Gravity was a simple equation. Mass times acceleration equals impact.
Ren fell three stories. The air rushed past his ears, whipping his hair back. To a normal human, a thirty-foot drop onto concrete was a death sentence, or at least a shattered spine.
To Ren, it was just an entrance strategy.
"Aim for the bald one," Gluttony advised.
Ren adjusted his trajectory in mid-air. He didn't land on the ground; he landed on the shoulders of the nearest Mannequin Stalker.
CRASH.
The sound was like a gunshot. The Mannequin didn't stand a chance. Ren's boots, driven by the force of the fall and his [Strength: 12], drove the plastic construct directly into the tiled floor. The impact shattered its porcelain shell into a thousand shards.
Ren absorbed the shock with a roll, coming up in a crouch. He was surrounded by dust and ceramic debris.
The atrium went silent. The three rookie hunters lowered their weapons, staring with wide eyes. The remaining five Mannequins froze, their painted heads twitching toward the new threat.
"Focus," Ren barked at the rookies, his voice distorted by his mask. "Shield up. Don't watch me. Watch them."
The Warrior, a terrified kid who couldn't be older than eighteen, stumbled back to reality. "R-right! Shield Wall!" He raised his cracked buckler.
The Mannequins didn't scream. They didn't roar. They just moved.
Click-click-click.
Their joints snapped and spun as they rushed Ren. They moved with a jerky, unnatural speed, their blade-arms slashing through the air.
Ren didn't retreat. He met the charge.
His bone claws were already extended—jagged, serrated blades dripping with the oil of the Ferrous Wolves.
The first Mannequin lunged, aiming a plastic blade at Ren's throat. Ren batted the arm aside with his left hand—the metal density of his bones ringing like a bell against the hard plastic—and drove his right claw into its chest.
There was no blood. Just the screech of tearing polymer. Ren twisted his hand, severing the mana-cables that powered the construct. It dropped like a puppet with cut strings.
[Kill Confirmed.]
[Bio-Mass: +0 (Inorganic)]
"Useless," Ren hissed, kicking the body away.
"The lady in red, Ren," Gluttony urged, his voice vibrating with hunger. "She is escaping while you play with her dolls."
Ren looked up. The Necro-Mannequin—the one in the tattered red dress with the pulsing heart in its chest—was scaling the central fountain statue. It was trying to get to the high ground to cast spells.
"Oh no you don't."
Ren sprinted. He leaped onto the rim of the fountain, then launched himself at the statue.
The Necro-Mannequin saw him coming. It opened its mouth—a hinged jaw that unhinged too wide—and let out a psychic shriek.
SCREEEEE—
The sound hit Ren like a physical hammer. It was a mental attack, designed to paralyze prey with fear.
Behind him, the rookie Mage collapsed, clutching her ears, nose bleeding. The Warrior dropped to one knee.
Ren gritted his teeth. His vision blurred. The edges of his mind began to fray, panic clawing at his throat.
[Mental Attack Detected.]
[Defense System Active: GLUTTONY.]
"Silence, you cheap toy," Gluttony roared.
The AI's voice didn't project outward; it projected inward, drowning out the shriek with a wave of pure, concentrated arrogance. The paralysis broke instantly.
Ren landed on the statue, grabbing the Mannequin's ankle.
"Get down here!"
He yanked. The Mannequin lost its grip and fell, crashing into the dry basin of the fountain.
Ren landed on top of it a second later. He straddled its chest, pinning its blade-arms to the ground with his knees.
The creature thrashed, its painted eyes glowing red. It tried to bite him.
Ren slammed his forehead into its face.
Thud.
His skull, reinforced by the iron from the wolves, didn't even bruise. The Mannequin's face cracked down the middle.
"Open wide," Ren whispered.
He raised his right hand. The bone claws retracted, fusing back into a single, dense point—like a chisel.
He drove his hand down.
CRACK.
He punched through the plastic ribcage. His hand wrapped around the object inside.
It was warm. It was wet. It was beating.
The Necro-Mannequin convulsed once, then went still. The red light in its eyes faded.
Ren pulled his hand out. In his palm sat a human heart, preserved by dark magic, pulsating with a thick, crimson aura.
[Item: Heart of the Obsessed]
[Rank: D+]
[Description: The heart of a Mage who refused to die, bound to a construct.]
"Finally," Gluttony sighed, a sound of pure ecstasy. "A vintage 1998. The suffering really brings out the flavor. Eat it, Ren. Before it stops beating."
Ren looked at the rookies. They were staring at him. The Warrior had lowered his shield. The Healer was looking at the heart in Ren's hand with horror.
"He... he ripped its heart out," the Mage whispered.
Ren knew he couldn't physically eat it. Not in front of them. That would cross the line from 'Hunter' to 'Monster'.
He turned his back to them, shielding his actions with his body.
[Skill: Devour]
Black smoke poured from Ren's palm. The heart dissolved, turning into streams of red light that were sucked into his skin.
The taste hit him instantly. It wasn't the metallic taste of blood. It tasted like spicy wine and static electricity.
A rush of power flooded his veins. His mana circuits, usually thin and weak, expanded violently.
[Consumed: Heart of the Obsessed]
[Bio-Mass: +150]
[Mana: 5 >> 15]
[New Skill Unlocked: Flash Step (Lv. 1)]
"Flash Step," Gluttony noted. "A short-range burst of speed. Basic, but useful for a scavenger who likes to run away."
Ren stood up. He felt charged, his fingertips buzzing. He wiped the slime from his hand onto his pants.
He turned to the rookies.
They flinched.
"You're... you're a Freelancer?" the Warrior asked, his voice shaking. He eyed the 'C-Rank' badge on Ren's chest, then the bone-claws that were slowly retracting back into Ren's normal fingers. "What kind of skill is that?"
"Biological Manipulation," Ren lied. It was a rare, but documented, class of magic. "Are you three alive?"
"Y-yeah," the Healer stammered. "Thanks to you. We... we thought we could handle D-Rank. The Guild said it was cleared."
"The Guild lied," Ren said coldly. "This area is swarming. The respawn rate is broken."
He walked past them. He stopped at the corpse of the Necro-Mannequin and kicked its head, dislodging a small, green Mana Core. He pocketed it.
"Go back to the gate," Ren ordered, not looking back. "You're bleeding, you're out of mana, and you're loud. Next time, something bigger than a doll will find you."
"Wait!" The Warrior stepped forward. He reached into his pouch. "We... we have to pay you. For the save. It's the code."
He held out a credit chip.
Ren paused. He wanted to take it. He needed to take it.
But Gluttony spoke up.
"Leave it. A predator does not take charity from prey. It ruins the dynamic. Besides, their fear is a better currency. Look at them. They will tell stories about the 'Faceless Ghoul' who eats hearts. Infamy is useful, Ren."
Ren hesitated. Then, he shook his head.
"Keep it," Ren said. "Buy better shields."
He activated his new skill.
[Flash Step]
ZHOOM.
Ren vanished.
To the rookies, it looked like he teleported. One second he was there, the next, he was a blur of motion appearing twenty feet away on the escalator.
He didn't look back. He sprinted up the rusted stairs, disappearing into the shadows of the second floor.
The rookies stood in the silent atrium, surrounded by broken plastic.
"Did you see his eyes?" the Mage whispered, shivering. "They were... hungry."
[Status Update: Ren Walker]
Bio-Mass: 280 / 1000
Mana: 15
New Skill: Flash Step (Cost: 5 Mana. Range: 10 meters.)