'Hey, this might be bad. Did we really have to run?' Vell thought, ducking into a grimy alleyway. His heart was still pounding from the escape.
[Yes. It was too risky to stay there.]
'Shit, I can't believe we just ran from the damn Association. The biggest power in this part of the world.' He slid down a wall, catching his breath. His grand plan to become a player and get his life back on track had already gone completely off the rails.
[We should hide in a dungeon. There, you can finally use your skills to their fullest and become stronger.]
'Haahh, dammit, my life is the worst.' He needed a way to get into a dungeon, but only registered players were allowed inside. They had verification systems at every entrance. He thought it over for a long time, but no solution came to mind.
[I know what you are worried about, but there's no need to fret. You simply need to tame a stealthy beast. Do that, and you will gain its skills for yourself.]
The system's words made him pause. "But where am I supposed to find a beast outside the dungeons and towers?"
[Hm? Master, what do you think a beast is?]
"What do you mean? A beast is just a monster, right?"
[That's true, but why do you think beasts are only monsters? What is the definition of a beast?]
He thought about it for a second, and then it clicked. The system was playing word games with him, but it had a point.
'...I see. So that means any animal can be considered a beast?'
[Now you get it. All living things except humans can be classified as beasts. So you know where I'm going with this, right?]
A slow smile spread across his face. "Yeah, I get it. And I know the perfect animal for the job."
He grew up in this city. He knew all the spots where stray cats and dogs gathered, but that wasn't what he had in mind. His goal was a special place, a large, ancient tree on the edge of the city. A place where he could find the one animal he knew he could count on.
He jumped to his feet and ran, not through the main streets, but through the city's underbelly—the sewers. Despite what people thought, the sewers here were actually pretty clean, thanks to some old city-wide magic that kept them flushed out. He navigated the maze-like tunnels with an ease that felt as natural as breathing. For the first time in months, he felt a genuine warmth in his chest, a flicker of nostalgia.
"I did so much down here," he murmured to himself, a wry smile on his face. "Ditching school, stealing snacks, first kisses… ah, the good times."
He passed familiar spots, carvings on the walls he and his friends had made years ago. His pace slowed as he let the memories wash over him. But as he turned a corner, he froze. Up ahead, a group of people were drinking and laughing around a makeshift fire.
'Shit. I was so distracted I didn't sense them sooner.'
Before he could duck back around the corner, one of them spotted him. A guy with messy hair and a familiar, stupid grin waved him over.
"Come on, man, join us!"
"Hm? Who the hell is that?" another one grumbled.
"I don't know, but I don't like sharing my beer."
"You guys need to lighten up. What's the harm in letting him have a few?" A girl with bright pink hair got up and wobbled over to him. She leaned against his chest, trying to look cute and seductive.
"You're pretty hot," she slurred, her eyes unfocused. "You remind me of—" She blinked, her vision finally clearing as she got a good look at his face. She stumbled back and fell on her ass.
"Y-y-y-you."
The others, confused, came over to see what was going on. He just stood there, waiting.
"Hey, what's the matter? Is he that ugly—" The guy's words died in his throat, his eyes widening in shock.
"Vell?"
"What, that's Vell?"
"Yeah, there's no doubt, that's him. What do you think you're doing back here?" The first guy, the one with the stupid grin, wasn't grinning anymore. He stepped forward, his face a mask of anger, and grabbed Vell's shirt, ready to throw a punch.
"Answer me, asshole. What the fuck are you doing here? Was once not enough? You came back for more?"
His fingers twitched, the dark energy inside him humming in response to his anger. But he stayed calm, his gaze sweeping over his former friends. Each of them wore the same expression of disgust. The girl with the pink hair got up and walked toward him, her face a mixture of pity and contempt. She looked at him for a few seconds, then slapped him hard across the face. Tears welled up in her eyes.
"You disgust me."
"..."
He was shoved back as they all stood in front of him, a wall of accusation and hate.
"We trusted you, and you turned out to be a murderer… no, even that is too nice for something like you. Just leave. Your presence is not welcome in this city."
He stared at them, the sting on his cheek fading into a dull ache in his chest. He finally spoke, his voice low and even.
"I wonder… no proof was ever brought forward. I wasn't even given a chance to defend myself. It felt as if this was all planned to ruin my life. But who knows? Maybe I'm wrong. I want to know why my best friends didn't give me a chance either. Especially you." He looked at the pink-haired girl, his ex-girlfriend. "I expected you, at least, to ask for my side of the story."
The moment he stopped talking, he could sense their nervousness. They started stuttering, avoiding his gaze. It confirmed everything. This was all someone's doing. The look in his eyes changed, turning cold as a winter night. He struggled to hold himself back, the urge to unleash his new power almost overwhelming.
[Master, calm down. Remember the objective.]
'You're right. Let's get out of here.'
He started to walk past them, but they couldn't just leave it alone. They couldn't keep their mouths shut.
"You killed your best friend, you fucking psycho! He was only nineteen! How could you? How could you end such an inn—"
Something inside him snapped.
Before he even realized he had moved, he had grabbed the girl who was yelling by the mouth, his grip like iron. He squeezed, silencing her mid-sentence, and then, with a surge of raw, dark power, he threw her against the sewer wall. The impact was sickeningly final. She slid to the ground, her body limp.
Dead.
'Sorry, system. But I can't let this slide.'
He turned to his other "friends," who were now staring in stunned silence at their dead companion.
"You know," he said, his voice dangerously calm, "I've thought about this for a long time. How should I get my revenge on the people who stabbed me in the back? The people I cared about? I thought really hard about it, but part of me still wanted to try and talk to you guys. I guess that won't work out." His eyes flickered with dark energy. "I'm not sure what deal you made, or with whom, but for making my life a living hell, you will all pay with your lives."
He vanished from sight.
He reappeared in the middle of them, his hand grabbing his ex-girlfriend's face. He slammed her head into the hard concrete floor.
"Sorry to ruin your pretty face, bae."
He pressed down, harder and harder, until her head was a broken mess.
"Now then, guys," he said, standing up and looking at the two remaining, terrified men. "What kind of death should I give you?"
They didn't wait for an answer. They turned and ran, scrambling over each other in a frantic, desperate escape. He watched them go, a strange mix of rage and sorrow churning in his chest. For a moment, he felt a flicker of satisfaction, but it was quickly replaced by something else… something cold and empty.
He couldn't let them go. Not now. If rumors spread, he'd be hunted down for real this time.
[Master, this is a waste of time. We should leave immediately.]
'I understand. But I can't let them live after coming this far.'
He slowly walked after them, picking up two empty beer bottles from their makeshift camp. He gripped them tightly, his mana flowing into his fingers. With a flick of his wrist, he threw them. They flew through the air with terrifying speed and accuracy.
One of the men sensed something and looked back. The last thing he saw was a bottle piercing through his friend's eye and into his brain. He watched his friend fall lifelessly to the ground before the second bottle found its mark, embedding itself in his own throat.
He collapsed, gurgling on his own blood, and then everything went silent.
Vell stood in the quiet sewer tunnel, surrounded by the bodies of the people he once called friends. He looked at his hands, covered in their blood.
"…My heart aches," he whispered to the empty tunnel. "Was this really the right choice?"