The walk to the city's free clinic was a blur of pain. Ostein's vision swam, every step sending a jolt through his shattered ribs. He was just a few blocks from the hospital when the air shifted.
A figure emerged from a side alley, moving with a desperate, frantic speed. She was draped in a heavy, charcoal-colored cloak that swallowed the streetlamps' light. Before Ostein could move aside, she slammed into him.
The impact sent a flare of agony through his chest. Ostein gasped, stumbling back against a cold brick wall. The girl didn't fall; she paused for a fraction of a second, her hood falling back just enough to reveal a flash of silver eyes—not cold like Stella's, but wide with terror.
"Stay out of the light," she hissed, her voice a jagged whisper.
Before he could ask who she was or why she was running, she vanished into the shadows of the next street. Ostein clutched his side, confused. "What the hell was—"
A chime, sharper and more urgent than before, rang inside his skull. The violet screen didn't just flicker this time; it burned.
[URGENT: Random Encounter Triggered!]
[Mission 1: The First Harvest]
[Objective: Successfully Acquire and Slot 2 Abilities.]
[Time Limit: 29:59:59...]
[Penalty for Failure: Soul Collapse. (The Outer God does not tolerate a hollow vessel.)]
Ostein's heart went cold. "Soul collapse?" he rasped. "I just got this power, and now I have a deadline?"
The timer began to count down in the corner of his eye, the red numbers bleeding into his vision. He forgot about the hospital. He forgot about his broken ribs. Adrenaline, fueled by the fear of literal annihilation, pushed him back into the city streets.
He spent the next six hours prowling the lower districts. He looked at a street performer juggling fire—[Target Power: Fire Breath (Rank D)].
Analysis: Level 10 Required.
He looked at a city guard lifting a heavy portcullis—[Target Power: Minor Fortitude (Rank E)].
Analysis: Level 8 Required.
Every person he found was either too strong for his Level 2 soul to contain, or they were "Nulls" like he used to be. The city was full of people, but to Ostein, it was a desert.
"Twenty-two hours left," he muttered, leaning against a damp stone archway in the Slums. The sun was beginning to dip, casting long, skeletal shadows across the pavement. "If I don't find a low-rank ability soon, the system is going to delete me before Haisel even gets the chance."
He turned to head into a narrower alley, hoping to find a common thief or a low-level thug.
He didn't hear the footsteps.
Suddenly, a massive, calloused hand clamped over his mouth, smelling of old leather and tobacco. Before he could trigger a scream, a thick forearm wrapped around his throat, cutting off his air.
"Look what we found skulking in the dark," a rough voice growled in his ear. "A little Academy rat. You're far from home, boy."
Ostein struggled, his fingers clawing at the arm, but his weakened body was no match for the brute strength. A second pair of hands grabbed his ankles, and he was hoisted off the ground.
As he was dragged into the lightless maw of a warehouse, the timer in his vision ticked mockingly.
[Time Remaining: 21:14:02]
He wasn't looking for an ability anymore. He was looking for a way to survive the night.
[Current Status:]
[Level: 2]
[Abilities: 0/2]
[Status: Kidnapped / Suffocating]
Ostein was tossed onto a damp stone floor that smelled of rot and rusted iron. The heavy thud sent a fresh wave of agony through his cracked ribs, making his vision flicker.
"Check his pockets," the rough voice commanded.
The man who had grabbed him—a scarred brute with arms like tree trunks—loomed over him. Beside him stood a leaner man spinning a jagged butterfly knife. These weren't academy students playing at power; these were "The Scavengers," the bottom-feeders of the city who kidnapped students for ransom or, worse, for their mana-veins.
"He's got nothing, Boss," the leaner one spat, tossing Ostein's empty coin purse into the dirt. "Worn boots, patched clothes... he's a Null. A scholarship brat from the Academy."
The Boss sneered, kicking Ostein in the side. "A Null? Then he's useless for ransom. We'll just sell his organs to the Alchemist's Guild. Even a Null's heart is worth a few silver pieces for potion base."
Ostein lay in the dirt, gasping. The violet timer in his vision was a cruel heartbeat: [21:05:12].
Ostein was trembling by the situation he got tangled with. Suddenly there was an idea in his mind. A last chance to get himself free . Will it work? Not yet confirmed, but he should try.
Chapter ended...