"1... 2... 3... 4..."
Maloch was counting the gold coins, pointing his fingers at each stack like a child learning math.
"There are three hundred coins," Omen said flatly, watching him. His mind had already calculated the thirty rows of ten in an instant.
"Oh!! Three hundred Old Imperial Golds!" Maloch's eyes widened, his entire face glowing like he'd seen the sun for the first time.
"Here, take these twenty coins for your service."
Omen flicked twenty coins from the box toward him. Maloch scrambled and caught them with both hands, clutching them to his chest like holy relics.
Even assassins carry gold, Omen thought. So it shouldn't be a big deal. These coins just look… a little bigger than usual.
"Thank you! Thank you, Boss!" Maloch said, sitting near Omen's leg like an excited pet dog.
"Tell me," Omen said suddenly, "you have a curse, right? What's yours?"
Maloch looked up. "Foolishness," he said proudly. "That's my curse."
Omen blinked once. "…I understand. So, do you know a way out?"
He was done with this jungle. Twenty gold coins for a guide didn't sound like a bad investment if it meant escaping this hell.
"I know a way!" Maloch announced loudly, puffing his chest. "These two thousand gold coins you gave me—I'll give my life to take you out of this jungle and become your loyal lackey!"
Omen's head tilted slightly. "I'm sorry… what?"
"I said I'll give my life for you and serve you faithfully!" Maloch repeated with a beaming grin.
"No, no—the 'two thousand gold' part. What do you mean by that?" Omen asked politely, but his voice carried an edge.
"Oh? You gave me twenty Old Imperial Golds," Maloch said innocently, scratching his head. "Minimum market value's about a hundred gold each. They're antique and pure gold, hehe."
Omen froze.
"Fuck, fuck your sister!"
Maloch immediately bowed low, his expression pure servitude. "My Royal Highness, please don't use such vulgar words! I, your servant, will serve you faithfully!"
"Give me my gold back, dammit!" Omen snapped, his voice echoing through the trees.
"I can't," Maloch replied, smiling like an idiot. "Gold's the only thing that's kept me alive! But I'll do anything for you, Boss. Just use my service!"
Omen's temple twitched. He inhaled deeply. "Shit. Fine. Get me out of this jungle."
"Aye! Aye, sir!" Maloch saluted like a soldier. "Follow me! I know a shortcut out of this hellhole!"
He started walking with exaggerated pride, pushing through the dense undergrowth. The Redstar blazed above, casting a sinister crimson hue through the forest.
Omen followed, expression blank. Inside, he looked like a man who'd just lost his life savings. But in truth, he'd already summoned the System Shop in his mind.
[Suggestions, Bloodline, Trait, Weapon ++++]
Omen tapped Suggestions.
[Suggestions: discounted product, host wasn't aware, but he needs these items in this section.]
[Void Technique (Only for Vampires)—10,000 Gold Coins]
[Horse—Black Bu (Pure Blooded)—80,000 Gold Coins]
He stared at the prices.
Then sighed. "I just got gold, and this thing already wants to eat it…"
Still, he tapped the first option.
[Void Technique Purchased 1×]
He closed the panel, his face perfectly calm. Maloch, walking ahead, looked relaxed—like he wasn't in one of the most dangerous jungles on the planet.
Omen quietly opened his Status Panel.
Omen Ashenroot
Age: 20 years
Gold: 18,000 coins (The system only accepts and counts gold.)
Species: Vampire 100%
Rank: Level 7—Blade-Sentry (0%)
Strength: 16
Agility: 16
Intelligence: 160
Mana: 16
Dexterity: 16
Charm: Max
Luck: 16
Trait (Mastery): Assassin of the Void (0%), Resurrection (1%), Transformation (0%), Black Void Sword (0%), Wings of the Void (1%), Blood Eyes (0%)
Technique: Void Technique (0%)
Seeing the panel, Omen smiled faintly behind his mask. Then he closed it, putting on his best "depressed" face as he walked behind Maloch.
They moved through the dense, eerie jungle. Despite it being daytime, the Redstar's light could barely pierce the endless canopy above. Faint beams of red shimmered through leaves like drops of blood.
"You pure-blooded people have it easy," Maloch said suddenly, swinging a stick to clear the vines ahead. "Well, not easy, but easier than for us to ascend levels."
Omen's eyes narrowed. "What do you mean?"
"Don't pretend, young master," Maloch said without turning. "I know you're a pure-blooded being."
Omen tensed slightly. "And what gave it away?"
"Your eyes," Maloch said simply. "They glow. Only pure-blooded beings have glowing eyes."
Omen sighed softly, then raised a hand. His red glow dimmed to a dull, human shade—a subtle flicker of transformation qi.
"How about now?" he asked, pushing a branch aside.
Maloch glanced back, grinned, then kept walking. "You're a pure-blooded vampire, aren't you? That's rare. I've never even heard of one in these parts."
They moved faster. Roots slithered underfoot, vines brushing against their legs like veins. The air grew colder.
Finally, they reached a plateau. Below stretched an abyss—black, bottomless, and humming faintly with spiritual pressure.
Omen peered into it. "What now?"
Maloch's grin widened. "This, young master… is the shortcut."
He shrugged once, still smiling. Then, without warning, he leapt into the darkness—maintaining eye contact the entire way down.
The wind howled. The jungle went silent.
Omen stared after him, the abyss swallowing Maloch whole.
"…This guy's curse really is foolishness," he muttered, wings slowly unfolding behind him.
Then, with a sigh that could've belonged to a tired god, he jumped after him.