2026-08-18 18:15:44The stone wall groaned, a sound like grinding teeth, as Freecs slumped against the damp cavern floor. His chest felt like it had been crushed by a war hammer, and his vision was swimming in shades of grey. Above him, the shadows of the elite party retreated, their heavy boots clanking rhythmically against the stone.
"Is he still breathing?" a voice echoed. It was Seris, the party’s Radiant Knight, her tone as cold as the dungeon’s breath.
Freecs tried to call out, but his throat tasted like hot iron.
"Doesn't matter," Valerius, the celebrated hero, replied, his voice dripping with casual apathy. "He was F-rank. Expendable. The beast needs a snack to keep it occupied while we reach the treasure vault."
"A shame," Seris sighed, not turning back. "He was decent at carrying the packs."
"He was a tool," Valerius snapped. "Tools break. Leave him."
The footsteps faded into the distance. Freecs reached out, his blood-slicked fingers scraping the dirt. They left me. He’d spent three years worshipping them, polishing Valerius’s armor, praying for a crumb of their glory.
"Still... alive?" Freecs wheezed to the empty dark.
[System Initializing.]
A translucent blue box flickered into existence, hovering over his shattered ribs. Freecs blinked, his brain struggling to process the light.
"What is that? A hallucination? Great. Dying and going crazy at the same time."
[Host identified: Freecs. Rank: F. Survival probability: 0.01%. Initiating 'Hero Hunter System'.]
"System? The hell are you talking about? I’m bleeding out here!"
[Healing process initiated. Cost: One 'Hero' life. Target: Valerius the Radiant.]
Freecs stared at the text. His heartbeat stuttered. "Valerius? You want me to kill the man I just spent my life savings to follow?"
[Correction: Valerius is the primary obstacle to your continued existence. Do you accept the terms?]
"If I don’t... I die?"
[Correct. Current HP: 1%.]
Freecs let out a wet, rattling laugh. "You’re twisted. I love it. Fine. Whatever. Just stop the pain."
A surge of liquid fire erupted in his veins. The agony in his chest didn't just fade—it evaporated, replaced by a cold, sharp clarity that made his teeth ache. He pushed himself up, his muscles rippling with a newfound, unnatural strength.
"This feels... wrong. Too strong."
[Skill Unlocked: Hero’s Blind Spot. You are invisible to the senses of those you designate as 'Target'.]
Freecs stood, wincing as he tested his legs. The dungeon groaned again, the ceiling beginning to shower dust onto his shoulders. The exit was blocked, but a shimmering red line snaked along the floor, cutting through the shadows like a vein of magma.
"You’re showing me a way out?" Freecs whispered, following the line.
[Proceed. Your first mark is within reach.]
He moved with a fluid grace he’d never possessed before. The dungeon collapse had turned the hallway into a deathtrap, but the system guided his feet, stepping over gaps that should have been fatal.
He rounded a corner and saw them. Valerius and Seris were standing before a massive, sealed door, frantically trying to trigger the mechanism.
"The seal isn't breaking!" Seris shouted, her voice tight with panic. "The dungeon is caving in on us, Valerius!"
"Shut up! I’m trying to use my mana pulse!" Valerius slammed his fist against the door.
Freecs watched from the shadows, his heart cold. He could see them, but they didn't even glance his way. It was as if he were a ghost.
"They really don't see me," Freecs muttered.
[Hero’s Blind Spot is active. You are a predator, Freecs. Strike.]
Freecs stepped out of the darkness. He picked up a discarded iron spear near a pile of rubble. It felt balanced, light. He caught Seris’s eye, but she looked right through him, focused entirely on the locked door.
"Valerius, did you feel that?" Seris asked, shivering.
"Feel what? Just focus on the door!"
"I felt… like someone was breathing on my neck."
Freecs leaned in, his face inches from her ear. "I am."
Seris spun around, her eyes widening in confusion. "Who’s there?"
"Nobody," Valerius spat, turning around. "You’re losing your mind. We need to leave."
Freecs didn't hesitate. He thrust the spear, not at Valerius, but at the pressure point in the wall that held the door’s locking mechanism. He knew exactly where to strike—the system had highlighted it in a glowing gold pulse.
Clang.
The door groaned open, but the impact sent a tremor through the room. The ceiling finally gave way, a massive slab of stone plummeting directly toward Valerius.
"Valerius, watch out!" Seris screamed.
Valerius raised his shield, but the system’s interface flashed in Freecs’s eyes.
[Critical Point Detected: Shield Hinge.]
Freecs lunged, driving his spear into the exact spot on Valerius's legendary shield where the magic tethered. The shield shattered like glass.
The stone slab slammed into Valerius, pinning him to the floor. The hero’s screams were sharp, desperate, and pathetic.
"My leg! Seris, help me!"
Seris stood paralyzed, staring at the empty air where Freecs stood. "How... how did you break his shield?"
Freecs walked up to the pinned hero, the tip of his spear resting on Valerius's throat. "It wasn't that hard. Your armor is just as cheap as your morals."
Valerius looked up, his face contorted in shock as the 'blind spot' effect faded. "Freecs? You? You’re supposed to be dead!"
"I was," Freecs whispered, a dark grin spreading across his face. "But then I realized I was just a tool. And tools can be repurposed."
[Mission Complete: First Ambush. Reward: Experience Points. Evolution: Assassin.]
Freecs looked at the system screen that bloomed in the air. A new list scrolled down, glowing with a malevolent, pulsating light.
"Is this it?" Freecs asked the system.
[Mission List Updated. Target 2: The City Captain.]
Freecs looked at the terrified hero beneath his boot and then up at the dark, collapsing ceiling. "A captain, huh? Guess I’m getting a promotion."
Previous Chapter
Latest Chapter
Chapter 84
The metallic tang of blood mingled with the pervasive, sickening stench of the low-tide muck as Freecs pressed his weight against the cold, weeping stone of the alleyway wall. Every breath felt like inhaling crushed glass, a reminder of the fractured ribs that had been knitting slowly under the pressure of too much movement and too little rest.He peered past the splintered remains of the tavern door. Three men in the charcoal-grey livery of the magistrate’s private guard stood amidst the wreckage of the Rusty Anchor. They were not merely searching; they were dismantling.Tables had been overturned and smashed into kindling. The floorboards were being pried up, one by one, with heavy iron crowbars. The tavern was being gutted, stripped of its secrets by men who didn't care for the history of the wood, only for the paper hidden beneath it."He isn't here, captain," one of the guards grunted. He tossed a handful of ruined ledgers into a guttering fire pit in the center of the room. "The
Chapter 83
The street leading to the Rusty Anchor was deathly quiet. A single, overturned cart blocked the main thoroughfare, its wheel splintered and half-sunken into the mire.Freecs halted. He held up a hand, signaling for Vivina to stay back in the shadows of the warehouse overhang.The tavern door stood wide open, swinging rhythmically on a single, rusted hinge. It groaned against the stone frame, a mournful sound that cut through the silence like a dull blade."Stay here," Freecs whispered. His voice was a flat, hard edge."Freecs, wait," Vivina hissed, her fingers gripping his sleeve. "If the guard is still inside, you won't stand a chance with that shoulder."He looked at her, his eyes cold and devoid of comfort. He pulled his sleeve from her grasp and stepped into the open.The street was empty, but the heavy, rhythmic thud of metal-shod boots echoed from somewhere deep within the building. They weren't the clumsy, sliding steps of the city watch. These were disciplined, weighted.Freec
Chapter 82
The rain over the Fishgut Quarter had turned to a greasy, clinging mist that smelled of rotting kelp and coal smoke.Freecs moved with his back pressed against the damp siding of an empty smokehouse. He paused at every cross-alley, his ears straining against the ambient rumble of the docks.Beside him, Vivina wiped a smear of wet rye flour from her cheek. Her breathing was ragged, her boots caked in grey muck from the granary courtyard."Did Joran turn them?" she whispered.Freecs shook his head once, his jaw tight."If Joran wanted to sell us out, we wouldn't have walked away from the granary gates," he said. "He’s a dog who knows which master pays him, but he doesn't bark for free.""Then we go back to the cellar," Vivina said, pulling her damp woolen shawl tighter around her shoulders. "We dry the grain dust off the ledgers and wait for Kjeldsen's runners."Freecs didn't answer immediately. He peered around the corner of the smokehouse, studying the narrow lane that led to the rear
Chapter 81
The courtyard outside the municipal granary looked like an open abattoir of wet grain and crushed chalk.A mixture of gray rain and split rye flour coated the cobblestones in a thick, slippery paste. Distant whistles echoed through the narrow alleyways, shrill and frantic, as the city watch scrambled to contain what they could not control.Freecs stood near the broken gate of the secondary grain depot, his breathing heavy and measured. His hands were coated in the pale residue of broken sacks, and his knuckles throbbed from the cudgel work at the barricade.A dozen dockhands scurried past him into the gloom, each carrying a heavy burlap sack over their shoulders. They moved quickly, like ants stripping a fallen carcass before the tide rolled in."Move them through the cooperage alley," Freecs called out, his voice low and rasping. "Don't cluster in the squares. Break into pairs once you hit the fish market."Kjeldsen gave a sharp, affirmative nod as he guided the last of the laden wag
Chapter 80
The smell of sour mud and damp wool hung over the North Quay like a wet shroud. For two days, no barges had unloaded their cargo, and the price of coarse rye had tripled before the sun cleared the eastern shoals.Freecs crouched beneath the eaves of a cooperage, his boots sinking into the dark muck of the gutter. Beside him, forty dockers stood in the persistent drizzle, their breath rising in pale, ragged puffs.They carried no swords, for swords invited hangings. Instead, they gripped lead-weighted boat hooks, oak truncheons, and iron cargo pincers worn smooth by years of hauling."The belly doesn't care about Vane's edicts," muttered Kjeldsen, the dock boss. The old man spat a glob of brown chewing tobacco into the ditch. "A man can stomach the lash, Freecs. He can't stomach listening to his children chew on boiled leather."Freecs adjusted the strap of his leather vambrace, feeling the dull ache in his right shoulder. The joint held, but the memory of the cliff's rocks lingered in
Chapter 79
The mid-morning air in Westreach felt brittle, like glass held over a candle flame. The sky remained an oppressive, bruised purple, heavy with the promise of more rain that refused to fall.Freecs stood in the shadows of an alleyway, watching the main thoroughfare. He leaned his weight against the damp brickwork, careful not to jar his recovering shoulder.Across the street, a column of armed men marched in lockstep. Their steel gorgets caught the weak morning light, glinting like the teeth of a predator.At the head of the detachment rode a man whose presence seemed to suck the warmth from the alley. Inquisitor Vane sat atop a massive, war-trained stallion that snorted clouds of steam into the cold air.Vane was a man carved from granite and spite. He wore robes of charcoal grey, reinforced with hardened leather plates that groaned whenever the horse shifted its weight."Look at them," Vivina whispered from the darkness behind Freecs. Her voice was barely audible over the clatter of
You may also like
From A Useless Cripple To An Almighty Boss
Sweet savage42.0K viewsFrom Rock Bottom to Riches: The Wealth Tap System
Abysalyounglord33.1K viewsWhite Alchemist
David Ogiriki 23.1K viewsSystem Activation: Becoming a Super Rich
Enigma Stone80.2K viewsMy System Has a Daily Human Limit
Konice107 viewsBlack Cross: The Blood System
The Writer 375 viewsMy Safe House Moves Every Seven Days
Butterfly114 viewsReborn As The King Of Wealth
Evangelin Harvey 258 views