The blue notification screen flickered in the darkness of the subway tunnel, casting a cold glow on Aryan's face.
[Current Level: 9]
[Status: Stable]
Aryan stared at the numbers. Just moments ago, he had been pounding his fists against an invisible wall, tears streaming down his face as he watched the vision of the girl he loved. He had felt helpless. Weak.
But now?
He wiped the last trace of moisture from his cheek. As he did, a faint purple aura flickered around his hand, disintegrating the tear as if it were an impurity.
"Emotions are unnecessary baggage," Aryan whispered to the empty tunnel. His voice was hoarse but steady. "The System is right. To reach the end, I must become a singularity."
He turned away from the pile of ash that used to be the Void Sentinel. He didn't look back. The [Dimension Fragment] was safely stored in his inventory—his ticket to a new timeline, his only hope.
"System, allocate points," he commanded coldly.
[Allocating Free Attribute Points...]
[Agility: 22 -> 37]
Instantly, his body felt lighter. The gravity of the earth seemed to lose its grip on him. He wasn't just walking anymore; he was gliding through the darkness.
He began the long walk back to the station platform.
Outside the tunnel, the atmosphere was tense.
"He's dead," the party leader, a bulky man with a cracked shield, scoffed. "No one survives a Dungeon Break alone, especially not some rookie without a guild badge. We should leave before the monsters come out."
The girl—the young Healer Aryan had saved—shook her head vigorously. "No! He saved us. We can't just abandon him! The shockwave stopped. Maybe he won..."
"Won?" The leader laughed, a harsh, ugly sound. "Against a C-Rank Boss presence? Kid, he's probably nothing but a stain on the floor by now. Let's go. We need to report this to the Association and claim the survivor bonus."
The other hunters nodded, their fear outweighing their gratitude. They turned to leave.
Step. Step. Step.
A sound echoed from the darkness of the tunnel. It wasn't the frantic running of a survivor, nor was it the heavy stomping of a monster. It was a slow, rhythmic, calm walk.
Every hunter froze. They turned their flashlights toward the tunnel mouth.
From the swirling dust and shadows, a figure emerged.
His clothes were torn to shreds, revealing lean muscles that seemed to hum with hidden power. His hair was messy, casting a shadow over his eyes. But what terrified them wasn't his appearance—it was the silence. The monsters that had been screeching earlier were dead silent, as if they were afraid to make a sound in his presence.
"You..." the leader stammered, his eyes bulging. "You're alive?"
Aryan didn't answer. He walked past them as if they were invisible. He didn't look at the leader. He didn't look at the girl. He walked straight toward the subway exit stairs.
"Wait!" The leader stepped in front of him, greed flickering in his eyes. "You... did you kill the Boss? Where is the Drop Item? The Core?"
Aryan stopped. He slowly raised his head. His violet eyes met the leader's gaze.
For a second, the leader felt like he was staring into a black hole. A primal fear gripped his heart. His knees began to shake uncontrollably. It wasn't just fear; it was the instinct of prey facing a predator leagues above him.
"Move," Aryan said. One word. Soft, yet heavy as a mountain.
"I... I am a certified D-Rank Hunter!" the leader shouted, trying to muster courage, though his voice cracked. "By the law of the Association, loot obtained in a party raid must be shared! You can't just keep the Boss Drop for yourself!"
Aryan tilted his head slightly. "Party?"
He took a step forward. A tiny fraction of his [Void Aura] leaked out.
The air temperature dropped by ten degrees. The concrete floor beneath Aryan's feet began to crack silently.
"I am not in your party," Aryan said, his voice devoid of any warmth. "And you are not worth killing. But keep standing there, and I might change my mind."
The leader turned pale. He scrambled out of the way, tripping over his own feet and falling to the ground. He didn't dare to speak again.
Aryan continued walking.
"Thank you!" the girl cried out from behind him. She was clutching her staff, tears in her eyes. "Please... at least tell me your name!"
Aryan paused on the first step of the stairs. He looked at the sliver of sunlight coming from the surface.
"Names don't matter," he said, not turning back. "In the end, only the level matters."
The Hunter Market
The Hunter Association Hall was bustling with noise. It smelled of sweat, cheap perfume, and monster blood. Hundreds of hunters were looking for parties, boasting about their hunts, or bargaining at the counters.
Aryan walked through the crowd. [Stealth] wasn't a skill he owned yet, but his Void Energy naturally made his presence hard to detect. He was like a ghost drifting through the living.
He reached the Exchange Counter.
The clerk—a fat, balding man with gold-capped teeth—looked Aryan up and down with disdain. Aryan's clothes were tattered, and he looked like a beggar.
"Newbie?" the clerk scoffed. "E-Rank trash goes in the left bin. Don't waste my time."
Aryan didn't speak. He took off his backpack and overturned it on the counter.
Clatter... Clatter...
Dozens of sharp claws, venomous fangs, and the hides of Grave Diggers spilled out. A strange, dark energy still lingered on them.
The clerk's eyes widened. "Grave Diggers? These are D-Rank monster parts. Not bad for a solo kid."
He picked up a scanner, a greedy glint in his eyes. He knew these were high-quality materials, fresh from the kill. But this kid looked desperate. Perfect for a scam.
"Hmm... torn hides. Dull fangs. Poor quality," the clerk lied smoothly. "I'll give you... 10,000 Credits for the lot."
Aryan didn't blink. The System had already assessed the value.
[Item Value Assessment: 45,000 Credits]
"45,000," Aryan said. His voice cut through the noise of the hall.
The clerk laughed. "Kid, are you teaching me my business? I said 10,000. Take it or leave it." He reached out to grab the materials.
Suddenly, Aryan grabbed his wrist.
The clerk tried to pull back, but his hand was stuck in a vice-like grip. He looked up into Aryan's eyes. Under the hoodie, violet eyes burned like cold fire.
[Void Aura: Activated (Low Output)]
The noise of the hall faded away for the clerk. He felt like he was standing on the edge of a deep, dark abyss.
"I said..." Aryan leaned in, "45,000. Not a credit less."
The clerk started sweating profusely. His gold teeth chattered.
"O-Okay! Fine!" the clerk stammered as Aryan released him. "Calculation error! Yes, 45,000! Sending it now!"
[Notification: 45,000 Credits added.]
Aryan turned and left without another word. He had money now, but he needed weapons.
Rustom's Armory
He crossed the street to a shop with a flickering neon sign: "Rustom's Armory".
The shop smelled of hot iron and oil. The owner, Rustom, an old man with burn scars on his face, was polishing a broadsword.
"We are closing," Rustom grunted.
"I need materials," Aryan said, ignoring the dismissal. "Specifically, Black Iron Ore and a Heat-Resistant Casting Mold."
Rustom stopped polishing. He looked up, his one good eye narrowing. "Those are crafting materials. You a Blacksmith?"
"Something like that," Aryan replied.
He scanned the shop. He didn't need a sword. Swords were for heroes. He was a Reaper. He needed a Scythe.
"I also need a heavy-duty forging hammer," Aryan added, spotting one in a dusty corner.
Rustom stared at him for a long moment. He saw the calluses on Aryan's hands—not from holding a weapon, but from something else. Something harder.
"The ore is expensive. 40,000 Credits for a kilo," Rustom said gruffly.
"Done." Aryan transferred the credits without hesitation. He was left with almost nothing, but he didn't care.
"Take the hammer," Rustom grunted, tossing it to him. "It's old, but it strikes true. Just like you."
Aryan caught the hammer. It felt heavy, grounding.
"Thanks, Rustom."
He walked out into the rainy night. He had the ore. He had the Dimension Fragment. He had the hammer.
It was time to forge his destiny. It was time to create Vedna.