Lucas's Perspective:
4/10/2017 - 7:32 AM
I was at peace.
The wind swayed through the leaves, birds chirped, and my body floated in that almost-mystical trance state of meditation.
I was one with nature.
A calm, serene monk.
A vessel of wisdom.
A—
SMACK.
Something feathery, furious, and apparently on a mission for vengeance, slammed into my face at full speed.
I flailed like an idiot, lost balance, and the next thing I knew—
Thud.
Yep. Tree to ground. Zero to death in two seconds.
My back hit the dirt so hard, it left a mark on the grass somehow.
「Congratulations. You've unlocked a new martial art: 'Falling Face First.' Truly inspirational, monkey.」
"You told me to meditate on the tree, you useless AI!" I growled, spitting out leaves that weren't part of my diet plan.
「And I assumed you had some level of bird-detection skills. You really let your species down, Tarzan.」
"Bro, how do you not scan for a dive-bombing feathered creature?"
「It was an angry bird. Defending its territory. Unlike you, it has instincts.」
I rubbed my forehead, glaring up at the tree like it had personally betrayed me. "Next time, we meditate underground."
Dusting off, I muttered under my breath and opened my system panel. A holographic blue screen shimmered before me, numbers updating in real-time.
**Status Menu:**
**Name:** Lucas
**Class:** Mage
**Level:** 9
**Age:** 15
---
**Attributes:**
- **Strength:** 5
- **Agility:** 6 -> 8
- **Endurance:** 6
- **Perception:** 7
- **Intelligence:** 12 -> 13
- **Mana:** 8
- **Divine Creation:** 4
---
**Skills:**
- Light-Elemental Magic
- Mana Control (Lv. 4)
- Divine Protection of Chaos
---
**Notes:**
- **HP:** 400/300 (No way I took 100 Dmg from falling)
- **MP:** 500/500
I slid a few stat points into Agility and Intelligence. Because let's be honest, dodging surprise birds and frying enemies' brains needed priority.
"System, that new Divine Protection ready yet?"
「Indeed, oh Great Brainstormer. Prepare to be impressed by your own genius.」
A new window popped up:
[Divine Protection: Adaptive Venom Synthesis]
Upon contact with any foreign poison, system initiates a blood-reactive synthesis.
Your bloodstream analyzes, adapts, and modifies cell structure.
Result: gradual immunity to that poison type, increased internal resistance, and after full adaptation—
—You become completely immune to it.
(Also mildly terrifying to anything that relies on toxins to win.)
I whistled, low. "Damn, I'm basically building my own vaccine system now."
「Yeah. Pfizer who?」
"If I survive long enough, I'm gonna be a walking, talking bioweapon."
「You already are. Minus the weapon. And the bio.」
I was about to say something snarky back when—
"HELP!! SOMEONE—HELP—!!"
My head snapped toward the scream. Distant, from the edge of Rinascita. My eyes narrowed.
"System."
「Already tracking coordinates. Near the eastern ridgeline. 142 meters. One injured man. One grotesque. Size: Large. Mood: Dirty.」
I cracked my neck and adjusted my cloak. "Fasten your seatbelts."
「Aye aye, monkey. Initiating combat mode. Try not to die dramatically.」
I sprinted. Dirt and leaves flew up behind me as the town's edge faded into trees and cracked roads. A broken carriage lay twisted like a crushed can. Blood splattered the grass. And a man—barely breathing—clutched his stomach, his eyes wild in fear.
Towering above him was it.
The grotesque.
Eight feet tall. Skin mottled like rotting meat. Arms too long, claws too sharp. Its face twisted in some mockery of a scream, no eyes, only a gaping hole of teeth and darkness.
It hadn't noticed me yet.
Good.
"System."
「Battle suggestion: Cut the monologue. Strike fast. Strike hard. Look cool.」
I sighed. "I never get time for a cool opening line."
Then I launched forward.
And the storm began.
The grotesque sniffed the air, its head twitching like it was tuning into some frequency I couldn't hear. That eyeless, fanged face locked onto the man behind me—
Then it saw me.
I could almost hear the gears turning in its rotted brain. It didn't charge. It crouched low, wings folding back, claws flexing.
It was hunting.
「Careful. It's clocking you. Don't blink.」
"I'm blinking right now," I whispered. "What're you gonna do about it?"
「Die faster.」
The grotesque twitched once, then launched.
Not forward. Up.
A blur of wings cut through the canopy. It vanished in the green shadows above the forest—and the next second, it dropped down behind me, claws aimed for my lower back.
I dove, rolling just as bark exploded from the tree beside me.
Fast. Too fast for something that ugly.
It came again, this time head-on, claws wide.
I didn't block. I didn't dodge.
I threw my hand out.
Light bent around my fingers, refracted through three mirrors I summoned midair—angled perfectly like a prism puzzle. A concentrated beam shot through the first, bounced to the second, and then—
BOOM!
The beam slammed into the grotesque's shoulder. Burnt flesh sizzled. It screeched, tumbling back through the brush, smoke rising from the blast.
"Mirror Sniper Shot."
「Only took you thirty seconds to land one. Proud of you, champ.」
"Eat glass."
It shook its head, then leapt sideways—not back, sideways—trying to flank.
I spun, summoned a fourth mirror at my hip, and angled a flash directly at its face.
The grotesque hissed, blinded just enough for me to close the gap. I swung with a blade made of concentrated light, shaped like a sabre but thinner—less slash, more slice.
Clang.
The claw met my blade mid-swing. A screech of grinding light and bone echoed.
Then it smiled.
Its wings folded in, and it twisted underneath the block—slashing at my knee. The hit grazed me, clothes barely holding, and I stumbled.
It followed up immediately. Slashes came in a flurry. One, two, three. I blocked high, ducked low, slid back, repositioned. The forest floor tore up beneath our feet.
「It's baiting you. Back off. It knows you're trying to aim.」
"Yeah, I figured."
I flipped back, holding one hand up like I was scared—letting the light flicker faintly around my fingertips.
The grotesque lunged. My fake fear worked like a charm.
It was on me in an instant, claws aiming for my neck.
That's when I let it happen.
It bit down—hard—on my shoulder. Blood sprayed.
Pain? Yeah. Screaming? Not this time.
「Are you INSANE?」
"Trust the plan."
「Your plan was to feed yourself to it??!」
"Technically yes, but we're not done yet."
Its fangs dug in deeper.
I smiled.
"Welcome to the light show, ugly."
Five mirrors.
All summoned around us in a perfect pentagon. Each calibrated to reflect off the others.
The moment I activated the spell, the entire forest lit up like a miniature sun had exploded.
The beam started above us, passed through one mirror, bounced to another, and hit every point around the grotesque—focusing all of it back into its body.
A prism trap.
Pure light, compressed and ricocheting at such speed it vibrated the air. The grotesque shrieked as its body vaporized—starting from the inside.
Its wings turned to dust.
Its claws melted.
Its scream stopped mid-air.
Then silence.
Ash floated in the air. The grass under us was scorched into a ring.
I dropped to one knee, breathing heavy, clutching the bite wound.
"Totally... worth it."
「You got bit. Bled out a pint. But hey, at least you looked cool.」
"How bad's the wound?"
「It's poisoned. Classic grotesque venom. But hey—good news.」
「Your new divine protection just activated. Blood adapting. Cells mutating. Poison immunity in T-minus 1 hour. You're welcome, walking vaccine.」
I let out a shaky laugh, falling onto my back as the wind stirred the ashes around me.
"Level up, vaporized a monster, almost died..."
I grinned at the sky.
"Just another Tuesday."
I exhaled slowly, the faint scent of burnt feathers and ash still hanging in the air. My shoulder stung where the grotesque bit me, but the pain had numbed now. Probably thanks to the system's "adaptation magic" or whatever it called it.
The man groaned behind me.
Still alive, huh?
I turned, walking over to him. His leg was slashed open, and his tunic was soaked with sweat and blood. Looked like he tried to crawl away at some point but didn't get far.
"Hey," I called out, crouching beside him. "You breathing or just twitching for fun?"
His eyes fluttered open, dull but focused. "You… you saved me…"
"More or less," I muttered.
"I'm a merchant. Name's Darien… Darien Malk." He coughed. "I was heading home. Then that thing—gods—came out of nowhere…"
"Mm."
I stood up, brushing dust off my clothes.
"Wait," he said, grabbing at the grass. "You're not leaving, are you?"
"I was."
"I—I can't walk like this. Please, at least help me move. I have nothing on me, but my cart's not far."
I sighed.
「Healing potion?」
「Using air particles and grass enzymes? Sure, just give me three seconds.」
「Synthesizing… done. Drawing formation. Now.」
Light shimmered in my palm as a small vial spun itself into existence, bubbling faintly with green-gold liquid. The air around it smelled oddly sweet.
Darien's eyes widened like he'd seen divine magic. "H-How did you—?"
I tossed it straight at his face.
Thwack.
He yelped as the cork popped open from the impact, the contents splashing all over his wound and some onto his lips. Within seconds, the cut on his leg began to knit together, flesh rethreading like a loom pulled by unseen hands.
He stared at his leg. Then me.
"What… are you?"
"Complicated," I replied, turning away.
I was already a few steps into the trees when a question slipped into my head. Something was off. That grotesque wasn't wandering. It was hunting.
I turned my head slightly. "Why'd it find you? Grotesques don't just stroll out of their holes in broad daylight."
Darien hesitated. "I… I don't know. I was traveling with my horse cart, heading south—should've been a quiet route. But then I saw something… strange."
He shifted, wincing. "There was a cave. Off the side of the road. Hidden behind thick roots and bramble. Looked… unnatural. The inside was black, like the light didn't reach past the entrance. But there was a blood trail going in. Fresh."
"You went inside?"
"No! I mean… I stopped to look, but before I could even think about it, I felt something wrong. I tried to move on, but then they came. Grotesques. Crawling out from that darkness. I barely escaped."
I looked toward the treeline he'd come from, narrowed my eyes.
"And this cave?"
He shakily raised his arm and pointed behind him, through the thinning trees.
"Just past those hills. You'll smell it before you see it."
I smirked.
"Appreciate it. I'll pay them a visit."
"W-Wait! You're going toward it?! You just fought one! There could be dozens!"
I glanced back, a thin grin on my lips.
"If they crawl from the shadows, then I'll be the light that burns them back in."
He didn't have a reply for that.
I walked.
Branches thinned the deeper I went. The birds stopped singing. The forest went quiet—not peaceful quiet. Dead quiet.
Then… there it was.
Half-covered by moss and hanging roots. A jagged mouth in the earth. And just as Darien said, a trail of blood—fresh, smeared, leading inward like bait.
A grotesque, smaller than the one I fought, slithered along the edge of the rocks and crept back inside, talons scraping the stone.
「System.」
「Analyzing…」
「Confirmed. Underground network detected.」
「Lifeforms: 14 grotesques. Possibly more deeper in.」
「This is not a lair. It is a hive.」
My smile vanished.
"A hive... in broad daylight?"
I stared into the darkness. My reflection shimmered in the edge of a summoned mirror beside me.
"Then I guess I'll have to break it from the inside."
I stepped forward, one foot into the cave's shadow—
Then a hand clamped over my mouth and pulled me back behind a tree with enough force to shake my skull.
My back hit bark. I instinctively summoned a mirror-shard in my palm—
But I stopped. Because right then…
Grotesques poured out.
Five of them.
Their claws scraped stone. Wings twitched as they sniffed the air, slinking around the cave's mouth like vultures sniffing meat. One of them paused. Turned.
I didn't breathe.
After a moment, they slithered back into the dark, one by one. Vanishing like mist back into the cave.
The hand let go.
I pulled away immediately, turning to face whoever the hell had grabbed me—
But what I saw wasn't normal.
He was tall—just slightly taller than me—but his presence felt like something that shouldn't be standing here. His face was unreadable, sculpted like it was carved from the idea of silence. But it was his eyes that froze me—
Fractured.
Not metaphorically. Actually fractured, like shattered glass barely holding form.
And his veins—cold blue lines, like frozen rivers beneath his skin.
Was he the one Eve saw a few days ago in the bar, the one she said was staring at us?
"What the hell are you?" I asked.
His voice was ice.
"Azrael."
No emotion. No tone. No change in posture. The name came out like a statement, not a name. Not a person. Just a fact.
I took half a step back, eyes narrowing. "…That's not a normal name."
"Neither is the idea of walking into a Grotesque hive alone."
"…Excuse me?"
He turned slightly, still not looking at me.
"That is not a lair. It is a façade. A mask layered over death."
"…And you know this how?" I asked, trying not to bristle. "Who even are you to—"
"Quiet kid."
He cut me off, voice still devoid of any color or care.
"Overconfident. Reckless. A statistical liability in human form."
I clenched my jaw. "Watch your mouth."
"If you were a threat, I would have neutralized you already. But you can provide some value in this."
My fingers twitched.
"You believe this is a common nest. That is your first mistake."
I didn't say anything. Not yet.
"There is no chaos here. Only order masked in madness. These Grotesques do not roam. They coordinate."
"…What the hell does that mean?"
He turned to face me fully now. Still no emotion. Not a flicker of expression.
"They are being led."
"By a Swarm Tyrant."
Silence. My thoughts blanked for a second before I spoke.
"That's impossible. Grotesques don't have leaders. They're rabid monsters."
"That is your second mistake. Assuming the known rules of vermin apply here."
He took a slow step forward, eyes never blinking.
"You saw five emerge, yes? All returned. You will assume there are five inside."
"Wrong."
He raised a finger and pointed toward the cave.
"The top layer is fabricated. A visual choke point constructed by terrain and behavioral control. Grotesques intentionally enter and exit from the same visible path to mislead threat perception."
"The cave narrows at the start. You assume limited space. But below that bottleneck, it expands drastically underground—spanning three kilometers in multiple directions."
I blinked. "You measured it?"
"Auditory echo and seismic resonance. The pressure shift when the Grotesques exited altered airflow. I calculated based on the number of seconds the air took to return to baseline from my visual perception and auditory cues."
"…You what?"
"I can estimate around minimum of 12,000 hostiles within."
"No way."
「Lucas.」
「Analyzing external subject's logic pathways.」
「Mathematical model in progress…」
「Confirmed: Probability of subterranean structure holding over 10,000 Grotesques is above 86% given echo patterns and airflow analysis.」
「Margin of error within 2.4%.」
My stomach dropped.
You've gotta be kidding me.
"You believed you were hunting," Azrael said coldly.
"You were the bait. And they let you kill one."
I stayed quiet.
"They want you to walk in. They want a report to spread. So that more children with fire and swords crawl into the dark."
His shattered eyes reflected the cave.
"Because this… is not a cave."
"It is a nest."
I took a slow step forward.
The wind shifted again.
This time, I didn't move carefully—I moved like I meant it. Straight toward the mouth of the cave, light curling faintly around my fingertips, reflections dancing up my forearm. The same grass and air from before began to sharpen, bend under my will, the system reacting like it always did.
Ready.
"Don't get in my way," I said without looking back at him.
"I can handle them."
Azrael didn't move. Didn't blink.
"You believe power is enough."
I stopped.
"Your light magic is remarkable. Efficient in structure. Rare in clarity."
"…Then stay out of it."
"But you are not walking into death."
His voice didn't raise. He simply explained it like someone reciting the properties of a corpse.
"You are walking into an optimization trap built by organisms bred on deception."
"A nest does not protect its young. It weaponizes them."
I turned to face him, irritation tugging at my chest.
"You think I don't know that? I don't need anyone."
"Incorrect."
I narrowed my eyes.
"You underestimate the nest's engineering."
He stepped closer, fingers behind his back like a strategist giving a war briefing.
"Trap one: Directional Sound Reflection. The walls are curved in select sectors to redirect sound behind the attacker—mimicking movement from the rear."
"Trap two: Thermal Nesting. Grotesques store body heat in decoy tunnels, tricking thermal magic and illusion-detection spells into pursuing false signals."
"Trap three: Hive Reaction Protocol. Once more than ten Grotesques are slain in under thirty seconds, pheromones release and mutate the hive into aggression-state—drawing every active Grotesque into the kill zone."
"You will not win in that chaos."
He wasn't guessing.
He knew.
"…So what?" I muttered. "You want me to bring backup? I don't work with people."
"You will. Or you will die."
My fists clenched.
"I will help you raid the nest, I have my own reasons. But one more is required."
He raised a single hand and pointed toward the cave's base.
"Their nests are not straight paths. They are inverted mazes."
"At least 243 unique tunnels confirmed from seismic ripple variance. Depth approximated at 2,000 meters. Multiple vertical shafts. Most paths loop, collapse, or separate from the primary route."
"Without a third party monitoring sector rotations or passage compression, survival rate dips below 18%."
「Lucas.」
「Azrael's estimate matches my internal calculations.」
「Confirmed: Minimum of 243 pathways below. Thermal decay and echo length confirms hive structure layout is deeper than any known cave system in Rinascita's region.」
「With current stats, your chance of survival is 21%.」
「With Azrael: 76%.」
「With Azrael and third party: 98.7%.」
「Reminder: You were looking for a party to begin Leviathan Hunt Protocol.」
「Strategic Suggestion: Gamble with this entity. He shares similar output and pattern recognition to System Level 5 cores. Almost identically as me while being purely of logic.」
…
I stayed quiet.
98.7%...
Eve's voice flickered in the back of my head. She mentioned someone like him stared at her at the bar.
"There was one man... no, something else. Cold. Inhuman. Like he forgot how to stop thinking and only stared at me calculating."
I looked at Azrael again.
His expression never changed. Not once.
He hadn't blinked once since we met.
He spoke like something not born—but calculated into existence. And the way he processed, thought, anticipated—
It was similar to my system.
Too similar.
"…Tch."
I nodded once. "Fine."
Azrael gave no reaction.
"We raid it," I said. "Together."
"Affirmative."
"We find a third."
"You already have one in mind."
"…Maybe."
I turned and walked first this time.
Azrael followed.
Both of us vanished back into the forest's shade—
Away from the hive. For now.
Rinascita waited.
And with it… a third.
Someone suicidal enough to join us.
Azrael walked behind me like some kind of horror monster with no reactions or face.
Dude hadn't made a single sound since we left the area. No twig snapped, no breath, not even a blink. I checked. Bro hasn't blinked once.
Creepy.
I shoved my hands in my pockets, my boots crunching against the dirt as we left the shadow of the forest and the outskirts of Rinascita came into view.
Hey, system. You analyzed all that crap back there in like five seconds. How the hell did you even do that?
「 Magical Recognition Protocol activated mid-analysis. I scanned residual kinetic frequency imprints left in the air and soil by grotesque movement—compared it with thermal residue patterns on the outer walls using Arcane Refraction Scans. Then I overlapped that with pulse-based vibration readings. Easy. 98.7% accurate. You're welcome, peasant. 」
...That sounds like absolute imaginary tech on steroids.
「 That's because it is. You should try being more like me instead of walking around aura farming for no reason. 」
I grunted, scratching my head. "Fair."
But seriously—how the hell did that guy figure it out without a system? Like, that logic dump he did back there was full-on boss level.
「 That's what's bothering me. He's human. No magic signature. No artificial enhancements. Not even a mana fluctuation. 」
I glanced back again.
Azrael still hadn't blinked.
Still had that poker face. Still looked like a guy who'd overanalyze chess to kill boredom and then invent new chess rules just to ruin your day.
Just—vibe-less.
I Looked back ahead.
"You remember what he said?"
"Trap one: Directional Sound Reflection. The walls are curved in select sectors to redirect sound behind the attacker—mimicking movement from the rear."
"Trap two: Thermal Nesting. Grotesques store body heat in decoy tunnels, tricking thermal magic and illusion-detection spells into pursuing false signals."
"Trap three: Hive Reaction Protocol. Once more than ten Grotesques are slain in under thirty seconds, pheromones release and mutate the hive into aggression-state—drawing every active Grotesque into the kill zone."
Yeah. That.
System, hypothetically, how would you figure that out if he didn't mention it?
「 I would listen to minute sound displacement using ultra-low frequency detection spells. Then monitor heat trails and air density variation through thermal suppression arrays. Noise suppression spells would be my default. Combine that with passive biosignature trackers using magical dust particles suspended in the atmosphere. 98.7% precision. Again. Peasant. 」
I blinked.
"…That's still cheating. Now—how did Azrael pull it off without any of that?"
System paused.
「 He likely used natural physics. Which means... he observed the entrance slope for audio redirection. Sloped walls with inconsistent echo would mean misdirected acoustics. That's trap one. 」
「 For thermal nesting, he might've measured heat refraction at a distance using black glass—like a polished obsidian lens. Those bounce heat differently. He would've tracked micro shifts in heat shimmer against the light angle. 」
「 As for the pheromone-based hive reaction—he likely studied their patrol paths and guessed. Biological creatures that operate in swarms often use rapid chemical signaling. A few corpses dragged out of the cave, undisturbed after prolonged time, means killing them in short intervals probably triggers defense instincts. In other words—he reverse engineered their behavior like a biologist… just by watching them from the tree line. 」
I stopped walking for half a second.
"…Bro, that guy's got no life."
「 Affirmative. Man's running quantum physics off brain cells and spite. 」
I looked back again.
Still no blink.
Still just—standing there.
I sighed. "I'm gonna die with this dude, aren't I?"
「 If you're lucky. 」
We stepped into Rinascita a few minutes later. The bustle of the town always had a rhythm to it—noisy, unpredictable, like the pulse of something alive.
The bar wasn't too crowded, surprisingly. A few adventurers were drinking and pretending their PTSD was just character development. Typical.
Azrael and I walked in together. I headed toward a corner booth by instinct, and to no one's surprise, he followed silently.
We sat down across from each other.
He didn't speak.
He didn't move.
I swear, if this guy blinks before the drinks arrive, I'll give up Light Magic and become a farmer.
The bar was dimly lit, a soft orange glow brushing against wooden walls scarred by time, blade marks, and poor life decisions.
I leaned back in my chair, arms crossed.
Azrael sat across from me with that same poker face like he was carved out of sarcasm and zero personality. His hands rested on the table like he was at a business meeting and not, y'know, in a bar with sweaty adventurers one sneeze away from murder charges.
"So," I smirked, "wanna play a game?"
Azrael blinked. Finally. Civilization.
"Observation," I grinned. "You say something about someone in here just by looking. Then I go. Winner gets to finish the other's drink."
Azrael's dead stare didn't shift. "You drink alcohol?"
"I drink everything," I said proudly.
"Even human liquid?" he asked without a blink.
"I—what? No, that's—shut up. Go first."
He glanced around once—once—then pointed at a guy near the bar.
"That man's left shoulder is ten degrees lower than his right. His armor buckle's been refastened in a hurry. Judging by the way he favors his right foot and the thin blood trail beneath the greaves—he's injured. Likely stabbed three hours ago. No medic but magic used for recovery."
He sipped water like he just ordered doom off the menu.
I opened my mouth.
Paused.
System. Just tell me some details, I can't really observe much on my own. Plus cheating is an art!
「 Already recording. Go with 'guy in blue has chronic trust issues due to the way he clenches his mug.' 」
I smirked, turned to speak—
Azrael cut in: "The man in blue is left-handed. His mug is in his right hand. That's his non-dominant side. He clutches it tight to suppress tremors in the dominant hand. Possibly poison withdrawal or a rejected curse. Trust issues wouldn't explain his dilated pupils."
My hand slowly went down.
…Did he just counter my cheat code?
「 Bro just Uno reversed your existence. 」
I glared. "You've got cameras in your eyeballs, don't you?"
"I simply pay attention," he said, deadpan.
At that moment, the bartender came over, slamming down two mugs of something frothy and questionable.
"On the house," he grunted, before waddling off.
I grabbed mine, but Azrael just stared at his with a faint tilt of the head.
"We're sitting across each other," he said blankly. "Alone. Late night. Two drinks. The man by the counter is probably assuming we're on a date."
I paused mid-sip.
"…Bro."
He just stared.
I slowly tilted my mug and poured half of it on the wooden floor.
"Respectfully," I muttered.
「 That was the most romantic gesture I've ever seen. 10/10. 」
I rubbed my temples. "You need social training, man. You ever been hugged?"
"No. Have you ever thought before speaking?"
I blinked.
"…Okay, that was a solid roast."
I turned to System. Yo, tag in. Roast him.
「 On it. Lucas.exe loading… I'll speak for you. 」
「 Hey Azrael, nice personality you got there. Shame it came free with the emotionless NPC starter pack. 」
Azrael blinked, then narrowed his eyes. "What… is an 'NPC'?"
I stiffened.
Oh crap.
Shit. That's an Earth thing.* I quickly changed the topic, slamming my mug down like it owed me rent.
"Anyway—back to business."
Azrael raised a brow.
"We raid that nest together. Full throttle. You cover the logical deathtrap strategies, I handle the crowd control. We'll wipe it clean."
He sipped his drink, still unreadable. "And?"
"And…" I leaned forward, "I was also looking for a party. To hunt something way nastier than Grotesques."
"And what is that?" he asked.
"The Leviathan."
He didn't even blink. "And you want me involved. What's in it for me?"
I smirked. "I can give you something in return."
He leaned forward slowly. "I want three things. One—access to the internal schematics of your reasoning skills capabilities. Two—your drink. You poured it, I want it. And three…"
He paused dramatically.
"…a duck."
I blinked.
"…What?"
"A duck."
I just stared.
「 Man said duck like it's a currency. 」
"You're joking," I muttered.
"I've never joked in my life."
I rubbed my eyes. "Okay. I'm gonna pretend I understood that."
And then—
A voice cut in behind us.
"Well well, looks like you boys are planning a little suicide run."
Azrael and I both turned at the same time.
And I nearly dropped my mug.
A woman.
Not just any woman—she was stunning. And when I say stunning, I mean the kind of "I've-waited-my-whole-life-to-see-this" level of stunning. Her age was tough to place, but I'd guess she was somewhere between 19 and 20. She had that graceful, mature beauty that only people with too much confidence and too little humility could pull off.
Her eyes were a striking shade of blue—clear, vibrant, and filled with a quiet intensity. They were the kind of eyes that seemed to hold your attention without even trying. And then there was her hair: long, flowing, and platinum blonde, catching the light like strands of spun silver. It shimmered softly, adding an almost unreal glow to her already impossible presence.
I blinked, shaking my head. Right, magical world. Of course.
But the beauty didn't stop there—her smile. It was so sweet, so inviting, it almost made me forget that I'm supposed to be a bitter, sarcastic hero or whatever.
Then, with a voice that could melt stone, she spoke.
"Hello," she said, her voice like honey dripping from a golden comb, "My name is Navina. I'm the Sword Saint of Reflex."
She smiled again, a small, almost flirtatious tug at the corners of her lips. "I'd like to join you two, to go to the nest of Grotesques."
Her voice was like music, soft and seductive, but I didn't miss the underlying seriousness behind her words.
Oh boy.
I turned back to the table, my thoughts shifting faster than a dying man. Seems like I've found the third suicidal member of my party.
I could almost hear the System snort in my head.
「 Oh, great. A beautiful, dangerous woman with an obvious death wish. What could go wrong? 」
I sighed and glanced over at Azrael, who had still not so much as moved a muscle or cracked a single emotion. He was sipping his drink like it was the most normal thing in the world. Poker face still in full swing.
I shook my head, deadpan. "Suicidal sword saint girl, NPC, and lastly... me."
Then I felt the System's presence, like an overenthusiastic guide telling me too much.
「 Don't forget about your masterful AI, me. I'm the real MVP. 」
I could feel my soul being drained from my body in real time.
My life is ass, I thought, internally cringing at how everything seemed to spiral into more chaos than I could handle.
Navina just stood there, her smile never faltering.
"Would you like to discuss the details of the raid, Lucas?" she asked, her tone still sweet, still hypnotic.
I tried to focus. Focus, Lucas. She's not here for your existential crisis. She's here to get herself killed with you.
I ran my fingers through my hair, still processing everything. What is this, some sort of party of doom?
And then, before I could say anything, Azrael leaned back, breaking the silence with one sentence that almost made me choke on my own spit.
"I assume you both plan on dying together."
Navina turned to him, her eyes narrowing slightly, but the smile never left. "I see you're the cold one in this group. A pleasure."
"I don't enjoy pleasantries," Azrael responded without skipping a beat, taking another sip of his drink. "But I suppose we will all die soon enough."
My life. I felt my inner monologue descend into the void.
Navina turned back to me, her eyes sparkling with what could only be described as mischief. "So, can I join, Lucas?"
"Sure," I muttered, resigned to this death march of doom. "We can go raid the nest of Grotesques... and maybe not die."
System chimed in, almost too excited for the impending disaster.
「 Ooooh, I smell a good ol' suicide mission. I'll be guiding this disaster. Don't worry, Lucas. I got your back... as always. 」
I stared blankly ahead, wondering just how much I had to suffer before some semblance of sanity would show up in my life again.
Azrael didn't seem phased, as always, and Navina was still smiling like a kitten who'd just found a new toy.
I sighed deeply, the weight of impending death weighing heavily on my shoulders.
Well, at least they're good looking. I guess that's a perk... right?
Wait no that Azrael guy sucks, total mood dropper.
The world wasn't going to make sense anytime soon. I could feel it.
And honestly? I couldn't care less.
Time to burn their nest.
--------------------------------------------------------
But something else was waiting while Lucas was there casually with his new party.
The Swarm Tyrant.
The deepest, darkest layer of the Grotesque nest was a place of decay, where shadows clung to the walls like the whispers of ancient, forgotten horrors. In the center of this cavernous expanse sat the Swarm Tyrant, a grotesque being of terrifying size, its form an amalgamation of muscle and jagged bone.
Its eyes, glowing with an eerie, unnatural light, scanned the cavern as its massive, clawed hands rested on the armrests of its throne. The Tyrant's mind was linked to the swarm, directing their movements through waves of thought that reverberated through the very air.
It was in this darkness that the Grotesque approached, its hulking body shifting uneasily as it neared the throne. This one was different from the others—its eyes, though warped, carried a glint of intelligence. It had witnessed the destruction of a large portion of their ranks.
The Grotesque knelt before the Swarm Tyrant, its voice dripping with obedient subservience. Its words were broken, its tone reverent yet filled with dread.
"Master… 26 of our brethren… fallen," it rasped.
The Swarm Tyrant's glowing eyes narrowed, its mind immediately processing the gravity of the news. Its voice, deep and menacing, reverberated through the cavern.
"Who dares… disrupt my swarm?"
The Grotesque's form stiffened, and it spoke again, the words slow and deliberate, almost fearful. "Not... not a monster... A human... A human laid the traps…"
The Swarm Tyrant's brow furrowed in confusion. "What do you mean by 'traps'? Speak clearly, fool!"
The Grotesque's voice trembled, but it continued, its tone shifting to something more desperate, more terrified. "The human… laid traps near Levinton… designed with knowledge… of our biology. Traps that were impossible to avoid—instant death. They... they used the very essence of our being against us. They knew our weaknesses."
The Swarm Tyrant's mind reeled. It knew its own grotesques were formidable, difficult to defeat in numbers, but the idea that a human—mere flesh and blood—had crafted such calculated, deadly traps was beyond comprehension.
"A human…" the Tyrant muttered, its voice a low growl. "A human capable of such traps… Impossible."
The Grotesque shuddered, its body twitching as it recalled the nightmare it had witnessed. "Yes… the human knew our weaknesses... used sound… direction, temperature… pheromone confusion. Our senses were hijacked—no room for escape. And the worst… they were designed to be undetectable, invisible until it was too late."
The Swarm Tyrant's clawed hands tightened into fists, its rage palpable. "What human… did this?"
The Grotesque shook its head, its voice now almost a whisper. "The one with the blue eyes. The one we killed… he spoke the truth, master. The borders of Levinton are surrounded by traps, but it is not there we should focus our efforts. The human… the traps… they are not the end. There is another... another place, a town... Rinascita. We must turn our focus there."
The Swarm Tyrant's thoughts churned. The human with blue eyes—the one they had killed not long ago—had been right all along. The creature had spoken of a greater threat lying ahead, of traps and dangers they had underestimated. The Tyrant now realized that killing him had been a monumental mistake. The human could have been a valuable asset, a source of information.
"It seems… I have made an error," the Tyrant muttered, a hint of regret in its voice. "That human could have been useful. Too much information was lost."
It raised its head, its dark, glowing eyes blazing with newfound focus. "Prepare the others. We march to Rinascita."
The Grotesque bowed its head before leaving to carry out its orders. The Swarm Tyrant remained seated, its mind now focused on the human, the one who had laid out the traps that took down twenty-six of its kind. No one had ever been able to calculate their weaknesses so precisely.
No one had ever been so dangerous.
The Tyrant clenched its fists, fury and admiration mingling. "This human… I will deal with him soon enough."
It leaned forward, its voice cold and full of contempt. "The Devil's Successor. That is what he will be known as. And I will be the one to end him."
The scene shifts.
4/10/2017 - 10:32 AM
The morning sky over Levinton was bright and clear, the sun shining down on the rolling hills and dense forests. Birds chirped in the trees, their songs filling the air with the sounds of life. Three figures walked together on the dirt path leading into the forest—Sophia, Isaac, and...
Arius...
Sophia's pace was steady, her sharp eyes scanning their surroundings with practiced ease. Isaac, ever the talkative one, kept up with her step for step, his voice carrying on the breeze as he made idle conversation. But Arius… Arius was different.
There was something about him, something that set him apart from the rest. His expression was calm, but there was a quiet intensity to him that never left his face. And despite the mundane walk they were taking toward the training grounds, there was an unmistakable tension in the air
Something dark lingered around Arius—an aura of mystery, of danger.
Issac glanced at Arius, noticing the subtle changes in his demeanor. He'd known he wasn't like the others, but today, something about him seemed different. Was he really human?
"Arius…" Isaac said, his voice low. "What's going on with you today? You're… not yourself."
Arius didn't respond right away. Instead, his gaze lingered ahead, focusing on the distant silhouette of the training grounds where Celia usually practiced. His expression remained unreadable.
Sophia's heart skipped a beat as she caught a glimpse of his eyes—those icy, unblinking blue eyes that seemed to pierce right through her.
Was he the Devil's Successor?
Because what happened next… only confirmed it.