The Gacha Of Forbidden Taboos

Chapter 4: The Brother's Dagger

Lin Feng's POV

I climbed the steps. Every movement was heavy, my muscles denser, my weight literally cracking the fine gravel under my bare feet. I stopped three paces from my brother.

"Chen," I said. My voice was a low rasp.

He didn't flinch. He stepped toward the edge of the stage, addressing the crowd of hundreds.

"Citizens of the Spire! Honor is not a right of birth, but a harvest of merit! My brother, Lin Feng, is a void. A rot that threatens the prestige of my house and this institution. To prove my devotion to the Light, I must sever the tie that binds me to the darkness."

The crowd erupted. "Cut the rot! Long live the Spire!"

They weren't just shouting; they were salivating.

They wanted to see the "Zero" humbled by his own blood.

Chen turned back to me. His eyes were cold, but I saw the tiny tremor in his hand as he reached for the dagger. He wasn't doing this for justice, he was doing it for a scholarship. For a chance to leave the mud behind.

"Forgive me, brother," he hissed, leaning in close as he raised the blade. "But you were always a burden."

He didn't aim for a non-lethal limb. He drove the Fang of Loyalty straight into my left shoulder, twisting the jagged steel as it bit into the bone.

[CRITICAL EMOTIONAL TRAUMA DETECTED: KIN-BETRAYAL.]

[TRAUMA MULTIPLIER: 10x.]

[LUCK STAT: +500% (Temporary State: 'Heart-Broken')]

The pain was exquisite. It wasn't the searing heat of Shen’s fire or the stinging bite of a hex. This was cold. It was a vacuum in my chest where my brother’s love used to live.

I felt the system frantically harvesting the essence of the betrayal, the red screen in my mind blurring into a violent, pulsating violet.

[Points Harvested: 25,000.]

[Current Total: 40,000.]

The crowd roared in approval as blood soaked through my tattered tunic. Chen kept his hand on the hilt, his face inches from mine, waiting for me to scream, to beg, to give the crowd the satisfaction of my collapse.

Instead, I reached up. I didn't grab the knife. I gripped Chen’s shoulder, pulling him even closer, until our foreheads touched.

"Is that all, Chen?" I whispered.

His eyes widened. The coldness in them shattered, replaced by a sudden, stabbing fear. He tried to pull the knife out, but my muscles had clamped around the blade like a vice. It wouldn't budge.

"You gave me exactly what I needed," I breathed into his ear. "The ultimate pull. Thank you, brother. Your cowardice just bought me the world."

I let my knees buckle, not because I was weak, but because the Gacha wheel in my mind had reached a terminal velocity. It wasn't a wheel anymore, it was a screaming cyclone of black glass and weeping eyes.

[EMOTIONAL PEAK REACHED.]

[EXECUTING 6-STAR "LEGENDARY" DRAW...]

The world around me froze. The cheers of the crowd became a dull, underwater thud. The Tablet in my pocket vibrated so hard it felt like it was liquefying.

A single, golden spark erupted from the center of the wheel, diving straight into my chest.

[CONGRATULATIONS!]

[You have obtained the 6-Star Forbidden Artifact: "The Phantom Rib".]

[Type: Skeletal-Bound Weapon (Growth Type).]

[Description: An invisible, unbreakable blade forged from the condensed essence of your own agony. It resides within your ribcage, undetectable by mana-scans. It can be drawn through the skin without leaving a wound.]

The pain in my shoulder vanished. Not because the wound healed, but because it was eclipsed by the sensation of a new rib growing, sharper, longer, and made of something that didn't belong in this dimension.

I fell to the floor of the stage, the dagger still buried in my shoulder. To the crowd, I looked like a dying dog.

To Chen, I looked like a conquered ghost.

But internally, I felt my hand ghosting over my own chest. My fingers brushed against the skin over my heart, and I felt it, the cold, sharp hilt of a blade that only I could touch.

"The marking is complete!" the Deacon cried, stepping forward with the branding iron. "Lin Feng is now a pariah of the Silver-Spire!"

I stayed down, my face hidden by my matted hair. I felt the Phantom Rib pulse in time with my heartbeat.

The "Extermination Trials" were only two days away. They thought they were sending me to a slaughterhouse. They didn't realize they had just given the sheep a wolf’s tooth.

I looked at Chen’s feet as he walked away, his silver robes fluttering in the wind.

Run while you can, little brother, I thought, the System screen flashing one final, ominous message.

[NEW STATUS: Predator in Training.]

[Next Spin Tier: Massacre.]

****

The stinging scent of the Fang of Loyalty’s poison was still thick in my veins as the guards tossed me back into the Scavenger Pits.

They didn't put me in a cell this time. They threw me into the "Gravel-Run," a series of lightless tunnels beneath the spirit beast pens where the Academy dumped its organic waste.

It was a death sentence disguised as a chore.

I hit the cold, damp stone, the dagger still protruding from my shoulder. My vision swam.

The "Slave-Marking" on my neck burned with a dull, rhythmic throb, a constant reminder that I was now officially less than human.

Skitter. Skitter.

The sound of claws against stone echoed through the tunnel.

I pushed myself up, my breath coming in ragged, shallow gasps. My wounds were festering, the edges of the burns from Shen’s fire turning a sickly shade of grey.

I was starving, my stomach cramping so hard it felt like it was trying to eat itself.

Three pairs of glowing, amber eyes materialized in the darkness.

Gravel-Dogs. Low-level scavengers with teeth like jagged flint and a hunger that never ended. They didn't hunt for sport, they hunted because they were as desperate as I was.

[Status: Severely Weakened.]

[Vitality: 18%.]

[Warning: Multiple infections detected.]

The lead dog lunged, its maw opening to reveal rows of serrated bone.

Now, I thought.

I didn't reach for the dagger in my shoulder. I reached into my own chest. My fingers didn't hit skin, they passed through a shimmering, translucent veil.

My hand closed around a cold, slick hilt that felt like it was made of frozen starlight and old grudges.

I pulled.

There was no sound, no blood, only a faint, metallic shing that vibrated in my teeth.

The Phantom Rib was nearly three feet long, a curved, wicked sliver of obsidian-glass that seemed to drink the meager light of the tunnel.

The Gravel-Dog met the blade mid-air.