2025-03-24 17:11:20Rain hammered down on the stone-paved streets of Black Hollow, turning the narrow alleys into rivers of filth and mud. The choking stench of rotting waste and unwashed bodies lingered in the air — a constant reminder that this district had long been forgotten by the kingdom's nobles.
Ethan Cross crouched beneath the shadow of a crumbling archway, breathing shallowly through his mouth to avoid the acrid smell. His ragged cloak stuck to his thin frame, weighed down by rain and sweat. His dark hair, tangled and dripping, clung to his forehead as his piercing green eyes narrowed toward his target.
A merchant's caravan rolled through the street, flanked by two armed guards. The merchant, fat and sweating despite the cold, sat beneath a canvas cover, inspecting a velvet pouch heavy with gold marks. The guards wore the crimson-and-black colors of House Valtorin — Ethan recognized the insignia at once. A serpent coiled around a sword.
Valtorin.
His blood boiled.
Ethan slid his hand beneath his cloak, wrapping his fingers around the hilt of a rusty dagger. His stomach ached — he'd gone two days without food — and the prospect of gold marks made his mouth dry with hunger.
The caravan slowed at a crossroad as a wagon passed in front of it. Ethan moved. Silent. Fast.
He slipped through the rain, a shadow among shadows, and reached the back of the cart. His hand darted out and sliced the rope binding the heavy pouch to the merchant's belt. Gold marks jingled softly as the pouch fell into his hand.
One step back.
"Oi!"
The nearest guard turned.
Ethan’s heart slammed against his ribs. He darted backward, feet slipping on the slick stones.
"Thief!"
The guards lunged toward him. Ethan’s instincts screamed. He turned and bolted through the alley, pouch clutched to his chest.
Behind him, heavy footsteps and the clang of steel echoed through the narrow streets.
"Get him!"
Ethan vaulted over a pile of broken crates and ducked into a side passage, feet splashing through knee-deep water. His breath burned in his chest as the sound of pursuit grew louder.
"Cut him off!"
He reached the end of the alley and skidded to a stop. A tall iron gate blocked the path.
A shadow shifted behind him.
Too late.
A fist hammered into his side, driving the air from his lungs. Ethan stumbled, gasping, as a hand twisted in his cloak and hauled him back.
He struck the wall hard.
A guard loomed over him — a massive brute in chainmail. A sneer twisted his scarred face.
"Little rat," the guard growled. He drove his fist into Ethan’s gut.
Ethan choked, doubling over. He fell to his knees as the pouch of gold spilled across the stones.
"Do you know what happens to street rats who steal from House Valtorin?"
The guard grabbed Ethan by the throat and slammed him against the wall again.
Ethan gasped, clawing at the guard’s hand as his vision blurred. His lungs screamed for air.
"Hold him still."
The second guard approached — a short, wiry man with cold, dead eyes. He drew a curved dagger from his belt. "Let’s make an example of this one."
Ethan’s head swam. He thrashed, but the brute’s grip tightened.
The dagger's tip pressed against his throat.
No. No—
A dark haze crept at the edges of his vision. His limbs grew heavy.
The rain. The filth. The cold. The stink of iron and blood.
Not like this.
A cold, mechanical voice echoed in his mind.
[System Activated.]
Ethan’s eyes snapped open. His breath caught as a translucent screen blinked into existence in front of him, glowing faintly in the dark.
[SYSTEM INITIALIZING…]
USER IDENTIFIED: ETHAN CROSSSYSTEM SYNCHRONIZATION IN PROGRESS…ACTIVATING COMBAT INTERFACE…The cold edge of the dagger bit into his skin.
Ethan’s vision sharpened.
Stats. Health. Stamina. Strength. Speed. His mind flooded with knowledge that wasn’t his — movements, techniques, weak points.
The guard’s wrist — slightly twisted. Weak joint.
Ethan’s hands shot up.
[Stealth Skill Unlocked: Lvl 1]
Ethan’s body moved on instinct. His left hand twisted the guard’s wrist — hard. Bone popped. The guard screamed.
Ethan tore the dagger free and drove it into the guard’s thigh. Blood sprayed across the stones. The man screamed and fell back.
The second guard lunged.
[Combat Skill Unlocked: Lvl 1 – Blade Strike]
Ethan ducked beneath the blade. His dagger slashed upward in a brutal arc — cutting deep into the guard’s side.
The man stumbled. Ethan followed — dagger plunging into his throat.
The guard crumpled. Dead.
Breathing hard, Ethan staggered to his feet. The screen flashed before his eyes.
[EXP Gained: 25]
[Level Up!][Health +5 | Strength +1 | Speed +1]The first guard lay clutching his leg, groaning. Ethan stepped toward him, dagger in hand.
"Wh-what are you—"
Ethan’s blade flashed. Blood spattered across the stones.
[EXP Gained: 10]
The rain washed the blood from his hands. Ethan’s breath came ragged and sharp.
The System’s screen flickered.
[New Path Unlocked: Survivor]
"Survive at any cost. Grow stronger. Kill to grow."Ethan lifted his eyes toward the dark alley ahead.
He smiled.
"Let’s see how far this goes."
Previous Chapter
Latest Chapter
Lyra’s Poisoned Gift
The upper quarter of Black Hollow had once belonged to merchants, bankers, and minor nobles. Now it belonged to fear.Lyra walked through it dressed like a message.Tight crimson leathers, one dagger visible, five not. Her cloak was black silk that shimmered when it caught the torchlight — spun from noble funeral robes. She’d stolen it off a Valtorin corpse weeks ago.The guards saw her. And looked away.No one stopped her anymore.She didn’t walk fast. She strolled, because speed would’ve admitted risk. And Lyra never let herself admit fear — not out loud, and never to herself.The House Valtorin estate towered ahead — not the Spire where Selene ruled, but a city manor used for "outreach" and political intimidation.Tonight, it would bleed.[Side Quest Active: Provocation – Embarrass Selene Before Her Arrival]Target: House Valtorin's City SeatObjective: Plant a forged relic, steal back a true one, and leave a mark.Risk: ExtremeReward: +10 Infamy | Selene’s rage escalates encounte
The Box That Whispers
They didn’t return to the Guildhall. Too exposed. Too obvious.Instead, Ethan led the crew into the catacombs beneath the burned-out husk of the old cathedral — the one Black Hollow’s priests abandoned after the God of Silence stopped answering.Only the brave or the cursed came here now. Ethan was probably both.The air was thick with old ash and mold. Dead candles littered the floors. Bones, too.Kael set a perimeter. Lyra lit three torches and wedged them into the crumbling stone. Nara laid down an inkline ward circle — fast, practiced, whispering in that inhuman tongue she used when working.Ethan sat at the center of it all, the black box resting on his lap.[Item: Sealed Black Box]Status: Locked – Requires Forbidden Lineage AccessWarning: Unknown consequences on open“You’re sure about this?” Kael asked, crouched nearby, blood still drying on his temple.“No,” Ethan replied.Lyra sat cross-legged behind him, blade out, expression unreadable. “Good. We’re already cursed. Might
Whisper-Path
Beneath Black Hollow, past the abandoned waterway and through the cracked aqueduct wall, the whisper-path opened like a throat cut into the earth.It was silent. Too silent. Not the kind where you can hear your own breath — the kind where you start to forget what breath sounds like.Ethan moved first.His dagger was drawn, but it wasn’t the blade he trusted — it was the System, humming just beneath the skin, highlighting every motion, every sound, every stone out of place.Behind him, Nara walked barefoot. Her steps didn’t echo. The sigils inked into her skin pulsed like faint, slow heartbeats — one red, one black, one pulsing to a rhythm no one else heard.Kael moved third. His breathing was calm. Focused. Calculated. Every step had purpose. Every glance had a weight.Lyra brought up the rear, flipping a silver coin between her fingers like they were walking into a tavern, not a noble vault heist.[System Alert: Whisper-Path Detected – Forbidden Construct]Type: Residual Thought Echo
The Gathering Storm
The rain fell hard on Black Hollow.It poured down the slate roofs of the slums and sluiced through the cracked alleys like veins bleeding water. Thunder rumbled across the sky in long, low groans — not angry, just tired.The city listened. It always listened. Especially when things changed.Tonight, they had.The Guild was his now.Ethan stood beneath the great skylight of the Guildmaster’s sanctum, high in the center of the old blackstone tower. The rain tapped steadily against the stained glass above, casting distorted ripples of color across the chamber walls.Kael stood to his left, silent, arms crossed. The shadows beneath his eyes were darker than usual.Lyra lounged across a half-collapsed velvet settee to Ethan’s right, boots kicked up, blade twirling idly between her fingers. She was dressed in black tonight. No red. No smiles.They had all killed this week.Ethan’s fingers traced the edge of the map spread across the stone table in front of him. The city was etched into it
Lyra’s Game
The Eastwatch brothels glittered like dying stars.Red lanterns hung low over narrow alleys, casting flickering shadows across sweat-stained walls. Perfume, wine, and blood all clung to the same sticky air. Music drifted faintly — hollow flutes and off-key strings — masking the whispers and screams in the rooms behind closed curtains.Lyra moved like smoke through the crowd.She was dressed in silk now, all deep red and gold, a slit riding high up one leg, a dagger sheathed against her bare thigh. Her face bore a velvet mask, but her smile was all teeth.[System Interface: Linked – Guild Captain Elimination in Progress]Target: Sarn VoxLocation: The Crimson Lantern, EastwatchStatus: Paranoid | Drunk | Surrounded by escorts and mercsShe slipped past a heavy-set guard at the door with nothing more than a wink and a whisper. He didn’t even look back.Inside, the Crimson Lantern was less a brothel and more a palace for the wicked. Every corner overflowed with noise — laughter, moans, m
A Throne of Knives
The throne room smelled of blood and smoke.Ethan stood beneath the carved silver insignia of the Guild — a blade beneath a crown. The corpse of Varric Kaen, the Guildmaster, lay slumped at the foot of the throne, blood pooling beneath his body in slow, widening rings.Kael cleaned his daggers with calm, clinical precision, but his eyes were on Ethan.Lyra was already climbing the steps to the black stone throne. She dropped into the seat with a sigh, crossing one leg over the other.“Well,” she said brightly, twirling her dagger, “that was dramatic.”Ethan didn’t move. His breathing had slowed, but the System still pulsed in the back of his skull — cold, alive, watching.[System Update: Title Opportunity Available]"Position of Power Vacant: Guildmaster."Would you like to claim this title?[Y/N]Ethan’s eyes narrowed on the interface.“Do it,” Kael said. “No hesitation.”“Obvious trap,” Lyra muttered. “Still… power’s power.”Ethan stared at the floating text for a moment longer. The
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