Psychic Operation. It was the ability of Damien's second summoned monster, Silhouette. The description of this special ability was straightforward. He could remotely control his monster from afar.
Alongside its natural ability to transform and mimic others, Damien could practically construct a clone for himself to operate. It was versatile and lowered the probability of him being injured or killed in conflicts.
Unfortunately, in its current state, the ability has a practical maximum limit of a kilometer. Beyond that, he would lose connection with Silhouette, who would become independent and mimic his natural behavior.
Nevertheless, the experimentation was a success, and he finally discovered a way to enter missions without risking his life. But that didn't mean he would completely rely on this ability.
Utilizing Psychic Operation, he discovered vital weaknesses that could prove fatal if not properly resolved. The first one was his overreliance on his monsters, the second one was his ordinary physique, and lastly, his lack of a strategic mindset.
But for now, it was better to celebrate the completion of his first mission as a member of Block 7. Turning his obsidian-like eyes onward, his gaze landed upon a gorgeous lady attired in a secretary's outfit.
Her golden-tinted eyeglasses glistened while she surveyed the cafe menu with intrigue and focus. As she shifted her head, strands of her ink-stained hair quivered across her black suit. She was his senior, Francine.
"I didn't expect your abilities to be versatile, Damien." While observing the cafe menu, she muttered under her breath, her plump crimson lips curving into a smile. "Here I thought your specialties ended with a black hand."
"How ignorant of me." She continued and finally ordered a black coffee from the waiter nearby. "I was surprised to notice your aetheric signature hundreds of meters away from the designated mission site."
Damien rubbed the back of his head and barely formed a smile. "Sorry for not informing you, Francine. I wasn't familiar with my abilities yet and wanted to acquaint myself through practical utilization."
"No need for the apologies, Damien. Besides, you're the first Aberrant to join the SIGIL since its establishment over a decade ago." Francine shook her head while her soothing gaze landed upon him. "We are inexperienced."
Brands were the concept that enlightened and elevated humanity to rival the post-cataclysm species, or cryptids for short. Without it, humankind would be enslaved by the vampires, forever shackled as cattle.
It was a horrifying fate, and a possible one.
Aberrants also have specialized abilities that utilize aether. But the limits of such powers were unknown since none dared to study the monstrous abominations since their emergence.
'But Miss Alastair did inform me of an important detail. His special abilities grow through the fear or terror of others.' Francine didn't know how the seventh Paragon came up with such a hypothesis, but it was acceptable.
After all, it was Miss Alastair she was talking about.
The one person who didn't make sense in this world was none other than her boss. She was someone capable of handling the cryptids and was even rumored to have executed a progenitor during the revolution.
"At any rate, you have completed your first mission as the third member of Block 7. As a reward, you can ask for anything you want from me." Francine tilted her head, strands of her ink-stained hair waving sideward.
Her plump velvet lips curved into a soothing smile, bringing no less than chills into the hearts of young men nearby. As her golden-tinted eyeglasses skimmed, her sapphire-like irises remained pointed at him.
Too beautiful, too alluring.
Even Damien barely resisted such daunting charm. How could someone be so innocent yet sensual? It didn't make sense, unless it truly was the work of a Brand.
Coughing, he straightened his body and hardened his heart. It wasn't the time to be horny. This was an opportunity for him, a chance to be granted long-lasting benefits.
'Remember what must be done, Damien. Pleasure is temporary, power is eternal.' With this in mind, he looked at Francine in the eyes and answered. "There's only one thing I want. Please train me."
The curves in her plump, rosy lips widened. Her ears perked with intrigue as she observed the young man with a tinge of amusement. Although she was cautious, he was undoubtedly interesting.
'Miss Alastair is truly troublesome but astonishing.'
"Against the dhampir, I was barely holding on and relied on my partner's assistance to survive. Even if it wasn't actually me, it displayed my weakness. My physique is too ordinary. I'm too weak."
Damien stated with determination as he gazed at his senior in front of him. He wanted Francine to train him. With her identity as the second-in-command of Block 7, he didn't question her power.
He had already done his research. His senior was part of a powerful family consisting of swords masters. The Espada Family was comprised of geniuses who had made a name for themselves as Jaegers.
They weren't to be underestimated.
'The current patriarch of the Espada Family is the Paragon of Block 6. That already tells their influence in the New World. They might not be the richest or the strongest. But their authority was indomitable.'
Silence filled the table between the two of them. But moments later, Francine arched forward, unknowingly displaying her ample bosom, and softly responded. "As your senior, I'm already responsible for training you."
She flicked his forehead and lightly chuckled. "There's no need for you to remind me. Besides, I'm not the only one training you. Miss Alastair will also be an instructor. Though I doubt the effectiveness of her teachings."
Francine recalled how Miss Alastair explained her Brand. It was as confusing as it could be, taking a couple of explanations to even be barely sensible. Remembering it already brought back bad memories.
Damien's obsidian-like eyes flickered, discerning something within his perception. The beautiful secretary noticed his behavior and asked. "Is there something wrong, Damien?"
Almost immediately, he shook his head.
"There's nothing wrong. I was just distracted."
A notification window materialized, displaying an important message.
| Update Completed! |
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Somewhere in the wilderness of the southern front was destruction. A wasteland was consumed by fissures and crevices, brought about by shards of reality deeply punctured into the earth. It was devastation painted into the world.
In the center of the catastrophic landscape was a silver-haired lady attired in a trench coat. Her pearl-like eyes glanced upon the battlefield, boredom filling her heart and mind. She was the seventh Paragon of Block 7, Alastair Glass.
"They didn't even last for five seconds." She yawned with a shade of nonchalance, exasperated by how these insects had wasted her time. Surrounding her were corpses disintegrating into nothingness.
Thousands of them were scattered throughout the field of grey. Some belonged to noble vampires, but most were dhampirs. There were true bloods; however, many of them escaped her onslaught.
Nonetheless, escaping didn't matter for those true bloods. After all, their injuries wouldn't be regenerated no matter what kind of weird thing they do. She made sure of it.
Anyhow, with arrogance that even blinded the sun, she looked down at the naked young woman beneath her. It was the entity that was being pursued by an army of vampires. Her supple crimson lips twisted into a grin, muttering to herself.
"Interesting... It seems that my Aberrant will gain a junior of his own."