Halo moved through the forest, giant trees towering overhead, their canopies filtering the distant sunlight into dim streaks across the dark soil.
The world operated on a strict system. Tasks called Purposes were carved into its foundation. No one could boast of free will, not even nature itself.
Wonderful. Even the trees had schedules.
He had been walking for a long time, fatigue clinging to him like a leech. His cuffs tightened, forcing him onto his tiptoes, and he wished the god who sponsored him—Only Sin—could at least lend a hand.
Just one miracle. Half a miracle. A stretch?
Every human in this world had a god by their side, helping them in exchange for service. His Only Sin was Death, hardly ideal for handling tiredness.
Death wasn't exactly known for its customer support.
Although practical concerns nagged at him, such as how to bathe, shelter himself, or even find food, they couldn't shake the dazed fog clinging to his mind.
He pushed through regardless. Steps firm and eyes fixated on the prize.
He had no interest in slaying gods himself. His goals were far simpler: stop the Hero from destroying them all, and understand what his own strange fate meant.
"What exactly made me a god's fascination? I barely even knew anything about this game…" he muttered, dragging a hand through his hair.
He could barely remember the controls half the time.
***
After weaving around roots as thick as walls and mushrooms the size of cottages, Halo began to worry. There was still no sign of the next land. In the game, it hadn't been this far from the academy grounds.
Clearly the developers of reality had added DLC.
He stayed alert, head snapping in every direction, watching for signs of Sinners.
The early stage of the game had never included threats, but this wasn't the game. This was a world that didn't care about tutorial zones.
No friendly "Press A to dodge" prompts here.
Then, suddenly, he stopped cold.
A mist drifted toward him, thick, slow, and deliberate. Something that had never appeared in the game.
Not a fan-made mod he remembered, either.
Panic bit at him.
Sinners roamed most lands. If he'd somehow wandered into the wrong region, he could be facing something completely beyond him.
And he had no weapon. He remembered all too well how dangerous Sinners were in hand-to-hand combat.
He wasn't planning to slap a monster to death today.
He backed away immediately, his instincts sharp. When he reached what felt like a safe distance, he finally paused.
But survival wasn't his only concern anymore. He needed to understand his abilities.
—
'Status.'
A bronze screen materialized in front of him.
***
[ Name: Halo D. Tenebris
Title: Shadow of Death
Rank: Awakened
True ability: Death Clone - - - Description:
Flaw: Coldness
Only Sin: Death
Nemesis:?
—
Sin Fragments: 0/10
Dominant Skill: Agility
Clones: 0 ]
***
He exhaled slowly. Something was wrong.
He dug his fingers into his hair, frustration clawing at him.
A Title represented the bond between a person and their god, and a Nemesis was their naturally sworn enemy. Not only was his Title strange, but he had no Nemesis at all.
Somehow even fate refused to beef with him.
He pushed the concerns aside and focused on what mattered, his True Ability.
He needed something to cut through the mist before him. It could prove dangerous, and he was unarmed.
'Description.'
***
[ Death Clone: Description:
You may summon clones of yourself, of others, and of all who have fallen by your hand. You become one.
Yet know this, what you wield is only a gift on loan, never a truth you possess. When Death comes to gather its belongings, it will reclaim them, and all you believed was yours will vanish like dust in your grasp. ]
***
Halo blinked, then scowled. "Wait… what?"
His eyes twitched as irritation surged through him.
He should have died.
The poison would have been slow and agonizing, but he found himself thrown into a brutal world, only to be told the power he had wasn't even really his?
"Tsk. Fuck those gods…"
He would've laughed if it wasn't his life on the line. Again.
He had played the game obsessively. He once deleted a Lost Lord character to replay with a stupid chicken-head cosmetic. He thought he knew everything.
Apparently he knew about as much as a tutorial NPC.
Still, his mind didn't spiral. He steeled himself for what lay ahead.
The ability to clone anyone he killed? That had potential. He could even kill the Hero and resurrect him as a loyal puppet.
He smirked despite himself.
Not that he planned to. For all his monstrous edges, he didn't kill without reason…
And frankly, puppeteering the Hero sounded exhausting.
Besides, the mist remained alive, methodically swaying his way, and he still had no power he could use.
'I summon a clone of myself.'
The screen flashed again.
***
[ Would you like to summon a clone of yourself? ]
Price: 2 Sin Fragments.
| Yes | No |
***
He slapped his forehead, his frustration unmistakable now.
Of course. Sin Fragments, the universal currency. Earned by killing Sinners or humans.
Each fragment carried a Dominant Skill and a piece of the fallen's Flaw, a corruption that grew worse with time.
He'd traded a Sin Fragment for a secret right before his own death. He never even got to see what the secret was.
Worst purchase of his life, and he once spent coins on a weapon skin shaped like a frying pan.
He clenched his jaw and gritted in annoyance. Without fragments, he was powerless.
Which meant he had to face the mist alone.
He hated it, but he wasn't stupid. He didn't know enough about this world. Wandering at night would be even worse.
Especially if the night included more mysterious moving fog and zero lighting.
He took a breath and wore his confidence as his impenetrable armor.
He needed to push through the mist and reach civilization.