My body felt different. Lighter. Faster.
And… my senses…
If I focused enough, even in here, I could hear — faint but clear — the distant sound of the waterfall, as if the walls were nothing more than a thin veil separating me from the world outside.
I took a deep breath, feeling the cold air of the laboratory fill my lungs, carrying that metallic scent of ancient dust and damp stone.
A smirk tugged at my lips.
"It was exactly like in the novel… the same description."
My fingers brushed over my chest, where the strange warmth pulsed beneath the skin. I paused briefly and murmured, barely above a whisper:
"Symbiont."
In the story, the Symbiont was described as a perfect fusion of alchemy, science, and magic — something alive, forged from rare metals taken from rifts and fragments of special monsters. Created not only to strengthen, but to adapt to its host, as if it had been part of them since birth.
"Well, let's see if I can get anything useful from this place."
I started rummaging through the drawers, pushing aside yellowed papers and rusted instruments that clinked softly against each other.
I found incomplete, hand-scribbled projects, a few mana stones that reflected the dim light as if they held tiny suns… and, at the very back, a hardbound book covered in a thin layer of dust.
When I opened it, I realized it was the mad scientist's journal.
The handwriting was precise, almost meticulous. He wrote about how he had dedicated his entire life to evolving the human race, so it could surpass all others and usher in a new beginning for humanity.
Until one day, a suspicious figure appeared, offering him the chance to work with a new material.
I closed the book for a moment and spoke in a low tone, as if it were a secret even the air shouldn't hear:
"A [Leviathan] core…"
The journal said that, at first, he had been cautious. But the opportunity was far too good to pass up.
However, midway through the project, the organization funding him changed course.
More profit. Fewer principles.
Desperate not to lose the work of his lifetime, he decided to steal the core and flee.
From that point on, the pages were blank — the rest of the story, I already knew.
I closed the journal slowly, my fingers pressing against the cover as if I could squeeze more answers out of it.
I already knew how he died… but still, I couldn't help but be impressed.
A Leviathan core wasn't something one could just come by.
Leviathans ranked second among the strongest monsters in existence, surpassed only by Ruin Rank creatures — unique beings that gave life to all others.
Almost impossible to find… even harder to kill.
With intelligence beyond that of humans and an absurd adaptability to any situation.
And now, one of those cores was inside my chest.
I sighed, caught between awe and… frustration.
Because even a Leviathan core had its limits when sustaining a cracked core.
I closed my eyes.
I felt the faint yet resilient pulse of the fusion, like a distant echo of a heart that refused to stop beating.
With each beat, something whispered that there was still more power hidden within… waiting to be awakened.
I opened my eyes again, a single thought burning in my mind.
"And if I remembered correctly, it only took a thought to shape it…"
The black, liquid metal seeped slowly from my palm, dense and pliable, as if it had a will of its own.
It stretched, twisted, and merged until it took the form of a straight, simple, yet solid sword, with a crossguard in medieval style.
At the tip of the hilt, a small crimson gem glowed faintly, pulsing as if in sync with the beat of the core inside me.
--
Noah stepped through the waterfall's curtain, letting the fresh air fill his lungs.
He bent his knees and leapt, soaring almost as high as the treetops before descending in a controlled arc.
Thud
The impact left a small crater in the ground.
"Ah… it feels so good to move… without feeling like I'll die with every wrong step."
He launched forward, slicing through the forest like a shadow. The trees blurred into columns, the sound of leaves and branches parting echoing behind him. Small animals darted into the undergrowth, fleeing from the pressure of the air in his wake, mere shadows at the edge of his vision.
When he reached the road, the city unfolded before him, and the urban landscape warped into a continuous flow. Houses, poles, and people sped past so quickly they became indistinct streaks of color and shape. Some pedestrians flinched, turning their heads to track that human flash.
In less than five minutes, he came to a sudden stop in front of the station. The force of his feet hitting the ground reverberated in the air, and those nearby startled at the sudden appearance.
He walked into the lobby with steady steps, boarded the train, and chose a seat by the window.
He leaned back slightly, eyes catching his reflection in the glass.
The next stop was already decided: he needed money.
And what better place to get it than the Black Market?
--
Drake.
One of the cities farthest from the capital, Eliyon. The government hardly gave it any attention. Officially, it was still considered safe — but only on the surface. The truth was, the authorities preferred to turn a blind eye to what happened in the shadows, because the profit from such ignorance was far too good to ignore.
The train ride took half a day. When I finally stepped off, my first impression was of a place where routine and danger danced together without ever looking each other in the eye.
As I left the station, I noticed a few people glanced at me… but quickly looked away. It didn't take long to understand why: my appearance stood out too much. The light tone of my hair and the gleam in my eyes didn't match this setting at all.
Since it was already night, I searched for a quiet spot. I found a dark, empty alley — perfect for what I needed to do. The Symbiont began to spread over my body, shaping each detail as I thought of it.
My hair turned black, as did my eyes. My clothes shifted into a simple suit — nothing too expensive, but not cheap either — paired with black leather shoes. Even my features changed, making me appear a few years older to any observer.
When I was done, I walked out of the alley at a relaxed pace and headed for a nearby bar.
The door creaked softly as I pushed it open. The interior was rustic, but carried a certain class. People drank and spoke in low voices, a pleasant contrast to the world outside.
I made my way to the counter. The bartender watched me for a moment and greeted me with a slight nod.
He barely had time to finish his "Good evening" before I cut in.
"They say you have a barrel that never opens."
He stopped drying the glass, staring at me for a moment. A faint smile curved his lips before he replied, just loud enough not to draw attention:
"Not everyone can handle what's in there."
Without another word, he gave a subtle signal to a man sitting in the corner — an apparently ordinary customer, but with eyes far too sharp for someone just drinking. The man rose without hurry and gestured for me to follow.
We passed behind the counter and entered a side door, descending a narrow corridor into the cellar. The air was thick with the smell of aged wood and strong liquor. At the far end, among barrels and shelves of bottles, lay the real entrance to what I was looking for.
The man guiding me said nothing along the way. His steps were firm, echoing against the worn wooden floorboards of the cellar. He stopped before a large barrel, marked by time and dust, and knocked on it three times — each dull thud sounding heavier than the last.
Then he leaned in and murmured something too low for me to catch.
Clank
A metallic click echoed inside the barrel, and slowly, part of its side slid away, revealing a narrow passage. A different air seeped out — heavy, laden with mixed scents of iron, smoke, and rare spices.
I stepped down one stair, then another, and the view opened before me.
The Black Market of Drake.
An immense underground gallery stretched out in chaotic corridors, lit by yellow bulbs hanging from suspended cables. Wooden and metal stalls displayed goods impossible to find on the surface — exotic blades, self-glowing vials, fabrics with patterns that seemed to shift, and even cages where creatures with intelligent eyes stared at me in silence.
The sound was constant: coins clinking, whispered negotiations, the scratch of quills on contracts no government official would ever see.
I was in the right place.
--
The main corridor of the Black Market sprawled ahead like a living serpent, each turn revealing more of the organized chaos sustaining this place.
I passed a stall where curved swords gleamed under yellow light, blades forged from alloys I had only read about in technical manuals. Farther on, modified bolt-action rifles rested on worn velvet racks, each engraved with markings of dubious origin. The smell of gun oil mingled with that of tanned leather and rusted iron.
I kept moving, weaving through the crowd, noting that even magical artifacts — scrolls, mana stones, bracelets with pulsing runes — were sold at prices that would seem impossible above ground.
Weapons didn't interest me. Not when I already carried something far more formidable.
The Symbiont could shape blades, spears, or any offensive structure with equal — if not greater — efficiency than the finest weapons ever crafted in this world. Its living material was adaptable, and its defense was no less impressive: in my current state, only someone of Rank D+ would have a real chance of breaking through it.
And if I decided to fully unleash its potential… I doubted even a Rank S could kill me easily.
But I knew the cost of breaking certain limits. Costs I wasn't willing to pay… not out of pride. Not for something that wasn't worth every drop of consequence.
I kept walking, leaving the forbidden displays behind.
Passing another stall, I saw a bald man demonstrating the shot of an automatic crossbow to a group of onlookers. The sharp snap of the weapon echoed down the narrow corridor.
"Weapons, no… what I need is something else."
My gaze scanned the hand-painted signs until it landed on a discreet doorway with a small golden plaque. I pushed it open and stepped into a refined lounge — not extravagant, but polished enough to show that serious business was done here.
Behind a dark wooden counter, a receptionist with flawless posture watched me with a polite smile.
— "How can I help you?"
"I need an agent."
— "For what service?" she asked, hands resting on a small notepad.
"Selling a few mana stones."
She simply nodded, checked her wristwatch, and pressed a small side button. A discreet light blinked.
— "They're on their way."
I waited for barely a minute before a man emerged from the hallway at the back, walking toward me. His presence was silent but firm. A mask covered half his face, revealing only pale skin, dark brown hair, and calm, light green eyes that studied me carefully.
He stopped a few steps away and gave a brief nod.
— "Please, have a seat." he said, gesturing to a nearby table.
I settled into the soft leather chair, sensing the real deal was about to begin.
The agent leaned back slightly, folding his hands on the table.
"What would you like to sell?"
Rolling the mana stones between my fingers, I let the dry sound of them click in the air.
From the inner pocket of my coat, I pulled out five stones — four Rank E and one Rank D, nearly the size of a clenched fist.
He watched in silence, expression neutral, but I caught the faint glint of greed in his eyes.
"May I examine them?"
I slid the stones toward him.
He picked them up carefully, turning each over in his hands. For a moment, his eyes seemed to glow with the mana's energy. One second was all he needed for his verdict.
"I can only pay half the usual value," he said evenly. "They seem to have lost part of their energy over time."
I raised an eyebrow.
"Half the value."
I let the offer roll on my tongue before spitting the words:
"Deal… but no exchange fee. And I want a card with the amount, one that can be reloaded later."
He thought for a moment, then gave in.
"Rank D stones are in short supply. Deal."
"Your name?"
I thought quickly.
"Crow."
"Very well, Mr. Crow. I hope you'll come back someday."
A faint smile crossed his face before he stored the stones and began the paperwork.
The agent returned a few minutes later.
I stood as he approached, and he handed me the card. I pocketed it without much inspection and followed him.
We passed through a narrow corridor, a few old paintings and frames lining the walls.
We stopped in front of a plain wall.
The agent clapped his hands.
Clack
The passage opened, revealing a quiet alley with no foot traffic.
Noah stepped through.
Clac
It sealed behind me, shutting out the muffled sounds inside.
The silence of the night settled in.
"I'm tired…" I murmured, feeling the weight on my eyelids. No surprise — I'd been running on a tight clock for nearly a day and a half.
I walked out of the alley at a slow pace.
The streets were nearly empty, only a few drunks stumbling home from bars.
I checked my watch.
3:17 a.m.
I kept walking, turning a corner until I found an inn.
I stepped inside and headed straight for the counter.
"I want a room."
The receptionist handed me the key without asking questions.
I climbed the stairs, the hallway creaking under my steps.
The lock clicked as I turned the key.
The simple yet cozy room greeted me with a comforting silence.
I tossed my coat onto the chair and headed straight to the bathroom.
The hot water ran down my shoulders, washing away the weight built up in my body.
After the shower, I let the Symbiont spread in a thin, soft layer, molding itself like a comfortable fabric against my skin.
I collapsed onto the bed.
For a few brief seconds, my mind wandered over everything that had happened since I woke up in this world.
Sleep caught me quickly, and I drifted away.