Chapitre 36: Chapter 36: Embers of Betrayal
Chapter 36: Embers of Betrayal
Following the group, I found myself standing before a strange-looking building. Its walls twisted in odd, almost artistic ways, as if molded by a mind both brilliant and deranged. The structure stood in stark contrast to the rest of the city's worn-down aesthetic. The air around it felt different, thicker, humming with a presence unseen. Without hesitation, the tiefling captain strode forward, pushing open the heavy wooden doors with a forceful shove.
The interior was larger than I had expected, a cavernous hall shrouded in dim light, the air thick with the scent of aged parchment and melted wax. Shadows clung to the corners, stretching unnaturally. At the far end, an old man sat draped in a tattered brown cloak, unmoving.
His face, withered and gaunt, bore the marks of age and a life steeped in knowledge. Eyes as dark as ink met ours, unreadable yet piercing. There was an unsettling stillness about him, as if he had become one with the chamber itself.
The captain walked up with his usual confidence. "We've dealt with the mission."
The old man regarded him for a long moment before rasping out his response. "Place your hand on the token."
The captain complied, pressing his palm onto what I assumed was some enchanted relic, though my vantage point made it difficult to see. A flicker of recognition passed through the old man's gaze, his pupils dilating slightly, as though peering into something unseen.
"Do you swear upon your oath that you have completed the mission?" His voice was barely above a whisper, yet it carried weight, filling the empty space between us like a tangible force.
"Yes."
A brief silence followed before the old man reached under the desk and produced a pouch. With a deliberate motion, he slammed it onto the table. A faint clinking of metal echoed through the hall, betraying its contents.
No further words were exchanged. The captain retrieved the pouch, and we departed. Outside, he loosened the drawstrings and retrieved a handful of metallic tokens. Without hesitation, he extended his hand to me.
"Take it. Your share."
For a moment, I merely stared at the offered payment. Price, huh? So they had been after me, but they were under the impression that the real threat had been dealt with. How amusing. I had them completely fooled. A smirk threatened to creep onto my lips, but I kept my expression carefully neutral. I accepted the tokens with a nod, tucking them away. They weren't what I truly sought, but playing along had its advantages.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, we found ourselves before a tavern. A wooden sign, gently swaying in the evening breeze, bore the name: The Drunken Giant.
The moment we stepped inside, we were engulfed by the chaotic warmth of merriment. Laughter boomed from all corners of the room, accompanied by the clatter of mugs slamming onto wooden tables. The scent of roasted meat and spilled ale mixed in the air, thick and heady. Every corner of the tavern was occupied, drunken elves sang off-key, burly orcs arm-wrestled while onlookers cheered, and at the bar, a dwarf attempted to outdrink a minotaur twice his size.
We settled at a table near the center, where a serving girl swiftly placed several tankards before us. The captain raised his drink. "To another job well done."
Dren, already looking a little flushed, grinned. "To not dying, again."
A chorus of agreement followed, and soon, the conversation shifted to war stories and past misadventures.
"Remember that time we were hired to rescue some noble's brat from goblins?" one of the mercenaries slurred, wiping foam from his beard. "Turns out the little shit didn't want to be saved, nearly gutted me when I tried to carry him out."
Dren burst out laughing. "Oh, that kid! We had to drag him kicking and screaming all the way back to his father. And then—gods, I'll never forget, the bastard tried to hire the goblins to kill us instead!"
The group erupted into laughter, banging fists on the table.
One of the older mercenaries, an orc with scars crisscrossing his arms, chuckled deeply. "Hah! That's nothing. You lot weren't there when we took a contract to hunt down 'a single rogue mage.'" He took a swig of ale. "Turned out the bastard had an entire cult backing him. We walked right into a trap."
"How'd you make it out?" I asked, more to fuel their indulgence than genuine curiosity.
The orc smirked. "Dren's dumb ass set the whole damn cave on fire. We barely made it out alive."
"Hey," Dren protested, "it worked, didn't it?"
Another round of laughter followed, but it was soon interrupted by the telltale sound of raised voices. A drunken dispute at a nearby table escalated as a burly human shoved a reptilian mercenary. The lizardman hissed, slamming his drink onto the table before lunging forward, tackling the human to the ground. The tavern exploded into chaos. Chairs scraped against the wooden floors, tankards shattered, and fists flew wildly.
I leaned back in my chair, watching the fight unfold with mild amusement. My companions, however, were far too drunk to remain mere spectators. With a roar, the orc from our group launched himself into the fray, toppling two men as he went. Dren, laughing like a madman, grabbed a chair and hurled it at an unsuspecting brawler.
I, on the other hand, remained seated, sipping at my drink. There was no need to waste energy on such meaningless displays. Let them have their fun.
By the end of the night, we had somehow managed to secure a room. Bodies were sprawled across the floor, snoring loudly. I sat up, my head barely aching from the minimal amount of alcohol I had consumed. It had been an amusing night, but it had also been dangerous in ways they couldn't understand.
These men… they were becoming too familiar. Too human.
A weakness.
Silently, I rose, stepping over their unconscious forms. I made my way down the creaking stairs, entering the dimly lit tavern hall. The bartender, a woman in her forties with tired eyes, was already cleaning up the wreckage from the previous night's brawl.
She glanced up as I approached, but before she could speak, my shadow servant materialized from the darkness.
A sharp, wet gurgle filled the air as its claws ripped through her throat. Her body slumped to the ground before she could even scream.
[Proficiency: 49.3%]
It was growing stronger.
I moved swiftly, grabbing bottles of dwarven ale from behind the counter. The liquid sloshed as I poured it across the floor, creating a glistening trail that led to the storage room. The scent of alcohol was pungent. Finally, I plucked a candle from the nearest table, its flame flickering ominously.
With a single motion, I let it drop.
Fire erupted, devouring the liquor-soaked wood in an instant. The flames spread, consuming tables, climbing the walls, licking at the beams above. The air filled with the acrid stench of burning alcohol and charred flesh as the first screams rang out.
Outside, I watched as the inferno swallowed The Drunken Giant, its glow illuminating the night.
[Betrayer of Allies! +25 points] [Arson! +10 points] [Pyromaniac! +50 points]
A laugh bubbled up from within me, dark and unrestrained.
[New Mission: Destroy the City of Mudborough] [Difficulty: F to E-Grade] [Details: Ensure its fall before the end of the Adjustment Period.] [Reward: 100 Points] [Progress: 0/1]
Let the mayhem begin.
Chapitre 37: Chapter 37: The Streets Run Red
Chapter 37: The Streets Run Red
The streets ran slick with blood, pooling in the cracks between cobblestones. The acrid stench of burning wood and flesh clung to the air, thick and suffocating. My blade carved through the hapless bystanders, a symphony of steel and screams accompanying the carnage as both my servant and I tore through flesh and bone. Every kill, every gurgling death rattle, was punctuated by the cascading stream of notifications that filled my vision, level after level, point after point.
The city guard arrived soon after. They were strong, far more formidable than the panicked civilians, but their strength meant little in the face of what they were forced to witness.
Their city, the very streets they had once walked as children, filled with laughter, light, and the warmth of home, had become an abattoir of brutality and despair. Friends, comrades, maybe even family lay scattered in grotesque heaps, unrecognizable masses of crushed bones and shredded flesh. The guards froze, their hands gripping their weapons with uncertain resolve. Their expressions wavered between horror and duty, but I could see it in their eyes, their spirits were breaking.
There were about twenty of them. They outnumbered me, their training and coordination superior, and under normal circumstances, I would have lost this battle before it began.
But this wasn't normal.
A smile tugged at my lips as I activated my skills.
[Seed of Discord] [Grade: D-Grade] [Type: Active] [Details: Amplifies emotions such as fear or anger, making affected individuals significantly more prone to irrational or extreme actions.] [Proficiency: 11.3%]
[Despair Aura] [Grade: F-Grade] [Type: Active] [Details: Reduces the morale of nearby foes by 15%.] [Proficiency: 79.6%]
[Dark Dominion] [Grade: D-Grade] [Type: Active] [Details: Gain temporary control over weaker enemies who fear you.] [Proficiency: 24.1%]
Of course, the guards were too strong for me to dominate outright, but the fleeing civilians, the wretched souls who still clung to life, were another matter. The city was vast, and I had only carved through a fraction of it. There were still many to be slaughtered, but if I wished to truly bring this place to its knees, I needed to deal with these guards swiftly. If reinforcements arrived, this would become troublesome.
"All we gotta do is hold out until the commander gets here!" one of the guards barked, his voice laced with forced confidence.
[Activating Dark Dominion…] [Finding Targets…] [23 Targets Found!] [Give Command] [Duration of Control: 00:05:21…]
Attack the guards.
The command was absolute. The terrified civilians, previously driven only by their instinct to flee, turned as one. Their vacant eyes betrayed no thought, no hesitation, only the command that had been carved into their very being. Like rabid animals, they lunged at the guards, unarmed and untrained. They couldn't hope to wound the armored soldiers, but that wasn't the point.
This plan relied on the guards' humanity. Their compassion.
And it worked.
I saw it in their faces; hesitation, grief, revulsion. Some faltered, their hands trembling as they raised their weapons against their own people. Tears glistened in the corners of their eyes as they cut down civilians who had once been neighbors, friends, perhaps even family.
A grin stretched across my face.
The world had taught me a simple truth: compassion was a weakness. Humanity was a flaw.
All that mattered was power. My strength. My desires. My unquenchable thirst for more.
I surged forward beneath the veil of chaos, my sword slipping between the plates of a guard's armor, sinking deep into his back. He choked on his own blood as the blade jutted out from his chest. I wrenched it free with a sickening squelch, his body crumpling to the ground like a discarded rag doll.
Blood sprayed across my face. I licked my lips, the metallic tang of iron coating my tongue.
Was this… peace?
Then, the system's screen flashed before my eyes.
[Unyielding Wrath interacting with subconsciousness…] [Unyielding Wrath forcefully evolves…] [Unyielding Wrath (E) becomes Primal Berserk (Unique)]
[Primal Berserk] [Grade: Unique] [Type: Active] [Details: Increases all stats by 200% for 10 minutes, then decreases all stats by 50% for 1 hour. Whilst activated, player is entirely controlled by primitive drive. Decreases pain by 100% during its duration.]
A chuckle escaped me. So, I truly was no different from a beast now. Fitting.
Then, movement in the distance. I turned my head, my gaze snapping toward the far end of the street. More guards surged forth from both directions, their armor gleaming beneath the crimson glow of the burning city. At their front stood a particularly imposing figure, likely the commander.
And then another voice, raw with fury.
"You…"
From the smoldering remains of the tavern, a figure emerged. The mercenary commander. Though battered, he was still very much alive. His face twisted into a mask of unbridled rage, his gaze burning with murderous intent.
"You fucking bastard!" he spat, his voice a venomous snarl. "We should've left you to rot where we found you, you fucking demon!"
The irony was not lost on me. He looked far more like a demon himself, emerging from the flames unscathed, his expression warped by wrath.
I took stock of the situation. There were now more than a hundred guards, the commander, and the mercenary leader. My odds? Slim. Perhaps nonexistent.
And yet, the thrill that coursed through me was intoxicating.
It had been a long time since I faced a battle where victory wasn't assured.
My fingers twitched, navigating the shop as time seemed to slow.
[Current Points: 248]
Enough for two items. New skills had appeared, no doubt rewards for my continued destruction.
[Skill: Shadow Steps (C-Grade), Dark Sword Aura (C-Grade), Villain's Laughter (C-Grade), and Pyrokinesis (E-Grade) (New!)]
Pyrokinesis. A tempting choice, likely born from my recent displays of arson. But too weak. I needed something that could work with Primal Berserk. Something that could tip the scales.
And I found it.
[Dark Sword Aura] [Grade: C-Grade] [Type: Active] [Details: Coats your blade in darkness, enhancing its strength, sharpness, and swiftness according to stat: Dark Aura. Unlocks stat, Dark Aura. +20 to Dark Aura.] [Proficiency: 0%]
A perfect complement to my newfound berserker state.
And one more thing…
[Darkness In A Bottle] [Type: Item] [Details: Engulfs the area within a 2-kilometer radius in a dark mist, decreasing all stats by 10% for all who do not possess evil alignment. Duration: 1 hour. One-time use.] [Cost: 100 Points] [Available: 1]
A gamble. But one worth taking.
As time returned to its normal pace, I met the eyes of my enemies.
Now, I'd show them why I was the greatest.
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
200+ Classement
Power Stone 
0 Power
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