Lucas stood in the restroom, his eyes locked on the small piece of paper he had just picked up near his foot.
He held it cautiously, ready to ignite it at the slightest sign of danger. But nothing happened.
Instead, there were words—scribbled hastily in uneven handwriting, like it belonged to someone his age. At first, he scoffed. A prank, perhaps.
But as he read the first few lines, his heart skipped a beat.
His face drained of all color as the message seared into his brain. His eyes trembled, refusing to blink, fixed on the unsettling words written in tight script.
Frantically, he glanced around the restroom stalls. Empty. Silent. No one.
Reluctantly, he looked back at the note and read it in full.
"Hello Lucas, Are you feeling any discomfort living in your new life— Or should I say, someone else’s body?
If you think no one knows you’ve taken over a kid’s life after coming from another world... You’re wrong.
Want to keep it a secret? Come and silence me. Meet me in the back alley behind the restaurant.
Come alone. Or your loved ones may suffer.
–The Transmigrated Dragon Mage."
The handwriting was tiny, almost illegible, but his talent allowed him to read every word.
His breathing grew uneven. Someone knew. Someone actually knew.
He stuffed the note in his pocket, left the restroom, and quickly returned to his table. His teammates sat unaware, chatting casually. A quick scan of the surroundings showed nothing unusual. No threats.
He let out a shaky breath, but his mind was already racing.
This couldn’t be ignored.
“Hey,” he said, trying to keep his voice steady. “I need to step out for a bit. I’ll be back soon.”
Though Ilya merely nodded and resumed her meal, Tess’s gaze lingered on him, eyes filled with quiet suspicion. Still, she said nothing.
Every step toward the alley weighed on him. He wasn’t foolish—he knew this could be a trap. A secluded alley wasn’t exactly where you held friendly reunions.
As he entered the narrow passage, shrouded in dim light and damp air, his instincts screamed at him.
He conjured a small fireball in his palm. The flickering flame revealed a shadowy figure standing at the far end.
The same person from the restroom.
Lucas immediately went on guard. His instincts flared, ready to block or counter any move. If the man was truly stronger, he’d have struck earlier.
No, Lucas thought. He’s a few levels ahead. Cocky.
He activated his appraisal talent.
A few seconds passed before he barked out his demand.
“Who are you? How do you know about me? Speak, or die here.”
Then, the man stepped forward and spoke, voice theatrical, distorted—clearly disguising himself.
“I am... Tenebris Revenant. The one who will reap your life with my Blade of Death, and bring justice to the soul whose body you stole.”
Lucas narrowed his eyes.
'That name... it's ridiculous. Probably fake. No way anyone can modify their name in the system… Still, a Level 21 Warrior? That's it? He thinks he can threaten me? I’ll show him who's boss.’
And Tenebris vanished.
Lucas spun, eyes darting. “Coward! First you threaten me, then you run?!”
But just as he relaxed his stance, he felt it.
A deadly presence behind him.
He threw himself forward—just in time to avoid a slashing blade that split the air where he’d stood.
'Some kind of teleportation? No, that’s supposed to be impossible at our level—'
“YOU THINK AND TALK TOO MUCH, LUCAS,” came the chilling voice behind him.
Tenebris didn’t stop.
He slashed wildly, his blade dancing through the air—right to left, down to up—forcing Lucas into full defense. The sheer pressure was overwhelming.
Suddenly, Tenebris activated a skill. For more chapters visıt 𝓷𝓸𝓿𝓮𝓵·𝓯𝓲𝓻𝓮·𝓷𝓮𝓽
In an instant, his plain blade morphed into the menacing Ember Fang—his trusted, flame-imbued sword.
The difference was immediate.
Lucas’s reactions dulled. His vision blurred.
His Talent was burning him out.
His bloodshot eyes struggled to keep up with the pace of the fight. Every second was agony. Every slash he dodged, every hit he blocked, brought him closer to collapse.
The truth dawned on him in horror.
'He’s not just a few levels ahead... he’s dozens. Maybe fifty levels above me…'
A blow shattered his balance. Before he could react, Ember Fang pierced through his stomach.
Pain exploded through his body.
He dropped to his knees. His sword clattered beside him. His Talent shut down from overuse.
Even his racial ability—Fear—was weakening. Evan’s stats were dangerously low, nearly in the red zone, but Lucas was in worse shape.
Evan raised his blade again.
Lucas barely managed to raise his shield in time.
The alley lit up with a blaze of fire as the sword struck, splintering the shield.
“HOH~~~, A SHIELD, HUH? BUT THIS SHABBY ONE CAN’T STOP ME, LUCAS,” Evan roared in a warped voice.
Another blow. The shield shattered.
“NOW... GOODBYE, LUCAS. MAY YOUR DEATH BRING PEACE TO THE ONE YOU STOLE THIS LIFE FROM.”
He lifted his sword—flames trailing from its edge.
Lucas’s eyes widened in pure terror.
His mouth wouldn’t open.
He could use his skill—one that might end everything.
But if it misfired… his loved ones would die too.
'Is there no other way? Can I really do this—?'
And just as that thought passed—
Lucas’s eyes flew open in shock as—