Brass nded lightly on the broad limb of an old pine, draconic wings folding in and vanishing into motes of crimson-bck light. The sudden absence of lift nearly pitched him forward, but his hybrid reflexes kicked in, crouching low and adjusting his bance before the branch could sway more than a whisper.

  He held perfectly still.

  Then—he stopped breathing.

  His senses fred, stretching to the limit. Every heartbeat below pulsed like distant drums. Every movement, every sniff, every errant cough registered with crystalline crity. He waited. Counted the beats. Measured the tension in the air.

  Nothing.

  Slowly, he breathed in a soundless sigh. He hadn’t been noticed.

  He’d circled the group a few times, wings tucked close and movements subtle, but even his heightened hearing had struggled to catch full sentences through the wind’s whistle and the need to stay out of sight. Now, nestled atop the tree like a predator in ambush, the words came clearly.

  And he hated what he heard.

  At first, it was idle chatter—talk of loot, the taste of mountain air, and the expected griping of men with too much blood on their hands and too little soul behind their eyes.

  Then one voice—gravel-edged and smug—said something that twisted Brass’s stomach.

  “…still can’t believe that busty chick died so fast,” one of the men ughed, voice low and vulgar. “Would’ve liked more time to enjoy her, y’know?”

  Brass’s cws slid out involuntarily, tips scraping bark. His muscles tensed, blood surging hot with fury. The scent of bloodlust curled up in his nose—his own. His vision threatened to tint red.

  But he didn’t move.

  Not yet.

  Then another voice spoke, younger, nervous. “That guy who hired us… You felt it too, right? That pressure? Even through the transmitter stone, it was like my guts wanted to crawl out my spine.”

  The air around Brass cooled.

  That description… that presence. There was no mistaking it.

  The Sorcerer.

  The one who had killed him.

  The one he would destroy.

  The group’s leader—thick-necked, scarred, and oozing arrogance—grunted, with a voice like grinding stone. “If you know what’s good for you, kid, shut it. You don’t want to get involved in his business. Leave the thinking to me.”

  A quiet hush fell over the camp after that. The fire crackled low. The men shifted nervously.

  Brass didn’t move from his perch, but smiled darkly. The fmes of hatred burned cold now. Controlled. Focused.

  No more doubts.

  These weren’t innocents. They were predators, licking blood from their teeth and answering to something far worse.

  He smiled darkly.

  [New Quest: Eliminate the Bandits]0/6 Bandits syedReward: +EXP impending evaluation, +Chance for Clue on the Sorcerer’s Whereabouts

  So be it.

  He would make this fast.

  And he would make it hurt.

  The hunt was on.

  One of the men was trudging away from the camp, angling toward the edge of the picket line—probably out to relieve the next watch.

  He’d never make it.

  Brass waited, crouched low along the bough, still as a shadow. He tracked the man’s path until he was far enough from the camp to ensure silence, but not so close to the other sentry that the sound would carry.

  Perfect.

  He dropped.

  In midair, he shifted—bones cracking, muscles swelling, skin stretching into fur. His form blurred into his hybrid lycan shape, a predator born of fang and fury.

  The bandit wore a dull iron cuirass, no chainmail underneath, a short spear cradled zily under one arm. No helmet.

  Amateur.

  Brass crashed down on him like a comet. One cwed hand swept forward in a brutal arc- bone gave, and the man’s skull caved with a sickening crunch. Blood sprayed across Brass’s arm as he seized the twitching corpse.

  He didn’t pause. Instinct surged forward, primal and irresistible. His fangs sank into the man’s neck, tearing through flesh and tendon in a spray of warmth. The head tore free as Brass crouched low, dragging the limp form silently to the ground.

  [Quest Update: Eliminate the Bandits – 1/6]Bandit Eliminated: +4 XP

  The blood was hot and rich, electrifying his nerves. He exhaled with a low growl, eyes fring in the dark. His limbs throbbed with stolen strength, and a quick gnce at his stat screen showed a subtle uptick in numbers.

  A slow, feral smile curled across his lips.

  The nearby sentry hadn’t noticed.

  Of course not—barely three seconds had passed. Three seconds between life and death.

  He shoved the thought aside. They deserve it, he told himself. Predators. Monsters. Just like him… only without the excuse of being reborn into something dark.

  No. He was worse than them now. But at least he made it count.

  He moved.

  Shadow bled from his limbs as he activated Vampiric Dash, body disappearing in a blur. As he passed the first corpse, he snatched the fallen spear from the dirt, his cws curling around the haft.

  He appeared behind the second guard a heartbeat ter, almost an echo of his own previous movement. Without a word, without a growl, he drove the spear into the man’s back. The iron tip burst through the chest with a wet crack.

  The bandit gasped—but only for a moment.

  Brass twisted.

  Then, with speed no man on Earth could match, he seized the back of the man’s head and smmed it into the ground. The blow cratered the dirt. Bone shattered. The man’s skull burst like overripe fruit beneath a boot.

  [Quest Update: Eliminate the Bandits – 2/6]Bandit Eliminated: +4 XP

  Blood painted the leaves in a fan of crimson.

  Brass exhaled slowly, surveying the body with cold detachment. The remains were almost unrecognizable—an unmade life.

  He crouched again, fingers slipping through the ragged wound the spear had carved. A bit low, but nothing his enhanced senses couldn’t handle.

  He found the heart.

  Warm. Slick. Still twitching slightly.

  He tore it free and bit in without hesitation.

  It hit his tongue like lightning. Life-force still humming within. The taste was raw, primal, almost addictive.

  [Stat Increase: +2 Permanent Boost to Health, Stamina, Magic, Ki, and Chakra]

  Brass let out a low, rumbling breath of satisfaction as the essence settled into him, bolstering every part of his being. His body thrummed with power. His blood sang.

  Human hearts, it seemed, had quite the nutritional value.

  Crouching low, Brass tightened his grip on the blood-slick shaft of the short spear. Muscles coiled, and with a grunt, he unched himself skyward—inhuman strength propelling him nearly to the canopy in a single bound. As branches rushed past, he unfurled his draconic wings with a powerful snap.

  An upbeat of leathery membranes sent him soaring higher, the wind rushing past his ears as he twisted in the air. He banked wide, circling around the camp with practiced ease—his silhouette a phantom against the night sky.

  The next guard wasn’t hard to find.

  He was perched on a rge boulder at the edge of the perimeter, a thick bully club resting across his p. Rexed. Compcent. Scanning the ground with zy sweeps of his gaze.

  But never looking up.

  Brass folded his wings tight, feet together, and angled his descent. The air whistled around him as gravity lent speed to his silent dive. With precise timing, he drove both heels down—

  —CRACK.

  His boots smmed into the man’s skull like twin battering rams, and the guard was unched backward, crashing into a tree with a meaty thud. The impact embedded him halfway into the trunk, limbs bent awkwardly, his body held upright only by the force of the blow.

  For a moment, it looked almost cartoonish. Like something from a video game cutscene—a vilin paused mid-defeat, frozen in time.

  But this was real. Visceral. Blood leaked from the cracked helmet, pooling at the base of the tree.

  Brass winced inwardly.

  He’d seen worse in games and movies. He’d even done worse like the st two. Between media and the overwhelming instincts of his hybrid form, most of the time he could push through.

  But three kills in a row… that was starting to hit differently.

  Still, he wasn’t finished. Not yet.

  Steeling his nerves, he stepped closer, reaching for the corpse’s chest—only to pause. This one wore an iron cuirass, too, and pulling the heart out would mean tearing through it. The sound alone would wake the whole camp.

  He sighed, irritated. Not worth it.

  Instead, he crouched low, sinking his fangs into the man’s neck. Warm blood flooded his mouth—rich, coppery, tinged with the smoky aftertaste of cooked meat. He drank deeply, feeling the warmth spread through his limbs, muscles pulsing with newfound energy.

  [Quest Update: Eliminate the Bandits – 3/6]Bandit Eliminated: +4 XP

  He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and pulled up his status screen.

  [Status Screen]Health: 40 / 31Stamina: 60 / 48Ki: 189 / 189Mana: 43 / 43Chakra: 27 / 27EXP: 272 / 40

  He arched a brow.

  That blood bonus really stacks. His health and stamina had already outpaced their base values. He felt stronger, faster, more in control of this monstrous new form.

  And now, only three remained.

  He turned toward the camp, wings twitching at his back, senses sharpening again as the hunt continued.

  Brass crouched in the underbrush just beyond the firelight, eyes locked on the three remaining bandits. The flickering glow of the campfire danced across their faces—worn, dirty, unaware. He debated his approach. So far, things had gone almost too smoothly.

  Part of him wanted to continue the silent culling, clean and efficient.

  But another part—the one with cws and wings and a taste for blood—wanted to test his new powers. Quiet as moonlight, he moved into position.

  Then, with a sharp inhale, he activated Howling Strike.

  The air warped around him. A low, rising hum exploded into a concussive boom as he unched from his crouch—an obsidian blur wreathed in force. He crashed into the bandit leader with bone-shattering force, the shockwave knocking the other two ft and scattering embers into the sky like dying stars.

  Before they could even gasp, he yered on his next ability—

  Crimson Pyre.

  Ghostly red fmes erupted from his skin, trailing from his limbs like heat mirage and fire given form. The temperature around him spiked, the heat making the campfire feel like a candle in comparison.

  One of the men screamed, scrambling backward and shouting a name—“Darren!”

  Pinned beneath him, the bandit leader thrashed, grunting in panic. But the more he struggled, the worse it got—his armor glowing orange as it seared into his skin. The fmes weren’t just decoration; they were hungry.

  Brass grinned, the firelight catching the glint of his fangs.

  The leader screamed as Brass’s cws came down. Again. And again. Each strike raked across iron, burning hotter with every impact. Even through the armor, the man was beginning to break—but not quickly enough.

  Thunk!

  Pain bloomed in his shoulder. Brass snarled, jerking around. An arrow jutted from the meat of his arm, crimson dripping down the shaft. His healing factor had already begun pushing it free, the flesh twitching and knitting slowly around the wound—but it hurt.

  Good.

  He let the pain fuel his rage.

  With another snarl, he activated Howling Strike a second time, unching himself at the archer like a crimson meteor. The impact sent the man sprawling backward—and, once again, the shockwave knocked the third bandit off his feet before he could rise with his drawn short sword.

  Brass didn’t hesitate. He hit the ground in a crouch and surged forward, jaws wide.

  His teeth found the archer’s neck.

  Crunch.

  Warmth exploded into his mouth as the jugur gave way. The man spasmed once, a wet gurgle escaping his throat, and then went still.

  [Quest Update: Eliminate the Bandits – 4/6]Bandit Eliminated: +4 XP

  Brass licked the blood from his lips and rose slowly. Two more.His fmes still danced across his limbs, his body thrumming with power.And in the heart of the camp, fear had taken root

  The bandit leader y writhing on the ground, his moans lost under the low crackle of dying fmes and the hiss of Brass’s ethereal fire. The only other survivor—the st of the pack—had seen enough.

  He scrambled back on all fours like a panicked animal before forcing himself upright, bolting into the woods.

  Right into Brass’s chest.

  The bandit’s eyes went wide with primal terror as his breath caught in his throat. He turned to run again, but Brass was already gone—a blink of motion—and then there he was again, standing in front of him like a phantom born of smoke and blood.

  The man stumbled backward, hands shaking. His breathing turned ragged—hyperventiting.

  Brass caught him by the throat.

  “Let’s see what you’ve got for me.”

  With a whisper of power, he activated Soul Siphon.

  A bck-violet light bled from his palm into the man’s chest as his body stiffened, his mouth open in a silent scream. His eyes rolled back—then went entirely white—lifeless, blind.

  Brass felt the man’s essence drain away. It wasn’t blood. It was… memory, will, skill—spirit. Yet it was thin. Weak. Worthless.

  Not good enough.

  He activated Soul Siphon again.

  And again.

  The man’s body convulsed violently. His skin turned ashen. His soul peeled away in fragments, like pages torn from a burning book.

  Ding.

  [Quest Update: Eliminate the Bandits – 5/6]Bandit Eliminated: +4 XP

  [You have acquired: Skill – Dirty Feint]Type: Active | Cost: 5 StaminaDescription:Perform a deceptive feint followed by a sudden low strike. This ability is designed to bypass standard guards and parries. Deals minor bonus damage and applies Staggered if the opponent is caught off-guard. Particurly effective against human or humanoid enemies.Note: Has a higher chance of success when used in rapid, aggressive melee combat.

  Brass tilted his head as the new knowledge slid into pce. Muscle memory that wasn’t his own. Reflexes honed by desperation, not discipline.

  Not glorious. Not elegant.

  But effective.

  He dropped the body and turned to the st of the living—the bandit leader—who was cwing weakly at the dirt, trying to crawl away with a shattered leg and a breastpte scorched bck.

  Brass bared his teeth

  The bandit leader was still alive—barely. His face bleeding from deep gashes, one eye swollen shut. But his lips were moving, whispering something. A prayer, maybe. Or a plea.

  Brass stepped closer.

  “No gods listening, buddy.”

  Without another word, he pressed his cwed hand against the man’s chest and activated Soul Siphon.

  Once.The man screamed, voice raw and high. His body convulsed.

  Twice.His limbs bucked, kicking dirt as his spine arched unnaturally.

  Three times.Blood trickled from his ears. His armor smoked where Brass’s hand made contact.

  Four.The scream became a wheeze.

  Five.His mouth opened, but no sound came. Just a long exhale.

  Then—

  [You have acquired: Trait – Street Reflexes]Type: Passive TraitDescription:Years of surviving ambushes, bar fights, and assassination attempts have sharpened your instincts. You gain +10% to reaction speed against unseen attacks or traps and +5% evasion in tight quarters. Also grants a +1 bonus to Dexterity-reted checks involving crowd movement or slipping away unnoticed.

  Brass blinked as his body subtly recalibrated. His footwork felt looser. Lighter. He could feel exactly where to step if he wanted to vanish into a crowd—or snap someone’s wrist in a tavern brawl.

  But the soul wasn’t empty yet.

  He pressed his palm deeper into the dying man’s chest and activated Soul Siphon one st time.

  The bandit’s final shudder went still.

  Ping.

  [You have acquired: Skill – Ambusher’s Guile]Type: Active | Cost: 15 Stamina | Cooldown: 20 secDescription:Briefly vanish from sight when breaking line of sight for more than 1 second. If you attack an unaware target within 5 seconds of reappearing, deal bonus critical damage and stagger the target. Can also be used outside of combat to sneak, reposition, or escape pursuit.Note: This is not true invisibility, but trained predator movement—learned, not magical.

  Brass smirked.

  Now that was a useful trick.

  No smoke bombs, no spells—just brutal muscle memory, honed from years of dirty fights and even dirtier escapes. He could already feel how to twist his body, how to pivot behind a tree or boulder, and slip into shadow like a ghost

  [Quest Update: Eliminate the Bandits – 6/6]Bandit Eliminated: +4 XP

  Quest Complete – Calcuting reward…Reward Calcution Complete: ? Efficiency Rating: 6/10 ? Style: 7/10 ? Resourcefulness: 4/10Overall Performance Evaluation: 5.5/10Final Reward: +20 XP

  Brass threw his arms into the air. “You were serious about rating me on these metrics?!”

  The system’s orb whirred into view, its glowing eye unwavering.“Of course. I would never joke about system updates.”

  Brass scowled. “Okay, but why the hell did I score so low on resourcefulness?”

  “You dropped the spear,” the system replied matter-of-factly. “And reverted to cws against the bandit leader.”

  Brass blinked. “Oh. Yeah… well—whatever.”

  He sighed, letting the lycanthropic transformation fade. The ache in his limbs eased slightly as he returned to his base form. Twenty XP wasn’t much, but with the kills included, he’d gained 44 total XP, bringing his current tally to 308 XP—less than a hundred away from his next level-up.

  Between that and the skills he’d siphoned, this little ambush had been more than worth the effort.

  The system orb twisted subtly, somehow conveying a quizzical tilt despite its hard, featureless shell.

  Brass narrowed his eyes. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

  “You’ve already begun to change,” it said. “It is… fascinating to watch. During combat, you were disgusted by death. And now, standing over corpses, all you can think about is experience points.”

  Brass hesitated.

  The words hit harder than expected.

  In the heat of the moment, he’d been so focused on the rush—on the surge of power and the stats ticking up—that he’d stopped thinking of the bandits as people. Just XP packets. Just loot.

  What was he becoming?

  He looked down at his hands. Blood still clung to his cws. He clenched his fists, jaw tight.

  “I’ll never be powerless again,” he said quietly. Then louder, with conviction:“I won’t stand by, helpless, ever again. Not while people I care about suffer. If this new life gives me the power to protect them—then I’ll do whatever I have to.”

  The orb hovered silently for a beat. Then:

  “Search the bag over there. Your other reward awaits.”

  Brass blinked. Then remembered—the clue. The system had mentioned something earlier.

  He stepped over the still forms and began rifling through the bandits’ supplies. It didn’t take long to find a worn leather journal, marked with ash and blood, tucked into a side pouch on the leader’s gear.

  He tucked it into his inventory, watching it vanish in a mote of golden light.

  That was for ter.

  For now, he continued sweeping the camp—checking bags, corpses, and scattered gear—for anything worth looting

  Brass stood over the st corpse, wiping his hands on a clean-ish bit of cloth he found in one of the bedrolls. “Alright, let’s see what we’re working with here.”

  He knelt and started sorting through the gear, muttering to himself. “One short spear, decent point… blood’s mostly dried. I can work with this.”

  [Short Spear – Common]Iron-tipped. Standard bance. Effective for stabbing. Not recommended for throwing unless you want to lose it.

  “Shortbow… a little warped, but functional. And a quiver with—what—seventeen arrows?” He flipped through them quickly. “Some better than others.”

  [Sturdy Shortbow – Worn]Minor accuracy penalty. Still serviceable. You’ll hit your target… probably.[Quiver x17 Arrows]: 11 sharp, 4 blunted, 2 barbed. May cause bleed effect if barbed ones strike flesh.

  “Two daggers, nothing fancy. Five throwing knives… rusty. Could use a touch-up. Or a forge.”

  [Iron Daggers x2 – Common]Banced. Can stab or throw. Doesn’t do both at once.[Throwing Knives x5 – Rusty]Accuracy penalty: Moderate. Shame penalty: Considerable.

  “Two cuirasses, iron. Kinda dented. Guess bandits don’t get dental or armor maintenance.”

  [Iron Cuirass x2 – Dented]Medium armor. Some blunt resistance. You will not impress anyone wearing this.

  Brass moved on to a pouch of vials and squinted at the bels. “Three red ones—healing potions? Maybe?”

  [Minor Healing Potion x3]Restores 15 HP over 10 seconds. Tastes like old cherries and regret.

  “Food—smoked meat. Smells like someone tried to season despair.”

  [Rations x4 – Smoked Mystery Meat]+5 Stamina Regen/min (Duration: 20 mins). May or may not be rat.

  “Couple waterskins, half full. Not bad. Bottle of… bandit spirits?”

  He uncorked it, sniffed, then recoiled. “Gods, that smells like paint thinner.”

  [Bandit Spirits – Questionable Vintage]Effect: ???Side effect: Probably.

  “Coins… okay, now we’re talking. Thirty-two silver, eighty-four copper.” He pocketed the pouch. “And ooooh, hello shiny things.” He opened a smaller pouch. “Uncut gemstones?”

  [Gemstone Pouch – Rough Cut]Estimated value: 20–35 Silver. More if you don’t try to sell them with blood on them.

  “Found a piece of a map too, something circled here. Can’t read the text, though.”

  [Map Fragment – Skor Foothills]Marked with ‘???’ and bad intentions. May unlock new location or questline.

  “Now this… this is the good stuff.” He held up the weathered leather-bound book. “The leader’s journal. Bet this’ll have all the juicy info.”

  [Bandit Leader’s Journal – Key Item]Contains personal logs, coded messages, and notes about ‘The Sorcerer’, ‘The Collector’, and a relic.Recommend reading in safety unless you enjoy spoilers under pressure.

  He frowned, turning over a crude neckce made of fangs and bone. “Charming. Wonder what this is?”

  [Trophy Neckce – Primitive]Possible tribal or cultic origin. May interact with totems, rituals, or scare small children.

  Lastly, a tattered deck of cards. “Why are these sticky? Ugh—one’s missing: Queen of Fmes…”

  [Bloodstained Pying Cards – Incomplete Deck]51 cards. Missing piece may be important. Or not. Life’s a gamble.

  Brass tucked everything into his inventory, sighing. “Alright, not bad for a night’s work. Not a single magic sword, though.”

  “Maybe next time try a dungeon instead of a hill full of degenerates.”

  “Fair,” Brass said, cracking his neck. “Still, could be some real value in that journal. We’ll read it ter—preferably not surrounded by corpses.”

  “Progress noted. Mood: slightly unhinged but efficient.”

  “Damn right,” Brass muttered

  Gathering his spoils into one of the least bloodstained rucksacks he could find, Brass turned toward the hill—then froze, casting a gnce down at himself.

  Crimson was smeared across his arms and chest in jagged streaks, dried into his hair, crusting under his nails. It wasn’t just a little. He looked like a walking crime scene. Again.

  “Yeah… Serra’s definitely going to say something,” he muttered. “And the giants? Gods, what would they think? Probably that I killed a boar barehanded.”

  He sighed and slung the rucksack over his shoulder, then broke into a sprint toward the west, where the faint, crisp scent of running water threaded through the woods. The ground beneath his feet felt soft with pine needles, and the breeze teased the blood on his skin, now tacky and beginning to itch.

  It didn’t take long to reach the stream—a clear, winding ribbon cutting through the underbrush, glittering in the moonlight. With a relieved grunt, he dropped his gear by the bank, stripped off his clothes, and knelt at the edge. The water was icy against his hands, sending a pleasant shiver up his arms as he scrubbed at the grime.

  But the blood clung stubbornly to the fabric, refusing to yield. He gnced around and spotted a cluster of greenish-brown reeds swaying just beneath the surface, their texture oddly rubbery. Tugging a few free, he rubbed them between his fingers. Satisfyingly coarse—like nature’s steel wool.

  “Alright, let’s see how you handle enchanted gore,” he muttered, scrubbing with more success.

  Once the clothes were clean enough, he hung them on a low branch to dry, droplets pattering to the earth. He was just about to wash the gemstones the system had fgged when a soft giggle drifted across the water.

  He paused.

  Then came the unmistakable sound of someone being shushed, followed by a ripple—just the barest spsh beneath the surface. Brass narrowed his eyes. The water shimmered too smoothly there, unnaturally so.

  His instincts fred. Something—or someone—was watching him.

  Immediately, he prepared to unch a Howling Strike across the stream, but a blue notification snapped into view, halting his spell mid-cast:

  [Life Detection – Passive]Target(s) Detected: ? River Nymph – Adolescent ? River Nymph – Adult

  He blinked. Nymphs?

  Curious now, he activated Vampiric Dash to fnk whatever was lurking in the water—but the second his feet left solid ground and crossed above the stream, it felt like he’d smmed into an invisible wall of solid stone.

  “Ghrrk—!”

  He hit the bank hard, the air whooshing from his lungs as he nded on his back, gasping. The system chimed in, ever helpful:

  [Warning: Vampire abilities disabled while crossing running water.]

  “Great,” he wheezed, staring up at the sky. “Fantastic. Love this feature.”

  As he sat up, brushing pine needles off his bare skin, he heard more giggling—this time closer. Gncing down toward the water’s edge, he froze.

  A nymph had surfaced, half-submerged and staring right at him. Or rather… at his entirely uncovered lower half.

  Her lips curled into a grin of impish amusement. She looked youthful—maybe mid-teens by human standards—her hair the color of river moss, floating around her like a veil. Her skin shimmered faintly, like moonlight on water, and where her arms met the stream, they seemed to phase in and out of liquid, solid and fluid all at once.

  “Oh for the love of—” Brass groaned, facepalming.

  He hastily adjusted himself and sat cross-legged, doing his best to look dignified and not at all mortified.

  A second nymph rose beside the first, this one older, and far more cautious. She had a simir liquid grace, but her features were sharper, more mature—likely closer to his own age. She was tugging the younger one back by the shoulder, her watery form shimmering faintly in the dappled sunlight. Her eyes locked onto his, not with mischief, but wary interest.

  They looked reted, almost like sisters—though given their inhuman beauty and ethereal aura, it was hard to tell if that was just the default model for “river-dwelling magical girls.”

  Brass blinked, then shook his head.

  “Okay… definitely not how I pnned to spend my post-battle cooldown.”

  The stream burbled softly beside him. His clothes swayed in the breeze. And two supernatural girls were sizing him up with all the curiosity of a museum exhibit.