'Hey, what did you do to me?'
He finally crawled out of the sewers, the stench of death and blood clinging to his clothes like a second skin. His friends' blood.
He found himself in a quiet, forgotten section of the city, the kind of place where buildings were left to crumble and weeds grew through the cracks in the pavement.
[I don't understand the question.]
'Don't play dumb with me,' he shot back, his hands still trembling slightly from what he'd been forced to do. 'Why didn't I feel more when I killed them? Why was there anger but not enough guilt? I never wanted to kill anyone, especially not them.'
[I didn't do anything to your emotions. That was all you. Think back: how have you felt toward the people who accused you? What did you want to do to them?]
He stopped, leaning against a fence. The system was right, and that made it worse. He thought back to those long, cold nights on the streets, to the hunger that gnawed at his belly, to the endless parade of disgusted faces.
He remembered how his sadness had slowly, day by day, curdled into a deep, burning hatred for everyone. He had fantasized about revenge, about making them all pay, but not like this, never like this.
The encounter at the crepe shop had been the first warning, his urge to kill the old vendor had been intense but manageable. But his friends, being controlled and forced to attack him, their bodies dying from the strain while their empty eyes tried to kill him, that had broken something inside him.
"Haha," he laughed, a dry, broken sound. "I thought I was over this, but it seems the hatred mixed with mercy and it all became a mess in my head. They were dying anyway, the corruption was killing them, but I still had to be the one to end it."
[Yes, you should control yourself more. But I should also tell you that something was lifted when they died. It felt like a chain binding you was broken. I'm not entirely sure, but if my hunch is correct, this may be bigger than you think.]
'Yeah, Derek said someone at the Association made them do it before he died.' His fists clenched at the memory of Derek's final words. 'A player has to be behind this, someone who can use corrupted mana to control people.'
He thought of Kana again, of the guilt he saw in her eyes when she found him in the alley after the monster attack. 'Maybe I should meet her and ask her about all this, but if she's being controlled too, or if she's part of this...'
The thought made his chest tighten. How deep did this go? How many people were being controlled?
'Whatever, let's focus on why we came here, I need to get stronger if I'm going to find out who's behind this.'
He pushed the troubling thoughts aside and continued his journey to the edge of the city, but the weight of three deaths sat heavy on his shoulders.
It didn't take him long to find the massive tree he was looking for, but as he got closer, something felt wrong.
The air was foul and sticky, carrying the smell of death and decay that reminded him too much of the sewers he'd just left. Dead animals were scattered on the ground—birds, squirrels, a fox—all lifeless, and carved deep into the trunk of the tree was a symbol he recognized with a jolt of alarm: a Christian cross.
"What the fuck?"
Before he could process the scene, something slammed into the side of his head with the force of a battering ram. The world exploded in a flash of white, and he went flying, crashing hard against the tree's trunk.
'What? Who kicked me? I couldn't sense them at all.'
His vision was a blurry mess, the world swimming in and out of focus. He could hear voices, muffled and distant, but he couldn't make out the words through the ringing in his ears.
His head throbbed with sharp, piercing pain that made it hard to think. After what felt like an eternity, his senses slowly started to return.
"Why did you kick him so hard?" a girl's voice asked, sounding concerned.
"What the hell are you talking about? That was a normal kick, barely any power behind it," a rough male voice replied. "Tch, weak bastard, if he dies, I'm in trouble."
'Ugh, shit, did I let my guard down after what happened? No, whoever kicked me is just way stronger than I am, this might be bad.'
His vision finally cleared and five players stood in the distance, all wearing the standard gear of low-to-mid-rank adventurers. They didn't seem to be paying much attention to him, confident that he was down for the count after that single kick.
He took this chance while they were busy talking and slipped away, melting into the shadows at the base of the tree.
This was his old stomping ground where he and Rynn used to play as kids, they'd made a big mistake taking their eyes off him.
"Uh, guys..." one of them said, looking back at the tree. "He's gone."
They all spun around, their expressions shifting from confidence to confusion as they saw only the indent where his body had been.
"Fuck."
They scrambled to find him, but he was already hidden in a place they'd never think to look—a secret entrance at the base of the tree, covered by roots and dirt, that led to a small underground den.
He'd dug it himself years ago with Rynn, back when they were just kids who thought having a secret base was the coolest thing in the world.
He hid there, his mind still reeling from the kick and from everything that had happened in the sewers.
'Dammit, what should I do now? Those guys are too powerful for me to fight, and after what just happened with my friends, I can't trust anyone.'
[The animal you mentioned. Find it. Immediately.]
'Right, let me call him.'
He put his fingers to his lips and whistled, not a loud sound but a series of quick, rhythmic notes that he and Rynn had taught the local animals. He repeated the pattern for about twenty seconds, then waited in the darkness.
For a moment, there was only silence, and he worried that maybe the animal was dead like the others outside. Then, a small, furry head popped into the entrance of the den, sniffing the air with its whiskers twitching.
Its eyes lit up with recognition when it saw him, and jumped down, making happy chittering noises as it landed on his lap.
"Hahaha, whoa there, easy," he whispered, patting the small weasel as it rolled around, overjoyed to see him after so long. At least something in this world was still pure and uncorrupted.
Their peaceful reunion was shattered by a massive explosion that shook the entire tree. The secret entrance caved in, burying them in dirt and roots.
He managed to claw his way out, his little weasel friend clinging to his shoulder, but the players were waiting for him, surrounding him with no room to escape.
'Guess we're screwed.' He held his little friend close, protecting it from the threat while wondering if he'd have to kill again so soon.
"Okay, man, enough," one of the players said, stepping forward. He seemed young with intelligent eyes that seemed to read right through him. "Just come back with us, I'm not sure what you did, but it can't be worth all this trouble, right?"
He looked at the one speaking, then at the others, studying their faces for any sign of that blank, controlled expression he'd seen on his friends. But their eyes were clear, aware, just doing their job.
He stood up slowly, showing no signs of struggle. "What rank are you guys?"
They looked at each other before the one who had kicked him, a guy with a perpetually annoyed expression, spoke up. "Why does that matter? Just come back with us, my patience is growing thin."
A girl stepped forward, sensing no hostility from him. She approached and gently tickled his little weasel under the chin, and the weasel, usually hostile to strangers, surprisingly leaned into her touch.
'Hm? She's usually so wary of people, interesting.'
"Hi, my name is Jolly," she said with a small smile. "It's nice to meet you. I'm sorry we're being harsh, we're just following orders from the Association. You asked what rank we are, give me a sec... here."
She handed him her player license, and he glanced at her name, rank, and age while trying not to think about how the Association had sent people after him so quickly.
"Apprentice rank? Really?" He looked from the card to her. "The energy I sense from you is quite strong, so this is a real player, huh?"
He returned the license, his eyes scanning the others for any sign of corruption or control.
"Yeah, we're low-ranked players, but we try our best."
'If apprentice is the second-lowest rank but has this much power, just how strong are the higher ranks? And more importantly, are they all infected with corrupted mana like my friends were?'
He looked at her again, deciding to take a calculated risk. "Can we talk?"
"Sure, is this about why the Association is after you?"
"Yeah... I'm not a player yet, I only recently awakened in a town far from here. I came this morning to register, but things were more complicated than I thought. I heard you need an ID to enter the test, so I went to register."
He kept a close look on her face, looking for any signs. "The woman at the desk told me to grab this strange orb, which I did, but then it broke. She looked at me with a strange expression, and moments later, I found myself being chased as if I had done something wrong."
She listened, her expression thoughtful. His story made sense, especially with his ragged clothes and the blood still on them that he hoped she'd attribute to his rough escape, but she could tell he was holding something back.
"If that's true, then why did you run? They didn't say they wanted to hurt you, right? So why run?"
He sighed, knowing he had to show her the truth about the corruption. "It would be faster if I showed you, can you give me your hand?"
She hesitated, studying him closely, but decided to trust him. He gently took her hand and gradually poured his pure mana into her body. The moment his mana touched hers, it was repelled with a force that pushed him back, just like with the orb at the Association.
The others, thinking he was attacking her, moved to strike, but she held up a hand. "Stop!"
"What was that?" she asked, looking from her hand to him, her eyes wide with intrigue. 'It felt like his energy was clean and mine was dirty, why?'
She stepped right in front of him, staring into his eyes, waiting for an answer.
"Do you know something called corrupted mana?" he asked quietly.
"Corrupted mana?" the smart one stepped forward, his curiosity piqued. "Why are you asking about something like that?"
"Just tell me, I'm not a player, but I have my suspicions about the Association." His voice hardened slightly. "I've seen what it can do to people."
The angry one could no longer hold back. He rushed forward and punched Vell hard, knocking him to the ground and sending a tooth flying.
Vell glared up at him, his eyes glowing faintly, a low growl rumbling in his chest as the memory of being forced to kill his friends surged back. His little weasel friend on his shoulder mirrored his expression, its own eyes glowing with a feral light.
[Will you tame this weasel?]
'Yes.'
[Activating skill...]