Chapter 19: First Stolen Ability
"Another one's catching up to us!" James shouted from the rear window, his voice trembling with panic.
Richard's heart pounded in his chest like a war drum. He bit down on his lip until blood stained his teeth.
"This has to be a joke… how can there be so many Awakened in this damned place?"
The answer didn't matter. What mattered was acting.
With a guttural growl, he slammed his foot on the brakes. The van shrieked, its tires tearing across the drenched asphalt. The sudden inertia hurled bodies forward. A heartbeat later, a metallic roar split the night: the vehicle chasing them slammed brutally into the rear, sparks spraying like fireworks into the rain-soaked darkness.
Richard was already moving.
He shoved the driver's door open and leapt into the crimson downpour. Luna shrieked on his shoulder, wings spreading wide as she followed him into battle. Richard's green eyes gleamed with murderous intent.
"If you want to hunt me…" he muttered, raising Ethan's forged dagger. Necroplasmic energy crackled along its edge like a storm trapped in steel.
His body answered. Veins lit up beneath his skin, glowing like molten roots spreading outward. The energy dwelling within his heart's core surged violently through his body, swelling his muscles, straining his bones until they creaked under the pressure.
The figure wreathed in fire grinned, his silhouette blazing against the storm. Each falling raindrop turned to steam before it touched his body.
"This must be the jackpot," he sneered.
His eyes had been fixed on the van for some time, never leaving the supplies stacked in the back.
For everyone's fortune, those crates were just the minimum. The real treasures rested inside a storage artifact crafted by Ethan.
Richard raised his gaze.
"So… would you let us pass if I give you this food?" he offered calmly.
The Awakened man licked his lips like a starving beast. That look of hunger was all the answer Richard needed.
Richard lowered his eyes, and a macabre smile stretched across his face.
"Good. I just don't want to stain them with your blood." His whisper slithered through the storm.
There was no warning. The man charged with a furious roar, a bull engulfed in flames. The ground shook beneath his steps.
But Richard didn't move.
He lifted his hand and caught the burning fist.
The impact boomed like thunder. Fire roared, wrapping around his palm… but it didn't break through. His skin remained flawless, polished like jade, untouched by the violent heat. He stood unmoved as the temperature soared.
Rain evaporated at an alarming rate.
The man's eyes widened in disbelief.
Richard's voice was calm, steady, carrying through the charged air.
"The world is ruled by the hierarchy of the Awakened."
The enemy roared, veins bulging along his neck and arms, pumping blood laced with adrenaline. His fire blazed brighter, but the sight was absurd: a volcano trapped inside an iron cage.
Richard's gaze didn't waver.
"Just as there are serpents with wings… and dragons. Both can fly. But only one rules the sky."
"Bastard!" the man bellowed, muscles trembling. The ground beneath him began to crack.
But it was useless. If his fiercest flames couldn't scorch Richard, brute force would never suffice.
Richard turned his head slightly toward the van. Ethan, Rebecca… all of them were watching. He wanted them to see. To understand the true meaning of what it meant to awaken using a Monarch's core as a catalyst.
Although deep inside, he knew part of him simply wanted to boast. That childish pride made shame stir in his chest.
"I hope you understand this lesson well…" he pushed the shame aside, his voice sharp as a blade. "Having a talent means nothing if you believe yourself invincible. This world is filled with monsters. No matter how high you climb… there will always be someone above you."
His eyes glowed, revealing the bloodlust coiled deep within him.
"Or you could die."
The man thrashed with an animal's roar… until blood sprayed into the storm.
His arm fell, severed at the shoulder. The rain concealed the worst, but the wound was grotesque: open veins, pulsing muscle pumping his heart's fury into the world.
His scream tore through the thunder.
"You're going to feel that tomorrow," Richard grinned.
That hidden side of him, the one he had tried to bury in front of his family, surfaced again. A vile smile curved across his lips, hungry and unrestrained. No sane man would revel in such carnage.
No sane man… except him.
Richard froze, his body stiff beneath the storm. A shadow of realization flickered in his expression.
"Wait…"
He stood still as a statue, eyes distant. That savage urge to kill, to tear his enemy apart with every fiber of his being… it wasn't normal. It wasn't hate. It was instinct, primal and intoxicating, as if life itself was offering him its sweetest fruit.
Perhaps his mind had been fractured since his past life. But this—this compulsion came from deeper. From his blood.
It was his talent.
[Name: Richard][Age: 18]
[Ability: Corpse Plunder][Rank: F]
[Infection Level: Threshold of Humanity]
[Stage: Limit]
Richard gasped, his chest heaving. Now he understood why he had been so defensive when James arrived, why that damnable smile had crept across his face in battle.
His talent was pushing him to devour, to destroy, to assimilate the gifts of others. A demonic whisper urging him forward.
His gaze returned to the kneeling enemy. The man clutched his bleeding stump, trembling in desperation.
Richard walked toward him, each step echoing in the puddles like a funeral drum.
"Thank you…" his voice was icy. "Without you, I wouldn't have realized this was happening to me."
The man tried to crawl back, dragging himself through the crimson muck, terror widening his eyes. But there was no escape.
Richard tilted his head.
"Better hope that in your next life… you don't cross paths with me."
The dagger fell.
And the rain concealed everything else.
The Awakened's body hit the drenched asphalt with a dull thud. His fire guttered out, gone as though it had never been, leaving behind only the metallic stench of blood and a faint smoke mingling with the crimson mist.
Richard stood in silence.
Then it happened.
The world seemed to stop. The roar of the storm dulled, as if muffled from far away. A faint, spectral light began to leak from the corpse. It hovered for an instant above the dead man's chest, then drifted toward Richard.
He couldn't move back. He wasn't able to. His muscles locked in place, his very essence compelled to accept it.
The glow sank into him.
And pain followed.
Richard arched his back, his teeth grinding so violently he thought they would shatter. The energy poured in, searing his veins, tearing tendons, drilling through his mind. Steam hissed from his body as the liquid inside him evaporated in waves.
His vision darkened, invaded by shifting green symbols, strange lines forming and dissolving like arcane formulas burning into his skull.
Then, the message appeared.
[Ability Acquired: Burning Fist][Rank: F]
[Description: Condenses thermal energy into the fist to enhance impact and cause minor burns. A degraded version of a fire-based talent.]
Richard panted, his chest rising and falling violently, collapsing onto his knees in the rain-soaked road. The downpour struck his face, mingling with the blood running down his chin.
"So this is… [Corpse Plunder]…" his voice was a cracked whisper, parched and hoarse.
He looked at his hand. As soon as he clenched it into a fist, a red glow ran along his skin, heat boiling beneath the flesh. A bastardized copy of what it once had been. But if he poured more energy into it, things would change.
The veins in his arm bulged, his skin flushed with crimson. The air warped around his hand like the shimmer above a furnace.
Richard smiled bitterly.
"The energy cost is far too high to sustain in a real fight…"
He extinguished the flame, letting it fade into nothing. A single bead of sweat slid down his forehead. If he hadn't awakened using a Monarch's core, he doubted he would've managed to create even a spark for more than a few seconds.
"At least it'll be useful to light a cigarette."
He sneered, lifting his gaze.
Inside the van, all eyes were on him. Fear, uncertainty, and silence pressed against the windows. None dared step outside, save for James, who lingered at the door, half-hidden, watching.
"Everything's under control," Richard said flatly, trying to calm them.
But drenched in blood, dagger in hand… those words lost all meaning.
He stepped back to the van, the rain washing trails of red from his face.
"This is going to be a long road…" he thought with a sigh, shaking his head.
At least now he had an advantage: he could disguise his true talent, passing it off as [Flame Fist]. No one needed to know. And that's how he intended to keep it.
The only thing he hoped was that they would let him into the bases without too many questions. He wasn't stupid enough to believe he could stand against a fortress filled with Awakened on his own.
Taking a deep breath, Richard tightened his grip on the dagger's hilt and pulled the van door open.
"It's time to move on…"