Orien took off.
He grabbed a kitchen knife from the table and bound it under his leg with rough leather strips. Then, without a second thought, he vaulted out the window, landing in a crouch.
The shadows swallowed him.
One with the Shadow.
His body melted into the darkness between the clay houses of the slums. Silent. Invisible.
But the shadows weren't empty.
He felt them. Eyes. Watching. Figures perched on roofs, hidden in alleys. Tracking him.
Why?Why was his own blood trying to kill him?
When he finally reached a safe distance, Orien let out a long, shaking breath. It came out hot, almost steaming — burning with rage. Rage at his weakness. Rage at his brother. Rage at the assassins. Rage at the whole damned world.
He wanted to scream until his throat tore. But he held it in.
Not yet.He needed information first.
The glowing window — the strange witchcraft that appeared after his death — would have to wait. For all he knew, it was a curse.
He found the abandoned building. The place where the ceremony happened. The place where they'd trapped him.
From a high vantage point, he scanned the area. Nothing. No guards visible.
Too quiet.
An idea came to him.
"Status Window," he whispered.
The panel appeared instantly, floating in front of him. This time, he studied it carefully — his own stats, strengths, weaknesses. And there — his skills.
Detect.
It can read others.
He focused on a scorpion crawling near a cracked wall, watching as it burrowed into the sand.
Status Window
Name: Sand ScorpionSpecies: BeastLevel: 2
HP: 10 / 10Stamina: 60 / 60
Skills:
Venom Sting (Basic): 55% chance to poison
Burrow (Basic): Hide under soil
"Cool," he whispered to the silence. "It actually gives you combat details."
His gaze moved toward a bush.
Another panel popped up.
[Notice]
Some information is hidden due to the target's higher level.
Raise your Detect skill or level up to reveal more.
Status Window
Name: RahulRace: HumanClass: Shadow FootmanLevel: 6
HP: 320 / 320Stamina: 400 / 400MP: 50 / 50
Attributes:
Strength: 18
Endurance: 9
Intelligence: 8
Dexterity: 16
Perception: 14
Willpower: 10
Skills: [HIDDEN]
Titles: [HIDDEN]
Status Effects: [HIDDEN]
Orien clenched his jaw. I can clutch a 1v1…
But more windows popped up.
Bushes. Trees. Even under the dirt.
Shadow Footmen.
Seven of them. Impossible to reach the building without alerting them.
What now?
Then the door opened.
A girl stepped out — crying.
Orien blinked.
She turned back, shouting words he didn't recognize — vile curses that sounded wrong coming from someone who looked so bright. Then she kicked a bush.
"AAAH!" came a muffled yelp from the bush.
Her frown instantly turned into a sharp-toothed grin. She skipped away, humming.
Orien squinted. She wasn't from here — her pink bikini armor, the massive claymore on her back, her pale skin and orange ponytail made her look like she'd walked out of another world.
Foreign mercenary?
If she could lead him to information — about the governor's assassination, about the setup — Orien would follow.
And he did.
Silent as the shadows.
She was there at the stall, staring at the slabs of roasting meat with a mouth that practically dripped.
A moment later, she was munching. And munching. And munching.
One by one, she devoured the stalls — vendors handing her skewers, rolls, and steaming plates with nervous smiles. Her pockets must've been bottomless… and her stomach? Even more so.
And— Orien's gaze flicked away quickly, his ears reddening. —other things about her seemed… generously large too.
The bazaar's eyes were all on her.
Some of the vendors even gave her free food.
Talk about being privileged.
Orien's patience was wearing thin.
"Keep walking," he muttered under his breath from the shadows. "How long are you gonna munch? Is she a gluttonous monster hiding herself as a girl?"
Every second she wasted, his blood boiled hotter.
His people's lives were on the line. His sister's life.
And here she was, stuffing her face.
But then Orien noticed something — and his anger faltered into unease.
Too many foreign mercenaries were walking around the bazaar.
Clad in different styles of armor, speaking tongues he couldn't place.
Why?
What was happening? A war? A raid? Or… a tournament?
His gut sank.
There was such a thing — an old, barbaric practice. A tournament that used prisoners as entertainment.
And who filled those prisons?
Thalri.
His people — ninety percent of them accused of crimes they didn't commit.
Auremirans didn't go to prisons.
Period.
And if they did, they were treated like pampered nobles while Thalri rotted, sleeping in rat piss and choking on moldy bread.
Meanwhile, the real criminals roamed free — committing more unspeakable acts, untouched by justice.
But the tournament?
That was worse.
Thalri prisoners were forced to fight each other — their fellow kin — for the amusement of their captors, told that surviving could reduce their sentences.
It was supposed to be abolished by imperial decree.
But Orien knew the truth.
It never ended.
It just moved underground.
Finally, she moved.
Trotting along the slums like some kind of princess come to bless the poor, her steps light, her face still glowing from the feast she'd devoured.
Every happy little hop of hers made Orien's blood boil.
What was this emotion?
Rage?
No… jealousy.
Because those meats did look tastier than anything he'd eaten in months.
She finally veered off the main path, into a more secluded stretch of the slums — where the Auremirans dumped their trash.
Orien gagged.
It was a chemical graveyard. A stinking, rotting warzone of filth that could choke a man to death in seconds.
But her?
She strolled through it without so much as a wrinkle of her nose.
Like it was nothing.
What is she?
She stopped at an iron-bar gate half-buried in sludge. A drainage tunnel.
She examined it, scratching her head, fumbling around like she was searching for a key.
Orien crouched lower in the shadows, watching.
When she didn't find one, she simply… sighed, took a step back—
—And with one kick, the entire gate flew off its hinges.
Metal screeched, dirt plumed.
Orien's eyes widened.
That strength… packed in such a small frame?
She twirled inside the dark tunnel like a child playing at the park.
Mary-go-round.
Like this was just another day.
Orien's breath quickened.
This is it. This has to lead somewhere.
Whatever she was headed toward… it had answers.
About the governor.
About his brother's betrayal.
About why the entire assassin organization had made him a scapegoat.
Something sinister was brewing in Auremir.
And it was happening fast.
Fast enough to trap him in its web before he even realized he'd been caught.
They moved through the drainage tunnels, her steps light and unbothered while Orien gritted his teeth through the chemical stench. Then another figure appeared ahead — hooded, in green robes, a plague mask and goggles gleaming in the dim light.
"Well, well, well," the girl sang. "If it isn't the Doc."
"You again, brat? Who invited you here?" The figure's voice was layered — both masculine and feminine at once.
"Well! I'm here for the festival, same as you. To be chosen, of course!"
"We could settle this right now, girl," he said, snapping his fingers.
She smirked. "Before that… can you get rid of the rat behind us? I don't want to stain my dress before meeting my prince charming."
The plague doctor turned his head. "Lucas told me to get rid of any rats sneaking in. And I could use someone for my experiments."
"Isn't that why you're here? Kidnapping slum kids?"
"That," he said cheerfully, "and the festival."
Her tone shifted dark. "You should forfeit. I don't want bug juice on my dress when I squeeze you under my scissors."
"You should leave. Now." His voice lost its humor.
"I take no orders from you, bug-eye freak." Then, in an instant, her cheerful personality returned. "Anyway! Prince Lucas waits for me!" She skipped off, humming.
The plague doctor sighed. "Well then. You can come out now. Let's make this quick. I have a lot of children to kidnap."
Orien emerged from the shadows just as his skill faded.
"So you're the one kidnapping the slum children. Every month orphans go missing — you're the mastermind."
"I just got here, dude," he said lightly. Then paused, scanning Orien up and down. "Wait a second. Tanned skin. Well-built. Black hair. You look… good." He threw him a thumbs-up. "Handsome, even."
The words sent a chill down Orien's spine.
"What is this festival?" Orien asked, slowly drawing his kitchen knife.
The doctor tilted his head. "Is that… a kitchen knife? Honey, you didn't tell me you were a slapstick comedian."
He giggled — high-pitched and unnatural — then abruptly stopped.
"Let me take a good, deep look at you." He pointed at Orien and blew a kiss.
[Warning!][Someone is peeking at your Status.][System Blocks Activated.][Your level is below theirs.][Your System is unblocked.]
"Well, well," he purred. "These numbers look pathetic. Very cute—"
Then his voice cut off.
A glitch?
No.
His head jerked sharply. He tried again. And again.
He's using the same skill as me.
Something was wrong.
His All-Seeing Eye — an evolved form of Detect — couldn't read one particular thing in Orien's status.
"Why can't I see this?" His voice was quieter now. "Why does it say… 'Cursed'? What are you?"
Orien stayed silent.
The doctor's playful tone cracked, just slightly. "My name is Lily. My profession? Plague Doctor." His head tilted. "Is there anything you're hiding from me, Orien?"
"You first. Why do you have a woman's name?"
"Enough with that shit."
He flicked his wrist.
A small handle snapped open into a long, writhing whip. Green liquid dripped from its snake-shaped tip, sizzling against the metal floor with a sharp hiss.
"Poison," he said calmly. "Extracted from the most venomous snakes in the world. Dancing around the tip of this beauty."
And then he vanished.
Lightning-fast.
Orien barely saw him move before he was in his face, the whip coiling like a living thing.
The doctor's words echoed in his skull.
"Chosen by the gods."
Orien's grip tightened on his knife.
This wasn't just a skill.
This was a curse.
The whip lashed out.
Faster than his eyes could follow.
Crack—CRACK—CRACK—!
It wasn't just one strike.
It multiplied.
[Thousand Serpent Heads]
The whip split like a hydra — heads upon heads of snapping serpents, each strike blurring into the next, screaming as they cut through the air.
Orien barely raised his knife before the first hit landed.
THWACK!
Pain exploded across his chest. Another.
THWACK!
His arm screamed. His legs burned.
The whip danced around him, relentless, like Lily had been wielding it for centuries.
Each strike was too fast. Too precise.
Orien swung wildly — blocking by instinct, by blind luck — but that's all it was. Luck.
Every block left a price. His hands numb. His forearms screaming.
He tried to step in — to close the gap — but Lily moved with a dancer's grace, always just out of reach, his plague mask tilting mockingly.
CRACK!
The whip caught his back — flesh splitting — a hot line of red tearing open.
CRACK!
Another slash, this one burning. Not just pain.
Poison.
He gasped, staring at his forearm where a green welt bubbled.
The knife in his grip — his only weapon — began to corrode where the whip had touched it.
Hissss.
The blade chipped, corroded by venom until half of it snapped off.
Lily laughed softly behind the mask.
"Ohhhh… delightful."
Another crack.
"You're not dying."
Another.
"You're not running."
Another.
"You just keep fighting."
Orien panted, vision blurring. Every breath burned. His muscles screamed at him to stop — to just fall.
But he didn't.
He couldn't.
Not yet.
Lily tilted his head, voice playful again. "You know, I've never seen an NPC with willpower like this. Not once."
The word struck him like a slap. NPC?
"Who..what is an NPC?" Orien rasped.
Lily didn't answer.
The whip reared back for another strike.
Orien's body moved on its own.
He dove.
Into the sewer water.
The world became rot and filth — a suffocating, acidic darkness that burned his nostrils and coated his tongue. The new flesh wound burned more.
But the whip didn't follow.
Lily's laughter echoed in the tunnels, sharp and sing-song.
"Run, little rat! Run!"
By the time Orien clawed his way out onto the muddy bank, his body was shutting down.
His arms felt like lead.
His chest convulsed with every breath.
He couldn't feel his legs.
His vision darkened at the edges, swallowing the world.
He blinked at the glowing Status Window floating in front of him.
[Status Effect: Deadly Poison] [Status Effect: Infection][HP: 14/320]
[TIP]If Infection is not treated, it can lead to DEATH.
[URGENT WARNING]You are infected with Poison!Take a cure IMMEDIATELY or risk DEATH
[URGENT WARNING]You are infected with Poison!Take a cure IMMEDIATELY or risk DEATH
[HP: 8/320]
[URGENT WARNING]You are infected with Poison!Take a cure IMMEDIATELY or risk DEATH
[HP: 3/320]
"No…"
[URGENT WARNING]You are infected with Poison!Take a cure IMMEDIATELY or risk DEATH
His health ticked down to zero.
The poison finished its work.
Orien's breathing slowed. Popups bombarded him as he drew his last breath
[HP: 0/320]
[ERROR]Vitals… unstable.
[NOTICE]Respiratory and cardiovascular functions critical.
Silence.
The world faded to black.
Then—
A sharp gasp.
His eyes flew open.
The ceiling. The familiar cracks.
His bed.
The same spot where it all began.
No…
His heart pounded.
Again?
Knocking.
On the door.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
His blood ran cold.
The same sound.
The same rhythm.
Darius.
It was exactly the same as before.
Orien sat up, clinging to his skin, his breath ragged.
The System chimed.
You have unlocked a new secret! New Attibute unlocked!Title will be given.New secret mission is available: "Am I a real boy now?"
Status Window
Name: Orien SolisRace: Human (Cursed)Class: ThiefLevel: 3
HP: 300 / 300MP: 0Stamina: 400 / 400
Attributes:
Strength: 12
Endurance: 10
Intelligence: 15
Dexterity: 13
Perception: 18
Willpower: 30
Luck: 5 (New)
Skills:
Swordsmanship (Basic): +5% effectiveness with small blades, +10% when dual wielding
Silent Step (Novice): Movement generates minimal sound
Survivor's Instinct: Faster reaction in life-threatening situations & reading emotions
One with the Shadow (New): Blend into darkness, become a shadow
Detect (New): Appraise items & living beings, revealing hidden details and stats
Titles:
Non Playable Character
Status Effects:
Hunger (Mild)
███TIME REGRESSION███ (CURSE):
Quests:
Secret Mission: "Am I a real boy now?" — Status: Not Activated