Leon walked for about twenty minutes.
He avoided the main thoroughfares, instead weaving through the alleys between buildings, stopping every few minutes to listen to his surroundings. The city had become a vast acoustic laboratory—collapsing structures settling under gravity with low groans, gas hissing from ruptured pipes, and in the distance, unrecognizable roars whose frequencies fell outside normal animal ranges, producing a distinct Doppler effect as they traveled through the air.
He found a temporary shelter at the end of a dead-end alley.
It was a small auto repair shop, its rolling shutter half‑open, the interior pitch‑black. Leon crouched down, shone his flashlight inside—three car lifts, an SUV suspended mid‑air, tools and parts scattered on the floor. No blood, no bodies, no anomalous energy residue.
He squeezed through the gap in the shutter, then found a discarded billboard sign and taped it against the inside of the entrance as a makeshift barricade. Only then did he allow himself to lean against the wall and slide down to sit on the floor.
The flashlight's beam cast wavering shadows on the walls. Leon raised his right hand, palm up, and looked at the wound that had already healed to near invisibility.
When the flashlight shone on the spot, he noticed something—not the wound itself, but something faintly flowing beneath the skin. At certain angles, extremely fine silvery veins were visible, like the outlines of blood vessels injected with luminescent fluid. Those lines spread from his palm to his wrist, then disappeared into his sleeve.
He touched the area with his left hand. The skin temperature was normal; no swelling, no pain when pressed. Yet the veins were there, and as he watched, they seemed to be expanding at an extremely slow rate.
"Systemic change," Leon murmured, his voice echoing in the empty garage. "Not a localized infection. A total… transformation."
He closed his eyes and constructed a model in his mind: the energy wave released by that green meteor had penetrated all living organisms, rewriting something at the molecular level. Most people's changes were probably minimal; only a few individuals exhibited obvious traits—like the hovering thing at the subway station.
His own changes seemed to be occurring slowly, continuously.
Leon opened his eyes, took a bottle of water he'd grabbed from a convenience store out of his pack, and drank a few mouthfuls. The water was cool, with the distinctive taste of plastic, but he didn't care. He also found an energy bar, tore open the wrapper, and chewed mechanically.
The food and water helped his mind regain clarity. He began systematically organizing the day's events, constructing a provisional research framework in his head:
List of Questions to Be Resolved
1. What is the physical nature of the energy wave? How does it alter material structure?
2. What are the patterns of mutation in living creatures? Why do different individuals vary so dramatically?
3. What is the "core" of those hovering creatures? How does it relate to the energy wave?
4. How far will his own transformation progress?
He chewed on these questions for a while, then added a fifth:
1. Where are the other survivors? When will official rescue arrive?
Just as he was thinking about the fifth question, a sound came from outside.
Not the sound of collapse, not wind—footsteps. No, lighter than footsteps, more rapid—the sound of many things moving quickly, their toes barely touching the ground. And there were many of them, not just one.
Leon instantly switched off his flashlight and pressed himself flat against the wall.
The sound came from the front of the garage, moving along the street. He peered through the gap in the rolling shutter—
He saw seven figures.
No, not human. They were humanoid, unlike the hovering thing at the subway station; at least these kept their feet on the ground. But their movements were utterly inhuman. They ran with an eerie, uncoordinated gait, their limbs swinging through a range far beyond normal stride, as if their joints had been redesigned. Their skin was grayish‑white, reflecting a plastic‑like sheen under the pervasive strange light.
As they ran past the garage, Leon got a clear look at the face of the nearest one.
The face still retained the basic outlines of a human—nose bridge, lips, jawline—but every detail was wrong. Something hard was moving beneath the skin, making the features shift constantly. The eye sockets were deep pits containing not eyeballs but two faint red points of light.
They ran past, the footsteps fading. Leon waited until the sound vanished completely before slowly exhaling.
But just as he relaxed—
A piercing chill rose from the base of his spine.
Not a temperature change. Something more direct, more primal—as if his body was sounding an alarm at detected danger. Before he could analyze the source, the rolling shutter was torn open from the outside by some force.
The sound of tearing metal was deafening. A dark shape shot through the gap, faster than a bullet. Leon instinctively rolled sideways, feeling a rush of air graze his shoulder—the wake of something passing at extreme speed.
He crashed into a toolbox, scattering metal parts with a clatter. Ignoring the pain, he came up on one knee, right hand gripping the fire axe, left hand drawing the folding knife from his belt.
Then he saw it.
A cat.
No, not right—it was something that looked like a cat, but the size of a leopard, about a meter and a half long, pitch‑black, its short dense fur rendering it nearly invisible in the darkness. Its eyes were a sickly green, vertical slits like blades, holding no fear, no hesitation, only pure, calculated predatory intent.
Its body was low, limbs slightly bent, tail slowly swaying behind it. Every muscle was poised for action, like a spring compressed to its limit. Leon noticed its claws leaving shallow scratches on the concrete floor—which meant its body weight was far greater than its appearance suggested.
"Density anomaly," Leon's mind stayed sharp even through the fear. "Muscle tissue compressed; greater mass for the same volume. Explosive power far beyond normal creatures."
The creature—Leon mentally designated it "Shadow Cat"—didn't attack immediately. It circled Leon slowly, keeping about three meters away, green eyes fixed on his throat. It was assessing. Calculating. Searching for the optimal attack angle.
Leon also moved slowly, always keeping himself facing the Shadow Cat, his back against the suspended SUV. His left hand held the knife, his right the axe, elbows tight against his ribs to protect them, his center of gravity low.
He knew that at this distance, he absolutely couldn't dodge this thing's first attack. He needed to anticipate, to make the right move in the instant it struck.
But the Shadow Cat was too fast—too fast for his visual system to track.
It moved—no, it vanished, then reappeared on his left, claws already swinging.
Leon's pupils contracted sharply.
Then the world changed.
Time didn't slow, but his perception did. As if some unused region of his brain had suddenly been activated, he "saw" something he had never noticed before.
Around the Shadow Cat's claws, something was flowing in the air… light? No, not light, something more abstract—as if the air itself was being distorted by some force field. Those distorted trajectories extended from the creature's body to its claws, forming a complex, dynamic network. And at the center of that network—deep in the Shadow Cat's chest—was a bright, pulsating point of light.
Just like the thing at the subway station. But smaller, brighter, with a faster pulse.
Leon "saw" the pattern of those distorted trajectories. They flowed along specific paths, and just before the claws reached their target, there was an extremely brief pause—as if the energy transfer required a "gear shift."
0.1 seconds. Perhaps less. But in his perception, that pause was long enough.
He moved.
Not back—dodging back would still get hit. Instead, forward, left, cutting into the inner arc of the Shadow Cat's attack at an unusual angle. The axe didn't try to block the claws—it struck directly at the base of the Shadow Cat's forelimb, where the trajectories were densest.
The Shadow Cat's reaction was beyond imagination. Its body twisted in mid‑air, the claws shifting trajectory, grazing Leon's ribs. Sharp pain shot through him, but he felt it—cloth torn, skin cut, but no bone damage.
And his axe blade bit solidly into the Shadow Cat's forelimb.
The feel was different now. Not the gel‑like resistance from before—this was truly flesh and bone. The blade sliced through muscle, struck bone with a dull thud. The Shadow Cat let out a piercing shriek, its body springing away, crashing into a row of shelves.
Black liquid sprayed from the wound, leaving an arc on the wall. When it hit the floor, it hissed faintly, as if corroding the concrete.
Leon didn't press the attack. He retreated two steps, leaned against the SUV, and gasped for breath. The wound on his ribs was bleeding but not deep. His right arm was numb from the impact, but he could still grip the axe.
The Shadow Cat struggled to its feet among the wrecked shelves. Its forelimb hung useless at its side, clearly crippled, but its eyes showed no retreat—only a deeper, more primal rage.
It was going to make a final, desperate attack.
Leon could feel it. The distorted trajectories began flowing throughout the Shadow Cat's body, faster and faster, brighter and brighter. Its body began to glow faintly, a dark red light seeping from the trajectories. The point of light in its chest pulsed wildly, its frequency nearly merging into a solid line.
It was going to burn itself out for one last strike.
Leon tightened his grip on the axe. He knew he couldn't dodge this one. He wasn't fast enough, his reactions weren't quick enough, his stamina was nearly gone. But he also saw—as the trajectories accelerated, they formed a convergence point at the nape of the Shadow Cat's neck. That point pulsed half a beat slower than the core, like a bottleneck in energy transmission.
If he could hit that point, maybe he could disrupt the energy transfer. Maybe.
But it would require millimeter‑precision calculation, striking in the instant the Shadow Cat attacked, needing—
The world changed again.
This time the change was more dramatic than before. As if a locked door in his mind had been forced open, a flood of information poured into his consciousness. Not data, not images—something more fundamental. He "saw" the mathematical structure of those distorted trajectories in the Shadow Cat's body.
Waveforms. Specific, regular waveforms. Frequency, amplitude, phase—all the parameters appeared clearly in his perception, like signals on a laboratory oscilloscope. He saw the waves' paths through the Shadow Cat's body, saw energy gathering at the wave peaks, saw the interference pattern at that convergence point on the nape—
Two waves, opposite phase, canceling each other. A flaw in the creature's design? Or an evolutionary defect? It didn't matter. What mattered was that he knew where, at what angle, with what force, he could collapse that interference point.
The Shadow Cat launched its final attack.
Its body shot forward like a sprung trap, leaving an afterimage in the air. The trajectories before its claws condensed into five razor‑sharp arcs, each capable of cutting steel.
Leon didn't dodge.
He stepped forward—just one step—but the angle and distance were precise to the centimeter. The Shadow Cat's claws passed beside his ear, missing by about two centimeters. And his axe, swinging upward in a specific arc, struck the convergence point at the creature's nape.
The moment the blade sank in, Leon "saw" the waveforms collapse. The opposing interference broke; energy formed a standing wave at the convergence point, amplitude instantly exceeding the material's limit. The light in the Shadow Cat's chest flashed once, then went out.
The Shadow Cat's body halted in mid‑air.
Then, like a puppet with cut strings, it fell to the ground, motionless. Its body began to shrink rapidly—fur falling out, muscles collapsing, bones crumbling—and within seconds, it was a pile of gray‑black ash. Only the point of light in its chest—a fist‑sized, pulsing point—rolled on the floor, emitting a faint hum.
Leon stood in place, looking at the ash, at that point of light.
His axe was still raised. His breath came fast, his heart pounded as if about to burst. His right ribs bled, his left ear was nicked by the claw‑wind, his whole body trembled.
But his mind was utterly clear.
Because deep in his consciousness, in that flood of information, a voice spoke. Not heard with his ears, but echoing directly in his mind, clear as crystal chimes:
[Host vital signs critical. The Book of Truth forcibly activating… Activation successful.]
[Host biological information confirmed: Winchester, Leon. Bloodline verification passed. Inheritor authentication complete.]
[The Book of Truth is now online. Welcome back, Inheritor.]
A book appeared in Leon's vision.
Not a physical book—a projection in his consciousness, an ancient‑looking volume suffused with a pale gold light. Its cover was made of some material he didn't recognize, its surface textured with fine patterns like tree roots or circuits. In the center of the cover was a symbol—a complex figure of straight lines and curves, slowly rotating.
The pages turned on their own, golden characters rising from the paper to unfold in his mind:
Book of Truth — Basic Functions Unlocked
Analyze: Analyze the flow patterns of magical energy within the host's perception range, converting them into visualizable mathematical models.
Deduce: Based on existing data, deduce potential evolutions and variant possibilities of spell structures.
Store: Unlimited storage of knowledge, data, and skill information.
Training Space: Construct virtual scenarios within the mind for risk‑free combat practice.
Current Host Status
Name: Leon Winchester
Bloodline Rank: Inheritor (First Generation)
Mana Sense: Inactive
Unlocked Skills: None
Knowledge Energy (KE): 0
Available Actions: Initial Analysis (Free)
Leon stared at the words, his mind running at full speed.
"The Book of Truth," he murmured, the name echoing in the empty garage. "Inheritor. Bloodline verification."
He looked down at the silvery veins still slowly spreading across his right palm.
"So it wasn't random change. It was… unlocking? Activation?"
His gaze returned to the pile of ash that had been the Shadow Cat, to the still‑glowing, fist‑sized point of light.
"Analyze," he said, uncertain if the command would work.
The Book of Truth responded.
The pages turned again, the golden characters rearranging:
[Initial Analysis initiated. Target: Mana Core (Shadow Cat, Low‑Grade).]
[Analyzing… Complete.]
[Mana Core: A crystallization of energy within low‑grade magical creatures. Can be used as a source of KE, spellcasting medium, or equipment material.]
[Shadow Cat's mana flow patterns recorded. Weakness analysis stored. Recommendation: Use Training Space for combat simulation to improve reaction speed.]
Leon watched the words, felt something extend from his consciousness, touching the point of light on the floor. The light flared, then transformed into a thin stream that vanished into his chest.
[KE Acquired: +50.]
[Mana Sense unlocked. New Skill: Detect mana fluctuations within a 10‑meter radius.]
Leon closed his eyes and felt it.
That perception that had only appeared briefly during the fight was now a constant ability. He could feel faint energy ripples flowing in the air, like ripples on a calm lake. He could feel something deep beneath the ground—a huge, slow‑pulsing energy source, as if some deep structure of the city had been activated. He could even feel what flowed through those silvery veins inside his own body—not blood, not nerve signals—a new form of energy he had never experienced before.
Mana.
A concept he had previously thought existed only in fantasy novels now felt as clear in his perception as an oscilloscope waveform in his lab. It had frequency, amplitude, phase—it could be measured, analyzed, and—he was almost certain—precisely described in mathematical language.
Leon opened his eyes, a slight smile tugging at his lips without his awareness.
Not relief at having survived, but the genuine excitement of a scientist facing a new field of study.
"Good," he said, his voice as calm as when beginning a new project in the lab. "Now let's figure out exactly what you are."
He addressed the glowing book in his mind: "System, show full function list."
[Full function list requires KE to unlock. Current KE balance: 50.]
[Unlockable Functions:]
[Training Space·Basic — 20 KE. Construct combat scenarios in the mind for practical simulation.]
[Deduction·Basic — 30 KE. Deduce 3 variants of low‑grade spells.]
[Knowledge Base·Basic Magical Theory — 50 KE. Includes mana fundamentals, spell structure principles, elemental classification.]
Leon didn't hesitate: "Unlock Knowledge Base."
[Knowledge Base·Basic Magical Theory unlocked. KE balance: 0.]
Another flood of information poured into his mind. Not vague sensations this time, but systematic, structured knowledge. The nature of mana—the projection of higher‑dimensional space into three dimensions. Spell structures—the physical realization of mathematical formulas in a mana field. Elemental classification—seven fundamental elemental systems based on frequency spectra.
This knowledge seemed written directly into his brain, each concept as clear as the physics he had studied for twenty years. He could feel this new knowledge beginning to merge with his existing scientific foundation, like two previously separate puzzle pieces clicking together.
Mana was energy. Energy could be described by equations. Equations could be optimized.
Magic wasn't metaphysics. Magic was an extension of physics.
Leon slowly rose to his feet. The wound on his ribs still hurt, but he barely noticed. He looked out at the sky shrouded in that strange light, at the things that had once been people wandering in the distance, at the dark fluid still on his axe.
"So this is why you're here," he murmured, speaking to no one but the slowly turning pages in his mind.
The Book of Truth's pages paused.
Then a new line appeared, larger and brighter than before:
[Inheritor, your first task is: Establish a Safe Zone. Progress: 0/3.]
[Warning: You are not alone. There are other Inheritors. But there are also other… things.]
[Beware of the Dark Star Society.]
Leon's pupils contracted slightly at the words "Dark Star Society."
That book—that system—knew more than it was showing. It had its own agenda, its own purpose, its own plan. It had chosen him, given him power, but hadn't told him why.
It had its own will.
The realization sent a chill down Leon's back. But he didn't feel fear, didn't resist. He simply filed the question in the "to be resolved" list in his mind, fifth on the list, after "Where are the other survivors?" and "When will official rescue arrive?"
Because no matter what this system wanted, at this moment, it was his greatest asset for survival.
Leon gripped his axe and walked toward the garage entrance. Outside, the city that had once been Boston had transformed in his new perception into something entirely different—no longer just collapsed buildings and wandering monsters, but a vast, unexplored laboratory filled with energy flows, data points, and mathematical laws.
His life, his career, his entire training as a scientist—all of it had been preparing him for this moment.
Leon Winchester stepped out of the garage into that strange light.
Behind him, the Shadow Cat's ashes scattered in the wind, vanishing into the darkness.