Five hundred years ago, after the Great Betrayal, our people were decimated," Elara began, her voice soft. "The population crashed. To survive, the remaining Warlords became obsessed with strength. They believed that only the strongest, purest bloodlines could protect us from the Humans"
She pulled up her sleeve, revealing faint scars where the black veins of the plague used to be.
"But not everyone was born strong. Some of us were born with weak mana. Some were born from mixed parents—a Wolf and a Bear, a Cat and a Fox. The High Clans view us as... mistakes"
"Mistakes?" Lysander repeated, his tone hardening.
"Yes. They call us 'The Tainted'. They believe our weakness attracts the Wither-Blood Plague"
She gestured around the small, empty hut.
"And they were right. The Plague targets those with low vitality. It eats our mana and withers our muscles. When the sickness started spreading years ago, the Chieftains didn't try to cure us. They were afraid it would infect the warriors"
A tear rolled down her cheek.
"So, they exiled us. They rounded up every sick woman, every weak child, and every mixed-breed orphan, and they threw us into this damp corner of the forest to die. We are not a tribe, Lord Zero. We are a quarantine camp"
Lysander looked at Miko. The little girl was listening intently, though she clearly didn't understand all the politics.
"And the child?" Lysander asked.
Elara pulled Miko closer, wrapping a protective arm around her.
"Miko is not my blood," Elara whispered.
"Her mother was a Fox-Kin. She was my neighbor in this camp. She... she didn't make it through the last winter"
Miko buried her face in Elara's side, sniffing.
"The sickness took her," Elara continued, her voice trembling. "There is no cure for the Wither-Blood, Lord Zero. Or at least, there wasn't until you showed up today. We have no healers. We have no alchemists. We just watch each other fade away"
She looked at her own hands, which were now healthy and strong thanks to the fruit, but her eyes remained haunted.
"We are defenseless. None of us know how to fight. If a monster comes, we hide. If a patrol comes, we beg. We are just waiting for the day the forest finally swallows us whole."
Lysander fell silent.
He looked at the small fire. He thought about the 10,500 SP sitting in his system. He thought about his Rank-C status and his SSS-Potential.
He had come here to hunt a Boss. He had come here to get stronger. But sitting in this dirt hut, listening to a mother explain why she was waiting to die, something in his chest burned hotter than the fire.
"You are defenseless..." Lysander murmured.
He looked at Miko, then at Elara.
"Not anymore"
The fire popped, sending a shower of orange sparks drifting toward the soot-stained ceiling of the hut. The warmth did little to dispel the chilling reality of Elara's words.
Defenseless. Dying. Discarded.
Lysander sat motionless, his armored silhouette casting a long, imposing shadow against the wooden walls. He looked at Miko, who had finally fallen asleep against Elara's side, clutching a piece of the Cat-Kin's ragged tunic. The child's breathing was soft and rhythmic, a stark contrast to the harsh, violent coughing he had heard outside just minutes ago.
Elara kept her head bowed, her hands trembling slightly in her lap. She had just bared her soul to a stranger—a faceless entity who wielded the power of life and death. She expected pity, or perhaps disgust. She did not expect what happened next.
Ding!
A sharp, clear chime rang out, audible only to Lysander.
The blue light of the System interface materialized in the air before him, cutting through the dim gloom of the hut. It hovered over the fire, the text scrolling rapidly as it processed the new variables of his environment.
[HIDDEN QUEST UNLOCKED]
[Mission: the salvation of the discarded]
[Trigger: You have successfully cured one subject of the "Wither-Blood Plague" and shown mercy to a hostile faction. The System has recognized a divergence in the timeline]
[Context: This settlement is a graveyard of wasted potential. These outcasts are dying because their bloodlines are deemed "impure" and "weak" by the High Clans. However, you possess the power to rewrite their genetic destiny]
[Objective:Purge the Plague: Cure the remaining inhabitants of the settlement.
[Target Count: 24 Women, 5 Children]
(Note: Elara is already cured)
[Establish Dominion: You must be acknowledged as their savior and their Head. They must pledge their loyalty to you, not as slaves, but as followers]
[Time Limit: 24 Hours]
[REWARDS]
[Item: Bloodline Enhancement Elixir Rank A 30]
[Effect: A forbidden alchemical serum. It does not just heal; it rewrites the genetic code of the drinker, purifying mixed blood and awakening dormant ancestral power. It turns "Weak" constitution into "High" constitution]
[System Points: +10,000 SP]
[Experience: +15,000 EXP]
Lysander stared at the screen, his purple eyes narrowing behind the black glass of his mask.
"Rank A Bloodline Elixirs..." he repeated the words in his mind, the implications hitting him like a physical blow.
He quickly did the mental math. A single bottle of Rank A potion in the System Shop would cost thousands of points. Thirty bottles? That was a fortune. That was an army-building kit.
He looked at Elara, then at the sleeping Miko.
Right now, they were liabilities. They were weak, sick, and terrified. To anyone else, saving them was a charity case—a waste of resources.
But Lysander saw the reward.
"If I complete this mission," Lysander thought, his mind racing with tactical possibilities, "I don't just get points. I get the Elixirs. And if I use those Elixirs on them..."
He visualized it.
He saw Elara, not as a ragged refugee, but as a warrior with heightened agility and strength, her "mixed blood" weakness turned into a unique hybrid power.
He saw the other women, cured of their sickness and enhanced by the serum, standing in formation.
He saw Miko, no longer a dying child, but a prodigy with the speed of a fox and the mana capacity of a high-tier mage.
"The Demi-Human Clans threw them away because they were broken," Lysander realized, a cold, ambitious smile forming behind his mask. "But if I fix them... if I enhance them... I won't just have a village. I will have a personal unit of elite soldiers who owe me their lives."
It was a gamble. To cure them all now would require a massive amount of SP—nearly everything he had left. He would be broke. He would be vulnerable.
But the return on investment was infinite.
He looked at the reward line again[Bloodline Enhancement Elixir x30].
"This is it. This is how I build my foundation in the Stratified Domain"
He swiped the screen away, accepting the quest.
Lysander shifted his weight, the leather of his armor creaking in the quiet hut. The sound made Elara flinch. She looked up, her eyes wide with apprehension.
"Lord Zero?" she whispered. "Is something wrong? If the fire is too low, I can—"
"Elara"
His voice cut her off. It wasn't angry, but it was heavy with authority. It was the voice of a man who had made a decision.
He leaned forward, the firelight reflecting off the smooth, terrifying curves of his Iron-Wraith Mask. To Elara, he still looked like a monster, a being of shadow and steel. But she remembered the warmth of the golden fruit. She remembered the feeling of the sickness burning away.
"Tell me, Elara," Lysander said, his robotic voice low and heavy. "Are there others in your camp?"
Elara looked up, her hands trembling slightly in her lap. She hesitated for a moment, glancing at the sleeping Miko, before meeting the black glass of his visor.
"Yes... there are more," she whispered, her voice breaking with grief.
She took a shaky breath, the tears welling up in her eyes again.
"Twenty-eight others. Women and children who are rotting in their tents right now, waiting for the cold to take them"
She wiped her cheek, looking down at the dirt floor.
"They are just like Miko was. They are coughing blood. They can't walk anymore. If... if you hadn't come today, I would have been one of them by tomorrow."
"I can save them"
The words hung in the air.
Elara froze. Her breath hitched in her throat. She stared at the faceless mask, trying to comprehend what he had just said.
"Save... them?" she stammered. "You mean... like you saved me? All of them?"
"All of them," Lysander confirmed. "I can purge the Wither-Blood from every single vein in this village. I can make it so that no child here has to bury their mother ever again"
Elara's hands flew to her mouth. Hope, painful and sharp, pierced her chest. But then, the reality set in. She looked at his expensive gear. She remembered the glowing golden fruit—it looked like a treasure from the heavens.
"But... why?" she whispered, her voice trembling. "We have nothing to give you, Lord Zero. We have no gold. We have no mana crystals. We are outcasts. We are trash. Why would you waste such miracles on us?"