The road wound between hills and twisted shrubs, dimly lit by a moon smothered behind thick clouds. It was deserted, save for a slow-moving convoy. Four heavy wagons, pulled by black beasts with stitched-shut eyes, groaned under the weight of their cargo. Mounted guards escorted them with smoking torches and empty expressions. All wore the crest of a silver crow impaled on a spear: the insignia of House Destroven.
Sitting atop the first wagon, wrapped in furs and wine, laughed a middle-aged man with cropped hair, a gray beard, and eyes like dry wells. The red skin of his nose and swollen cheeks betrayed decades of indulgence. But what stood out most was the ring — pure gold — displaying his Life Value like a living gem: 78, glowing in floating runic letters.
Baron Karel Destroven.
“They say the slaves from Sangvale are born trained,” he said, wiping wine from his chin with a sleeve. “But the savages from Rak Thol... ah, they scream beautifully. Make fine gladiators.”
His personal guard, a massive man with dull eyes and a Life Value of 34, only nodded. It was house doctrine: don’t speak unless the Baron wills it.
Karel laughed to himself. “Think I’ll have trouble with the Sul’Eden gate inspection? Bah! I offer the guards a sample of my harvest and that’s that. They love dark skin and broken spirits.”
In the wagon behind, chained under tarps and silence, the "harvest" moaned softly. No one cried out loud. Hope had already been beaten from them with iron and starvation.
But that night, there was a presence among the trees. A small, unmoving figure, eyes glowing red like sleeping embers.
Lysa watched.
Cloaked in rags, skin lined with old scars and a new energy pulsing beneath her flesh, she waited. Her hands trembled slightly — not from fear, but from the tension before release. For days she had followed the convoy. Not by chance. Never by chance.
Karel Destroven was on the list.
He was the one who bought her childhood from an orphanage, only to resell her to collectors as a “pure example of zero Value.” She remembered his face. The laughter when she collapsed from the long journey. The voice mocking her when her knees gave out.
Her entire life had narrowed to this moment.
Lysa tightened her grip on the small dagger she’d stolen from the scout in the dungeon. The blade still carried dried blood. Her eyes closed for a second. The System pulsed inside her like a living beast.
STATUS — Lysa
Life Value: 5
Class: None
Skills: Stealth I, Night Vision I
Condition: Hacked (System Destabilized)
Exp: 6/100
Five. I’m already at five. He’ll take me to twenty... maybe more.
She slid down the hillside like a breath of wind. No leaves cracked, no twigs snapped. The Stealth skill whispered across her skin, molding her steps. With every breath, she felt the heat of bodies on the road, the sluggish rhythm of guards beginning to drift off.
One at a time. No noise. No mistakes.
The first guard was on foot, holding the reins of one of the beasts. Lysa emerged from the dark like a living blade. The dagger slipped through his throat before he could blink. Her hand clamped over his mouth as his body spasmed silently. A notification flickered in her mind:
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Value transferred: +2
Skill acquired: Intimidation I
Exp: 12/100
She lowered the body without a sound. She felt... alive. As if each kill didn’t break her, but stitched her tighter.
Next.
Two archers watched the rear of the last wagon. Lysa didn’t approach head-on. She climbed a rocky outcrop beside the road, leapt onto one man with the dagger straight to his neck, and the other barely had time to turn. His arrow flew into the night, missing, just before a dart from Lysa struck between his eyes.
Value transferred: +3
Skill acquired: Instinctive Aim I
Exp: 25/100
The convoy halted with a creak. The sound of the arrow had alerted the others.
“What was that?” shouted the guard with Value 34 — the brute beside the Baron.
Lysa ran. Not away — forward.
Her heart beat like a war drum, the System roared in her ears like an inverted thunder.
The brute saw her coming. He raised his sword.
“Wretch — what the—”
She slid under the blow with a grace she hadn’t had a month ago. Slashed his leg hard. He dropped to his knees, roaring. But she wasn’t done.
She faced him.
And spoke.
“Do you remember me?”
He blinked. Then his eyes widened.
“You’re... the girl—”
She drove the dagger into his chest.
Value transferred: +6
Skill acquired: Enhanced Strength I
Exp: 52/100
The Baron stumbled back, spilling his goblet. The other guards still scrambled to understand what was happening.
Lysa advanced.
He pulled a ring, activating a golden dome of magical shielding. A standard noble defense for those with high Value.
But the System inside Lysa whispered a flaw.
Active analysis: Spell pattern identified...
Barrier code: Unstable. Breach at 0.4m from ground, left side.
She rolled, drove a blade into the breach. The barrier shattered like glass.
“YOU ARE NOTHING!” the Baron screamed, drawing a gleaming blade etched with ancestral runes. “YOU ARE A ZERO! A PLAGUE! A MISTAKE—”
Lysa silenced him with a thrust to the throat.
She didn’t scream. Didn’t cry. Just pushed the dagger in until warm blood covered her hand.
Value transferred: +18
Skills acquired: Command I, Diplomacy I
Exp: 100/100
Level UP! New Life Value: 23
Class Unlocked: System Renegade
New Skill: Essence Theft I
She stepped back, staring at the Baron’s still-warm body. The ring that once glowed with 78 was now just dead metal. The Value evaporated from the corpse like mist — and entered her. It filled cracks she hadn’t even known were there.
For the first time, she felt... weight. She existed. She took up space in the world. And the world felt it.
The wagons were stopped. The slaves, still in chains, peered through the gaps. A boy with yellow eyes stared at her in terror — and something deeper: hope.
She approached, broke the chains with the Baron’s stolen magic sword. One of the men tried to kneel.
“Don’t do that,” she said, her voice hoarse. “Don’t follow me. Just stay alive. That’s all.”
She vanished into the dark without looking back.
Later, under a twisted tree, Lysa updated her “Internal Log” — a panel only she could see since hacking the System:
LYSA — SYSTEM RENEGADE
Life Value: 23
Class: Renegade
Skills:
– Stealth I
– Night Vision I
– Intimidation I
– Instinctive Aim I
– Enhanced Strength I
– Essence Theft I
– Command I
– Diplomacy I
Status: Hunted (Level 1)
Condition: Hacked
Current Objective: Eliminate the Nobles on the List (1/??)
She scratched the first name off the list with her finger in the dirt. Blood dripped onto the soil from her still-warm dagger.
“One number at a time,” she whispered.
And the moon, behind the clouds, seemed to smile.
