Nim raised his arm, gesturing to himself, Lester, and Gina. "Come to my house after the preparations," he said. "We'll finalize the plan there… and I'll share the secret with you then." Lester and Gina nodded in acknowledgment. "Well then… goodbye." With a faint smile, Nim turned and strode toward his home.
As he stepped out of the academy, his gaze was met by the eternal darkness shrouding the city of pale light. A bone-deep cold gnawed at him, turning his blood to ice. This darkness, this chill—it was anything but natural. Nim exhaled sharply. *Two hundred years…* Two centuries had passed since the darkness and snow first descended upon humanity without warning. Since then, the hidden monsters had grown bolder, deadlier, their numbers swelling relentlessly. Were it not for the protection of the Lords and the elites who formed the Council of Lords, the city would have perished long ago.
Nim's eyes scanned ahead as he trudged along the frozen mud path. *What a blessing. No one needs to build roads when the cold does the work for us.* He smirked bitterly and pressed onward, his gaze drifting over the gray stone houses spewing thin trails of smoke and the crimson barracks of the Bound—their walls adorned with the mounted heads of monsters of all kinds. One such trophy bore the chitin-plated head of an eyeless insect-like beast, four sensory appendages protruding from its crown. Nim eyed the grotesque display and muttered under his breath, "Seems even the Bound are too lazy to stay awake tonight."
When he reached the barracks' entrance, he pushed the heavy door open and stepped inside. The hall was dimly lit, occupied only by two newly assigned young men deep in conversation. Nim passed them with a polite nod and continued down the corridor. Though the barracks loomed massive from the outside, its interior was divided efficiently: a third served as a training hall for the Bound to hone their abilities, another third housed living quarters and baths, and the remainder stored materials harvested from monster corpses—hides, oils, venoms, meat, and other gruesome spoils.
As he stepped into the hallway, warmth seeped into his bones, reviving his numbed limbs. The rich aroma of potato-carrot stew, roasted meat, and freshly baked potato bread filled the air, making his stomach growl in protest. He chuckled softly. "Patience," he murmured. "I'll fill you soon enough. Tomorrow's going to be a long day."
He moved forward, navigating a passage illuminated by tallow candles that emitted a faint, greasy odor. After thirty-five paces, he turned right into the dining hall. Only a handful of occupants remained—elders and a few younger Bound who either couldn't sleep or were burdened with late-night duties. They huddled over wooden cups of mint tea (if the lukewarm, bitter liquid could even be called tea), too engrossed in their hushed conversations to spare him a glance.
Nim headed straight for the food, loading his plate with five thick slices of potato bread, a generous helping of meat-and-carrot stew, and a portion of oil-seared meat. He grabbed a large cup of mint tea and settled at one of the long wooden tables. As he ate, snippets of nearby chatter reached his ears.
"I heard Gregory might ascend to Lordship," a man was saying. "They say he'll overcome the Bound's natural limits—those of us who can only manage minor spells or a slight edge over ordinary humans. It all comes down to your power level. That's what decides your future."
The words sent a flicker of satisfaction through Nim. Eavesdropping on barracks gossip was one of his few indulgences. He glanced at the speaker—Korch, a middle-aged man with a thick, salt-and-pepper beard, a face weathered by wind, and a modest paunch. Otherwise unremarkable. Nim only knew of him from his father's warnings: *"Korch is the worst sort in this city. Stay clear of him."*
Unaware of Nim's attention, Korch continued his rant. "Damn my rotten luck! If I weren't stuck at Rank 1, I'd have tried for Lordship years ago. Instead, I'm Bound to this useless ability—enhancing weapons, and even that only works at thirty percent efficiency for two others. What a joke."
Nim stifled a yawn, lifted his half-empty cup, and took a deep swig. The warmth spread through his chest, momentarily soothing him. When he finished, he gathered his dishes, washed them, and headed to the room he shared with his father.
The space was sparse, devoid of anything remarkable—not that it mattered. Nim stepped inside, his eyes landing on his father's bed and the old wardrobe beside it. He approached the wardrobe, rummaged inside, and pulled out a steel-cold crystal. He turned it over in his hands, studying its icy surface.
*Once I finish absorbing this… my ability to harness the world's essence will improve. Crudely, but it'll work.* His lips curled into a determined smirk. *I'll complete my core by seventy percent. My power will grow—maybe even break through to Rank 3. Then I'll be able to use that creature's magic… freezing everything within two meters, forming ice needles, sealing wounds…*
Of course, it wouldn't compare to the original creature's strength. This crystal was the eye of a Frost Lizard—a Tier 2 monster capable of killing Nim's father ten times over before falling. The thought almost made him laugh. *Hah… what am I thinking?*
His father had obtained the eye during an expedition—a team of ten Bound and one Lord. By sheer luck, it had been allotted to him, as the Lord had no affinity for ice. Some of the spoils had been distributed among the team; the rest went to the city's vaults.
Nim's grip tightened around the crystal. *I'm a thief now. I stole this from my own father—the man who planned to absorb it upon his return.* But it would've been dangerous for him. Only those with undetermined abilities could safely absorb monster parts. Those with fixed affinities could only do so if the element aligned with theirs—and even then, the benefits were limited.
*This will be far more useful in my hands.*
A wry smile tugged at his lips. *That old man always forgives me anyway. Even if he makes me wash his clothes for a year.*
For the first time in a while, Nim's smile was genuine—filled with something like affection.