'Hey, what did you do to me?'
He finally crawled out of the sewers, the stench of death and stale beer clinging to his clothes. He found himself in a quiet, forgotten section of the city, the kind of place where buildings were left to crumble and weeds grew through the cracks in the pavement.
[I don't understand the question.]
'Don't play dumb with me,' he shot back in his mind, his hands still trembling slightly. 'You know exactly what I'm talking about. Why did I kill them? Why didn't I feel anything but anger? I would never kill anyone.'
[I didn't do anything to your emotions. That was all you. Think back: how have you felt toward the people who accused you? What did you want to do to them?]
He stopped, leaning against a rusted fence. The system was right. He thought back to those long, cold nights on the streets, to the hunger that gnawed at his belly, to the endless parade of disgusted faces. He remembered how his sadness had slowly, day by day, curdled into a deep, burning hatred for everyone. He had fantasized about this, about making them all pay. The discovery of the system had distracted him, given him a new focus, but the rage had never really left. It was just… sleeping.
The encounter at the crepe shop was the first warning. His urge to kill the old vendor had been intense, but he'd managed to hold it back. His friends, though… they were his breaking point. They just kept talking, kept poking at the wound until it burst open. He had snapped.
"Haha," he laughed, a dry, humorless sound. "I thought I was over this, but it seems I still harbor a deep hatred for them. I need to be careful from now on. Meeting more people like that could actually break my mind."
[Yes, you should control yourself more. But I should also tell you that something was lifted when you killed them. It felt like a chain binding you. I'm not entirely sure, but if my hunch is correct, this may be bigger than you think.]
'Yeah, it doesn't make sense for everyone to suddenly hate me without any proof. A player has to be behind this.' He thought of Kana again, of the guilt he saw in her eyes when she found him in the alley. 'Maybe I should meet her and ask her about all this. She was the one who accused me, after all. And that look she gave me back then… ugh, whatever. Let's focus on why we came here.'
He pushed the troubling thoughts aside and continued his journey to the edge of the city. It didn't take him long to find the massive, ancient tree he was looking for. But as he got closer, something felt wrong. The air was foul, sticky, carrying the smell of death and decay. He saw dead animals scattered on the ground—birds, squirrels, a fox—all lifeless. And carved deep into the trunk of the tree was a symbol he recognized with a jolt of alarm: a Christian cross.
"What the fuck."
Before he could process the scene, something slammed into the side of his head with the force of a battering ram. The world exploded in a flash of white, and he went flying, crashing hard against the tree's trunk.
'What? Who kicked me? I couldn't sense them.'
His vision was a blurry mess, the world swimming in and out of focus. He could hear voices, muffled and distant, but he couldn't make out the words. His head throbbed, a sharp, piercing pain that made it hard to think. After what felt like an eternity, his senses slowly started to return.
"Why did you kick him so hard?" a girl's voice asked.
"What the hell are you talking about? That was a normal kick, barely any power behind it," a rough male voice replied. "Tch, weak bastard. If he dies, I'm in trouble."
'Ugh, shit. Did I let my guard down? No, whoever kicked me is just way stronger than I am. This might be bad.'
His vision finally cleared. Five players stood in the distance, all wearing the standard gear of low-to-mid-rank adventurers. They didn't seem to be paying much attention to him, confident that he was down for the count. He took this chance. While they were busy talking, he slipped away, melting into the shadows at the base of the tree. This was his old stomping ground; they'd made a big mistake taking their eyes off him.
"Uh, guys…" one of them said, looking back at the tree. "He's gone."
They all spun around, their expressions shifting from confidence to confusion. He was truly gone.
"Fuck."
They scrambled to find him, but he was already hidden in a place they'd never think to look—a secret entrance at the base of the tree, covered by roots and dirt, that led to a small underground den. He'd dug it himself years ago with Rynn.
He hid there, his mind still reeling from the kick. 'Dammit, what should I do now? Those guys are too powerful for me to fight.'
[The animal you mentioned. Find it. Immediately.]
'Right. Let me call him.'
He put his fingers to his lips and whistled, not a loud sound, but a series of quick, rhythmic notes. He repeated the pattern for about twenty seconds, then waited. For a moment, there was only silence. Then, a small, furry head popped into the entrance of the den. It sniffed the air, its whiskers twitching, then its eyes lit up with recognition. It jumped down, making happy, chittering noises as it landed on his lap.
"Hahaha, whoa there, little guy. Easy," he whispered, patting the small weasel as it rolled around, overjoyed to see him after so long.
Their peaceful reunion was shattered by a massive explosion that shook the entire tree. The secret entrance caved in, burying them in dirt and roots. He managed to claw his way out, his little weasel friend clinging to his shoulder, but the five players were waiting for him. This time, they surrounded him, leaving no room to escape.
'Guess we're screwed.' He held his little friend close, protecting it from the threat.
"Okay, man, enough," one of the players said, stepping forward. He seemed young, with intelligent eyes that seemed to read right through him. "Just come back with us. I'm not sure what you did, but it can't be worth all this trouble, right?"
He looked at the one speaking, then at the others. He stood up slowly, showing no signs of a struggle. "…what rank are you guys?"
They looked at each other before the one who had kicked him, a guy with an perpetually annoyed expression, spoke up. "Why does that matter? Just come back with us. My patience is growing thin."
The girl in the group stepped forward, sensing no hostility from him. She approached and gently tickled his little weasel under the chin. The weasel, usually hostile to strangers, surprisingly leaned into her touch.
'Hm? She's usually so wary. Interesting.'
"Hi, my name is Jolly," she said with a small smile. "It's nice to meet you. I'm sorry we're being harsh. We're just following orders. You asked what rank we are. Give me a sec… here."
She handed him her player license. He glanced at her name, rank, and age.
"Apprentice rank? Really?" He looked from the card to her. "The energy I sense from you is quite strong. So this is a real player, huh?"
He returned the license, his eyes scanning the others. They all seemed friendly enough, except for the angry one.
"Yeah, we're low-ranked players, but we try our best."
'Yeah, I remember seeing a list of player ranks years ago. Apprentice is the second-lowest rank, but this… this power is from one of the weakest? Just how strong are the higher ranks?'
He looked at her again, deciding to take a chance. "Can we talk?"
"Sure. Is this about why the Association is after you?"
"Yeah… I'm not a player yet. I only recently awakened in a town far from here. I came this morning to register, but things were more complicated than I thought. I heard you need an ID to enter the test, so I went to register. The woman at the desk told me to grab this strange orb, which I did, but then it broke. She looked at me with a strange expression, and moments later, I found myself being chased as if I had done something wrong."
She listened, her expression thoughtful. His story made sense, especially with his ragged clothes, but she could tell he was holding something back.
"If that's true, then why did you run? They didn't say they wanted to hurt you, right? So why run?"
He sighed, knowing he had to show her. "It would be faster if I showed you. Can you give me your hand?"
She hesitated, studying him closely, but decided to trust him. He gently took her hand and gradually poured his pure mana into her body. The moment his mana touched hers, it was repelled with a force that pushed him back. The others, thinking he was attacking her, moved to strike, but she held up a hand. "Stop!"
"What was that?" she asked, looking from her hand to him, her eyes wide with intrigue. 'It felt like… like his energy was clean, and mine was dirty. Why?' She stepped right in front of him, staring into his eyes, waiting for an answer.
"Do you know something called corrupted mana?" he asked quietly.
"Corrupted mana?" the smart one stepped forward, his curiosity piqued. "Why are you asking about something like that?"
"Just tell me. I'm not a player, but I have my suspicions about the Association."
The angry one could no longer hold back. He rushed forward and punched Vell hard, knocking him to the ground and sending a tooth flying. Vell glared up at him, his eyes glowing faintly, a low growl rumbling in his chest. His little weasel friend on his shoulder mirrored his expression, its own eyes glowing with a feral light.
[Will you tame this weasel?]
'Yes.'
[Activating skill…]