Dinner with Father was a revelation, one that cracked open the sky above my head.
He spoke of powers moving like royalty behind veils of divinity and deceit. Of saintess candidates being pawns in a game where the pieces bled and screamed. Of a world where I, a mere Tier 1, was little more than dust before giants.
To stand against them? It would be a Draconian task. Ascending from Tier 1 to Tier 5 wasn't simply a grind, it was a rebirth, one soaked in blood, pain, and time.
But who else would protect her?
The saintess, a title more dangerous than divine. Families across continents groomed candidates like prized weapons. They would burn down nations if it meant securing the favor of the gods. Even kill the saintess herself.
And I wasn't ready for that. Not yet.
Defending her from Tier 5 assassins was one thing. But spy rings woven across continents? Assassination agencies with no faces, no names? That would require me to train like I'd been possessed, not by ghosts, but by demons.
.
.
.
The stench of charred flesh clung to the wind. Crows circled lazily above the blackened fields, their cries a grim hymn for the dead.
The gods had sanctioned this. A village erased from the world because a child, no older than seven, had dared to question divine doctrine. Not a rebellion. Just a question.
This was no divine judgment. This was betrayal wrapped in scripture. Faith beaten blind. The survivors didn't mourn. They cursed the dead, as if envying their release from this cruel world.
Is this what our world had become?
A place of blind devotion, rotting humanity,or had they simply lost the will to feel horror anymore?
The Church would call this a cleansing. In the capital, they'd stamp it as a righteous purge of heresy.
But these weren't heretics. These weren't sinners.
These were people.
.
.
.
The dream gnawed at me, a worm in my skull, its teeth digging in, feasting. The pain was unspeakable. Like hot needles shoved into my eyes, like my soul was being thrashed by chains made of guilt and rage.
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.
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[Quest Module V0.034 Installation]
[Attempting Soul Modification]
[User Resisting Modification]
[Forcing User into Unconsciousness]
[Modification Partially Successful]
[Module Installation Completed]
[Logs Deleted]
I jolted awake.
My clothes clung to my skin, soaked in cold sweat. The moon poured silver through the window, and the night air brushed against me, gentle, but I could feel no comfort in it.
The pain lingered. Not pain of flesh, deeper. As if something ancient had crawled inside me and made itself home. Like thousands of insects under my skin, biting, burrowing.
What had changed? Did I break something during regression?
An itch I couldn't scratch pulsed under my ribs. A gnawing desire to do something, but what?
I spoke softly, a word like a ritual.
"Status."
A shimmer of light, and then:
Personal Status
Name: Uvar Kolson Demure
Age: 14
Level: 7
Experience: 35 / 700
Title(s):
Righteous Anger
Second Life (Hidden)
Watched by: £#@&-@-++(@@ (Unknown)
Skills (5 / 7):
Athleticism Lv.2
Poison Resistance Lv.3
Swordsmanship Lv.1
Stamina Lv.1
Rolling Dodge Lv.1
Quests:
My breath caught.
There was something new here.
That garbled line, that Watcher. I could feel its eyes, ancient and unreadable, staring through the words.
A chill ran down my spine.
A new category… but at what cost?