The Lower Sector docks, known grimly as the Iron Harbor, were not a place for Novice-Talent cultivators. This was the hunting ground of the Crimson Fangs, a guild specializing in "resource acquisition"—euphemistically, theft, extortion, and organ harvesting. Their leader, a brute named Borin, possessed a highly sought-after Apex-Rank defensive talent, but Viktor wasn't interested in defense.
He needed access. And Borin's enforcer, a woman named Lyra, had the key.
It was 10:00 PM. The air was thick with the smell of salt, industrial lubricant, and unrefined mana pollution. Viktor stood concealed in the shadow of a massive, rusted crane, his Novice-level cultivation energy practically invisible to the patrolling guards.
He focused on the target: Lyra 'The Viper' Sol, Borin's lieutenant. She was known to frequent this specific warehouse, managing the illicit trade of low-grade Mana Cores.
Lyra's Talent was registered as Mid-Tier Kinetic Shielding—a common battle talent. But Viktor had done his research. He'd tracked her to a low-grade clinic two months ago after a nasty skirmish, observing a subtle, controlled glow when the clinic healer touched her. Her real secondary talent, unlisted and carefully hidden, was a Top-Tier Healing Factor. A perfect, high-level defensive Talent to absorb unavoidable damage and justify his uncanny survival.
The rules of engagement were simple: Get close enough to touch Lyra, endure her rage for one minute, and escape before Borin or the city regulators arrived.
Viktor moved. He activated the Shadow Form skill—a basic, shared technique all Warrior-level initiates learned. To most, it granted a meager 5% speed boost. To Viktor, whose focus was absolute, it was just enough to blend into the flickering shadows.
He slipped through the perimeter, bypassing two drowsy guards. The warehouse door was secured by a simple magnetic lock. He disengaged it with a thin, steel wire and the precision of a trained thief.
Inside, the warehouse was a chaotic array of stacked containers. Lyra was standing near a makeshift desk, counting credits with two low-level Warriors guarding her.
Viktor didn't announce himself. Announcement was for fools who enjoyed theatrics.
He sprinted across the concrete floor, a low, barely perceptible blur. The two guards reacted a half-second too late.
Slash!
Viktor, using a cheap, ceramic dagger he'd smuggled in, bypassed the armor of the first guard, plunging the blade into his carotid artery. The guard gurgled, eyes wide in shock, and collapsed, the scent of fresh blood momentarily masking the stench of the docks.
The second guard shouted, his Normal-Tier Fire Affinity Talent sparking uselessly. Viktor slammed his elbow into the guard's temple, concussing him instantly. The man dropped, unconscious.
Lyra's eyes narrowed, instantly assessing the situation. She wasn't an idiot. "A lone Novice rat?" she sneered, drawing a heavy vibro-blade. Her Mid-Tier Kinetic Shielding flared, bathing her in a tough, shimmering orange aura.
"I need something from you, Lyra," Viktor said, his voice level. He wasn't scared; he was calculating the optimal trajectory.
"And what would a Novice like you possibly take from me?" She lunged, her blade aimed for his head.
Viktor dodged, the vibro-blade humming past his ear, cutting the air with the force of a train. He was faster than his Novice Cultivation Talent should allow, relying on sheer, desperate practice and hyper-awareness.
He didn't try to kill her. He couldn't. Not yet. She was a Stage 4 Warrior with a Mid-Tier combat talent. He was Stage 1.
He needed to touch her.
Viktor closed the distance, baiting her to strike. She snarled, a vicious upward swing aimed at his ribs. He didn't avoid it entirely.
Crunch!
The vibro-blade sliced through his thin jacket and the meager defense of his Warrior-Stage energy, tearing a jagged, bloody gash across his left flank. The pain was immediate, blinding, and visceral, sending a shockwave through his body.
But that moment of contact was all he needed.
As the blade connected, Viktor spun, his free hand slapping hard against Lyra's forearm, the skin-to-skin contact lasting less than a millisecond.
Contact confirmed.
Talent Acquisition Protocol Initiated.
In his mind, the System screen flashed with a brilliant, internal light, completely hidden from the exterior world.
ATTENTION: New Talent Detected.
Hostile Subject: Lyra 'The Viper' Sol.
Talent A: Mid-Tier Kinetic Shielding. (Combat - Active)
Talent B: Top-Tier Healing Factor. (Passive - Hidden)
Systematic Replication Initiated.
Replicating...
Replication Complete.
New Talent Acquired: Top-Tier Healing Factor.
Cooldown Initiated: 30 Days.
The immense, tearing pain in his side suddenly felt distant. The rush of pure adrenaline was replaced by a cold, surgical calm. He had what he came for.
"Is that all, Novice?" Lyra bellowed, seeing his momentary pause. She raised her blade for the killing blow.
"That's all," Viktor whispered.
He didn't wait for her next strike. He activated Shadow Form to its maximum capacity and retreated, sprinting toward the exit, his blood staining the concrete floor. Lyra screamed a stream of profanities and gave chase, but he was already gone, disappearing back into the maze of the Iron Harbor.
An hour later, Viktor was back in the shadows of Neo-Terra's industrial complex, miles from the docks. The wound on his flank was deep and ragged. Any regular Stage 1 Warrior would be hemorrhaging and dying, their Novice defense useless.
But he was no longer regular.
He focused on the System status in his mind:
{STATUS}👤 STATUS: Viktor D. Harper
Cultivation Realm: Warrior (Stage 1)
Core Talent: Novice Cultivation (Placeholder)
Special Talent: Systematic Replication (Unique - Unranked)
Cooldown: 30 Days
Replicated Talents: 1
Replicated Talents:
1. Top-Tier Healing Factor (Passive - Healing/Defense)
Martial Skills: Shadow Form (Novice)
Artifacts: None
He could feel the newly acquired Top-Tier Healing Factor taking effect. It wasn't instant, like a mythical cure, but it was powerful. The pain was receding, and the blood flow had slowed dramatically. He watched, mesmerized, as the muscle fibers around the cut slowly, agonizingly began to stitch themselves back together.
It would take several hours, but by morning, the wound would be a faint, angry scar—a miraculous recovery for a "Novice" that would be easily dismissed if anyone ever found out.
Lyra would be furious, having lost her cargo and likely been blamed for the deaths of her guards. She would tell Borin about the "Novice" who attacked her. The city would register an incident.
And Viktor D. Harper would now appear on their radar as a reckless, low-potential threat who got lucky but ultimately survived with a massive wound. The story was perfect. The wound provided the needed cover.
He sheathed the ceramic dagger, wiping the blade clean. The blood was mostly his. The taste of copper was sharp on his tongue. He had won the first, crucial battle.
One talent down. Twenty-nine days until the next step.
He began the long, silent walk home, the chilling, pragmatic realization settling deep in his bones: To gain power, I must bleed. But now, I can heal faster than I can be cut down.