Kill people for XP. Kill people for XP.
The haunting whisper echoed relentlessly inside his skull, bouncing off the walls of his mind until his vision blurred and his head began to spin. The temptation hummed like a low-frequency shockwave through his veins, whispering of infinite power just a heartbeat away.
Clutching his throbbing head, Haruto blinked hard against the dizziness. When he forced his eyes open, a terrifying visual glitch rippled across his HUD. The empty street suddenly appeared flooded with phantom figures—every single one of his syndicate team members, the low-level thugs, and innocent civilians alike stood scattered around him, glowing like walking targets.
Panic and confusion clawed at his chest. Why is this happening? Is the system trying to warp me?
Refusing to let the intrusive madness consume him, Haruto gritted his teeth and channeled his willpower, forcing his chaotic thoughts into a tight cage. He unleashed his aura, letting out a suffocating, terrifying wave of dark creation and absolute nothingness that cracked the pavement beneath his boots and pushed the hallucinations away.
As the system interface stabilized, his HUD flickered erratically, and he noticed his weapon and team stats glitching out, refusing to register properly.
Get a grip, he told himself, taking a sharp, grounding breath to steady his racing pulse.
Moving with practiced precision, he pulled out his advanced hacking terminal, punched in a fresh tracking coordinate, and pushed forward into the dark, neon-lit night. Before taking another step into the open syndicate territory, he reached into his pocket, pulled out his tactical mask, and locked it securely back over his face.
The neon lights of the lower district flickered overhead, casting long, fractured shadows across the filthy alleyway. Following the tracking signal on his newly recovered device, Haruto stepped silently out of the gloom and tracked his targets to a rundown corner near a dingy dive bar.
It was the same four thugs who had wreaked havoc earlier—the very ones he had brushed past earlier that evening. They had no idea that a subtle, invisible tracer had attached itself to their clothes the moment Haruto's hand had casually brushed their shoulders.
Now, completely oblivious to the ticking clock above their heads, the group was stumbling down the street, clutching cheap bottles of liquor, laughing drunkenly, and howling at crude jokes as they made their way deeper into the slums.
Haruto watched them from the deep shadows of a brick wall, his tactical mask concealing his expression. He didn't want to draw unwanted attention by executing them out in the open where civilian eyes or syndicate patrols could spot him. Instead, he kept his distance, stepping silently in their footsteps as he waited for the right moment to guide them somewhere much quieter.
Haruto's fingers slid into his jacket pocket, wrapping tightly around the cold, steel handle of a standard tactical knife. There was no magic humming within the blade—it was just plain, unadorned metal.
For a brief second, hesitation gripped him. He stared at the weapon in his hand, a heavy knot forming in his stomach as he weighed what he was about to do. Is this really who I am now? Am I crossing a line I can't uncross?
Then, like a flash of lightning cutting through the dark, the memory rushed back: the brutalized bodies of the mother and her young daughter. The innocent lives snuffed out by these exact animals, and the cold, mocking laughter they had shared just moments ago thinking they had escaped justice.
What are you hesitating for? a dark, seductive whisper echoed deep inside his mind, dripping with Lilith's voice. Kill them. The strong are always right.
In an instant, the internal resistance snapped. Haruto's eyes went completely dull, the last remaining warmth of his humanity draining away until he felt nothing at all—no hesitation, no mercy, just absolute, hollow void.
Haruto slowly reached up with his free hand and peeled his tactical mask away, letting it drop to the filthy pavement with a heavy clatter.
Stepping out from the deep shadows of the alley, he closed the distance between them with terrifying speed and blocked their path under the flickering streetlight.
The four drunken thugs stumbled to a halt, cursing and blinking against the sudden obstruction. Before any of them could draw a weapon or throw a punch, The streetlamp overhead caught his uncovered face, exposing his cold, dead stare.
The color drained entirely from the thugs' faces of strangers like a physical blow. Their drunken laughter died instantly, replaced by sheer, paralyzed terror.
"Who are you...?" one of them stammered, his voice so violently he could barely form the words. "kid?!"
The four thugs blinked hard, squinting through their drunken haze at the figure standing before them under the flickering streetlamp. Seeing a young guy standing there holding a simple, unadorned knife instead of the terrifying, masked enforcer they expected, the immediate tension in their chests evaporated.
A wave of relieved, mocking laughter bubbled up among them.
"What the hell? Are you kidding me?" one of them sneered, waving a dismissive hand. "Hey, kid, get lost. This isn't a playground for little boys like you. Go home to your mom before you get hurt."
They chuckled among themselves, completely blind to the terrifying reality standing inches away. Haruto didn't flinch, his expression locked in a terrifying, deadpan blankness. Any lingering hesitation, any shred of human empathy or moral conflict, had been thoroughly scrubbed from his mind, leaving behind a cold, hollow vacuum.
He stepped forward.
Before the lead thug could finish his condescending grin, Haruto moved with ruthless, terrifying speed. In a single fluid motion, he closed the distance, drove the steel blade straight into the man's throat, and ripped it back out.
A choked gurgle cut through the night air as the thug dropped his bottle, clutching his bleeding neck with wide, horrified eyes before collapsing hard onto the pavement.
The remaining three thugs froze, the color instantly draining from their faces. For a split second, sheer shock paralyzed them—followed by an explosive surge of blind panic and rage.
"You little—!" one of them roared, lunging forward with a raised fist.
But Haruto didn't even blink. Deep within his mind, a singular, unrelenting drumbeat drowned out everything else: Kill or be killed. Slaughter them. Level up.
A thick, suffocating wave of power surged through Haruto's veins as he chose to channel his Creation magic.
Instead of the standard bright, vibrant elements that defined this sector—the harsh reds, blinding blues, electric greens, and sterile whites that saturated the city's energy grids—something entirely unnatural tore open from his palms. A pitch-black aura burst outward, swallowing the ambient light of the streetlamp and plunging the alley into absolute shadow.
In a world governed strictly by primary colors of auras, a void of pure, abyssal black was terrifying. It looked wrong, a glitch in reality itself.
The three remaining thugs stumbled backward, their faces pale with sheer horror as the oppressive pressure pinned them to the spot.
"Wh... what the hell is that?!" one of them stammered, his voice cracking with panic as he shielded his eyes from the darkness.
Before they could even attempt to run or draw a weapon, Haruto moved like a ghost. In a blur of motion, he lunged forward, his hand shooting out to grab the second thug by the collar, lifting him effortlessly off the ground as the black aura consumed them both.
In a matter of seconds, the second thug's resistance ended, his lifeless body slumping heavily to the ground.
Haruto didn't even pause. His empty, hollow gaze shifted immediately toward the third man, who was now scrambling backward in blind, unadulterated terror. The two surviving thugs were shaking violently, their legs buckling under them as their minds completely broke under the weight of the nightmare.
Haruto closed the distance in a single stride, raising his knife and driving the blade straight down into the third man's leg, pinning him to the pavement.
A blood-curdling scream tore from the thug's throat as agony flared through his nerves. He writhed and thrashed on the ground, the pain so absolute, so overwhelmingly humiliating, that he lost all bladder control, wetting his pants as he sobbed in pure terror.
Even as he wept and tried to drag himself away on his hands, the fourth and final thug turned and bolted down the alley.
Without breaking stride, Haruto ripped the knife free, spun around, and hurled it with lethal precision. The blade cut through the air, burying itself deep into the fleeing man's calf. With a sharp cry, the last thug collapsed hard onto the concrete.
Silence swallowed the alley, broken only by the whimpering and agonizing groans of the two men bleeding out on the ground.
Without a shred of emotion in his eyes, Haruto walked over to the two living thugs. Bending down, he grabbed them roughly by their collars, dragging their battered, trembling bodies across the gritty pavement and dumping them into a dark, secluded corner of the alley like discarded trash.
Haruto dumped the two trembling thugs onto the hard concrete, the heavy thud echoing through the dark alley. Bending down over the screaming man, Haruto ruthlessly yanked the bloody knife free from his calf.
The thug let out a high-pitched, agonizing shriek, clutching his bleeding leg as tears streamed down his dirt-stained face.
The suffocating pressure of Haruto's pitch-black aura slowly receded, bleeding back into the shadows. Haruto squatted down casually, planting his boot firmly onto the center of their chests, pinning them both to the ground under his weight.
He rested his arms on his knees, looking down at them with a hollow, deadpan stare. "What should I do with you two?"
The men stared up at him, their chests heaving with unadulterated terror as they stammered through their sobs. "W-Who the hell are you?! Why are you doing this to us, man? Please, just let us go!"
Deep inside his mind, a fleeting wave of doubt tried to surface—am I going too far?—but it was instantly crushed by a cold, numbing realization. Guilt? For animals like them? They didn't feel an ounce of remorse when they ripped that mother and her daughter apart.
With slow, deliberate movements, Haruto reached into his pocket, pulled out his tactical mask, and snapped it back over his face.
The moment the stark black-and-white design locked into place under the dim streetlamp, the blood drained entirely from the two thugs' faces. Their eyes bulged in pure, paralyzing horror.
"D-District Manager?!" they shrieked in unison, their voices cracking into hysterical terror as they thrashed uselessly beneath his boot. "E-Echo—!"
Haruto leaned down slightly, his voice distorted and ice-cold through the mask. "Ah...time to sleep"
The next morning, golden sunlight washed over the sprawling balcony of the grand mansion. Lilith sat lazily in a cushioned wrought-iron chair, leisurely sipping a warm cup of herbal tea and enjoying the quiet start to the day.
Suddenly, the heavy double doors banged open.
Daisy stormed onto the balcony, breathless and wide-eyed, her face pale with panic. "Lilith! Sir! You need to see this—everything is going completely insane!"
Lilith didn't even flinch, casually bringing the teacup to her lips. "What are you shouting about, Daisy? Calm down."
"The crime rates!" Daisy stammered, gripping the edge of the table. "In Philo's sector, things have completely gone off the rails overnight! Have you seen the morning news?"
Lilith raised a single eyebrow, setting her cup down. "Since when do I watch the news?"
"Well, turn on the damn TV!" Daisy urged, pointing frantically toward the living room.
Frowning slightly at Daisy's uncharacteristic panic, Lilith stood up and walked inside, picking up the remote and clicking the flat-screen display to life.
The screen flashed bright, immediately cutting to a live news broadcast from the middle of Philo's sector. The anchor's voice was tight with unmasked terror, reporting on a gruesome discovery made just at daybreak.
On the screen, a live camera feed zoomed in on a chilling, apocalyptic scene right in the middle of a major intersection. Three lifeless bodies lay dumped out in the open, arranged in a grotesque display. Their eyes had been cleanly gouged out, and their throats were brutally slashed halfway across, leaving deep, gaping wounds. Thick pools of dark, coagulated blood stained the asphalt in every direction.
More terrifying than the mutilation itself was the identity of the victims. A flashing graphic on the screen identified all three dead men as Level 3 thugs.
Lilith stared at the screen, her amber eyes narrowing as a slow, dangerous smile crept onto her lips.
Before she could speak, footsteps echoed behind her. One by one, the other girls of the household trickled into the room, drawn by the commotion. As their eyes locked onto the horrific scene broadcasting live on the television, they froze in absolute shock, gasping in horror at the bloody calling card left in the city streets.
Lilith reached out with the remote and clicked the television off, the gruesome images vanishing into a blank, black screen. She crossed her arms, a calm, unbothered expression on her face. "She's right, things are escalating."
Daisy threw her hands up in exasperation, pacing across the room. "It has to be some underground rogue syndicate! Crime in this city is completely spinning out of control!"
Ignoring the rising panic in the room, Lilith simply turned on her heel and walked calmly back out to the balcony, picking up her warm cup of tea as if nothing had happened.
Daisy followed her right out to the patio, desperate to make her understand the severity of the situation. "Wait, you don't understand—there was a fourth guy. One of them actually survived."
Lilith paused, taking a slow sip.
"His throat was slashed and his tongue was mutilated," Daisy continued, her voice dropping to a tense whisper. "He can't speak a word, and his leg nerves and cartilage were cleanly severed, so he can't even walk. He's completely broken. But the cops and medics tried questioning him anyway, and do you know what he kept muttering over and over with his mangled tongue?"
Lilith's hand froze mid-air.
"Echo."
Hearing that single name, Lilith choked on her tea, letting out a sharp cough as the warm liquid went down the wrong pipe. She quickly set the cup down, dabbing her mouth with a napkin while trying to keep her composure. "Oh—um, it's probably nothing like that. We really need to focus our attention on Haruto instead," she deflected smoothly, turning around and hastily walking back inside to change the subject.
As Lilith stepped away and slipped out of the room, a quiet, fluid motion caught the attention of the remaining girls. Ivory stepped out from the shadows of the hallway, her expression unreadable as she watched Lilith retreat.