2026-05-29 03:53:12
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CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Theon’s heart was pounding erratically. Memories of the night before, when he ignored his body’s warning signs and suffered bitterly for it, flitted through his mind in sharp, unwelcome flashes. The taste of blood, the sting of overdrawn meridians. He wasn’t about to repeat that mistake. He bit down on his tongue and inhaled deeply, not letting himself get distracted. The pain was small, but it anchored him. Hopefully, before they breached the entrance and came upstairs, he would have finished watching the twelfth move. Theon did his best to regulate his breathing and continued to watch the scenes playing out behind his eyes. By now, he could hear the pitter-patter of footsteps tiptoeing around the building, cautious and deliberate, trying to find which window was open, which latch had failed. The twelfth move was very complicated, and it didn’t seem to play fast enough. His head was ringing from trying to focus on the information while parts of his attention kept drifting to
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Theon’s eyes moved through the issued treasures, lingering on each line as if staring hard enough would force the truth out. A little voice in the back of his mind kept whispering that the system was playing tricks on him. It always did. There were three possibilities: Hundred Palms Earth God Technique, the Shadow Spell Talisman, and Storm Dragon Twelve Moves. Apart from these three, the grades of other treasures were clearly stated. It should be one of them. Shadow Spell Talisman was something that could only be used once for a short period of invisibility, turning one into a wisp of grey smoke in urgent moments requiring stealth. Useful, but not treasure worthy of a celestial rank. The celestial-grade article couldn’t be the talisman. It came down to the two techniques. One of them had to be the celestial-grade technique. A top treasure that even sect elders would bleed for. “Can I check the specifications?” Theon asked, his eyes fixed on the panel before him, not blinking
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
The system beeped softly. “Hatred points computed and converted. Eighty-one percent of system point debts paid.” Theon’s heart leapt with joy and relief. It wasn’t sending him on missions, but was actually disbursing rewards. His lips pursed together to whistle, but he caught himself in time, quickly maintaining his steeze and composure. Once he’d paid off the system debts, any points he gained would be solely his, and could be used to exchange for resources from the system’s inventory. For the first time since waking up here, he felt like he wasn’t running on borrowed time. Something clicked in Theon’s mind and he paused in the process of treating the sword slash. The cloth hovered over his arm, forgotten. “That’s right. System, how are the system points calculated? How many hatred points make up one system point?” There was a brief silence, then the system answered. “System points can be earned in three ways. The first method is by converting hatred points to system points u
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Theon returned to his room. The back lands were quiet, almost deserted. It was early evening, that hour when most of the staff were still scattered across the academy, busy with whatever tasks they’d been assigned. Theon’s building was even lonelier than the rest, set apart by old stone and neglect. He moved up the stairs in three brisk movements, each step lighter than it should have been for a man with a bleeding arm. He stopped before his door. Unlike yesterday, when the hairs on his neck had prickled with the creepy feeling that someone was watching him, there was nothing today. Only silence and the faint smell of damp wood. Carefully, he unlocked the door and slipped inside. The room was still as he’d left it. Dust hung undisturbed in the slants of dying light. He entered the bathroom to check his clothes. They were still wet, clinging to the rack like discarded skin. He hissed, shoulders slumping as the ache in his arm finally caught up to him. Theon’s eyes went to the gap
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
FLASHBACK CONTINUED “Jareth!” Kane’s roar echoed through the forest, splitting the heavy air. He knocked the last of the needles down with a flick of his blade and hurled a shuriken at the man. The man skidded backwards, the shuriken catching his flesh with a clean stab to the heart. Blood bloomed across his chest in a dark, spreading stain. Behind the man, a second masked figure landed silently and dragged the now-injured man away, vanishing into the underbrush before Kane could react. Kane hissed, his eyes moving between the fleeing duo and Jareth. In the end, he gave up on the idea of chasing them. Jareth came first. He rushed to his friend, dropping to his knees on the damp earth. “Jareth, Jareth. Are you alright?” Jareth’s eyes fluttered open. His face had turned red, feverish, and his pupils were dilated to near black. “Kane, I’m hot. I feel so hot.” He muttered, clawing at his chest as if trying to tear the skin off. His breathing was ragged, shallow. Kane’s eyes
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
The world hated hypocrisy, especially when it involved people whom they once placed on a pedestal. As long as he played the game right, he could bury Jareth for good. As for Theon, that bastard, his case was no biggie. He didn’t need to rack his brains on how to handle it. Just a sneeze could scatter Theon’s bones. A cripple with a borrowed trick wasn’t worth losing sleep over. The one he was truly meticulous in handling was Jareth. He hated Theon previously, but Jareth’s betrayal had stabbed way too deeply. So deeply that even till now, his heart still bled whenever he closed his eyes and saw that disgusting calculating face, that brotherly hand reaching out only to twist the knife. “Once we send the evidence to the Myriad Stars Mystical Sect of Jareth peeping… a literal case of a thief shouting ‘catch thief’… we will insert the second nail into his coffin. As he’s being attacked by the Mystical Sect, he will also be attacked from the inside, leaving him no place to run.” Kan
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