The scene was grotesque—Mark's right hand was missing, and the ground was soaked in blood.
"Y-You monster! You're no child!" he screamed, his voice trembling. To him, Lucien wasn't a boy—he was a demon reborn.
"And your Sinbearer... you lied about the drawbacks," Mark spat out. Lucien had told him that every strike with his blade harmed the user as well. That wasn't technically a lie—but it wasn't the full truth either. In reality, the weapon demanded perfect concentration. And thanks to Lucien's mental discipline from his previous life, he barely had to exert himself. For him, the blade was a perfect fit.
Lucien drove the blade into Mark again and again, until he was no longer breathing.
He felt it immediately: progress. Betrayal and murder—after all that time together. That had always been Lucien's plan. His progress had surged from 30% to 75%.
He left behind the Sinbearers Mark had earned just moments ago as a reward. First, Lucien reached for the needle Sinbearer. It was, frankly, useless. It required a perfect hit to activate properly—something that was nearly impossible in most situations. Even in their previous fight, Mark had barely scratched him with it.
What interested Lucien more was the new Sinbearer the system had granted him:
"Curse of the Silent Tongue"
It rendered the user's voice inaudible for several seconds—but also silenced their own hearing during that time.
"What the hell? All that... for this garbage?" Lucien muttered, visibly irritated. It was utterly useless. But he calmed himself quickly—there were still other Sinbearers up for grabs.
"Phantom Voice"
An old, midnight-blue music player. It allowed the user to create an exact copy of their own voice to deceive enemies.
The catch? The more someone trusted the user, the less effective the illusion would be.
After burying Mark's body for safety, Lucien made his way back to Claire. She was unconscious from the backlash of her whip Sinbearer. Lucien could hardly believe his luck.
The system had granted her:
"Silent Sanctuary"
A silver bracelet with three seemingly empty pearls. It allowed the user to store three Sinbearers within it.
The drawback? It weighed as much as all three Sinbearers combined.
Lucien took it without hesitation. He stored the whip and the needle inside. The ring stayed on his finger—it wasn't too noticeable anyway. Before leaving, he ended Claire's life, bumping his progress up to 78%.
Now for the real prize... he thought, gazing in the direction where Darren had fallen.
He knew Darren had died. Legendary Sinbearers like the Second Skin of Pride were uncontrollable. The only way to survive their immense effects was by ascending—and Darren had not.
Normally, a Rank 2 user would prefer Rank 2 Sinbearers. But legendary Rank 1s often outclassed them in raw power.
When Lucien arrived, he found the corpse of the brown Fleshgnasher first. Then, he saw Darren's body. The other Fleshgnasher was nowhere to be seen.
Guess it ran off...
He spotted the shredded cloak on the ground and felt a flicker of frustration. But he had expected this. The cloak's powers were now gone—but not forever. There were ways to repair damaged Sinbearers. He tucked it into his bracelet. The added weight was noticeable, but manageable—for now.
Darren's glasses were shattered. Lucien didn't even bother picking them up. He left behind the Fleshgnasher claws too—they weren't worth much.
After a short rest to recover, he set off. His goal: escape the forest.
Days passed before the trees finally ended. He stood before a massive hill, nearly a small mountain. At its summit—a city.
Since the appearance of the Sinshift, people had begun living inside it. You couldn't ascend to Rank 2 here, but you could collect multiple Rank 1 Sinbearers and grow stronger. Some left immediately, wanting to return home or see their families again. Others stayed, lured by power or curiosity. There were entire cities, even worlds, within the Sinshift's dimension.
Lucien climbed the hill. At the top stood colossal gates, guarded by serious-looking men.
Once you leave this dimension, there's no coming back. So these guards—Rank 1 Sinners—were here to keep balance. They were still strong. One of them could probably beat Lucien in under a minute. But in the grand scheme of things, they weren't elite.
As Lucien approached, he finally realized how massive the city walls were—at least 30 meters tall, stretching far beyond what his eyes could follow.
"You there!" one of the guards called out. "Want to enter?"
"Yes, please."
"Alright. Show us your Sinbearers." The man inspected Lucien and quickly noticed the bracelet. "Show us what's inside as well."
Lucien complied. The guards examined his Sinbearers—visibly jealous—but remained professional.
"Sinning is prohibited inside," one of them said. After registering him, they let him through. The gargantuan gates creaked open.
Walking the city streets, Lucien was surrounded by hundreds of people. The city was enormous—hundreds entered and exited daily. He figured he'd stay a while. But to do that, he'd need a way to earn money.
The first thing he did at the marketplace was look for a place to sell Sinbearers.
Eventually, he found a store called "Sin Exchange." A bell rang as he opened the door.
"Welcome—" the shopkeeper began, then paused. "What's a kid like you doing here? How'd you survive this long?"
"What do you care?" Lucien snapped. "Do your job and that's it."
The shopkeeper was stunned. The boy's disrespect was something else. "Are you alright, kid—"
"I've got Sinbearers. Name your price," Lucien interrupted.
"Look, if you're gonna be that rude, you can—wait." The man froze as he spotted the Second Skin of Pride.
What the hell?! How does he have something this rare...?
"How much do you want for that?" he asked, stunned.
"It's still damaged. I'll repair it first. Then we can talk—assuming you don't throw me out of your shop." Lucien smirked.
"What? No! I'd never throw out a customer like you. When it's repaired, come straight back. We'll strike a deal—understood?"
I'll rip him off so hard... he has no idea what that thing's worth.
The shopkeeper was practically rubbing his hands together.
"What's your name, honored customer?"
"I'm Lucien."
"And I'm Seren. Pleasure to meet you."
Lucien showed him the other Sinbearers he wanted to sell: the whip, the needle, and the worthless Curse of the Silent Tongue. Just hearing its name made him nauseous.
"I can offer 30 Obol for the whip," Seren said.
"Are you joking? 30 Obol?" Lucien slammed his hand on the counter. "I want at least 80. Do you not know what it can do?"
"Eighty? Come on..." Seren sighed. "Fifty, and we have a deal."
"I can just go to someone else. Sell the cloak there instead. You think I need you?" Lucien replied coolly.
Seren winced. He couldn't afford to lose this client—not if he wanted that cloak.
"Alright. Seventy Obol." He extended his hand.
"Deal." Lucien grabbed it firmly. "Now for the needle—60 Obol."
"Sixty? Are you insane? That thing's worthless. No one will buy it off me."
"Oh, so you don't want the cloak?"
"...Fine. Sixty Obol," Seren said reluctantly. "But the tongue curse—best I can do is 20 Obol."
"Make it 25 and we've got a deal."
Seren hesitated. But if Lucien walked out now, he'd lose everything. Even 25 Obol for such trash was a lot—but Lucien's aggressive bargaining had already bent the rules.
"Fine. 25."
Total: 155 Obol
After handing over the Sinbearers, Lucien asked,
"By the way, I'm new here. Know where I can get a Sinbearer repaired?"