[Talent Recognition: "Sword Art of Existence (Genesis)" confirmed.]
- Wielding life in one hand, swinging death with the other, you are the judge of worth, the lawgiver of existence.
- Proceed with registration to the Status Panel?
- Cost: 100 Energy
- Rewards: 20 Free Stat Points, Presence
Now, what does this mean? Adyr stared at the system message, his mind racing.
He had expected a simple swordplay talent, but instead got something far more specific—and the word "(Genesis)" stamped beside it caught his attention. It was unlike any talent message the system had sent before.
What puzzled him even more was the cost and reward. At level 1, it should have demanded just one energy point, yet this required a hundred. Instead of granting a single stat point, it gave twenty. On top of that, there was an extra reward attached.
As Adyr considered the meaning of Presence, a new system message suddenly appeared before him.
Presence:
An invisible force radiating from the wielder, instilling fear in foes and inspiring trust in allies.
The description offered little clarity. There was no extra information to indicate whether this was a passive skill or an active one that consumed energy, nor any hint at how it could be used.
This was his first time encountering a skill system beyond the Sparks, and it piqued his curiosity.
Since arriving in this world, he had never heard the term Genesis in any of the knowledge he’d gathered about practitioners. Not even Liora Virell, a Rank 4, had ever mentioned it.
Adyr shifted his gaze from the system messages back to Lucen, considering asking about the meaning of Genesis—but then he thought better of it.
He decided to keep this possession to himself until he fully understood its significance. Clearly, having something like this wasn’t an ordinary matter.
But he didn’t want to leave the registration message waiting there. He had worked too hard for this and wanted it confirmed immediately.
Suddenly, 100 energy points were drawn from his reserves and released within his body. The 20 free stat points were added on top of the existing 75, raising the total to 95.
His talent slots, previously 14 out of 15, now filled completely at 15 out of 15. However, he saw no other changes on his stat panel, nor did he feel anything different in his body.
It’s not a scam, right? Adyr thought, amusement flickering in his mind, just as a tense voice reached his ears.
"What have you done?" Lucen’s usual impassive mask had shattered. His eyes were wide with disbelief, and his voice, though kept low, trembled at the edges as if he was barely holding it together.
—
"Boy, whatever you’re doing, you need to stop. Now." Rhys Graves’ voice was sharp as a blade as he spoke, twin daggers held at the ready. Every muscle in his body was coiled like a spring, his gaze fixed on Adyr’s unmoving silhouette, tense and waiting for the slightest twitch that would justify his attack.
Beyond the glass, the STF operatives were no different. Every one of them had their rifles raised, fingers trembling ever so slightly on the triggers as they stared into the training room. Faces that had long since learned to live between life and death showed raw fear, something rarely seen in veterans like these.
The civilian researchers were far worse.
"What... what is this feeling?" Corven rasped, his broad, powerful body slick with sweat. His damp shirt clung to him like a second skin. Every nerve screamed at him to run, to escape, but his brain refused to send the signal. Except for Corven and a few of the stronger-willed, most of the others had already crumpled to the floor, unconscious.
And then there was Dalin Ravencourt and his team, trapped in the very heart of this shapeless, suffocating presence.
I... I can’t breathe.
Her mouth hung open as if she’d forgotten how to draw air into her lungs. Sweat soaked her fine black pajamas and pasted them to her trembling frame like the breeze to a fragile leaf. The usual fire in her eyes—arrogant, proud, and haughty—was nowhere to be found. They stared at Adyr’s still figure with a fragile, shivering fear.
The other players at her side had already collapsed, their bodies scattered across the floor as if someone had switched them off.
And everyone who could still see, everyone who still clung to consciousness, shared one terrible thought as they stared into that unearthly stillness:
That thing standing there was no longer human.
"What am I doing?" Adyr murmured, genuinely puzzled as he glanced up from the system message and took in the room.
An eerie silence had fallen over the floor. Even the onlookers’ frantic heartbeats were loud in the stillness. Every face was tight with fear, eyes fixed on him like they expected him to tear them apart at any moment.
Ah... why are they looking at me like that? So familiar.
The thought tugged a fleeting smile from him.
Every gaze was one he’d seen countless times before—raw fear, helpless pleading, exactly like in his past life.
It didn’t take long to put it together.
Presence.
That new talent was bleeding the killer inside him into the open. The skill was meant to inspire fear in enemies and confidence in allies. The issue was that Adyr had never thought of anyone as an ally.
He’d learned to fake camaraderie, to play the part of someone people could trust. But deep down? Most of them were just prey, one heartbeat away from becoming a target. Only a very few were ever truly safe.
And everyone here could feel that hunger leaking off him—that was the fear twisting their guts.
That’s why Dalin and his team were hit hardest. Of all the people around, they were the easiest for him to see as prey.
This is going to be a problem.
Adyr’s fleeting smile vanished. His brow furrowed as he forced the bloodlust back into its cage, locking it down before it consumed him—and everyone around him.