Darien's sudden and "genius" plan, as he so boldly termed it, was to create a boundless skill with far-reaching potential that would help him immensely down the line. What he had in mind was a Skill Points multiplication skill that would snowball his progress with every kill, henceforth increasing the probability of creating stronger skills quick enough.
Darien could definitely begin his endeavor in this world with a skill that might protect him physically, or perhaps influence and shield his poor defenses. But the outlook and futurities ahead reigned paramount in this lad's head.
'It will accumulate with time!'
Being considerate and reasonable about the cost of SP, Darien decided to lower the scaling factor for the skill. His initial imagination had reached a 10,000x multiplier, but after understanding the sheer potency of such a skill and seeing firsthand what a puissant ability like that white annihilating blast had cost, Darien decided to scale it down to 1,000x.
[Analyzing concept… Calibrating potency… Weighing cost…]
[Ding!]
[Skill frame established]
[Name: 1000x SP Multiplier]
[Type: Passive/ Special]
[Level: (6-star)]
[Description: A passive-type skill that multiplies all future-acquired Skill Points by 1000]
[Cost: 30000 SP]
'Tsk!'
Darien kicked the corpse of the wolf beast in frustration. The sight of a six-figure cost with a parade of zeroes while he only had a mere two-digit stash felt like a taunt.
But at least, his Intelligence was sufficient to create the skill. All that remained now was gathering the required SP.
'If I can't go for 1000x, I should settle for 100x. A multiplier is still a multiplier, after all.'
There was a massive difference between 1000x and 100x in the long run, but that exponential gap wasn't what truly concerned Darien. What mattered more was simply getting more Skill Points than what the system would normally offer—faster, larger, and more profitably than its default design intended.
He asked the system to attempt a 100x version, but the system flashed a strange prompt that felt like a reprimanding slap.
[In this case, host, SP cost scales in direct proportion to multiplier potency.]
[That is to say: 10,000x costs ten times more than 1000x. 100x is one-tenth of 1000x]
[Rather than issuing repeated requests, it is suggested that Host deduce approximate costs based on scaling.]
After reading, Darien scoffed at the reply and at himself, while stroking his beardless chin once more.
"So, that readily means 100x SP Multiplier costs 3000?"
[Correct, host.]
"This is undeniably ill-luck I possess."
"Where do I get 3000 SP from now?"
As he crabbed over the expensive costs, Darien suddenly realized something, and his eyes lit up with a gleam of renewed hope.
"So, this means 10x SP Multiplier would demand only 300 SP?"
[Correct, host.]
"My SP balance is 200, which means I'm just a bit short…"
While speaking, Darien heard soft groans coming from behind him—groans of anguish, misery, injuries, and near-death.
He turned to glance behind him at the sizzling forest of small patches of dying fire, deep savage claw marks, and a wrecked carriage. Off to the side, near the trunk of a crooked tree, the two merchants lay slumped and torn. Their bodies trembled softly, as though they still suffered some trauma from the wolf's earlier wrath and devastation. The blood that pooled beneath them appeared like spilled crude oil.
The second merchant whimpered and struggled to breathe, while the larger one looked barely conscious. Perhaps he wasn't conscious at all.
Darien hoped he was.
Because this right here was his ticket to 300 SP.
A fiendish grin stretched across his face, wide and satanically crescent.
Darien rose to his feet, gripping the handle of the dagger tighter in the process. The mist ribboned like lost souls through the night, swarming past his rising frame. His body was small, but ghastly at the same glance—a glance that demanded a long, frightened stare instead.
'This will be my first human kill. And strangely, I have no guilt for it, as long as it's these two toads.'
Darien slowly approached the whimpering one, his once broad and proud frame now reduced to the level of a sick, infected dog, dying painfully beside the street. He was the very one who told Darien it would be a long journey ahead. His smug face then was now unrecognizable.
Darien stood above him for a few seconds, blocking the illumination of the moon with his white hair and casting an ominous shadow on the man. The man, blinded by blood, thought this shadow was the mage, believing the mage had emerged victorious against the wolf. But two unsavory blue eyes gleamed down at him with killing purpose.
Calmly, Darien dropped to one knee, lifted the blade, and sank it into the side of the man's neck. He intended to be clean in order to get as little blood as possible on him, so he went for a single strike alone.
Gl…aw…urgh…urgh..hhh
[Congratulations! You slayed a Rank 1 Being]
[You get 50 Skill Points and 5 Attribute Points]
The notification floated as Darien rose back to his feet, his gaze still fixed on the split neck and the grotto of blood.
Being his first kill ever, Darien thought he would get repulsed by the obscene sight, maybe throw up, swear a pathetic vow to never kill again, or something dramatic along that line. In stark opposition, the boy was unfazed by the grotesque murder, believing it felt more fulfilling than abominating.
'Worth every 50 Skill Points!'
Darien thought happily and clenched his left fist in triumph.
'That's 250 Skill Points. 50 more short on 300.'
Before the next thought could fully form, Darien's eyes shifted to the next half-dead man, and his hand stiffened around the dagger. He angled his body toward the man's lifeless direction and began to approach with mortal intent.
'I sure hope he's not dead already.'
The man's eyes were sealed shut, so Darien couldn't fully tell. He decided to be swift and slash his throat without hesitation, because every second now could mean life and death for the man, if not death already.
As certain as drawn steel, Darien dropped one knee onto the earth and raised the dagger to the moon with steel laced in his gaze.
Before he could pitch the blade into the spot he had perfectly aimed, the man's eyes suddenly flashed open with life—
Life, and fury!
Darien's breath was caught in his throat by the abrupt surprise, but then he realized it wasn't just figurative. He was literally breathless! The man had abruptly reached up and clamped his massive hand around his neck.
His grip was so large and firm that Darien's entire throat fit homely within his palm. With that strength, the man could choose to shake the boy's head like a lollipop drum. Perhaps, he could even squeeze the fragile neck hard enough to pop his skull like a balloon.
'Wheeeez!'
Darien felt every ounce of air crushed from his lungs within seconds. A claw of red veins crept their way and surfaced in his eyes as an indication of the immediate bursting pressure.
"You little piss runt. I'll crush your neck till the worms spit you out!"
The man rasped with a bad breath, but Darien was grateful he couldn't breathe to sniff in that poison.
"Fu—ck… youuuu."
The world began to spin as the man attempted to sit up and deal with the boy. But Darien, who was actually nearing his end, resolved not to let that happen.
He found the dagger's edge once more, and with a jolt of instinct, he flung his wrist forward. The blade followed the motion, catching the glint of the moonlight that had spectated the entire show from above all along.
AAAAAARGHHHHH!
The blade rammed straight into the bastard's eye.
Reflexively, the man let go of Darien in his anguish.
Darien, who was free now, understood this wasn't the time to take a deep breath of relief. Instead, he immediately humped the man, pinned him down, and gripped the dagger once more. Without hesitation, he yanked it out and plunged it again into the second eye. And again. And again.
Darien did this until the buffalo came crashing down into the same pool of blood he had once laid in.
'Goddamnit! I didn't want to be messy!'
This time, Darien's response to the kill was irritation. He disliked how the idiot's resistance had caused blood to spatter all over his clothes, his arms, and down to his legs.
"Oh damnn...."
He cussed before pulling the blade out from the left eye and rising to his feet to take in a broader view of the appalling mess. The large hand, once like iron clamped around his throat, now lay limp and slack on the forest floor.
Darien had utterly destroyed the man's eyes, and all that remained were two hollow sockets, filled to the brim with warm ketchup. Lifeless. Mouth parted.
[Congratulations! You slayed a Rank 1 Being]
[You get 50 Skill Points and 5 Attribute Points]
'Nice. So if I'm correct, system, that's 10 Attribute Points untouched and 300 Skill Points in total?'
[Affirmative, host]
'Great! I have enough!'
'Summon the Creation Panel and create that Skill!'