As Lucien approached the shop where he hoped to repair the Second Skin of Pride, someone was just leaving — a woman, probably in her early twenties. She looked like she had been in a hurry but moved with a quiet confidence.
"Hello," Lucien said, stepping up to the counter. "I'd like to have this repaired."
He placed the damaged cloak on the desk. Its texture shimmered faintly, almost pulsing with restrained power.
"Of course," the shopkeeper replied. "Full name of the Sinbearer, please."
Repairs weren't free. They required compatible Sinbearers — items imbued with sin-based energy. Even then, the process wasn't instant. Long waiting times and precise naming were essential. If you got the name wrong, it simply wouldn't work.
"The Second Skin of Pride," Lucien said clearly.
The shopkeeper blinked. That wasn't a name one heard often. A legendary Sinbearer — even broken, it was immensely rare. Powerful, too. That also meant it was expensive to repair.
"That'll be 200 Obol," she said flatly.
Lucien didn't flinch. He had expected the price.
"No problem. I'll come back another time."
He picked the cloak back up and left.
Out on the street, he sighed. He needed money — fast. He could open a shop, offer something useful, make a steady income. But that would take time. Too much time. Time he didn't have.
He wasn't here to live slowly. He was Rank 1 now, but he had the Second Skin of Pride. With that, he could survive Rank 2. He was climbing. No — racing. There was only one more Sinbearer he wanted before advancing.
Legendary Sinbearers weren't limited to just one person, but they were so rare, it didn't matter. If someone else had it, Lucien would make the whole world his enemy to take it.
Just then, he spotted the woman who had left earlier. She was on the street corner, acting casual — but Lucien caught it. A man brushed past her, and her hand moved slightly.
He saw it.
A flicker of sin.
"Shadowgrasp." A Sinbearer that allowed the user to steal anything within a 20cm radius — no contact needed. It worked five times per day.
Genius. She was robbing people in plain sight and gaining progression by committing the sin of theft. It was quick, efficient. Progress and profit in one stroke.
Lucien wanted to mimic her, but he lacked the Sinbearer. Still, he didn't give up. He would do it without one. Why not?
To survive in this world, you needed to sin — and hide your sins.
Those who couldn't do both… didn't live long.
But first —
Far in the North
In the iron-blasted wastelands of the Sinshift, a man pushed through howling winds.
His name was Solrick.
He had been in the Sinshift for years. Though he had already reached 100% Progression in Rank 1, he had never returned to Earth. He refused to leave until he was the strongest Rank 1 Sinner in existence.
That meant one thing: collect better and better Sinbearers. Dominate. Ascend.
Solrick, now in his mid-thirties, wore a long weatherproof coat, reinforced with frost-resistant plating. A greatsword hung across his back, bound in torn cloth and dried sin-blood. His breath fogged instantly.
The storm didn't stop. The biting wind cut into his face like glass.
He trudged on.
Through the snow-blurred distance, he finally spotted movement — a hulking figure lumbering between frozen trees.
White fur.
Red eyes.
Massive claws.
A Yeti.
Solrick reached for his sword. But then — his eyes narrowed.
The Yeti reached for something on its back… and drew a weapon. A blade.
It was deep crimson. Its surface gleamed like molten metal, and a strange gem pulsed at the base of the hilt.
This wasn't normal.
Solrick struck first, swinging vertically. The Yeti parried.
It can fight?
It wasn't just reacting — it was matching him.
Solrick took a step back. The beast advanced, relentless.
Without hesitation, Solrick activated another Sinbearer.
"Shard of Warped Time."
To his enemy, time would now move differently — for only a few seconds.
Suddenly, two Yetis appeared in his vision. The side effect of the Sinbearer — disorientation. But Solrick was used to it. He lunged at the one who seemed slower —
For that Yeti, 3 seconds felt like 6 months. Reaction was impossible.
His blade carved into its shoulder.
Then —
Pain.
Agonizing, blinding pain exploded in Solrick's own shoulder.
What?!
He reeled back, clutching his wound.
The Yeti stared at him, almost smug.
It had felt pain — but not enough to cry out. Solrick, however, was shaking.
What did that?
A Sinbearer? If so…Jackpot.
Solrick grinned despite the blood dripping from his arm. This was what he had searched for all these years. If he could get his hands on that Sinbearer —
No one could stop him.
He activated another Sinbearer.
"Salve of the Pure Heart."
A healing-type. His wound closed, slowly but surely.
Then — he charged again.
This time, when his blade hit, the damage wasn't returned. The Yeti cried out in a horrible screech — not like a human scream. Almost like metal scraping bone.
Solrick didn't flinch.
He struck again.
And again.
Blood sprayed across the snow. The Yeti's arms were severed, its body torn and broken. It collapsed, helpless, face-first into the snow. A pool of blood formed beneath.
Solrick panted heavily, his breath ragged — but his eyes were alight with triumph.
He'd done it.
He had survived. And more importantly —
There it was.
A glowing red mass hovered above the Yeti's body, glimmering with power. The System granted him another Sinbearer as a reward, but he didn't even glance at it.
All he cared about was this.
The prize.
The reason he had stayed in Rank 1 all this time.
The name appeared before him. His hands trembled.
This was it.
"First Blade of Wrath."