2025-04-27 17:17:29
Midnight MistressX Whew, this chapter got pretty intense, didn’t it? Leo seriously can't catch a break — first dragged off by scary guys in black, now, he's about to be strapped to some weird sci-fi machine. Poor guy! Thanks so much for reading and sticking with Leo’s journey. Feel free to drop your thoughts, theories, or just scream with me about the cliffhanger. See you soon in the next chapter!
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Chapter 19: The Wyrm in the Shadows
The screeches were ear-splitting, a grating mixture of hollow cries and guttural rasps that echoed through the jagged cavern walls of the Rift. Each sound vibrated with unnatural resonance, sliding like ice down the spine of every hunter present. The air itself seemed to thicken with dread.Everyone froze.Except Leo.His dark eyes narrowed with focus. He clenched the straps of the tactical backpack they had given him upon deployment, a bag that held basic supplies: water flasks, energy boosters, a few minor potions, and a change of clothes. Compared to the enchanted blades, mana rifles, and arcane amulets of the others, it felt insultingly mundane. But Leo wasn’t counting on the gear. He had something far more unpredictable.His mind.The hunters circled into a formation as Sammy, the Level 9 V-Class assassin, silently raised his gloved hand in the air. The motion was subtle, but the message was loud: Hold. No sudden movements.The hunters obeyed. Even the cockier ones. Silence took
INTO THE RIFT
The morning air hung heavy over Cinder Valley, thick with fog and the iron-scent of distant magic. The sun had barely crept over the jagged horizon, casting long shadows across the group of armed hunters that stood like sentinels on the rocky edge. Clad in a chaotic medley of armor, robes, and reinforced suits, they ranged in power from battle-hardened D-class to the almost mythical S-class. And amidst them, like a drop of ink in a vat of steel, stood Leo—the sole F-class hunter.Leo swallowed, adjusting the strap of his light pack and wondering, not for the first time, how the hell he’d been roped into this suicide mission. His hood shadowed his face, and his fingers flexed around the dagger at his side—a pitiful weapon compared to the arsenal carried by those around him.A man stepped forward from the group. Tall and broad-shouldered with a cruel scar coiling from wrist to bicep, the leader’s presence silenced murmurs before he even spoke. His voice, when it came, rolled like thunder
Task
Leo sat heavily on the now manageable bed. The now thick sci-fi walls of the cottage did little to block out the forest's ambient noise: crickets chirping in rhythm, the distant hoot of an owl, and the occasional rustle of leaves in the wind. With a sigh, he dismissed the creaking around him and focused his gaze forward. The moment of truth had arrived."System interface," he muttered.A familiar blue screen shimmered into existence in front of his eyes. Its glow softly illuminated his face as line after line of data scrolled past. He leaned in, eyes narrowing with anticipation. At the top of the interface, nestled between his basic info and the experience bar, was a glowing box labeled [Mission Rewards]. A grin began to tug at the corners of his mouth.He tapped it.A cascading list unfurled in the center of the window:+25 Stat PointsNew Passive Trait: EndureNew Skill: Level SenseTitle Earned: Unlikely SlayerItem: Skill Orb (Uncommon) His eyes caught the last item—Skill Orb. The
A mess
The air outside the Central Government Guild office was sharp with the scent of steel and city grime, the late afternoon sun bleeding orange across the concrete sidewalks. The hum of engines, chatter from passing hunters, and the distant whistle of automated transports painted a symphony of civilization's pulse. Amid the chaos, Leo tucked his hands into the pockets of his worn hoodie, shoulders slightly hunched, eyes fixed on the ground.His thoughts spun in quiet disarray. How did the system manage to block out its own traces from the memory extraction? The Rift data had been partially preserved, yet every moment the system had intervened was a complete void. Not even a flicker. It was as though the system had slipped through reality's fingers.Leo sighed, kicking a stray pebble. "Well, it’s not my headache," he muttered to himself. "As long as the system stays hidden, I should be fine."His eyes flickered with realization."Oh right!" he said out loud, snapping his fingers. "The mis
No complaints
"Sir, something’s jamming the signal!""Stabilize it!" Haruki barked."We can’t! It’s like... it’s like part of his memory is actively resisting extraction!"On the screen, Leo's figure blurred.The Rift twisted unnaturally, and the final moments of the fight were shrouded behind a veil of static and darkness.No matter what the technicians did, they couldn’t pierce through it.Leo, meanwhile, gritted his teeth against the pain pounding inside his skull.He could feel the System inside him — awake, furious, shielding him.{INTEGRITY MAINTAINED. SENSITIVE MEMORY SEALED.}Another surge of static rolled across the monitors.Haruki raised a hand calmly. "End the extraction."The machines powered down with a dying whine. The humming circlet unlocked itself from Leo's forehead with a click. The restraints loosened.For a moment, Leo sat there, gasping for air, drenched in cold sweat, his head swimming with nausea. Every nerve ending felt raw, exposed.A couple of technicians hurried forward
CHAPTER THIRTEEN: MEMORY LANE
Two heavily armored guards escorted Leo down a narrow, dimly lit hallway. The walls were a sterile white, but the flickering overhead lights cast long, eerie shadows along the floor, making every step feel like a march toward execution.At the end of the hall stood a thick, metallic door — massive, imposing, humming faintly with energy.One of the guards stepped forward, pressed his hand against a glowing blue panel.With a hydraulic hiss, the door slid open, revealing the Memory Analysis Chamber.Leo’s breath hitched.The room was like something out of a science fiction nightmare.Cold. Metallic. Inhuman.Banks of monitors lined the far walls, displaying static-ridden images and streams of unreadable data. The scent of disinfectant was so strong it stung his nostrils. At the center of the room was the chair.It wasn’t just any chair — it looked like a mechanical throne, dark steel with thick leather straps dangling ominously from the armrests and footrests.Above it, a spider-like ar
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