Adrian walked out of the chapel, his face buried in the shadow of the black band.
Outside, at the edge of the deserted street, a plain car waited for him. Nothing flashy. Behind the wheel, Bruce was watching through the rearview mirror. The number 843 glowed on his forehead.
He was a soldier. Loyal. Mortal. He killed out of necessity — for Foster — and because of that, he was still welcome in Foster City.
— "East zone," murmured Bruce, without ceremony. "Invader with 30,000 kills. The soldiers can't hold him back."
Adrian closed his eyes. And then, he heard. Even from that far away: the screams. The punches. Bones being crushed. The terror of his people. A sound he knew all too well.
His eyes opened like blades.
— "These idiots... learned nothing." His voice trembled, not with fear, but with raw fury. "Death strips away sanity little by little... and they treat it like a toy."
He rolled his shoulders. The jacket lifted. The sword on his back creaked as if waking from an ancient nightmare.
— "Go by car. I'll run."
Bruce just nodded. Because he knew.
He knew who Adrian Foster was.
He knew what he hid behind the band.
Even without rank, throne, or title, that city... was the reflection of his soul.
The city was in chaos.
There, where killing was the ultimate crime, the citizens ran like rats through the alleys.
In the center of the square, under the morning sun, a man had lost everything — including his mind.
His fists were covered in blood. The guards' corpses lay around him, twisted, broken, disfigured. Two elite soldiers were on the ground with their eyes open — killed before they could react.
The number on his forehead climbed like a virus: 30,020.
And he smiled. Laughed. Bathed in blood, he danced among the screams.
Then...
BOOM.
A crater opened right in the center of the square.
Adrian Foster fell from the sky.
Dry impact. The ground cracked beneath his feet.
Dust rose like war smoke. The invader stepped back instinctively, sensing that something far above his level had arrived.
Adrian raised his face. His eyes scanned the crowd.
Children cried. Women trembled. Men were frozen in fear.
The sight of human weakness enraged him more than the slaughter.
— "The Kill Count tears away our humanity before we even realize it," he roared. "And this... vermin... is living proof of that."
The invader raised his arm and laughed.
— "You're the protector of these weaklings?! HAH! Why do you hide your number, huh?! Mine scared you, did it? Say it, little protector, are you sca—"
CLANG.
An invisible slash tore through his chest.
He fell to his knees, eyes wide.
Silence.
The crowd didn't even understand what had happened.
His body split in half — from shoulder to hip — before the sentence could be finished.
Bruce, who had just arrived, froze on the side street.
— "Even knowing who he is... it's still surreal," he murmured. "A Kill Count of thirty thousand died like an ant..."
Adrian stared at his own hands.
— "Even when I don't want to fight... the world forces me."
And then...
The number hidden under his band glowed for a second.
All the crows in the sky changed direction.
And the system woke up.
[KILL ASSIMILATION ACTIVATED]
[You have absorbed +1 soul.]
[Total inherited deaths: 30,020]
[Inherited abilities: 0 (You already possess them)]
[Existing abilities: ??? (Too many to process right now)]
[Price: Your life no longer belongs to you.]
[KILL MONSTER: 1,130,000 deaths.]