The alley was silent save for the wind howling through the eaves. Lencar dragged the unconscious bandit deeper into the shadows, behind a pile of discarded lumber.
He knelt in the snow. His breath misted in the air. This was the part that separated a warrior from a monster. A warrior killed to protect. A monster killed to feed.
Lencar placed his hand on his chest. He felt the four Soul Crystals humming. They were hungry. They sensed a new source nearby.
He pulled Garrick's grimoire from the bandit's pouch. It was a thin, tattered book with a lightning bolt insignia.
Lencar placed his own blank grimoire on top of it.
"This is not theft," Lencar whispered, convincing himself. "This is the way of the world. He used this power to steal from the weak. I will use it to challenge the gods."
[Replica Magic: Absolute Replication]
The air in the alley grew heavy. A low, golden light began to bleed from Lencar's grimoire. It wasn't the warm light of the sun; it was the cold, metallic light of a scanner.
The light enveloped Garrick's grimoire. Then, tendrils of golden mana reached down, sinking into Garrick's unconscious body.
The bandit twitched. Even in unconsciousness, his soul recoiled at the violation.
Lencar felt the rush.
It hit him like a shot of adrenaline. The sharp, buzzing taste of Lightning Magic flooded his veins. He felt his nervous system light up. He felt the concept of "speed" rewriting itself in his brain. He understood how to turn mana into current, how to ride the electrons.
Mana Pool influx.
Refreshed: 100%.
The golden light flared one last time, then died.
Beneath Lencar's hands, Garrick's grimoire turned gray. The leather cracked. The pages disintegrated into dust, blowing away in the winter wind.
Garrick lay still. He was alive, technically. But he was empty. His mana capacity was gone. His connection to the natural mana of the world had been severed. He was a husk.
Lencar stood up. He looked down at the man.
"If I leave him be," Lencar analyzed, "he will wake up. And he will remember a mage who stole your magic. He will talk. And then the Knights will investigate... So no need for him to exist."
Lencar extended his right hand.
[Fire Creation Magic]: [Cremation Sphere]
He didn't enjoy it. He felt a wave of nausea, a rebellion of his former modern morality. I am murdering a defenseless man.
Correction: He was deleting a record to protect himself.
He released the fire.
It was a concentrated, high-heat flame designed to incinerate bone. It engulfed the body silently. Within minutes, there was nothing left but a patch of scorched earth and a pile of ash that the wind quickly scattered.
Lencar stood alone in the alley. He checked his hands. They weren't shaking. That terrified him more than the act itself.
"Harvest complete," he whispered.
He checked his internal status.
New Attribute: Lightning Magic.
Spells Acquired: [Spark Boots], [Shock Stun], [Lightning Ball].
Soul Crystal Charge: 5/10.
He turned away from the scorch mark. He needed to leave.
[Spatial Magic]: [Coordinate Jump]
The rift opened. He stepped through.
POP.
He was back in his room. The sudden warmth of the house hit him. He smelled the faint scent of lavender from the dried flowers Rebecca kept in the hallway.
Lencar stripped off his cloak and hid it under the loose floorboard he had pried open yesterday. He washed his face in the basin of cold water, scrubbing until his skin was red.
He looked in the small mirror. The eyes staring back were tired, but they weren't the eyes of Lencar the dishwasher. They were the eyes of the Forged Heretic.
He lay down on the bed, staring at the ceiling. He forced his breathing to slow. He forced his mana to settle. Within ten minutes, he was asleep, his dreams filled with the buzzing of stolen lightning.
The next morning, Lencar was peeling potatoes again.
"Did you sleep okay?" Rebecca asked, passing by with a tray of eggs. "You look a little pale."
"Just a chill," Lencar smiled, his mask perfectly in place. "The window is drafty."
He worked through the morning shift efficiently. His movements were slightly faster today—the passive influence of the Lightning Magic enhancing his reflexes. He caught a falling fork before it even hit the floor, moving so fast he blurred.
"Whoa," Marco said, eating his breakfast at the counter. "Did you see that? You're like a ninja!"
"Just good reflexes," Lencar winked.
During his break, Lencar slipped out to the back alley for some fresh air. He checked to make sure he was alone.
He reached into his tunic and pulled out the map he had bought from the informant.
It was a crude drawing of the Capital's lower district and the surrounding slums. A red circle marked a location: "The Weeping Cellar."
Target: 'Viper'.
Attribute: Poison/Paralysis Magic.
Status: Rogue Mage. Dangerous.
Lencar traced the red circle with his thumb.
Paralysis Magic. It was a game-changer. If he had that, he wouldn't have to kill everyone he fought. He could incapacitate powerful enemies—like the Dungeon boss Mars, or even Asta if he ever lost control of his devil power—without destroying them. It was the ultimate tool for a non-lethal takedown, which ironically, he needed to stop being a murderer. Of course only for those that deserved to live.
"Viper," Lencar whispered.
But he hesitated.
He had just hit a bandit last night. A low-level criminal disappearing in a border town like Nairn was common. Nobody would investigate Garrick.
But "Viper" operated in the Capital's underbelly. If mages started disappearing or turning up dead with their grimoires missing, the Magic Knights would notice. The Purple Orcas monitored the black market. The Black Bulls frequented it. Even the Wizard King often wandered there in disguise.
So a Strategic Pause is needed here: If I strike too frequently, I will create a pattern. A pattern creates a trail. A trail leads to the gallows.
Lencar folded the map and tucked it deep into his pocket.
"Not yet," he decided. "I need to let the heat die down. I need to integrate the Lightning Magic fully before I add another variable."
He would wait. He would work. He would be the perfect big brother and the perfect employee. He would let the world forget about the boy who failed the exam.
And when the Dungeon Arc began... when the Knights were distracted by the invasion from the Diamond Kingdom... that was when the Viper would lose his fangs.
"Lencar! More potatoes!" the owner shouted from inside.
"Coming," Lencar called back.
He turned his back on the snowy alley and walked back into the warmth of the kitchen, leaving the map and the monster for another night.