The cool night air wrapped around Malik like a second skin as he left the guildhall, the weight of the contract pressing lightly in his hands. The city's streets were still lively, flickering torchlight illuminating merchants and night dwellers as they went about their business. He moved through them unnoticed, his black robe blending into the evening shadows, his hood pulled low to obscure the golden slits of his visor. He wasn't in the mood for distractions. His focus was set on the hunt ahead.
"Twenty men," he mused. "Possibly more."
"You could wipe them all out in minutes if you shifted," Kairo noted.
Malik exhaled slowly, weaving through the winding streets toward the city's outskirts. "No, that would be too easy. I need to keep my true abilities concealed for as long as possible. And this is the perfect opportunity for me to see what I can do without focusing on shifting."
Kairo hummed. "Then what's the plan?"
Malik adjusted his hood. "Observe first. Get a feel for their numbers, their defenses. The best way to kill prey is to understand how they operate. If I can kill them all without being seen, I'll know I can use Phantom Veil against Master- rank enemies."
"So you're going to toy with them?"
A faint smirk ghosted Malik's lips. "Do you think of me so crudely?"
Kairo scoffed, stifling a laugh. "I wouldn't say crude, more like… Unstable?"
Malik chuckled and his ever-shifting eyes gleamed beneath his hood. "Well, I can't exactly argue with that, I'm pretty fucked up."
Malik moved through the city's outskirts, heading toward the last known location listed on the contract. The Crimson Vultures had set up camp in the ruins of an abandoned fortress deep within the southern forests. They had grown bold, too comfortable in their hideout, preying on trade routes and leaving a trail of blood wherever they passed.
Their leader, Joran Velka, was a former Master- ranked mercenary who had turned to raiding after his employer fell from grace. His men were all Advanced+, well-versed in combat, trained in tactics, and completely ruthless.
It would have been a challenge for most.
For Malik, it was a buffet.
Kairo's voice drifted into his thoughts. "Are you planning to kill them all at once?"
Malik's fingers curled slightly. "No. I want to see if I can break them first."
Kairo let out a low chuckle. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?"
Malik didn't answer.
But his gaze burned with anticipation.
…
…
As the last traces of civilization faded behind him, the dense woodland stretched ahead, its towering trees and thick underbrush swallowing the light. The scent of damp earth and pine filled the air, the sounds of nocturnal creatures whispering in the darkness.
It didn't take long to find the first signs of his prey.
Tracks. Lightly buried embers from a recent campfire. Discarded bones from a meal.
They weren't far.
Slipping into the shadows, Malik activated Phantom Veil, the stealth ability he had absorbed from the panther. Instantly, his form faded into the darkness, his presence vanishing from sight. Even the air around him seemed undisturbed, his breathing silent, his scent erased.
Tonight, they would know fear.
Malik expanded his senses outward, searching. He would take his time, study them and learn their weaknesses.
He moved deeper into the forest, his steps as light as a whisper. It wasn't long before he found them.
The fortress ruins stood like a wounded beast in the middle of the dense woodland, its crumbling walls covered in ivy and age-old scars of battle. Within its broken defenses, torchlight flickered over armored figures as the mercenaries gathered around a roaring fire, laughing, drinking, sharpening weapons.
Malik settled into the shadows just beyond the crumbling stone wall, his eyes scanning their faces, their movements, memorizing every detail. He wasn't looking for openings—he was looking for weaknesses.
One of them, a burly man with an eyepatch, drank too much, his reactions sluggish. Another sat with his back to the darkened entrance, his hand barely resting on the hilt of his sword. The archers kept their bows nearby, but their posture was lazy, their watch sporadic.
They didn't expect to be hunted.
Malik's lips curled under his hood. Fools.
"They can't sense you," Kairo observed, his tone intrigued. "Even the Master- leader. That's good to know."
"That means I can have some fun with this," Malik chuckled, his fingers flexing.
The night stretched around him, his breath slow and measured as he picked his first target. A man had wandered away from the fire, moving toward the treeline to relieve himself. Alone. Isolated.
Perfect.
Malik followed, his movements precise and methodical. The moment the man turned his back, Malik struck.
A single step closed the distance. His claws elongated, piercing into the man's throat from behind before he could even make a sound. Malik pulled him back into the shadows, his grip tightening as the mercenary's body spasmed, struggling against the inevitable. His muffled gasp turned into a choked gurgle as Malik sank his fangs into his flesh, ripping through muscle and sinew. The taste of iron flooded his mouth, the essence of the man sinking into his being. A pulse of power surged through him as Soul Devourer activated.
[SYSTEM UPDATE] You have devoured an Advanced+ Ranked Human. ]
[+15 stat points gained.]
[Experience gained increased by 300%.]
[You have leveled up! [Level 7 → Level 8]
Malik exhaled slowly, his body humming with the surge of strength. His muscles tightened, his reflexes sharper. The kill had been quick, effortless. And it was only the beginning.
With careful precision, he lowered the lifeless body onto the forest floor, letting the earth drink the blood. He turned his gaze back to the fortress.
It was time for the real hunt.
Malik moved like a shadow through the ruins, slipping between crumbling pillars and broken archways. He circled the encampment, waiting for stragglers to separate from the group. One by one, he took them. Fangs into the throat. A claw through the heart. Their screams never came. Only the sound of bones cracking, flesh tearing, life fading into the cold.
With each kill, he took a bite, and the notifications followed.
[+15 stat points.]
[+15 stat points.]
[+15 stat points.]
[Level Up!] +5 stat points]
[Level Up!] +5 stat points]
[Level Up!] +5 stat points]
His power grew.
He remained unseen, the mercenaries oblivious to their dwindling numbers. Some grumbled about men taking too long to return, but none suspected the truth.
Not yet.
By the time half their forces were gone, Malik could feel the shift in the air. The unease creeping into their voices, the way they started glancing over their shoulders, fingers tightening around their weapons. The laughter died. The fire didn't feel as warm anymore.They knew something was wrong.
And then, finally, someone noticed.
A mercenary stepped into the darkness, his voice low. "Where the hell is Merek? He was just—"
Malik's claws tore through his chest, pulling him into the abyss before he could finish his sentence.
The body hit the ground with a dull thud, the wet squelch of flesh splitting open filling the silence.
A moment of pure, suffocating stillness.
Then—
"WE'RE UNDER ATTACK!"
Panic erupted. Swords were drawn, bows raised, spells charged. The fortress came alive with chaos, but there was no enemy to be seen.
Only shadows.
Malik watched from the darkness, his heart steady, his breathing calm.
The Crimson Vultures were afraid now. Good.
The real slaughter was about to begin.
The air thickened with tension, the scent of sweat and fear rising over the crackling fire. The once-boisterous mercenaries, so full of bravado, had turned into frightened animals, clutching their weapons like lifelines, eyes darting wildly into the darkness.
They knew they were being hunted, but they didn't know how.
Malik moved through the ruins like a specter, his Phantom Veil rendering him invisible, his footsteps silent. He could hear their frantic heartbeats, smell the terror clinging to their skin. The campfire's glow flickered over their trembling faces, illuminating the cracks in their composure.
They had no idea how many of their comrades had already been reduced to mangled corpses, lying in the shadows just beyond their vision.
They were already dead.
And Malik was going to show them.
A lone mercenary—one of the younger ones, barely more than a boy—stood near the fire, shifting from foot to foot, his grip on his sword weak with nerves. He was whispering to himself, muttering a prayer under his breath, his voice shaking.
Malik's predatory eyes gleamed beneath his hood. He would be next to die.
He stepped forward.
The firelight warped slightly as he moved, the air rippling just for a second before he reached out—
SHNK!
His claws pierced through the mercenary's throat.
The young man's eyes bulged as a sickening gurgle escaped his lips. Malik lifted him effortlessly, the weight of the dying body barely a strain on his enhanced physique. The boy's hands scrabbled weakly at Malik's arm, trying to pry himself free, but the strength was already leaving his limbs.
The rest of the mercenaries watched in horror.
One of them opened his mouth to scream—
SHHK!
Malik drove his other hand into the dying boy's chest and ripped out his heart.
The body convulsed once, twice, before going still.
Malik took a bite, then let it drop.
Silence.
The world seemed to hold its breath.
Then—
"W-WHAT THE FUCK?!"
The camp exploded into chaos.
Swords were drawn, arrows nocked, fire magic surged to life—but there was nothing to fight. The space where Malik had stood was empty.
He had vanished once again.
Another mercenary stumbled backward, eyes wide with horror. "D-Did you see that?! He just—he just—"
SHNK!
A clawed hand punched through his chest from behind, bone and flesh bursting forward.
His scream died in his throat as Malik pulled him into the darkness.
The others whirled around, blades slashing wildly at the air, but they struck nothing. The shadows swallowed their fallen comrade whole.
Another one gone.
Another step closer to their doom.
"SPREAD OUT!" their leader, Joran Velka, roared, his voice strained with barely contained panic. His Master- aura surged, mana flaring around him like a shield. "IT'S JUST ONE MAN! WE CAN KILL HIM!"
But even as he shouted the words, he didn't believe them.
Malik smiled.
"Now they are breaking."
Malik toyed with them.
He moved through their ranks like a wraith, appearing just long enough for them to see him before ripping another one apart.
A mercenary raised his sword, hands shaking—Malik decapitated him before he could even blink.
Another fled toward the ruined archway, scrambling for the exit—Malik landed in front of him, grabbed his face, and crushed his skull in one motion.
Each kill made them more desperate.
More afraid.
Their formation collapsed.
Some tried to fight. Some tried to run.
Neither survived.
The air was filled with screams, gurgled last breaths, the wet sounds of flesh being torn apart. Malik devoured some of them whole, his fangs sinking into muscle and bone, absorbing their strength, their essence.
The System notifications flooded his vision.
[+15 stat points.]
[+15 stat points.]
[+15 stat points.]
He leveled up again.
[Level Up!]
[Level Up!]
His body pulsed with power, his muscles surging with each kill. He felt unstoppable.
And soon—
There was only one left.
Joran stood alone.
His once-proud armor was splattered with the blood of his men. His greatsword trembled in his grip. His breathing was ragged, his pupils blown wide with fear.
Around him, the ruins reeked of death.
All twenty of his men—gone.
He swallowed thickly, trying to steady himself. "I-If you think I'll go down that easily…" He gritted his teeth, planting his stance, raising his greatsword.
"THEN COME AND FACE ME, YOU COWARD!"
Malik laughed.
It was a deep, inhuman sound.
The kind of laughter that did not belong to a man.
Joran flinched.
And then Malik appeared.
His Phantom Veil dropped as he stepped into the firelight, his black robe soaked in blood, his hood barely concealing the hungry, cosmic slits beneath it.
Joran staggered back.
"Y-You… you're not human."
Malik tilted his head, amused.
"Bingo."
Joran snarled, forcing his body to move. His sword ignited with mana, crackling with energy. With a roar, he lunged forward, swinging with everything he had.
Malik sidestepped.
The blade missed by inches.
Joran barely had time to process before Malik's claw tore through his arm.
"AGHHHH—!"
His sword clattered to the ground, his severed limb following a second later.
Joran staggered back, blood pouring from the stump. His breathing was ragged, his body trembling, his mind breaking.
Malik stalked forward, slow, deliberate.
Joran's lips trembled. "P-Please…"
Malik's voice was soft.
"Did your men beg?"
Joran let out a choked sob.
Then—
Malik's claws pierced through his chest, wrapping around his heart.
Joran gasped, his body convulsing.
Malik leaned in, his voice a whisper against the dying man's ear. "No one will remember you."
And then—he ripped the heart free.
Joran's corpse hit the ground.
The heart, still twitching, pulsed in Malik's bloodstained hand.
He devoured it.
And with it—gained everything Joran had ever been.
The ruins were now silent.
The fire burned low, casting flickering shadows over the slaughter.
Malik stood among the corpses, his breathing steady, his body humming with newfound power. He could feel it settling into him, every ounce of strength, every skill, every experience they had gathered in life—now his.
The System rewarded him well.
[SYSTEM UPDATE] You have devoured a Master- Ranked Human. +30 stat points gained.]
[Experience gained increased by 300%].
[Level 13 → Level 14]
Kairo's voice was pleased. "Now that was beautiful."
Malik exhaled slowly, rolling his shoulders. He felt stronger. Faster. Smarter.
But most importantly—
He felt like he had truly begun his ascent. He had doubled his levels from this single mission, all of the previous excursions felt lackluster in comparison.
"If I keep at it like this, 5 months doesn't seem unrealistic." Malik thought happily.
Kairo laughed boisterously, "5 months? If it stays like this I can see it happening a lot sooner."
Malik shrugged dismissively. "Either way, I can't grow complacent. There's no guarantee it will always be this easy or rewarding."
He turned and began his departure from the massacred fortress.
The city would be expecting him soon.