Phew...
A long, steady breath escaped Lucian's lips.
Strange. A moment ago, his heart had been hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird. But now? Now, the alleyway felt calm. The looming threat of the stone-skinned thug didn't feel like a threat at all. It felt... trivial.
[PASSIVE TRAIT ACTIVE: THE SIN OF PRIDE]
[Effect: The User is immune to Fear and Mental Corruption from lower-tier entities.]
"Oh," Lucian thought, blinking as the red text floated in his peripheral vision. "So that's what it is."
He looked at Victor. The man was huge, his skin encased in magical rock, but to Lucian, he looked small. Insignificant.
They are just low-tier pigs, Lucian realized, his thoughts turning cold. I don't need to be afraid of pigs.
"Done staring?" Victor growled.
Before Lucian could blink, the big man moved. For someone so heavy, he was fast. Victor lunged forward, closing the meter-wide gap in an instant. He raised his right hand—a heavy, gray block of stone—and swung it with the force of a sledgehammer.
BAM.
The impact caught Lucian square on the chin.
His feet left the ground. Lucian was thrown backward, flying five meters through the air before crashing into a pile of rusted metal dustbins.
Crash. Clatter.
Garbage spilled everywhere. Lucian groaned, tasting copper. His jaw felt unhinged, and sharp pain radiated up his spine from where he'd hit the brick wall.
"Wow! That was a great hit, Vic!" Alric shouted from the sidelines, clapping his hands like an excited child.
Victor shook his stone hand, grinning. "That felt great. I really am the strongest in the slums."
Lucian lay in the refuse, barely able to speak. His vision swam. Blood dripped freely from his nose, staining his shirt.
It hurts...
[SKILL ACTIVATED: SHADOW WEAVE (LV. 1)]
Suddenly, the shadows beneath the dustbins surged upward like black liquid. They wrapped around Lucian's injuries, cool and soothing.
Snap.
Lucian felt his jaw realign. The throbbing in his back vanished. The bleeding stopped instantly.
Shit, Lucian thought, wiping the dried blood from his lip. This System is bipolar. Five seconds ago it threatened to blow my head off, and now it's stitching me back together?
He stood up, brushing a banana peel off his shoulder as if nothing had happened. He walked out of the trash pile, his steps steady, his eyes locked on Victor.
Victor's grin faltered. He blinked, looking at the boy who should have been unconscious.
Lucian stopped a foot away. Victor was taller, forcing Lucian to crane his neck to look him in the eye.
"Shit... this bum knows a trick or two, huh Alric?" Victor said, trying to keep his voice bold, though he took a half-step back. "You want another punch in the face, Luci?"
"Don't call me that," Lucian whispered.
"What?"
"I said," Lucian looked up, his dark eyes flashing with a violet light, "don't call me that, you bastard."
The air in the alleyway suddenly grew heavy. Thick. Suffocating. A faint red aura began to bleed out of Lucian's body, warping the shadows around them.
Lucian opened his mouth and spoke a single word. It wasn't a shout. It was a command.
"Kneel."
[SKILL ACTIVATED: KING'S PRESSURE (LV. 1)]
BOOM.
It wasn't a sound; it was a physical force. Gravity in the alleyway seemed to multiply tenfold.
Victor's knees buckled instantly. He didn't have a choice. His stone skin offered no protection against the weight of the air itself. He slammed into the cobblestones, the impact cracking the ground beneath his shins.
Alric, standing further back, collapsed face-first into the mud, gasping for air like a fish out of water.
"Wh... what... is... th-this..." Victor wheezed, spit dribbling from his mouth. He tried to push himself up, but his arms trembled and failed. The pressure was immense.
Lucian took a step closer. He looked down at the top of Victor's shaved head.
"How is the view from the ground?" Lucian asked, leaning in to whisper in Victor's ear.
He waited for the rush of victory. He waited for the satisfaction of seeing his bully humiliated. But... nothing. He felt empty.
Is it because of the Sin? Lucian wondered, looking at his own hands. Or is it just that crushing ants isn't satisfying?
Whatever it was, he was bored now.
He spotted a broken plank of wood—part of a crate—lying near the overturned dustbins. He picked it up, weighing it in his hand.
He walked back to Victor, who was still groaning under the invisible weight.
"Goodnight."
Lucian raised the wood high and brought it down.
CRACK.
The wood splintered against Victor's skull. The big man's eyes rolled back, and he slumped forward, unconscious. Stone skin didn't protect the brain from rattling inside the skull.
Lucian tossed the splintered stick aside and turned his gaze to Alric.
The weasel was shaking violently.
"P-please!" Alric wailed, pressing his face into the mud. "Don't do it, Lucian! I just followed Victor's words! You know how it is in the slums—you have to follow the strong ones!"
"Pathetic," Lucian muttered.
"I don't even have power!" Alric cried, snot running down his face. "The System didn't choose me! I'm a Zero! Please, I'm just a normal human being!"
A dark stain spread across the front of Alric's trousers. The smell of urine mixed with the damp alley air.
"That's gross," Lucian said flatly.
He flicked his wrist.
[KING'S PRESSURE: INACTIVE]
The crushing weight vanished. Alric gasped, sucking in huge gulps of air, relief flooding his face.
Lucian extended his hand, palm open.
"Give me money."
It wasn't a beg. It was a demand. A tax.
Alric froze. "Wh-what?"
"I'm hungry," Lucian said, his voice devoid of emotion. "Empty your pockets."
Alric didn't hesitate. What could a normal human do against a monster who made people kneel with a word? He fumbled in his pockets with shaking hands and pulled out a crumpled banknote.
Ten Pounds. It was slick and dirty, bearing the portrait of the King of London—currency from the black market, likely stolen from another orphan.
Lucian snatched the note. He shoved it into his pocket, his heart beating a little faster as he waited for the System's punishment.
...Nothing. No headache. No warning screen.
Phew. A wave of relief washed over him. So, taking tribute is allowed. Begging is a sin, but extortion is a privilege.
"Get away from me," Lucian said, turning his back. "Don't even show me your face again."
"Y-yes! Thank you!" Alric scrambled to his feet, terrified. He grabbed Victor by the collar of his shirt and began dragging the heavy, unconscious man deeper into the shadows, disappearing around the corner.
Lucian stood alone in the alley, touching the money in his pocket.
Clap. Clap. Clap.
The sound of slow, rhythmic applause echoed from the mouth of the alleyway behind him.
Lucian spun around, his hand instinctively going to his pocket as if reaching for a sword he didn't have.
Was he watching everything?
A figure stepped out of the fog.
"Boy," the unknown voice spoke, calm and smooth like velvet over steel. "That was a good fight."