Blood flowed across the marble floor and following dark trails through the white stones cracks like ink spilled.
Moonlight come inside the room through the broken window, illuminating the room in an cold glow, creating a surreal beauty as the two men fought for their very lives.
Jackson began to breath heavily and irregularly. His arms and sides were covered in so many wounds and his body screamed in terrible pain. His lungs were full of the metallic strong scent of his own blood.
"Amazing!" The assassin replied and lifted his dagger again. "You've really succeeded in drawing my blood."
Jackson spat & coughed up blood again, and smiled weakly. "Then I must be getting better."
He could barely hold himself up. His sight blurred in and out. The System whispered a weak voice in his mind:
[Vitality: 12%]
[Blood loss is critical. Life span: 2 days remaining.]
Two days…? After all that…
His knees collapsed. relying on one hand and he tried to stay upright. The dagger's blade gleamed in nervousness as the assassin moved slowly closer towards him.
"You fought well. But this is the end."
When Jackson touched the assassin's dagger that was on the ground, it was cold. He held on to it until his hands were white.
The assassin walked at him again and he pointed the dagger at his heart.
Jackson jerked at the last moment — the dagger stabbed through his side instead of its intended path to thrust into his chest. It hurt like hell, but his other hand acted on its own.
Jackson attacked the assassin in the stomach with the little blade in a fit of pure desperation. The man in the mask screamed for the first time.
Jackson's hand shook violently as warm blood sprayed his arm. He could feel the dagger go deeper and heard that delicious wet sound of flesh ripping.
The assassin's dagger fell to the ground with a noise.
They stared into each other's eyes—one's eye filled up with shock, disbelief, ice, and the other occupied with a combination of fearful, irrational, anger.
Jackson's voice was barely a whisper.
"I… won't die here."
And then — something snapped inside him.
[System Response Detected: Life Extraction Eligible Target – Confirm?]
[Yes / No]
He didn't even think. His heart screamed YES!
The world exploded in light.
A ferocious wave of golden energy expelled itself from the assassin's physical being, sweeping in a nightmarish storm of burning smoke. The radiance emitted light so potent that it flickered shadows that danced in the ravaged room.
The assassin thrashed, his eyes bulged wide open in disbelief.
"Wh—what… are you…?"
Jackson's body shook as the barrage of golden light poured into him - warmth, life, vitality itself. Every nerve cried out, every wound soon pained as if molten fire was poured into his veins.
His mind filled with chaotic whispers - faint memories that were not his own: a child training with a sword, a faceless teacher's voice, the laugh of a woman.
Then silence.
The light was faded away.
The assassin fell to his knees, his eyes turn into empty and his skin dehydrated like parchment. A dead husk, he collapsed to the ground.
Jackson stood motionless, breathing hard. His wounds began to close slowly, skin knitting together, blood stopping. His strength returned like a wave, hot and overwhelming.
[Life Extraction Successful.]
[You have gained +12 years of life.]
[Vitality restored to 100%.]
Jackson's heart went up and down as though he had just been revived and his golden eyes sparkled softly in the dark room.
This... this is human life force....
He looked down at the dead assassin. The man's face was alive and serene, whereas now it was a face locked in terror for all eternity.
Jackson dropped the knife, his hands shaking. "I… killed him…"
A part of him wanted to vomit. Another part — darker, deeper — felt alive.
He experienced power for the first time in years. Real power -- his heart raced not in fear but in excitement.
He stumbled back with hands against his chest as though trying to hold the wild rush of energy in.
[Warning: Emotional instability detected.]
He ignored it. His reflection in the shattered glass caught his attention — a boy no longer weak or helpless.
Something dangerous and cold appeared in his golden eyes.
He said softly to himself, "So...this is what living is?"
The face was illuminated by the moonlight - pale, bloodied, but full of newfound strength.
At that moment, Jackson Ravine was no longer the same man.
Scene Shift
The western wing of the Ravine mansion was softly lit by candles. With the appealing taste of aged wine in her mouth and a half-glass of red wine still on her palate. Callista was relaxing in her small private room which was decorated with luxurious furnished was made with woods, paintings was hanging on walls and silky smooth curtains on windows. She was sitting on the chair by the window.
Expression on her face was unreadable and her golden hair shine in the soft candle light.
She watched the red tendrils slide down the glass's sides as she slowly twisted the wine.
"Six days..." she said to herself. "And he still lives."
The door to her rear creaked open. There was a rush of cold air — and a flash of shadow.
Through the darkness in room a figure appears resembling a man knelt silently in front of her. The man's face was covered by a hood and his aura was covered with dangerous.
"Lady Callista," the shadow said, his voice low and controlled. "The assassin has failed to eliminate Young Master Jackson."
Callista didn't turn around. She took another slow sip of wine.
"Failed?" Her tone was calm, almost bored. "That's surprising. I was told he never fails."
"The target… used something," the shadow replied carefully. "Unknown magic. The assassin's body was found… drained."
Callista's hand froze in midair at that point. A few red wine drops fell to the floor as the wine glass tipped slightly.
Her gaze sharpened — cold, calculating.
"Drained?"
"Yes. Every trace of mana and life was gone. It's as if he had his soul devoured."
The room fell silent.
For the first time, Callista's calm expression cracked slightly — not with fear, but with intrigue.
She placed the glass down and finally turned to face the shadow. Her blue eyes gleamed with curiosity.
"Interesting…" she whispered. "So, the weakling has teeth after all."
The shadow bowed his head. "Your orders, my lady?"
Her silky dress skimmed the rug as she gradually rose. "For now, let things be. Let him think he is safe."
She went to the window, her profile glowing like a frost goddess in the moonlight.
"Watch him closely," she murmured. "If he has the capacity to drain life… well, then perhaps alive is better than dead."
The room fell silent once more as the shadow nodded and disappeared into the night.
Having a faint, dangerous smile on her lips, Callista raised the wine glass again.
"Jackson Ravine..." she murmured, looking out into the moonlit garden. Please died easily, I don't want you suffer"
Through his hands still wet from the blood, Jackson stood by himself in the destroyed room and breathing heavily.
He glanced at the lifeless assassin and looked down at his reflection once again.
His expression hardened.
He wasn't the same boy anymore.
He whispered quietly, almost like a vow —
"I'll never be weak again."
And outside, in the other wing of the mansion, Callista's smile deepened — as if she had just heard his promise.