliberate¡ª "That thing doesn¡¯t see you as a threat. Not yet. But silence? Silence makes things curious. It lets them fill in the gaps with their own ideas¡­ and you don¡¯t want a demon doing that." The air in the chamber grew heavier. The pressure wasn¡¯t just physical¡ªit was in the way the demon¡¯s words coiled around him, pressing into his thoughts, unraveling him thread by thread. A faint clicking sound echoed through the chamber, rhythmic and deliberate. ¡°¡­Hmph.¡± The demon exhaled¡ªnot quite a sigh, not quite a laugh. Just there, slipping into the silence like it belonged. ¡°So, that¡¯s how it is.¡± A shift. The air grew colder, sharper, like a blade sliding against stone. ¡°You walk into my castle, stand before me, and yet¡­ you refuse to speak.¡± The pressure deepened. Max felt his knees weaken, his vision darkening at the edges. ¡°That is bold.¡± Another pause. ¡°Or foolish.¡± Solas¡¯s voice was steady, cold in its clarity. "You¡¯re breathing because it allows you to. Nothing else." A measured pause. The weight of the chamber pressed down like a held breath, waiting to be exhaled. "That means it¡¯s watching. Weighing its options. Maybe it enjoys the suspense, or maybe it¡¯s deciding whether you¡¯re worth the effort." Max swallowed, the dryness in his throat like sandpaper. His voice came out lower than intended, barely above a whisper. ¡°Who¡­ are you?¡± Silence. Thick. Lingering. Then¡ª "Revechol." The name rolled through the air, soft as silk yet carrying the weight of something ancient. It didn¡¯t echo¡ªit settled, like the first crack of thunder before a storm unfurls. Heavy. Inevitable. ¡°I¡¯m Max,¡± Max said. A beat of silence. Then¡ª "Max." Revechol let the name linger, as if tasting it, weighing it. His tone was unreadable¡ªwas that amusement? Curiosity? Or something else lurking beneath? "You speak it as if it holds weight here." A slow exhale followed¡ªnot quite a sigh, but something close. Not boredom. Not impatience. Something colder, detached. "Tell me, then. Do you understand the kind of place you¡¯ve stepped into?" ¡°Yes.¡± Max said. The air tightens. The castle¡ªcold, vast, watching¡ªfeels smaller now, pressing in, as if it knows something Max doesn¡¯t. ¡°Ohhh¡­ ohhh, that¡¯s good.¡± The voice¡ªRevechol¡¯s voice¡ªshudders with a quiet, eerie delight, as if savoring a private joke. A slow, shaky exhale, like someone barely holding in laughter. "You¡¯re going to have to do something," Solas spoke. "Anything. Quickly." His tone was sharp, precise¡ªcutting through the suffocating weight pressing down on Max¡¯s chest. "It can¡¯t be its real body. If it was, this dungeon wouldn¡¯t be F-rank. You may be able to win this." A pause, then, firm and absolute¡ª "Fight." Max¡¯s body moved before his thoughts could catch up. His daggers flashed into his hands, his breath shallow, his muscles coiled. The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there. Swoosh. Steel bit into flesh. A clean cut. Silence. For the first time, the castle did not hum with unseen power. No stirring shadows, no whispers in the dark. The air was still, frozen in the aftermath of steel meeting flesh. The severed limb hit the stone floor with a dull thud. Then¡ª Laughter. Soft at first. A trembling, wheezing exhale¡ªlike someone savoring a secret only they understood. Then it grew. Low, rasping, bubbling with something twisted and delighted. "Ohhh¡­ ohhh, that¡¯s wonderful." The shadows stretched unnaturally. The severed arm, discarded and limp, twitched. Black tendrils snaked from the wound, writhing like starving creatures before sinking back into the flesh. Then¡ª The arm moved. Fingers flexed, clawing at the stone floor. The limb pulled itself forward, dragging like some grotesque thing returning home. Revechol exhaled¡ªlong, shaky, grinning. "I like you." Max¡¯s grip tightened around his daggers. His breath was uneven, chest rising and falling too fast. "How am I¡­ what do I do? I¡­ I¡­ I don¡¯t think I can beat this guy¡­" Panic clawed at the edges of his thoughts, but he shoved it down, forced himself to think. There had to be a way¡ªsomething, anything¡ªbefore that thing got bored and decided to stop playing with him. "I¡¯ll have to cut his limbs off¡­ faster than they can grow back." It wasn¡¯t much of a plan. It was all he had. His blades flashed. A limb fell. Then another. And another. And another. Steel carved through flesh, relentless. Again. And again. And again. But no matter how many times Max struck, it didn¡¯t matter. The moment a piece hit the ground, it slithered, crawled, and stitched itself back together. Revechol didn¡¯t fight back. He didn¡¯t even flinch. He just stood there, letting Max hack away, his body falling apart and reforming like some grotesque puppet show. And through it all¡ª He laughed. Quiet at first, but rising. Shuddering. Shaking. A low, rattling sound, like breath being sucked through broken ribs. ¡°Ohhh, Max¡­¡± ¡°You really thought¡­ ohh¡­ oh, that¡¯s so good.¡± His voice wavered, filled with something twisted and euphoric, like he had just been given the greatest gift of his life. ¡°But you don¡¯t get it, do you?¡± The laughter stopped. Revechol tilted his head. His eyes¡ªdeep, hollow voids¡ªlocked onto Max. ¡°This isn¡¯t a fight, Max. This is you trying to empty the ocean with a spoon.¡± The room grew smaller. The air, heavier. The castle itself seemed to lean in, waiting, watching. ¡°Tell me¡­¡± Revechol took a step forward. Not fast. Not aggressive. Just¡­ certain. "How long before you realize you can¡¯t win?¡± The air thickened, crushing down with an unbearable weight. Max¡¯s knees buckled. His body caved under the pressure, his daggers slipping from his grasp as he hit the cold stone floor. Revechol loomed above him, watching. Unhurried. Amused. Then¡ªmetal rang. A blade, long and jagged, slid free from the sheath at the demon¡¯s side. Step. He advanced, slow, deliberate, savoring every moment. "You¡¯ve entertained me well," Revechol mused, his voice dripping with satisfaction. Step. The tip of the sword gleamed under the dim light. ¡­ Gerry let out a long, exaggerated sigh and flicked the cigarette butt onto the ground, grinding it out with his boot. His grin didn¡¯t fade, but the edge of concern was there, barely noticeable. He shifted his weight, crossing his arms. ¡°Well, well, well,¡± he said, his voice lowering slightly, more serious now. ¡°Didn¡¯t take long for the kid to figure out just how fun those dungeons can really be, did it?¡± He turned toward the guard. ¡°What¡¯s the sitch? F rank¡¯s usually a cakewalk, but I ain¡¯t naive enough to think that means it¡¯s always smooth sailing.¡± The guard gave him a stiff nod. Gerry¡¯s smirk returned, though it was tempered with a hint of grim knowledge. ¡°Ah, of course it is. Who wants a nice, easy dungeon run anyway? Kid¡¯s probably in over his head, but he¡¯s got some fight in him. Gimme a second to sort this out.¡± He glanced at Max. ¡°You know, sometimes life throws you into a pit of monsters. But that¡¯s when you find out what you¡¯re really made of.¡± He gave a small, almost imperceptible nod. ¡°Let¡¯s go. Time to save the day... again.¡± ¡­ Max watched helplessly as the demon walked towards him. ¡°Before I send you off, I think I¡¯m going to have a little fun,¡± Revechol said. He stabbed his sword through Max¡¯s hand, sticking it into the ground. Max gasped for air. Solas¡¯s voice cut through the shock, cold and precise, like a lifeline in the chaos. ¡°Don¡¯t flinch. Don¡¯t let it see fear.¡± Revechol¡¯s grip was unyielding, his fingers like iron wrapped around Max¡¯s arm. The demon¡¯s strength was monstrous¡ªeffortless. With a sickening snap, the bones gave way, bending and splintering under the pressure. Max¡¯s body trembled with agony as the demon¡¯s grip crushed his arm, the pain coursing through him like wildfire. The scream tore from his throat, raw and primal, as he felt his bones crack and splinter. His vision blurred, the edges of his consciousness darkening. ¡°AEUGGGGGGGGG!¡± The sound of his own voice, distorted by pain, felt alien to him. His hand was still pinned to the ground by Revechol¡¯s sword, the weight of the blade making it feel as though it was sinking into his very soul. Revechol¡¯s laughter echoed through the chamber, cold and cruel. It was the sound of a predator savoring its kill, the mockery of his suffering all too apparent. ¡°Endure it. Don¡¯t let him own you. Don¡¯t let him break you entirely.¡± Solas¡¯s voice sharpened, a thread of something like urgency slipping into the otherwise steady words. ¡°You¡¯re still alive. And that means you still have something to fight for.¡± "AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" Max¡¯s scream echoed off the castle walls, a raw, anguished cry that would have shattered the world¡ªif only the world were listening. Revechol¡¯s sword slid in with ease, the cold steel sinking into Max¡¯s other arm. A slow, deliberate motion, as if savoring the way the metal pierced flesh, the way Max¡¯s body fought against the inevitable. Then, with a twist¡ªsnap¡ªthe arm broke, the bones shattering under the force. Revechol stepped back slightly, watching Max writhe in agony, his grin widening with sick pleasure. "You¡¯re resilient, Max. I¡¯ll give you that." ¡°HUAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!¡± Revechol¡¯s sword pierced through Max¡¯s foot with a sickening ease, the blade cutting deep. The demon didn¡¯t rush¡ªno, he savored the moment, the way Max¡¯s body jerked in response, the pain seeping through his every nerve. Then, with a violent twist, the sword struck again, breaking Max¡¯s leg with a sharp crack. The sound was almost musical in its brutality. A symphony of agony, played just for him. ¡°Ahhh¡­ Yes. Now that¡¯s the real sound of submission.¡± The sword slid into Max¡¯s remaining foot with cruel precision, sinking deep into the bone. A sickening crack echoed through the room as the final leg was broken, the pain unbearable, splitting through Max''s consciousness like a jagged blade. "KAUUUUGHHHHHHHHH!" The shadows around them seemed to shift, as if they, too, were waiting for Max¡¯s final crack. Revechol¡¯s breath was cold, like a chill that seemed to seep into Max¡¯s bones. ¡°What will you do now?¡± Maxs Nature Without hesitation, Gerry stepped through the portal, the two guards flanking him. A familiar pull tugged at his gut as the world distorted around them, and in an instant, they emerged on the other side. The air was thick with the scent of blood and something else¡ªsomething old and wrong. The chamber was dimly lit, the flickering torches casting jagged shadows across the cracked stone walls. At the center of it all¡ªMax. Gerry¡¯s gaze locked onto the kid, and his smirk vanished. Max was on the ground, pinned by a massive black sword, his face pale, his breathing ragged. Blood pooled beneath his broken arm. And standing over him¡­ A demon. A big one. ¡°...Shit.¡± Revechol turned slowly, the weight of his presence pressing down like an avalanche. His grin was lazy, indulgent¡ªlike a cat caught toying with a half-dead mouse. ¡°Well, well,¡± the demon mused, his voice like velvet dragged over steel. ¡°Visitors.¡± Gerry sighed, rolling his shoulders. ¡°You know, I was hoping for something simple. Maybe a lost kid, maybe some overgrown goblins.¡± Revechol¡¯s grin widened. ¡°Oh,¡± the demon purred, ¡°this just got interesting.¡± Gerry reached for a communicator in his pocket. ¡°Requesting 3 units. Demon infiltrated F-rank dungeon.¡± ¡°Copy that. Units en route. ETA: five minutes.¡± ¡°Five minutes,¡± Gerry muttered under his breath, slipping the communicator back into his pocket. ¡°Kid better last that long.¡± He turned to the portal, jaw tightening ever so slightly. Max was tough, sure¡ªbut a demon? That wasn¡¯t in the script for an F-rank. His grip tightened around the hilt of the sword strapped to his back. ¡°Alright, boys,¡± he said, voice calm but carrying a weight behind it. ¡°Let¡¯s move. If the kid¡¯s still breathin¡¯ when we get there.¡± Gerry took a slow step forward, his boots echoing against the stone. His grip on his sword was firm, tension coiling in his stance like a spring ready to snap. Beside him, the second swordsman mirrored his readiness, while the bowsman kept an arrow nocked, eyes locked onto the towering figure before them. Revechol simply laughed. A low, hollow sound that slithered through the air, as if he were savoring the moment. His form, though undeniably humanoid, held an unnatural grace¡ªsomething too fluid, too detached from the weight of reality. ¡°I¡¯m only an F-rank in this body,¡± he mused, amusement dripping from every word. ¡°How disappointing. But entertaining, nonetheless.¡± Gerry didn¡¯t move, didn¡¯t take the bait. His eyes flicked to Max for the briefest moment before locking back onto the demon. ¡°Bid you a¡¯doo.¡± A portal crackled to life beneath Revechol¡¯s feet, its swirling darkness reaching up like grasping hands. He let himself fall, grinning even as he vanished into the abyss. The portal collapsed in on itself, leaving nothing but silence behind. Gerry exhaled through his nose, long and slow. ¡°God damn it,¡± he muttered, rolling his shoulders as if trying to shake off the frustration. Then, sharper¡ª¡°Any way we can track that portal?¡± ¡°I¡¯m on it,¡± the bowsman answered, already moving. Without hesitation, he sprinted toward the exit, vanishing through the portal that led back to the surface. That left Gerry and the remaining swordsman standing over Max. The kid was in bad shape. Gerry crouched beside him, placing two fingers against his neck. There was a pulse¡ªfaint, but there. His breathing was ragged, and uneven. Blood soaked through his clothes, dark against the fabric, but it wasn¡¯t just the physical damage that concerned Gerry. He could see it in the way Max¡¯s fingers twitched, his jaw clenched even in unconsciousness. That kind of thing¡ªthe way someone reacts to a fight they had no business surviving¡ªstuck with a man. ¡°He¡¯s alive,¡± Gerry said, but his voice was grim. ¡°But he got fucked up.¡± His fingers flexed against the hilt of his blade, a sharp exhale pushing past his lips. ¡­ Max opened his eyes to darkness. A tunnel. Silent. Endless. The air was thick¡ªstagnant, pressing against his skin like something unseen was watching. ¡°Hello?¡± His voice barely echoed. It just... disappeared. His throat tightened. ¡°Solas?¡± Nothing. Max swallowed and took a step forward. The ground beneath him felt uneven, shifting underfoot, and as he moved¡ª The tunnel vanished. He was in a classroom. Not Nexus Academy. New York. Max stopped breathing for a moment. His desk. His old desk. The rows, the chairs, the smell of old books and cheap cleaning supplies. The place was untouched, as if nothing had changed. As if he had never left. ¡®Am I back?¡¯ His thoughts raced. ¡®Did I die?¡¯ Hesitant, he took a step forward, weaving through the desks, fingers ghosting over the worn wooden surfaces. Then¡ª Flames. They erupted from the floor in sudden bursts, casting long, jagged shadows against the walls. The glow twisted the familiar into something warped. Distorted. A voice cut through the crackling fire. ¡°Alex.¡± Max¡¯s blood ran cold. His head snapped toward the front of the room. The teacher was staring directly at him. Something was wrong. Terribly wrong. ¡°You need to leave, Ale¡ªMax.¡± The teacher¡¯s voice stuttered over his name, like a broken record trying to correct itself. Max tensed. ¡°You will die if you stay. Die. Die. Die.¡± The words droned on, flat, mechanical. Behind him, the fire spread. Slow at first. Then faster. The walls, the ceiling¡ªconsumed in a creeping inferno, inching forward with unnatural intent. The air thickened with heat, with smoke, but the teacher didn¡¯t move. Didn¡¯t flinch. He just kept staring. ¡°If you stay, you burn. Burn. Burn. Burn.¡± Max¡¯s pulse hammered against his ribs. ¡®Not real. This isn¡¯t real.¡¯ But the heat was. The flames surged forward, devouring desks, licking at his heels. His instincts took over¡ª He bolted. Without thinking, without looking back, he threw himself out of the classroom door and hit the ground hard. Pain jolted through his body, but he barely felt it. The flames roared behind him. He didn¡¯t stop. Max stumbled through the darkness, his breath ragged as his feet hit the cold, uneven ground. The weight of the world seemed to press down on him with every step. The scene shifted, the air growing heavier as the sounds of the city bled through the silence. The darkness broke into the dull hum of the New York subway tunnels¡ªgraffiti-streaked walls, flickering lights above, the faint, distant rumble of trains long since gone. Max¡¯s heart skipped a beat. ¡°What is going on? Why is everything changing¡ª?¡± The whispers came next, soft at first, then louder. Children¡¯s voices. So many voices. Their words blurred into a high-pitched chorus that scraped against his mind, growing more persistent as he tried to make sense of it. He gritted his teeth, pushing through the whispers, trying to block them out as he walked deeper into the subway. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end, an oppressive sense of something wrong pulling at him from all directions. Then he saw him. A lone kid, sitting against the wall of the tunnel. His brown hair was matted, his eyes green but distant, like they weren¡¯t really seeing anything. He was playing with a Rubik''s cube in his hands, twisting it aimlessly. Max¡¯s feet moved on their own, the urge to approach overwhelming. He knelt in front of the boy, who recoiled slightly at his presence, as if startled from some inner place. ¡°Huh?¡± The boy¡¯s voice was small, barely a whisper, and yet it seemed to echo in the dark. Max hesitated. ¡°Where am I?¡± The boy didn¡¯t answer at first. Instead, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a photo, holding it out to Max with a quiet, almost mechanical gesture. Max took it. It was a family picture¡ªa man, a woman, a small girl, and the boy. Their faces, however, were obscured by blurriness, as if they couldn¡¯t quite exist in this place. Max glanced back up at the boy, his confusion deepening. ¡°Thanks¡­ Do you know how I get out of here?¡± The boy didn¡¯t speak. He only pointed upward. Max followed the direction of the boy¡¯s finger. Above them, in the darkness, a flight of stairs seemed to materialize from thin air. The stairs led up to a door¡ªunmarked, heavy, out of place in the otherwise desolate tunnel. The boy¡¯s hand tugged harder, his fingers gripping Max¡¯s wrist with an almost unnatural force. The urgency in his eyes was unmistakable. ¡°Kid, I don¡¯t know what¡¯s up there. It could be dangerous. Can you please stay here?¡± Max tried to reason, pulling back slightly, but the boy¡¯s grip didn¡¯t loosen. With a soft, disappointed sound, the boy let go and took a few steps back toward his spot against the wall. He sat cross-legged again, the Rubik¡¯s cube still turning between his fingers. His gaze never wavered from Max¡¯s face. For a moment, there was nothing but the low hum of the shifting darkness, the distant echoes of whispered voices growing louder and then fading, like half-formed thoughts. The boy¡¯s voice, soft but insistent, broke the silence. ¡°Can you help me, Max?¡± Max¡¯s heart tightened, a strange sense of responsibility tugging at him. But before he could respond, the boy began to twist the cube faster, each click of the sides punctuating the increasing pressure in the air. A crack appeared in the ceiling above them, the concrete splitting with a low, ominous groan. And then, water. It poured from the fracture above, splashing down like a burst dam. It hit with the force of a tidal wave, surging into the room with a deafening roar. Max was thrown backward, his body tossed around like a ragdoll, the water now rising rapidly. He gasped, trying to brace himself, but it was useless. The current had him. The boy¡¯s figure was swallowed by the rushing tide, a mere blur as the water pushed Max toward the far side of the tunnel. He fought to keep his head above the surface, but the water dragged him down again, spinning him in the current. Panic surged within him as he kicked and flailed, gasping for air. His lungs burned, the cold, murky water filling his throat. Desperately, Max pushed himself up, his arms and legs weak from the violent churn. The surface was close¡ªhe could see the faint glow of light above. His muscles screamed as he reached for it, each stroke slower, each breath more labored. Max¡¯s lungs burned as he gasped for air, his body desperate for the cool, fresh breath of life after the suffocating depths of the water. He broke through the surface, the dark waters swirling around him, choking out the faint light that barely reached through the oppressive blackness. His eyes darted, trying to make sense of where he was. The water stretched endlessly in every direction, but the landscape around him was lost in a void of shadow. Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site. ¡°Am I under a spell?¡± Max whispered to himself, barely able to hear his own voice over the deafening silence. Before he could ponder further, a voice cut through the heavy stillness, as soft and familiar as a forgotten dream. ¡°It¡¯s me, Max.¡± The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end as his heart skipped a beat. The voice¡­ it was one he knew, but couldn¡¯t quite place. It echoed in his mind, pulling him further into the depths of his confusion. A small, frail fishing boat emerged from the darkness ahead, its silhouette barely visible against the backdrop of the inky abyss. Two figures sat on the boat, the soft creak of the wood barely audible over the water''s gentle lapping. The woman sitting in the boat had the same face as the one in the blurry family photo the boy had given him¡ªthe one with the parents and the little girl. The woman¡¯s hair was a dark shade, flowing slightly in the still air. Beside her, a little girl, no more than six or seven, clutched a Rubik¡¯s cube in her hands, twisting it in small, calculated movements. Max''s heart stuttered as recognition began to claw its way to the surface of his mind, a feeling of eerie deja vu gripping him. The two people in the boat¡­ they were from the picture. The boy had given it to him. But now, they were here, in this strange, endless darkness. The little girl shuffled the Rubik¡¯s cube with a slow, deliberate motion, her eyes focused on it, unaware of Max¡¯s gaze. The sight sent a shiver through him, the puzzle moving in her small hands like a piece of something larger, something that didn¡¯t fit. Suddenly, arrows whizzed past him, each one narrowly missing as they struck the water with sharp, metallic splashes. Max''s instinct kicked in, and he swam towards the boat, desperation driving him forward. ¡°Wait! Please, wait!¡± he shouted, reaching for the edge of the boat as it slowly began to drift away from him, the sound of the wood creaking under the weight of the figures in it. But the boat moved faster now, pulling away from his outstretched hands as if mocking his attempt to escape the storm of confusion that had been building around him. Max looked over his shoulder, his eyes scanning the dark expanse for any sign of who¡ªor what¡ªwas attacking him. The sound of more arrows being released echoed from behind him, the piercing whine of them cutting through the air. The shadows loomed closer, sharp and menacing, but before he could react, the world shifted again. The scene around him blurred and twisted. One moment, he was struggling to stay afloat in the endless dark, and the next, he was atop a speeding subway, the clattering of wheels over metal tracks sending vibrations through his body. An arrow zipped past Max¡¯s head, the wind from it whipping his hair as he ducked behind the cover of the subway car. The sudden rush of adrenaline coursed through him, and he could hear the thudding of his heart in his ears. His eyes flicked to the side, and a male figure next to him took cover as well, his bow drawn, his focus sharp. "Who are you?!" Max shouted, his voice barely audible over the chaotic sounds of arrows piercing the air. "Why are we being shot at?" "Fight or die," the man replied coolly, his voice steady despite the violence surrounding them. He peeked out from behind the cover and let an arrow fly, hitting one of the attackers square in the chest. The man crumpled, a silent scream frozen on his face. Max gritted his teeth, frustration burning through him. "Fine," he muttered, pushing himself off the cover and charging toward the gunmen, adrenaline clouding his thoughts. He leaped over the subway cars in a single bound, his legs working instinctively. But as he soared over, an arrow embedded itself deep in his stomach. A sharp gasp escaped him as the pain bloomed, searing through his core. He stumbled mid-air and crashed to the side, just barely grabbing the top of the subway car window to steady himself. The pain was overwhelming, but there was no time to focus on it. He could feel the blood trickling from the wound, his hands slick with it as he reached for his daggers. His breath came in ragged gasps, his body protesting the movement. Through blurred vision, he saw the man who shot him standing above him, poised with another arrow. Max¡¯s grip tightened on his dagger, his fingers almost slipping from the slick handle. Without thinking, he threw it with all the strength he had left. It flew, slicing through the air, and buried itself in the man¡¯s head with a sickening thud. The man collapsed, lifeless, to the ground. Max barely registered the victory before his eyes fell to the other side of the subway car window. There, on the opposite side, was the boy he had met in the tunnel¡ªthe one who had handed him the picture. The boy was still holding the Rubik¡¯s cube, turning it slowly in his hands. The moment Max looked into the boy¡¯s eyes, something inside him snapped. The grip on his dagger faltered, and his body, drained and battered, gave in to gravity. He fell. ¡°Max!¡± The man with the bow shouted as Max tumbled from the train, his voice lost in the rushing wind. Max plummeted through the air, and for a brief moment, the world seemed to slow. The freezing wind bit at his skin, colder than any he¡¯d ever felt before. Snowflakes began to fall around him, their delicate forms glowing against the darkness, fluttering like ghosts The cold intensified, biting into his back as he landed with a heavy thud on the frozen ground Max¡¯s heart pounded in his chest, the cold air biting at his skin as he stumbled to his feet. The sudden burst of light from the flashlight in his hand illuminated his surroundings¡ªsnow-covered streets, blanketed buildings, and an eerie silence. His breath came in shallow bursts, forming clouds of mist in the frosty air. He squinted through the darkness, confusion clouding his mind. ¡®Am I in Valthesis?¡¯ The name rang in his head like a distant memory, but it didn¡¯t make sense. He hadn¡¯t seen this city before, or this landscape. There was no sign of life, no sounds of movement, save for the crackling frost underfoot. But then¡ª The ripping sounds pierced the silence. Max¡¯s gaze snapped to the source of the noise. His hand tightened on the flashlight, and he swung it towards the alleyway. The light revealed three feral goblins, hunched over a bloodied body. Their sharp teeth tore into the human¡¯s flesh with grotesque hunger, their guttural growls vibrating in the air. Their eyes glinted as they turned towards him, a sickeningly predatory gleam flashing in their gaze. Max¡¯s pulse quickened, and for a split second, panic surged through him. The goblins¡¯ savage hunger was unmistakable. He reached for his weapons¡ªdaggers¡ªhis instincts kicking in. But when he tried to activate Nightstalker, nothing happened. ¡®What?¡¯ His breath caught, panic creeping up his spine as the familiar technique failed him. Fear gnawed at the edges of his mind, making his fingers tremble as he steadied the flashlight in one hand and the dagger in the other. ¡°Oh god¡­¡± Max muttered, the realization sinking in. He had no power here. No tricks, no skills to rely on. It was just him, a blade, and raw instinct. The goblins growled in unison, their eyes narrowing as they charged. Max didn¡¯t hesitate. He dropped into his stance, a basic defensive position, as the first goblin lunged at him, its claws slashing through the air with terrifying speed. Max moved. Not as fluidly as before, but just enough. He sidestepped, bringing his dagger up in a swift arc and sinking it into the goblin¡¯s neck with a sickening squelch. The creature gurgled in pain, but before it could collapse, Max twisted, narrowly dodging a follow-up strike from the second goblin. He threw his dagger with precision, the weapon sinking into the rushing goblin¡¯s chest, knocking it off course. The third goblin howled, its twisted face contorting with rage as it charged, but Max was faster. He closed the gap in an instant, his heart thundering in his chest, and drove his blade deep into the creature¡¯s neck. The goblin screeched in agony as it crumpled, blood splattering the snow at his feet. Max stood over the corpses, chest heaving, his dagger slick with blood. He wiped his brow, the sweat mixing with the chill in the air. But his breath was ragged, and his body felt heavier than it should. Max¡¯s heart pounded in his chest as the two goblins emerged from the building, their wild, bloodshot eyes locked onto him. They wasted no time charging forward, snarling as they moved with surprising speed. Max didn¡¯t hesitate. He dropped into his stance and reacted without thinking, the movements fluid and practiced. His first strike was precise, his dagger cutting through the first goblin¡¯s throat before it even had the chance to react. The second goblin was quicker, but not quick enough. Max sidestepped its attack and thrust his blade into the creature¡¯s chest, the blow cutting deep. Both goblins collapsed in the snow, but Max¡¯s relief was short-lived. Two or three goblins were easy to handle, but a horde? Max¡¯s pulse quickened as he heard the unmistakable noise of more goblins coming from the other end of the street. The sound of their claws scraping against the concrete echoed down the narrow alley, followed by their guttural growls and snarls. A horde. He could already feel the weight of the situation pressing on him, the realization settling like a stone in his stomach. There was no way he could take on that many. Without a second thought, he turned and sprinted down the street, heading for the nearest apartment complex. His breath came in ragged gasps as he pushed himself harder, the adrenaline making his limbs feel heavy but fast at the same time. He bolted inside the building and immediately ran for the basement door. It creaked open with a loud groan, and Max slipped inside, the shadows swallowing him up. He moved fast, his heart hammering in his ears as he descended the stairs and reached a room at the bottom of the steps. The door slammed shut behind him with a loud bang. Max pushed a filing cabinet in front of the door with a grunt, its metal frame scraping against the floor, blocking his only exit. Max shut himself off from the world. He took a few steps back, his eyes scanning the room, his breath still uneven. His gaze shifted to the small basement window, the frost-covered glass distorting his view of the street outside. He pressed himself against the wall, heart in his throat, and peered through the gap. He saw them. The goblins were searching the street now, their snarls filling the air as they scavenged, looking for any trace of him. The flashlight he had dropped earlier glowed faintly in the snow, casting long shadows across the bodies of the two goblins he had killed. A shiver ran down Max¡¯s spine. They were too close. And then, the whispers came. The voices¡ªsoft, almost unintelligible¡ªslithered through his mind like a cold wind. The same whispers he had heard in the subway tunnels earlier. Max turned away from the window, covering his ears in an attempt to block them out, but the voices grew louder, more insistent. ¡®You¡¯re failing us, Maximus.¡¯ Max froze. The boy. He was there again, leaning against the wall in the corner of the room, his green eyes locked onto Max¡¯s with that same unsettling intensity. The Rubix cube spun in his hands, twisting and shifting with a life of its own. The boy spoke again, his voice chilling in the silence of the basement. ¡°You¡¯re failing us, Maximus.¡± Max¡¯s heart clenched, but he didn¡¯t have time to process the words. The whispers grew louder in his mind, drowning out everything else. His hands balled into fists as he turned away from the boy, fighting to keep his focus, but the words wouldn¡¯t stop. And then, a scream pierced the air. ¡°Somebody help us!¡± Max¡¯s blood ran cold as the voice echoed through the city. It was unmistakable¡ªa woman¡¯s voice. One he had heard before, etched deep into his memory. The air around him seemed to freeze. His heart hammered in his chest as he turned, the world around him distorting with each beat. He blinked, and in the blink of an eye, he was standing in an open field of green grass. Max knew this place. ¡®I¡¯ve been here before.¡¯ It was the same field where he had unlocked the Nightstalker art¡ªthe place where his journey into darkness had begun. A shiver ran down his spine as his eyes locked on a figure in the distance. Revechol. The demon was ahead of him, running toward the same forest Max had once ventured into. Max took a step forward, his muscles tense, his instincts screaming at him to chase after the demon. But as his foot hit the ground, everything shifted again. The world around him trembled, and suddenly, he was back in the basement. ¡®What the hell?¡¯ Max staggered, his breath caught in his throat. The familiar smell of mildew and damp stone filled his nostrils. The same filing cabinet sat in front of the door, the same shadows stretched across the room. His mind raced. ¡®Reality is converging¡­¡¯ The words slipped from his lips before he even realized he¡¯d spoken them. But they made sense. ¡®I¡¯m seeing two places at once.¡¯ In the field, the grass whipped against Max''s legs as he ran, heart pounding, pushing himself harder, faster, trying to catch up to Revechol. The demon was just ahead, but no matter how fast he ran, it felt like the distance between them was always growing. Each step felt heavier than the last, the weight of something¡ªsomething he couldn''t see¡ªbearing down on him. But in the basement, the echoes of a familiar voice jerked Max back to reality. ¡°Help! Please! They''re coming after my family!¡± The voice was desperate, filled with panic, and it rattled something deep inside him. That voice... Max stumbled towards the window, his breath catching in his throat as he looked out. His eyes went wide at the sight. Goblins. The same grotesque creatures he''d just fought, charging toward a small house on the edge of the street, the source of the voice. Their eyes gleamed with hunger, and the air seemed thick with dread. Max froze for a moment, staring helplessly as the goblins tore through the street, their bloodlust unmistakable. ¡®I can¡¯t¡­ I can¡¯t just watch this happen.¡¯ The familiar sense of guilt twisted in his gut. ¡°Aghhhhhhh! Fuck it!¡± Max roared, shaking off the fear, the hesitation. He turned to the door, determination solidifying in his chest like a stone. His hands shot to the filing cabinet, and with a guttural grunt, he shoved it aside, the screeching sound of metal scraping against the floor echoing through the room. Every muscle in his body burned as he pushed it aside, but he didn¡¯t stop. Max¡¯s legs burned with every step, and his chest felt as though it might collapse under the strain, but he couldn¡¯t stop. The screams for help pierced through the air, echoing through the city.¡¯I need¡­¡¯ His thoughts faltered, his body slowing as fatigue began to overtake him.¡¯I¡¯m so tired¡­¡¯ The doubt started to creep in, and the voices of distress grew fainter with each passing second. ¡®I don¡¯t think I can save these people.¡¯ He staggered, his pace slowing, fighting the pull of exhaustion, but then¡ª ¡°Maxie! Please! Don¡¯t give up on us!¡± The voice shot through him like a jolt of electricity. Max¡¯s breath hitched. ¡®Octavia?¡¯ His mind clung to the name as if it was a lifeline, but he had only spoken to her once, and in truth, he didn¡¯t even fully understand why her voice felt so familiar. Was it her from another time, another world? Or was it the other Max who had felt this pain, this urgency, before him? But there was no time to dwell on that now. The cries for help didn¡¯t stop. They grew louder, clearer. And they weren¡¯t just unknown voices anymore. It was Max¡¯s mom and dad. His mom and dad. The thought hit him like a punch to the gut. He didn¡¯t know them¡ªhe couldn¡¯t even picture their faces. But they were his family, and they were in danger. With every ounce of his remaining strength, Max pushed forward again. He jumped over uneven ground, stumbling across corpses, barely noticing the chaos around him. The city, once a place he didn¡¯t recognize, now felt like a maze leading him to a desperate conclusion. His legs screamed for mercy, but Max kept going. In the field, Max and Revechol barreled through the forest, the trees blurring as they moved faster. Max¡¯s heart pounded in his chest, each step pushing him harder. But ahead, just beyond the trees, he saw them¡ªfour figures running through the underbrush. Max''s mom, dad, Octavia, and the boy. ¡®No... no, this can¡¯t be real.¡¯ He didn''t know if they were real or just another illusion, but there they were, running, desperately trying to escape. And then, behind them, was Revechol. The demon was closing in on them with monstrous speed, his laughter ringing out across the forest. Max¡¯s gut twisted. Without thinking, he reached for his daggers, hands shaking but determined. He threw one with all his strength, aiming for Revechol. The blade embedded itself into the demon¡¯s side, but Revechol barely slowed, his laughter only growing louder as he kept his pursuit. Ahead of them, a house began to materialize¡ªhis house. The Augustus house. He had to get there. He had to stop Revechol before it was too late. His family was right there, within reach. They were still running, still fighting, but Max could see their strength wavering. He pushed himself harder, his legs burning with every step as he closed the distance between him and the house, between him and his family. The demon wasn¡¯t far behind. In the city, Max caught up with the screams, and his heart sank when he saw the nightmare unfolding before him. His family¡ªhis mother, father, Octavia, and the boy¡ªwere racing ahead of the goblins. The creatures, relentless and snarling, were gaining on them. Max¡¯s feet hit the ground harder, pushing himself to run faster. The house was just ahead, the one he recognized¡ªthe Augustus house. His mind screamed for him to hurry, but the goblins were closing in. As the family reached the door, they rushed inside, slamming it shut behind them, hoping for a brief moment of safety. But Max''s blood ran cold as the goblins didn¡¯t stop¡ªthey couldn¡¯t be stopped. Two of the goblins crashed through the windows, glass shattering as they leaped into the house, and one broke through the door with a savage roar. The last barrier between them and Max¡¯s family was gone. Max pushed himself harder, running into the broken front door, his heart pounding as screams of pain echoed through the house. His breath was ragged, each step feeling like it was dragging him deeper into something he couldn¡¯t control. As he reached the doorframe, his legs shaking from nerves, Max froze. The sight in front of him was something he couldn¡¯t quite process at first. The house¡ªhis house¡ªlooked normal, like it should. The scent of home, the warmth, the quiet peace of family... it was all there. But the feeling in his chest told him it wasn¡¯t. Against the wall, with pictures of memories scattered around it, was a family photo. Max¡¯s blood ran cold when he noticed the Rubix cube beside it, the same one from the boy. Max reached down slowly, trembling, and picked it up, his hands almost shaking too much to hold it steady. He set the cube on the shelf next to the photo, his gaze never leaving the picture. It was him¡ªhis dad, his mom, and Octavia. His family. Max reached out and gently placed the picture back on the shelf, his fingers lingering on it for a moment. He stared at it, his emotions a storm inside of him. There was no sense of comfort here. ¡°Max!¡± An older male voice came from the sky. ¡°Gerry?¡± Max murmured, his voice hoarse as he blinked, still disoriented. His head throbbed painfully, his senses struggling to make sense of the world around him. The sterile smell of the hospital room mixed with the sharp scent of cigarette smoke. Slowly, Max''s blurry vision began to clear, and he saw Gerry sitting beside his bed, a cigarette dangling from his lips, the ember glowing faintly in the dim room. Max tried to sit up, but his body felt heavy, sluggish, as though it was made of stone. Every movement sent waves of exhaustion through him, and his mind was still muddled, trying to grasp the last thing he remembered¡ªmonsters, darkness, and then¡­ nothing. Gerry chuckled softly, flicking the ash from his cigarette into the tray next to him. His grin was familiar, but there was something in his eyes¡ªsomething that flickered with concern, quickly hidden behind his usual playful demeanor. ¡°You¡¯re a tough kid, but damn if you didn¡¯t make things interesting.¡± He leaned back in his chair, his voice laced with that typical, laid-back charm, though it didn¡¯t quite hide the worry beneath. ¡°You had me worried for a second. Demon got you pretty good, huh?¡± Max''s chest tightened as he struggled to process the words, still half-anchored in his dreamlike state. The images of the demon, the monsters, the chaos... it was all a blur. Skills Max flexed his fingers, testing the strength in his hands. His body, which should have been aching and broken, felt unnervingly intact. There was no sharp pain, no lingering wounds¡ªjust a dull soreness, like he''d woken up from a rough night instead of nearly dying. ¡°Demon got me good,¡± Max muttered, running a hand over his chest where the worst of the damage should¡¯ve been. ¡°But my body seems... good as new?¡± Gerry, still perched beside him, exhaled a thin stream of smoke and held up a small glass vial filled with a thick, shimmering red liquid. The glow of the potion flickered in the dim light, casting crimson reflections on his fingers. ¡°High-power health potions,¡± Gerry said, rolling the vial between his fingers like a gambler playing with dice. ¡°Damn things cost a fortune, but hey¡ªfigured you were worth the investment.¡± Max groaned, shifting slightly in the bed. ¡°How much...?¡± Gerry smirked, leaning back. ¡°Let¡¯s just say if you were planning on buyin¡¯ me a drink, you owe me the whole damn bar now.¡± He set the potion down on the bedside table with a soft clink. ¡°Not that I expect you to pay up anytime soon. Just don¡¯t go dyin¡¯ on me next time, yeah?¡± Max exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. "Dying was not on the to-do list," he said. "Didn¡¯t expect a demon running around in the dungeon, though." Gerry let out a dry chuckle, shaking his head as he took another slow drag from his cigarette. "Yeah, funny how life likes to throw curveballs, huh?" He exhaled a stream of smoke, watching it swirl toward the ceiling. "F-rank dungeon, my ass. Somebody screwed up big time lettin¡¯ a demon slip in there." Max shifted slightly, wincing at the soreness in his muscles. "So¡­ was it just bad luck, or is something bigger going on?" Gerry tapped the ash off his cigarette, his expression turning thoughtful¡ªmore serious than usual. "That¡¯s the million-credit question, ain¡¯t it?" He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Demons don¡¯t just wander into F-rank zones for fun. Either someone let it in, or something¡¯s messin¡¯ with the dungeons." His gaze flicked to Max. "Either way, kid, you got caught in the middle of some nasty business." Max frowned, staring at the ceiling as his mind raced. The way the demon had chased his ¡®family¡¯ in that twisted nightmare, the shifting realities, the whispers¡ªnone of it felt like an accident. Gerry smirked, but there was a sharpness behind it. "Welcome to the real world, Max. Where things do try to kill you, and sometimes they succeed." He gestured toward the potion bottle still sitting on the bedside table. "You got lucky. Next time, don¡¯t count on luck alone to pull you through." Max grimaced. "Tell me about it¡­ Don¡¯t think I¡¯ll move on from that moment soon¡­ or ever." Gerry let out a short laugh, shaking his head. "Yeah, if he didn¡¯t wanna play with you¡­ you would¡¯ve been fucked. Like, fucked fucked. Like giving an orc three Viagra pills and throwing you and him in a room together alone for six hours level of fucked." Max stared at him, deadpan. "Woah. That is the worst possible analogy you could have come up with." Gerry shrugged, completely unbothered. "You lived. I¡¯m allowed to joke." He took another drag of his cigarette. "Besides, if you¡¯re still alive after facing a demon, you gotta learn to laugh about it, kid. Otherwise, this hero thing will eat you alive.¡± Gerry let out a dry laugh, shaking his head as he flicked the ash off his cigarette. ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s usually how it goes,¡± he muttered. ¡°Ain¡¯t nobody climbs the ranks ¡®cause they want to. It¡¯s always somethin¡¯ pushin¡¯ ¡®em forward. Duty, desperation, or just plain ol¡¯ survival.¡± Max exhaled slowly, staring up at the ceiling. His body still ached, but the weight pressing down on his chest had nothing to do with his injuries. ¡°Feels like no matter what I do, I¡¯m getting dragged toward it anyway.¡± Gerry studied him for a moment before leaning back in his chair. ¡°Kid, lemme give you a little advice.¡± He took a long drag from his cigarette before pointing at Max with it. ¡°If you¡¯re gonna get pushed into the deep end, might as well learn how to swim before you drown.¡± The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. Max turned his head toward him, brow furrowed. ¡°So you¡¯re saying I should just accept it?¡± Gerry smirked. ¡°Nah, I¡¯m sayin¡¯ make the damn choice before someone else makes it for you. If you¡¯re gonna be forced down this path, at least walk it on your own two feet. That way, when shit hits the fan, you¡¯re the one holdin¡¯ the umbrella.¡± Max scoffed, a ghost of a smirk tugging at his lips. ¡°That¡¯s a weird way to put it.¡± He took one last drag of his cigarette before smashing it against the ashtray with a lazy flick. ¡°Since you were a good boy and survived, the higher-ups decided to buy your silence.¡± Gerry¡¯s smirk widened. ¡°Congrats, kid. You¡¯re officially hush-money material.¡± Max raised an eyebrow. ¡°How gracious.¡± ¡°Oh, you¡¯ll love it. The payoff¡¯s solid¡ªone E-rank skill or two F-rank skills. Not bad for almost getting turned into demon chow.¡± Max sat up straighter, his exhaustion momentarily forgotten. ¡®Skills?!¡¯ Max thought. Gerry, noticing the change in Max''s expression, let out a small, knowing chuckle. "That got your attention, huh?" He said with a smirk, clearly enjoying the shift in the younger man''s demeanor. "I¡¯ve got a tablet with the skills ready for you to pick. They¡¯ll give you a little boost¡ªhelp you survive longer next time you''re out there. I¡¯ll be back in a sec to show you what¡¯s on the list." Gerry stood up, his movements casual, almost as if he had all the time in the world. His cigarette dangled from the corner of his mouth as he turned and walked out of the room. Max sat back in the bed, his eyes fixed on the door, his mind still buzzing with the options that had just been presented to him. ¡®Two F-rank skills could be a better bang for your buck,¡¯ he thought. He wasn¡¯t sure if he should go for a single, stronger skill or load up on multiple, smaller ones. The latter option would give him more versatility, but would it be enough to make the difference? He was so caught up in his internal debate that he didn¡¯t hear Gerry return until the door creaked open. Gerry stepped inside, holding a sleek tablet in his hand. The old man¡¯s expression was unreadable as he walked over to the bedside, placing the tablet gently in Max¡¯s lap. ¡°Alright, kid,¡± Gerry said, his voice casual but with a flicker of something serious behind it. ¡°This is your chance. You know the drill. Pick what works for you.¡± Max looked at the tablet in his hands, his fingers hovering over the screen. The list of skills appeared before him again, and his mind raced, emotions swirling as he skimmed through the options. The decision he was about to make would change things. Gerry, leaning casually against the wall, flicked the ash from his cigarette and took a slow drag. The smoke curled in the air, and his eyes never left Max, but there was something unreadable in his gaze. He wasn¡¯t rushing Max, but the weight of the moment hung between them. Max scrolled through the list of skills, his brow furrowing as he considered each one. Some were about defensive abilities, like Mana Bubble, which created a shield that could withstand hits based on your mana reserves. But Max quickly dismissed it. His mana was too low for it to be worth much. ¡®Mana-based skills aren¡¯t going to save me right now¡­¡¯ he thought with a twinge of frustration. He moved on, flicking through more options. Dash caught his eye next¡ªan offensive skill that surged the user forward at their opponent with great speed. A solid move for someone who wielded a weapon, but not Max. That wasn¡¯t for him either. "Even the lowest-rated skills are powerful..." Max muttered to himself. His mind was a flurry of thoughts, considering his options, calculating the risk of each choice. The truth was, he wasn¡¯t just looking for power. He needed versatility. His finger hovered over the screen, and with a deep breath, Max made his decision. He selected two F-rank skills, each one designed to fill gaps in his arsenal. Gerry raised an eyebrow, the corner of his lips curving into a smirk. ¡°Two skills, huh? Most folks just pick one and hope for the best. You¡¯ve got more tricks up your sleeve than I thought.¡± He leaned further back against the wall, his casual posture betraying none of the gravity of the decision Max had just made. But his eyes were sharp, and the seriousness behind his words didn¡¯t escape Max. ¡°You sure about that?¡± Gerry asked, his tone light but with a flicker of curiosity. His eyes were sharp, studying Max¡¯s face as if gauging the weight of his decision. ¡°Yes,¡± Max replied, his voice steady, though a bit of hesitation still lingered beneath the surface. He was certain about his choices, but it wasn¡¯t like picking skills was ever a simple thing. Gerry grinned, glancing down at the tablet. ¡°Let¡¯s see¡­¡± He tapped the screen, and the list of Max¡¯s selected skills appeared. ¡°Shadow Step and Winner¡¯s Mentality.¡± Max raised an eyebrow. ¡°Good picks, huh?¡± Gerry hummed thoughtfully as he read the descriptions of each skill aloud, his voice a mix of admiration and intrigue. ¡°Shadow Step¡ªSilences your steps completely. That¡¯ll be useful if you¡¯re trying to stay unnoticed. And Winner¡¯s Mentality¡ªYour mind does whatever it takes to win in whatever your goal is.¡± Max nodded slowly, absorbing the information. ¡°Yeah, the Winner¡¯s Mentality caught my eye. I mostly plan on using it to study when I don¡¯t want to.¡± There was a faint smirk on his lips, the kind that said he wasn¡¯t entirely serious. Gerry raised an eyebrow. ¡°Right¡­¡± His voice was slow, as if he wasn¡¯t sure whether to believe him or not. Max rolled his eyes. ¡°C¡¯mon, that bait was barely believable.¡± Gerry chuckled, shaking his head. ¡°Scared me for a second.¡± He gave a playful nudge to Max¡¯s shoulder. Ideas ¡°Do you know when I can leave?¡± Max asked, glancing at Gerry. ¡°Anytime you want,¡± Gerry replied with a shrug, leaning back in his chair. ¡°Not like we¡¯re holdin¡¯ you hostage.¡± Max swung his legs over the side of the bed, testing his weight. A sudden wave of dizziness hit him, forcing him to grip the bed frame for support. ¡°Easy there, champ,¡± Gerry said, amused. ¡°Might wanna make sure your legs still work before sprintin¡¯ outta here.¡± Max took a steadying breath. ¡°I¡¯m good. I¡¯m good.¡± He straightened up, shaking off the momentary weakness. Gerry gave him a once-over before exhaling a thin stream of smoke. ¡°If you say so.¡± He took another drag from his cigarette, then added, ¡°Your stuff¡¯s with the secretary at the front desk. Just give ¡®em your name, and they¡¯ll hand it over.¡± Max nodded. ¡°Got it.¡± Gerry smirked. ¡°Try not to faceplant on the way there, yeah?¡± ¡°I could tank it,¡± Max shot back, rolling his shoulders. Gerry chuckled. ¡°Don¡¯t doubt that. Just don¡¯t make it a habit.¡± The two made their way to the front desk. ¡°Max.¡± ¡°Give me a second,¡± the clerk muttered, standing up and disappearing into a room behind the desk. A few minutes later, he returned with a storage cube, setting it down before opening it. Max reached inside and pulled out a check. ¡°More hush money?¡± Gerry let out a low chuckle. ¡°Call it what you want. I call it a bonus for not dyin¡¯.¡± ¡°Sweet,¡± Max said. ¡°Guess you¡¯ll be off then?¡± Gerry said, exhaling a thin trail of smoke as he watched Max gather his things. ¡°Yeah,¡± Max replied, slipping the check into his pocket. ¡°Gotta make sure this never happens again.¡± Gerry gave a slow nod, his expression unreadable for a moment. Then he offered a half-smile. ¡°Good. Just remember¡ªbeing careful don¡¯t mean bein¡¯ scared. Means bein¡¯ smart.¡± Max paused, then nodded back. ¡°Thanks, Gerry.¡± ¡°Anytime, kid.¡± Gerry flicked his cigarette into a nearby tray, the ember hissing out. Max waved and walked out of the infirmary, his body still weak but feeling better than it had been. He pulled out his phone, dialing Silas as he made his way down the hospital corridor. ¡°Silas. I have loot,¡± Max said, his voice steady, though exhaustion still lingered in his tone. ¡°Did you even get remotely close to your goal?¡± Silas asked, sounding skeptical. ¡°I got a 100,000 credit check. And monsters,¡± Max replied, his pace slowing as he reached the front door of the hospital. The sunlight felt harsh after the dim interior, but he stepped outside into the fresh air. This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it. ¡°Woah. What did you do to earn that?¡± Silas asked, genuine surprise in his voice. ¡°Would have my head if I said,¡± Max replied, his mind drifting back to the chaos he''d just endured. ¡°Like that, huh?¡± Silas chuckled. ¡°I¡¯m not in town at the moment, so please take the cube and riches to the bartender where we met. He¡¯ll keep it safe.¡± Max looked up at the sky for a moment, trying to decide. ¡°Yeah, I¡¯ll just hand over my riches to some random dude to watch over.¡± ¡°You¡¯re trusting a random dude to put your money into stocks,¡± Silas pointed out, amused. ¡°¡­Guess so,¡± Max said, his tone dry. ¡°Have fun out of town.¡± ¡°All of the fun,¡± Silas responded, still teasing. Max hung up and let out a slow breath. He tucked his phone back into his pocket and, after a moment of hesitation, pulled the black market mask out of his jacket. He put it on before heading down the street, knowing the bar was just a short walk away. Time to deliver the goods. ¡°I need you to store some items for Silas,¡± Max said as he approached the counter. The bartender looked him over, then gave a simple nod. ¡°Alright.¡± Max handed him the cube and the check without another word. Max adjusted the black market mask over his face as he stepped into the dimly lit bar. The underground market always buzzed with hushed tones and sharp glances¡ªplaces like this didn¡¯t welcome familiarity. They welcomed silence and discretion. He approached the bar, the familiar figure of the bartender giving him a small nod. ¡°I need you to store items for Silas,¡± Max said, his voice slightly muffled behind the mask. ¡°Alright,¡± the bartender replied without hesitation, already reaching for the secure storage registry behind the counter. Max pulled out the storage cube and the check, placing them on the bar. The bartender examined both, gave another silent nod, and tucked them away. Without another word, Max turned on his heel and walked out, his footsteps echoing lightly against the worn stone floor of the underground alley. As he reached the exit, he stepped into the early evening light aboveground. The oppressive air of the market behind him, Max pulled off the black market mask and slipped it into his storage cube. He exhaled slowly, blinking against the fading sun. He felt¡­ good. Or, at least, good enough considering everything that had just happened. A boatload of money was coming his way soon. That was something. But even with all the gains, one truth lingered in his mind. He was still weak. ¡®Talked like I was hitting a wall with my training,¡¯ Max thought, walking down the street. ¡®I didn¡¯t even get close to it. I got cocky. Just because I have a 5-star sword manual doesn¡¯t mean I¡¯m untouchable.¡¯ His jaw tightened. The memory of the demon was still fresh¡ªtoo fresh. The difference in power had been overwhelming. Max shoved his hands into his pockets, feeling defeated. As he walked back to the school, the sounds of students talking and laughing surrounded him, but he didn¡¯t pay them any mind. He passed by groups gathered in the courtyard, one of them including Evelynn and Skylar talking in the distance. They were laughing about something, but Max barely noticed as he walked past, his mind consumed by everything that had happened. When he finally reached his dorm, he shut the door behind him and locked it with a soft click. Max sat down at his desk and pulled out his notebook, flipping to the next page. He stared at the blank lines, deep in thought. ¡®Besides my manual, how else can I improve my combat skills? I can keep training, but it takes time to get stronger. Skills are an option, but they''re incredibly rare and cost a fortune. Not to mention, it''s hard to find someone willing to sell them...¡¯ Max thought, his pen tapping the notebook''s surface. His mind raced as he considered the possibilities, but nothing concrete came to mind. The reality of his limitations gnawed at him. Max¡¯s eyes lit up as a thought struck him, and he immediately scribbled it down in his notebook. ¡®Gadgets... That¡¯s how... But what would I use?¡¯ Max thought, his mind racing. A few minutes passed as he sat there, jotting down potential ideas. His pen scratched the paper as he brainstormed. Smoke bombs came to mind first¡ªsomething simple but effective for escaping or disorienting an opponent. Then there was dynamite, a little more extreme, but certainly useful in the right circumstances. Throwing knives were another idea, allowing for quick strikes from a distance. Max also considered robots¡ªsmall, nimble ones that could act as distractions or scouts. And finally, custom designs; he could create something unique, tailored to his fighting style. He leaned back in his chair, staring at the list. Each option seemed promising in its own way.