The room remained shrouded in darkness, lit only by the timid reflection of the moon shining through the cracks in the window. The night breeze crept in slowly, carrying with it the freshness of dawn and mingling with the sweet sll of alcohol and the faint perfu that still lingered in the air.
On the wide bed, Irelia, Alia, and Sylphie lay sprawled like children after a long ga, overco by the exhaustion of drunkenness. Their bodies were relaxed, their faces flushed and serene, but their lips continued to murmur, as if even in their dreams they refused to release their feelings.
"...Kael...don’t go alone..." Irelia whispered, her brow furrowed, as if the pain of having him away perated even the world of dreams.
Alia, turned on her side, hugged the pillow tightly, as if it were the last link of safety. Her trembling voice escaped between sighs: "...we are strong... you don’t have to carry everything..."
And Sylphie, the most innocent of the three, giggled softly, lulled by ethereal dreams. Between sleepy chuckles, she murmured: "Selfish... but our selfish..."
Kael remained sitting on the edge of the bed, in absolute silence. His amber eyes watched the three of them, and there was a deep heaviness in his expression—a mixture of exhaustion, lancholy, and sothing else, which even he couldn’t na.
A long sigh escaped his lips, filling the room with a sound almost inaudible, yet charged with aning.
Slowly, he looked away. His eyes couldn’t bear to linger on them for long, as if that heat were more dangerous than any enemy. He turned back to the void before him.
And then, with a silent thought, the System tab appeared before his eyes.
[Host Status]
[Kael Scarlet]
[Age: 21]
[Class: Soul Hunter]
[Vitality: 53]
[Strength: 46]
[Dexterity: 59]
[Intelligence: 81]
[Perception: 66]
[Resilience: 50]
[Luck: 190]
[Synchronization with Spirits: Umbra (89%), Ahri (69%)]
[Beautiful Souls: Eleonor Scarlet, Elion Scarlet, Eva Sparda]
[Skills: Darkness Manipulation, Wind Manipulation, Mana Control, Enhanced Combat, Swordplay of King Swordsman Adalric, Swordplay of Queen Swordsman Eva, Swordplay of General Exelia, Blood Contract, Akashic Records of the Witch Queen, Extraction from the Void.]
[Souls for Extraction: 379 goblin souls, 1 [goblin lord]
Kael stared at those lines for a long mont. The cold reflection of the text shone in his eyes, as his conscience weighed heavily. Every number, every statistic, was a reminder of the path he was treading. A path that, little by little, was taking him away from what it ant to be rely human.
He touched the "Souls for Extraction" tab. The lines trembled, and a chill ran down his spine.
"...Whatever," he murmured.
With a single ntal command, he authorized the extraction.
A silent roar echoed within his mind.
It wasn’t just a sound—it was an avalanche of echoes, as if hundreds of voices, different and dissonant, were screaming at once. Agony. Rage. Fear. The lantations of wretched creatures, trapped between life and death, forcibly torn from their diocre existence and thrown into the void Kael carried within.
His body shuddered. For a second, his breath faltered, as if the air had been stolen from his lungs.
Black and gold flas exploded through his veins, coursing like liquid fire. The heat was so intense it seed to evaporate his blood. Kael clenched his teeth, his hands clenched into fists, every muscle tensed. But he allowed no sound to escape—not a groan, not a scream.
The System worked in absolute silence, cold, chanical. It absorbed, processed, converted.
Souls were reduced to sparks, dissolved in the darkness that danced behind his eyes.
One by one, the screams faded, fading like extinguished embers.
Three hundred and seventy-nine echoes extinguished.
Only one remained.
The soul of the Goblin Lord.
And it didn’t co as a scream.
It ca as a thunderclap.
An ancient roar, not just of fury, but of dominance, of raw power. When Kael drew it into himself, it was like grabbing a living storm with his bare hands.
The energy refused to be consud. Savage, colossal, it tried to devour him. Like a caged beast, it battered against the chains of his mind, seeking to tear, to shatter, to corrupt.
Visions burst into his mind in violent bursts: entire forests burning blood-green, human villages being sacked, won dragged in despair, children falling to grotesque laughter, rivers of blood gushing at the foot of a throne of bones.
And over it all, the colossal image of the Goblin Lord, raised as king among monsters, the black blade in his hand bathed in the agony of hundreds.
Kael gasped. The weight was suffocating. For an instant, raw and terrible, he felt as if he would be crushed.
That soul was too big to contain.
Then, deep within his mind, a voice erged. It was, of course, Umbra and Ahri.
"Get a grip, you’re going to explode," Umbra said, looking at him seriously. Kael just looked nervous, struggling to contain what he was feeling.
Ahri then placed her hand on his back. "I’ll help you," she said, helping him focus.
The darkness within Kael expanded, swallowing the savagery of his soul. The Goblin Lord’s power writhed, roared, resisted—but was crushed, torn apart, absorbed.
When it was over, Kael was panting.
A bead of sweat trickled down his forehead, even though the room was cold.
The System processed the result.
[Extraction Complete]
[379 Goblin Souls converted to Soul Energy.]
[1 Goblin Lord Soul converted to Soul Core.]
Upgraded Attributes:
[Vitality: 95]
[Strength: 108]
[Dexterity: 91]
[Intelligence: 96]
[Perception: 100]
[Resilience: 95]
[Luck: 240]
New Skill Obtained: [Tyrannical Aura (Minor)]: Emanates a dominating presence, capable of suppressing lower-level creatures.
Kael looked at the numbers.
Stronger. Higher. Beyond what any adventurer could dream of achieving in a lifeti.
And yet... nothing.
The tightness in his chest wasn’t pride.
It was emptiness.
With a thought, he closed the tab. The ethereal glow of the System faded, and the darkness of the room swallowed him once more.
Behind him, the three of them murmured in their dreams.
Irelia sighed, her body slowly turning.
Alia hugged the pillow as if holding an invisible weapon.
Sylphie grumbled, her voice slurred, begging him not to disappear again.
Kael ran his hand over his face, his fingers pressing against his temples.
A sigh escaped.
"...Idiots," he murmured, but the word held no venom. Only a weary weight, almost an echo of stifled tenderness.
He stood. He walked to the window.
Outside, the moon rose alone, a silver beacon in the night sky.
The city rested in silence, bathed in peace. A peace that existed only because monsters like him bled in the shadows to sustain it.
His amber eyes reflected the moonlight. But within them there was no light, only the mory of the roar of souls—the endless echo of fury and despair devoured by the void that now defined him.
Behind, the room remained quiet. The trio slept, surrendered to an innocent rest, as if the world were safe.
Kael remained motionless, silently guarding the night, like an invisible sentinel.
[A few streets away.]
High on a rooftop, shrouded in shadow and the chill of dawn, a figure watched.
His gray eyes, trained to see in the dim light, were fixed on the moonlit window, where Kael stood motionless, like a statue facing the night.
It was a woman with a slender figure, clothes clinging to her body in dark tones that blended with the night. A scarf covered part of her face, leaving only her eyes visible.
A murderess.
She had followed Kael since the mont he returned to Reven’s bar.
Not because she doubted his strength—quite the opposite.
That was precisely why.
Now, before her, her doubts turned to certainties.
"He’s... not human," she murmured to herself, almost in shock.
She had seen it. Everything.
The System opening before him, the numbers shifting like columns of fire.
She had felt the air around her tremble as the Goblin Lord’s wild energy was crushed.
She had seen—or rather, felt—the appearance of the two spirits that manifested beside him. Their presence was not sothing ordinary mortals should even endure.
The assassin swallowed hard. Her hands trembled slightly, but not from ordinary fear. It was instinct.
The sa instinct that had kept her alive for years in a job where a mistake ant a silent death.
And that instinct scread at her: that man should not exist.
Taking a deep breath, she tried to control herself. She reached for a small crystal attached to her belt, activating it with a subtle touch. The stone pulsed with a subtle glow, ready to record and transmit.
"I need to report this to the Master..." she whispered, her voice muffled by the cloth on her face. "He... cannot be ignored."
She turned, preparing to disappear into the shadows as she had done so many tis before.
But she didn’t take a step.
Because he was there.
"...What did you say?"
The voice ca like a muffled thunderclap, cutting through the silence.
The assassin’s eyes widened.
Kael stood before her.
Just a second before, he had been in the room, at the window, shrouded in moonlight. And now... now he was less than a ter away from her, without her even noticing his approach.
Before she could react, his hand gripped her throat with brutal force.
Her body was lifted off the ground with ease, her feet dangling in the air.
Kael’s amber eyes burned, lit with restrained fury.
"Are you trying to die?" His voice was low, husky, and filled with real nace.
The assassin tried to reach for her belt, but the pressure on her neck was crushing. She gasped for air. Her vision darkened.
Instinct scread again: one more squeeze, and her neck would shatter like glass.
She forced herself to look at him, even as she choked. There was no doubt in his eyes, no compassion. There was only the coldness of soone who had killed so many tis that the act no longer ant anything.
But before Kael could get any answers, a tallic sound clinked in the air.
The discreet click of a chanism activating.
She smiled beneath her mask.
Not a smile of victory. But one of survival.
"Too late..." she managed to whisper, barely audible.
Then, the ground beneath her feet exploded in smoke.
A fog bomb, released by a chanism hidden in her sleeve.
The gray curtain swallowed them both.
Kael clenched his fist, trying to crush her right there—but the pressure dissolved into emptiness.
Her body was no longer in his hand.
The smoke dissipated in seconds, carried by the dawn wind.
And Kael was left alone on the rooftop, his hand still clenched into a fist.
He looked around.
Nothing.
No trace.
The assassin had vanished as if she were just another shadow in the night.
Kael took a deep breath. He felt frustration well up inside him, but he didn’t let it show on his face.
"A spy, huh?" he muttered to himself.
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