Leon froze. The words echoed in his mind like a warning bell from a place he couldn’t see.
Was it another raven? A chicken? Or some other kind of bird-beast? Whatever the identity of this mysterious enemy, Leon knew one thing: he needed rest. Desperately.
His body felt like it had been put through a meat grinder. He’d been battling nonstop for over seven hours, and his bones were starting to feel like jelly. His muscles trembled under his weight, and the dried blood that caked his skin made every step feel like a scrape against rusted chains. His injuries throbbed with each breath.
Still, none of that mattered now.
His instincts flared violently.
Run as far as you can.
But he couldn’t. He was still inside the designated area for the death match. Exiting it prematurely would be the same thing as volunteering to die.
Even so, he gave in to the pull of curiosity—dangerous, foolish, and reckless curiosity.
He sprinted 70 meters away from his previous position, eyes darting in every direction, heart hammering wildly in his chest. And that was when it came.
[ANOTHER STEP WOULD BREACH THE RULES YOU AGREED UPON. DO YOU AGREE TO PROCEED?
NOTE: YOU HAVE A 55% CHANCE OF WINNING THIS FIGHT.]
Do you still wish to back out?
Leon stared at the notification, the words weighing heavily in his mind. 55%. That wasn’t too bad. That meant he still had a chance. He exhaled sharply.
But his instincts weren’t quiet. They flared up again—only this time, they weren’t warning him about the death match. They were warning him about something else.
Something even worse.
He turned around slowly.
He wasn’t going to run anymore. Instead, he dropped to the ground, sat cross-legged, and began channeling mana into his aching body.
Meditation. That was his best option now.
His eyes were closed, but every other sense was alive—tuned to the environment like a beast in a battlefield. He would dodge or counter the moment anything changed.
As he steadied his breath, he thought about the raven’s final message.
Leon answered his own question.
If he was still engaged in a death match, then the beast had to be another raven. Stronger. Smarter. More dangerous than the one he had just killed. But how? What could possibly be stronger than a boss beast?
Realization slammed into him.
His eyes widened. The System had hinted at their existence before. But this... this might be his first.
And if it truly was, then he might already be screwed.
He glanced at his hands—bloodied and raw. His fists ached. His body burned.
Even the Level-Up refresh hadn’t taken the pain away.
"To hell with this," he muttered under his breath. "I’m not punching my way through another monster. If this turns ugly, I’ll use the dagger."
He had never once tried to fuse mana into the dagger—not seriously. But now? Now he would. He wanted to see just how much damage a mana-boosted dagger could do.
He pulled up his stats screen.
[Host has accumulated enough EXP]
[Host Current Level: LVL 7]
[Five stats points have been added to each of the Host’s Stats!]
⚡ SUPREME THIEF SYSTEM ⚡
─────⋆☾ Host’s Details ☽ ⋅⋆─────
[Name: Leon Grimveil]
[Title: Supreme Thief Fame: 56 (in this world) [Physique: Supreme Thief Physique]
─────⋆☾ Stats ☽⋆─────
[Perception (Hunter’s Instinct): 35]
[Luck: 5 (Available points: 0)
─────⋆☾ Hall of Skills ⋆─────
Skills: 6 (Unchecked)
─────⋆☾ Dungeon and Shop ☽ ⋆───── Dungeon: (Active)
Shop: (Locked until Level 15)
─────⋆☾ M]issions ☾⋆─────
He smiled slightly, seeing his stats again. He was getting stronger. Slowly but surely.
He tapped on the Hall of Skills tab.
But just as the screen loaded, his instincts flared.
He snapped his head to the left, eyes widening.
Something was coming.
And it wasn’t hiding anymore.
Mana Manipulation (Compound Skill) LVL 2
a) Mana Condensing LVL 2
b) Mana Infusion LVL 2
c) Mana Jet LVL 1 (Level this skill to use it as an attack skill)
Leon glanced at his skills just for a second—just a quick check—but that was all the time it took for a shadow to stretch across the ground, cutting off what little light there was. His tired eyes rose to the sky.
What he saw above him made his pupils shrink.
It was massive. And unlike anything he had faced so far.
Compared to the other ravens, this one was from a completely different league. The ones he fought earlier were barely half a meter tall—shorter than chickens but stronger, tougher. It had always felt like the chickens chose size over strength, while the ravens chose strength over size.
This raven stood nearly seven meters tall, with a broad, brawny frame and dark feathers that glinted like obsidian. Its presence was overwhelming. And more than anything, something about its head felt off.
Leon squinted, curiosity taking over even in his state of exhaustion. He slowly flew closer, warily, carefully—though his heart was already telling him this thing came for him.
The beast had three heads—each one shaped the same, but all carried different expressions... and different auras. It wasn’t just one mind—it was three different personas sharing a body, snarling and snapping with independent thought.
Leon froze midair in stunned awe. He didn’t get to admire for long though. One of the heads jerked in his direction and glared at him.
A crooked, cruel, knowing smile.
Leon’s blood ran cold. The beast hadn’t even activated Berserk yet, but he already felt cornered. Its eyes were naturally red, and even without the skill triggered, it was already exuding power.
Not out of fear—but strategy.