The world as we knew it changed in an instant. The year was 70 years ago, and it began with an event so catastrophic, it would later be known simply as "The Great Attack." In the dead of night, without warning, massive towers began to materialize across the world—black, foreboding monoliths that tore through the very fabric of reality itself. Portals opened beneath these towers, gateways to unknown realms, unleashing an onslaught of monstrous creatures upon our cities. The attacks were brutal—beasts of all shapes and sizes, each more horrifying than the last.
Giant, serpentine creatures with scales like iron, towering demons with claws that could crush entire buildings, and shadowy beasts that swarmed and devoured everything in their path. The sky was filled with chaos, the air thick with smoke and the cries of those who perished in the initial assault. Cities fell, entire populations wiped out in mere hours. The military fought back with everything they had, but it was clear—the monsters that emerged from these portals were beyond our capabilities. The death toll was unimaginable. Families, entire civilizations, were lost in the chaos.
But from the ashes of this destruction, something incredible happened. Some survivors—those who managed to live through the horrors of that first wave—began to change. They developed powers, abilities that made them different, made them strong. People who could manipulate fire, bend reality, control the elements. It wasn't clear how or why, but the powers began to spread. They were not common, and they were certainly not evenly distributed, but those who had them became our first heroes. It was during this time that the "System" emerged—a mysterious, holographic display that allowed people to see their potential and abilities, ranking them according to power. The ranks were simple: E, D, C, C+, B, B+, A, A+, S, SS, and SSS.
At first, only a few could access this system. But eventually, it became a tool for everyone. The strong stood out with their high ranks, those with S and SS ranks were worshipped, feared, and adored. Heroes were formed from the chaos, and guilds began to organize. The world was never the same. People turned their gaze toward the power these guilds held, and the leadership they offered.
has rebuilt itself, but the scars of the Great Attack remain visible in every corner of society. Guilds have risen to prominence, now as powerful as nations. These guilds are more than just groups of people— they are corporations, kingdoms, and empires in their own right. They hold immense sway over the balance of power in the world. There are eight major guilds, but two of them tower above all others, their names whispered in awe and fear.
The first is Titan's Reach, a guild known for its ruthless approach to any threat. Their leader, Kaiser Valron, is an S-Class powerhouse, a man who can bend time itself. Few have witnessed his full strength, but those who have never lived to tell the tale. Titan's Reach has an iron grip on many of the world's resources, and they are as feared for their political influence as they are for their warriors.
The second guild, Eclipse, is shrouded in mystery. Little is known about their leader, a woman known only as Selene. Despite the near-total secrecy surrounding her, there are rumors that she has the ability to manipulate shadows and alter perceptions, making her one of the most dangerous and unpredictable forces alive. Selene's mysterious nature only adds to the intrigue of Eclipse. Though they don't have the same overt power as Titan's Reach, Eclipse's influence is just as vast, as they have infiltrated every corner of society, making them a shadowy power to be reckoned with.
And then there's me, Haruto Kugamamya—just another kid in the crowd. Sixteen, soon to be seventeen, with no special abilities, no extraordinary talents. Just the guy at the back of the class, scribbling down half-hearted notes, daydreaming about a future I don't know how to reach. I'm not one of the powerful ones. Hell, I don't even know what my rank is yet because I haven't had my Awakening. I've got nothing but ambition, and even that feels like it's slipping away. All those people out there—those real heroes—S-Class, SS, SSS… they've got everything figured out. They're born with power, and I've got nothing.
Every year, there are only two damn chances to take the exams. One is for the Awakeners—the ones who get their powers early, who already know what they're capable of. That exam's out of my league. Then there's the second one, which is for late awakeners, or the ones who failed the Hunter Exams the first time around. Guess what? That's the one I'm supposed to take. The only problem? I didn't even make it last year. Too weak. Too stupid. I keep telling myself I'll pass the next one, but… who am I kidding?
I can feel the sweat trickling down the back of my neck as I sit here in class, staring at the desk, lost in my own thoughts. The teacher's droning on, but I'm not listening. My fingers tap against the desk, my mind somewhere else. Somewhere where I'm not just a failure. Somewhere I'm strong. I mumble to myself, "What the hell's wrong with me? Why can't I just—"
"Haruto!"
The teacher's voice cuts through my thoughts like a bolt of lightning. I snap back to reality, eyes wide. She's looking at me with a mix of frustration and something that almost resembles pity. "I know you have potential, but you're not going to get anywhere if you don't put in the effort. You're not one of the Awakened—we all know that. And yet, you're still thinking of taking the Hunter Exam? You can barely pass the basics, and you're setting yourself up for failure. It's not about being chubby or not looking the part; it's about putting in the work and knowing your limits."
She pauses for a moment, trying to meet my eyes. "I'm not trying to be harsh, Haruto. But you can't expect things to just happen. You can't wish your way into being something you're not. You have to train, study, and put in the time. You can't skip the steps just because you want to be a hero so badly."
The class laughs again, louder this time, and I can feel my face burning. Some of the kids even mimic my awkwardness, snickering. One of them calls out, "You can't even get an Awakening, what's he even doing here?"
The teacher sighs and stands up straighter, her expression softening as she holds up a hand, signaling for silence. "Enough," she says, her voice much firmer now, though not without a trace of warmth. "This isn't helping anyone. Haruto might not be the most gifted student in this class, but mocking him won't change that. If he's going to try for the Hunter Exam, then let him. He's going to have to work hard, just like anyone else. But none of you are going to get anywhere by tearing each other down. Understood?"
The class falls silent, a few muttered apologies floating through the air. But no one dares to laugh anymore. The teacher gives me a small, almost sympathetic look before turning her attention back to the lesson, leaving me in my seat, feeling a little lighter. But not much.
The school bell rang, its shrill tone snapping Haruto out of his thoughts. Students around him jumped from their seats, a wave of excitement washing over the room.
"Let's go! Awakening Day!" someone shouted, their voice brimming with anticipation.
Haruto, still reeling from the earlier scolding, slowly rose from his desk. His feet felt heavy, as if they were chained to the ground. The snickers and whispered insults from his classmates still echoed in his ears.
"You coming, Haruto? Or are you just going to sit there and pretend you're already a hero?" a boy sneered as he walked past.
Haruto didn't reply, biting the inside of his cheek to keep himself from snapping. He shoved his hands into his pockets and followed the crowd, his head down.
The hall was a spectacle. Rows of students stood shoulder to shoulder in neat lines, the space illuminated by bright overhead lights that reflected off the polished marble floors. On the elevated stage stood Principal Ryusei Kanzaki, his presence commanding.
Behind the principal was a colossal holographic screen, its surface glowing faintly as it flickered with streams of data. This screen would soon display the students' abilities, from the most powerful to the weakest.
Principal Kanzaki raised a hand, and the room fell silent. His sharp, deep-set eyes scanned the crowd before he spoke, his voice measured and steady.
"Today," he began, "is a day of transformation. For many of you, it is the first step toward greatness. For others, it will be a wake-up call. But no matter your Awakening, remember this—what you do with your power is what defines you."
His gaze lingered on the front row, where the top-ranking students always stood, their chins high with confidence. Then his eyes drifted to the back, where Haruto slouched, his arms crossed defensively.
The students began chanting, their excitement palpable. "Five! Four! Three! Two!"
The room went silent on "One," and the screen roared to life. Names and abilities started flashing across it in bold, glowing letters. Gasps and murmurs rippled through the crowd.
When Haruto's name appeared, his heart stopped.
"Haruto Kugamamya – E- | Universal Communication."
Principal Kanzaki's brow furrowed, his jaw tightening ever so slightly. "Universal Communication," he muttered under his breath, as if the words left a sour taste in his mouth. "A skill where the user can communicate with anything that speaks their language."
The hall erupted into laughter.
Haruto's face turned crimson. His hands began to tremble. "You've got to be kidding me!" he blurted out, his voice loud enough to draw even more attention. "That's not a skill—that's just talking!"
The laughter grew louder. Haruto's classmates clutched their stomachs, some mimicking his outburst mockingly.
"Did he really just say that out loud?"
"Man, I didn't think it was possible to be worse than a D rank, but he's actually an E-! That's historic!"
Realizing he had spoken his thoughts aloud, Haruto slapped a hand over his mouth. His eyes darted around the room, panic spreading across his face. The laughter felt endless.
The screen's glow intensified as two names appeared at the top, their rankings causing a collective gasp.
"Sakura Yamamoto – A | Infernal Blossom."
Sakura stepped forward with effortless grace, her long blonde hair cascading like golden silk. Her radiant blue eyes gleamed with confidence. The description of her ability appeared on the screen: A devastating control over flames, capable of generating explosive bursts of fire that spread in a blooming pattern, incinerating everything in her vicinity.
The crowd murmured in awe as Sakura's flames briefly materialized in a controlled demonstration, their heat palpable even at a distance.
Then, the second name appeared:
"Rin Takahara – A | Shadow Warden."
Rin strode forward, her movements precise and deliberate. Her jet-black hair framed her pale, angular face, and her dark eyes glimmered with quiet intensity. The description read: The power to manipulate and solidify shadows into barriers or weapons, providing both offense and defense in battle.
Unlike Sakura, Rin didn't smile or acknowledge the applause. Her expression remained impassive, as if none of this impressed her in the slightest.
Principal Kanzaki smiled warmly at Sakura and Rin. "Congratulations," he said. "You've both demonstrated incredible potential today. Use your abilities wisely, and you may one day stand where I do now."
Then his gaze returned to Haruto, and his smile vanished. He coughed awkwardly into his hand and gestured to the screen. "And as for... Mr. Kugamamya," he said, hesitating.
The laughter from the students grew louder. Kanzaki cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable. "Mr. Kugamamya's… unique ability has earned him the distinction of being the first in recorded history with an E- rank. A dubious honor, indeed."
One of the teachers, a tall man with a sharp nose, handed Kanzaki a tissue as he wiped his brow again. The principal sighed. "We must remember," he said, forcing a neutral tone, "that every ability has its purpose... eventually."
The hall exploded into laughter.
"Universal Communication? Does that mean he'll talk the monsters to death?" someone shouted.
Sakura glanced at Haruto, her brows furrowing in mild confusion. Rin, however, didn't even turn her head. Her voice was a soft, icy whisper: "A waste."
And after the noise died down, with a sharp ring of the Bell they had been released for a short break.
As Haruto shuffled out of the hall, avoiding the mocking eyes of his classmates, a voice called out to him.
"Hey, Haruto! Wait up!"
Haruto turned, half-expecting another insult, but was surprised to see Chris Tanaka jogging toward him. Chris was the kind of guy everyone seemed to like—athletic, charming, and effortlessly cool. His light brown hair was always slightly tousled, his uniform a little disheveled, but his smile was warm and genuine.
Chris wasn't just popular; he was also well-connected. He got along with everyone, even the bullies. Haruto blinked, unsure why someone like Chris would want to talk to him.
"Hey," Chris said, catching up. "That was rough back there."
Haruto shrugged, trying to downplay his humiliation. "I'm fine."
Chris raised an eyebrow. "You sure? Look, I know how this stuff feels. My dad... he had a D-rank skill. You can imagine how much fun his coworkers had with that."
Haruto glanced up, intrigued despite himself.
Chris continued, his tone softening. "He worked in logistics, right? His skill was 'Perfect Inventory,' which meant he could track shipments without error. It sounds useful, sure, but people mocked him for it. Called him 'The Human Ledger.' Even his boss would crack jokes in front of everyone. And it hurt him, you know? He tried to laugh it off, but I could see it ate away at him."
Haruto hesitated before speaking. "What happened to him?"
Chris's expression darkened slightly, but he quickly replaced it with a smile. "He stuck it out. Proved everyone wrong. His boss came crawling back when my dad caught a shipment thief. Turned out that 'Human Ledger' was a lifesaver."
Chris clapped Haruto on the shoulder. "Point is, don't let those jerks get to you. You're more than what they say you are."
For the first time in years, Haruto felt... seen.
"Come on," Chris said, gesturing toward the cafeteria. "Let's grab some lunch. My treat."
Haruto hesitated but followed. The cafeteria was bustling with students, but Chris managed to find a table for two. As they ate, Chris kept the conversation light, telling Haruto funny stories about his childhood.
Haruto found himself laughing—a real, unrestrained laugh. It startled him. When was the last time I laughed like this? he wondered.
Chris grinned. "See? You're not so bad when you're not scowling."
Haruto chuckled, shaking his head. "Thanks... for this. I didn't think—"
"Don't mention it," Chris said, waving it off. "Everyone needs a friend."
Their moment was interrupted by a group of bullies approaching the table. "Hey, Chris," one of them sneered. "What are you doing hanging out with the E-minus legend?"
Chris stood up, his expression calm but firm. "Back off, guys. Haruto's with me."
The bullies hesitated before stepping away, muttering under their breath.
"Sorry about them," Chris said, sitting back down. "No hard feelings, though. They're just idiots."
Haruto nodded, his chest tight with gratitude.
After lunch, the two of them spent the rest of the school day talking. For the first time, Haruto didn't feel like an outcast. When the final bell rang, Chris packed his bag.
"Gotta head out early," he said. "Family stuff. Catch you tomorrow, okay?"
"Yeah," Haruto said, fist-bumping Chris as he left. The sun gleamed behind them, casting a golden glow over the moment. Haruto couldn't remember the last time he felt this good.
Class dragged on for what felt like an eternity. Haruto sat at his desk, head down, scribbling aimlessly in his notebook as paper balls and erasers landed around him. The teacher—a kind woman who had always tried to protect him—occasionally cast worried glances in his direction, but the whispers and stifled laughter from his classmates continued unabated.
When the final bell rang, Haruto lingered, letting the room empty before he stood to leave. Just as he was about to step out, the teacher called his name.
"Haruto," she said softly, her voice gentle.
He turned, surprised.
She gave him a small, encouraging smile. "If you ever need someone to talk to, or if things get too difficult, you can always come to me. I mean it."
Haruto nodded, his throat tight. "Thank you, ma'am," he murmured, before slipping out the door.
The afternoon sun hung low in the sky as Haruto trudged home, his bag slung over one shoulder. The streets were quieter than usual, the hum of distant traffic mingling with the occasional chirp of birds.
His thoughts swirled in a chaotic storm. The image of his father lying in bed, pale and frail, burned into his mind. Stage-four cancer. No Awakening. No powers. Just a normal, broken man.
Haruto could still see the IV drip beside his father's bed, hear the labored wheeze of his breathing. Flashbacks of the times his father used to play with him, lifting him onto his shoulders and laughing as they ran through the park, stabbed at Haruto's heart. The contrast was unbearable.
And now... Haruto clenched his fists, his knuckles white. Now I'm supposed to be the one to save us? With a skill like mine?
His pace slowed as he reached his street. The weight of everything—his father's condition, his useless skill, the constant ridicule—pressed down on him like a leaden blanket.
He had spent the walk home deep in thought, worrying about his father's stage-four cancer and how he could possibly support his family with such a useless skill. Maybe I should just get a desk job, he mused bitterly. Forget about being a Hunter. Forget about everything.
The faint sound of moaning pulled him from his thoughts.
His brows furrowed as he set his bag down. "Mom?" he called, his voice uncertain. The sounds continued, muffled and rhythmic, coming from her bedroom.
His stomach twisted. No... It can't be.
Haruto pushed open the door, and his world shattered.
There, on his parents' bed, was Chris, shirtless, his expression one of smug satisfaction. His mother was beneath him, her face flushed, her movements unabashed. They didn't stop.
Chris turned his head, locking eyes with Haruto. He grinned, a cruel, taunting smile that no longer held a trace of the warmth Haruto had seen earlier.
"Oh, hey, Haruto," Chris drawled, his tone dripping with mockery. "Didn't think you'd be home so soon."
Haruto's mother didn't even flinch. Her expression was one of reckless abandon, completely ignoring her son's presence.
Haruto's vision blurred. His chest heaved as his breath came in short, ragged gasps. His heart pounded so hard he thought it might burst.
Chris leaned back slightly, still smirking. "What's wrong? I thought we were friends. You should be happy for me."
Haruto's legs felt like they would give out. His hands clenched into fists so tight his nails dug into his palms. He couldn't speak. The room swam before his eyes, his veins throbbing, his lungs choking him.
Finally, he managed a single, strangled word.
"Mother?"
For a moment, his vision blurred, rage and disbelief consuming him. His trembling hands balled into fists as he took a step forward, his heart thundering in his chest. "Chris!" he roared, his voice raw and trembling. "Get the hell away from her!"
Chris turned his head lazily, a smirk plastered across his face. His eyes flickered with disdain, and he casually raised a hand, summoning a glowing orb of fire.
"You're not even worth my time," Chris sneered. "But if you want to die that badly..."
Haruto didn't think; he acted. Fueled by blinding rage, he charged at Chris, his heavy frame barreling forward. But Chris, with his C+ Fireball Skill, was faster, calmer. A small flame formed in his palm, expanding as he hurled it toward Haruto.
The fireball slammed into Haruto's chest, sending him sprawling onto the floor with a sickening thud. The searing pain tore through him as his shirt burned away, exposing his charred skin. He gasped for air, his body twitching as he struggled to move.
Haruto lay sprawled on the floor, his vision swimming as the searing pain of the fireball consumed him. The acrid smell of his own burning flesh filled his nostrils, mingling with the grotesque symphony of laughter and lewd moans echoing from the bed. His ears caught every sound, each breathless gasp and delighted cry, fanning the flames of his already seething rage.
Why… why is this happening?
The question gnawed at his mind as images of his childhood flashed before him. His mother, the woman who used to ruffle his hair and smile warmly, now betrayed every memory of warmth and love they had shared. He thought of the times she had carried him on her back after he scraped his knees, the nights she stayed up late to sew patches onto his worn school uniform. Each precious moment shattered like fragile glass, replaced by the sickening sounds of betrayal.
Inside Haruto's mind, the scene shifted. A vision of his soul appeared—pure white, untouched, and innocent, floating in a vast void. But then, from above, dark ink began to drip onto it. At first, it was a single drop, then another, and soon a torrent of black liquid engulfed the white light, swallowing it whole. The ink pulsed, shifting and twisting, reflecting the raw fury coursing through his heart.
"Still alive, huh?" Chris's voice cut through the haze like a dagger, dripping with cruel amusement. Haruto struggled to lift his head, his body refusing to obey. He could only watch helplessly as Chris's smirk widened.
"I guess you're tougher than I thought." Chris reached out and grabbed Haruto's mother by the hair, tilting her head back with a sickening grin. "Guess I'll have to make her scream louder for you to get the message."
Haruto's fingers twitched against the floor as his rage threatened to explode. Get up! Do something! his mind screamed. But his body, ravaged by the fireball's heat, refused to move. The burns spread across his skin like cracks in porcelain, rendering him paralyzed
Haruto's nails dug into the charred wood of the floor in his mind's eye, but the reality was crueler—his blistered hands couldn't even muster the strength to grip. His muscles trembled, spasming in vain as molten pain shot through his every nerve.
"You're pathetic," Chris taunted, standing over him like a conqueror surveying a fallen enemy. "This is why you'll always be a loser, Haruto. A useless skill, a pathetic body, and now this—burnt to ash, just like your dignity."
Haruto's vision darkened at the edges, but the sounds of his mother's moans continued to pierce through, each one sharper than the last. His mind spiraled deeper into despair, his thoughts swirling with hatred so thick it suffocated him.
Why… why would she do this?
The ink in his mind thickened, swirling faster, consuming more of his soul. A dark, formless rage began to take root, and for the first time, Haruto felt something deep within him crack.
It was no longer about his pain or betrayal. It was about destruction—about erasing everything in front of him.
As Chris prepared another fireball, the sound of mocking laughter filled Haruto's ears. The moans grew louder, almost celebratory. His teeth clenched as his raw throat let out a guttural growl. If there's anything listening, he thought bitterly, I don't care what it is—give me the power to end this. I'll sacrifice anything.
In that moment, something ancient and malevolent heard him. The ink within his soul began to stir violently, as though answering a call, its formless mass writhing and solidifying into something far darker.
Haruto's body lay still, broken and useless, but within his mind, a storm of hatred began to take shape, ready to consume everything in its path.
Haruto lay motionless, his body trembling with the remnants of pain and rage. His burned skin stuck to the charred floor beneath him, his breaths shallow and labored. As his thoughts spiraled, a fragment of a lesson from years ago surfaced in his mind-a lecture about the constellations, celestial beings who chose champions to wield extraordinary power.
Back then, those stories seemed magical, tales of hope and destiny. Now, in his broken state, they felt like lies.
"Chosen ones," huh? Where are they now?
His mind boiled over, feeding on the despair and betrayal festering in his heart. He glared at the ceiling, his vision blurred but his anger sharp.
"What a joke," he hissed, his voice weak but venomous. "What's the point of a world where I suffer like this? Where someone like me exists? Where someone like them," he spat, thinking of Chris and his mother, "is rewarded?"
The memories of his classmate's laughter, his teacher's pity, and Chris's smug grin collided in his mind. Haruto didn't plead. He didn't cry out for salvation. Instead, he cursed with every ounce of his being.
"You gods, constellations, or whatever pathetic names you go by," Haruto spat, his voice cracking with fury. "You sit there, watching from the heavens, doing nothing while people like me suffer! You let this world rot! You create life just to torment it! Are you proud of yourselves? Are we all just your playthings? Is this what you wanted—a boy betrayed, burned, and broken, left to crawl in the ashes of your so-called creation? You're cowards! Cruel, useless monsters! If you're listening, then hear me now—I curse you! I curse your names, your power, and the disgusting world you've built!"
Suddenly, the air around him shifted.
A faint hum resonated in his ears, low and ominous, like a predator circling its prey. A chilling sensation coursed through his body, making the burns sting even more. He froze, his curses momentarily faltering.
A deep, guttural voice slithered into his thoughts, each word dripping with malice.
"Fascinating. Such hatred... such a soul, ripe for ruin."
Haruto's eyes widened, his breaths growing erratic. His Universal Communication-the cursed skill he despised-had activated without his consent, bridging a connection between him and... something.
The voice continued, its tone rich with amusement. "I did not expect to hear such delicious contempt. Do you despise this world so much, child? Or perhaps you despise yourself more?"
Haruto's heart pounded in his chest as a glitchy holographic notification appeared before him, flickering erratically:
[WARNING: DANGEROUS CONNECTION DETECTED]
User has connected to an Unregistered Celestial Entity. Interaction is highly discouraged. Proceeding will result in irreversible consequences.
The warning flashed blood-red, its letters distorted as though they, too, recoiled from the presence of the being Haruto was now connected with. But he didn't care. His mind fixated on one thing: revenge.
"What are you?" Haruto rasped, the words falling from his lips like venom.
The voice chuckled, low and menacing. "I am... intrigued by you, Haruto. You are unlike the others. Your soul-how can I describe it? It is a void of purity. A bottomless pit of ruin. Yet, within you, there is resolve. You want power, don't you? Enough to tear him apart... to destroy everything he holds dear."
Haruto didn't hesitate. "Give me the power to kill him. I'll do anything."
The Dark Pact
"Anything, you say?" the entity mused, its voice brimming with sinister glee. "Then prove it."
A second notification appeared, jagged and glitchy, its message barely legible:
[SKILL BESTOWAL IN PROCESS]
New Skill: Sacrificial Reconstruction
Class: D
Description: The user can sacrifice a part of their body to repair or enhance another part. The greater the sacrifice, the greater the reward.
The moment Haruto saw the skill's description, he understood. His lips curled into a grimace of determination, his resolve unshaken. He gritted his teeth, his body trembling as he prepared for what he had to do.
With what little strength remained, Haruto bit down on his tongue- hard. His teeth ground into the flesh, tearing through it as blood gushed into his mouth. The pain was excruciating, sharp and overwhelming, but he didn't stop. He clamped his jaw tighter until his tongue severed completely.
Blood pooled beneath him as the remains of his tongue fell from his mouth. His body convulsed, and for a moment, he thought he might black out.
The Awakening
The voice laughed, a deep, resonant sound that echoed through his mind. "Impressive. Most would hesitate, but you... you are driven by something far darker than fear. So be it. Take your power."
A surge of energy flooded Haruto's broken body, his veins pulsing as strength returned to his limbs. His burns began to fade, his muscles twitching with newfound vitality. His vision, once blurred, sharpened, and his rage crystallized into a singular purpose: annihilation.
From within the haze of his newfound strength, Haruto's thoughts were consumed by one name.
Chris.
Chris barely had time to process the sudden rush of movement. Haruto, with his charred and trembling body, surged forward with the wrench in his hand, his rage blinding all reason. He drove the jagged tool into Chris's head mid-motion, cutting off his vile act with a sickening crunch. Blood splattered across the room as Haruto twisted the wrench, his face contorted with a grin so sinister it froze his mother in place.
"You think you're untouchable, don't you, Chris?" Haruto hissed, his voice raspy and uneven, still burned from the fireball. "Did you really think I'd just lie there and take it? That I'd be your pathetic little victim forever?" His laughter erupted suddenly, maniacal and sharp, echoing through the room like a devil's chorus. Chris groaned weakly, his hands fumbling in vain to push Haruto away, but Haruto drove the wrench deeper, savoring every crack of bone beneath the pressure.
"You're not so smug now, are you?" Haruto taunted, his voice dripping with venom as he leaned closer to Chris's pale, sweat-soaked face. "Where's that fireball now, huh? You're just a rat scurrying for your last breath." He lifted the wrench again and brought it down repeatedly, the sick thuds of metal against flesh growing louder with every strike. Blood sprayed across Haruto's face and chest, but he didn't stop.
His laughter turned to hysterical giggles, his eyes gleaming with unholy delight. "How does it feel, Chris? To lose? To be helpless? You love it, don't you? Just like I did!" Haruto's voice cracked as he continued, mocking and jeering with every word.
A faint system notification flickered before his blood-stained gaze, its edges glitching ominously: "Sufficient sacrifice detected. Activating skill: Body Resurgence."
Haruto froze for a moment, feeling a foreign energy surge through him, pulling at his very core. Steam began rising from his battered body, and his skin shimmered as though it were being melted and reshaped by some invisible force. His shaggy, messy hair darkened momentarily before turning a shocking, pristine white, cascading down in sharp, glossy strands. His chubby form, marred with burns and scars, began to shift as his skin tightened, muscles rippling beneath the surface
His once-dull, brown irises transformed, crimson bleeding outward from the pupils as though liquid fire had taken their place. The color deepened with every blink until his gaze became a pair of glowing, predatory red eyes, alive with malice and power. His jawline sharpened, his torso expanded with well-defined muscle, and the burns and scars faded into nothingness as the steam dissipated, revealing a figure that was both unnervingly handsome and terrifyingly otherworldly.
His mother's screams pierced the room, but Haruto paid no mind. He stood tall, his shirtless, now-sculpted frame gleaming with sweat and blood, the wrench still clutched in his hand.
Chris, still clinging to life, gurgled something incoherent, his eyes wide with terror as he gazed at the devil-like figure towering over him.
Haruto leaned in close, his blood-stained face breaking into a sadistic smirk. "Don't worry, Chris," he whispered coldly, his voice now dripping with unnatural confidence.
"Your sacrifice won't be in vain."
Without another word, he activated the skill again, using Chris's remaining life force to seal the changes to his body. The wrench glowed faintly as Haruto twisted it one last time, snuffing out the flicker of life in Chris's eyes.
Maledictus, observing from the void, let out a satisfied laugh. "Now this... this is just the beginning, little devil."
Haruto stood over Chris's lifeless body, the wrench still clutched tightly in his hand, blood dripping steadily from its end. His crimson eyes glowed faintly, casting an eerie light on the darkened room. His mother, trembling, pressed her back against the wall, her voice shaking as she finally mustered the courage to speak.
"Haruto... what you did... that wasn't right!" she yelled, her voice cracking, trying to sound authoritative but failing miserably. "You... you didn't have to kill him! You-"
"Shut. Up."
The words struck like a whip, cold and sharp. Haruto's voice was low, almost calm, but laced with such malice that it froze her in place. He crouched slowly, his movements deliberate, as he pried the wrench out of Chris's ear with a sickening squelch. Blood dripped in thick rivulets, pooling around his feet. He stood back up, his crimson eyes fixed on her like a predator sizing up its prey.
"You think you have the right to lecture me?" Haruto sneered, his voice growing darker. He took a step closer, and she flinched, tears streaming down her face. "You? The one who let this happen? You disgust me."
"Haruto, I-" she stammered, but he cut her off.
"Don't. Say. My. Name." His voice was venomous, each word biting and precise. He leaned in slightly, his glowing eyes narrowing. "You're no mother of mine. You're a disgrace. The thought of sharing your blood makes my skin crawl."
Her sobs grew louder, but Haruto didn't falter. He straightened, standing tall and imposing, the wrench still dripping in his hand.
"Take him." He gestured at Chris's broken, bloodied body, his tone cold and unfeeling. "Drag his pathetic corpse out of here. And don't come back."
"Haruto, please-"
"NOW!" he bellowed, the sheer force of his voice sending her scrambling toward Chris. She grabbed at the body, her hands shaking violently, dragging it out inch by inch. Blood trailed behind her, leaving a grotesque path across the floor.
Haruto stood motionless, his expression unreadable, watching her struggle with Chris's lifeless form. As she disappeared through the door, her sobs echoing faintly down the hallway, he turned his gaze back to the empty room.
The silence settled around him, thick and heavy, as his thoughts began to spiral. Memories of every insult, every sneer, every laugh directed at him came flooding back, each one cutting deeper than the last. His fists clenched, nails digging into his palms until blood seeped out, but he didn't care.
What I did to Chris... it wasn't enough, he thought, his lips curling into a twisted smile. The image of Chris's face, contorted in agony and fear, flashed through his mind, and a dark satisfaction bubbled up inside him. He let out a low chuckle, the sound growing louder, more unhinged.
"They'll all pay," he whispered, his voice tinged with madness. "Every single one of them. Every person who ever mocked me, looked down on me, treated me like dirt. They'll all scream just like Chris did."
Haruto's crimson eyes glowed brighter as he stood there, lost in his own darkness, his mind consumed by vengeance. He wasn't the same person anymore. He didn't want to be.