Chapter 2: The First Blood!
The Priest's hand moved. The rusted blade was descending down towards his crotch. His manhood was on the line. He needed to think. Think fast!
'What should I do?'
His eyes moved everywhere, looking for an opportunity to use his telekinetic powers.
'A single second of hesitation is all I need,' Draven thought. 'I need to distract this dude!'
The Priest's hand was inches from his thigh. His gaze fell on the heavy metallic tray. He used his skill [Vector Manipulation].
He applied a sudden, violent horizontal vector to the heavy object.
CLANG!
The tray slammed into the stone wall with the force of a sledgehammer. The sound echoed through the damp chamber like a gunshot. The Priest flinched and his manic focus shattered as he jerked his head toward the noise.
'That's it!!'
It was the only opening Draven needed.
On that tray sat a spare scalpel. A narrow piece of steel that was slightly less rusted than the one in the Priest's hand. As it bounced off the wall, Draven captured its momentum.
He did not let it fall. He overwrote its trajectory, applying a massive, linear acceleration vector toward a single point: the soft, pulsing skin of the Priest's jugular.
The scalpel became a blurred streak of silver.
Schlick.
The sound was wet and sickeningly precise. The blade buried itself three inches deep into the side of the Priest's neck. His eyes went wide as his mouth opened in a silent gasp, his hands flying up to the wound. Blood, dark and hot, began to spray between his fingers, drenching his midnight blue robes.
"Yo-You wretched fiend!! OGhhghfa-!"
The man stumbled back, his boots slipping on the gore-slicked floor. He tried to scream, but all that came out was a wet, gurgling wheeze. He looked at Draven, his milky eyes filled with a sudden, primitive terror.
Draven was trained in the military. He was a Platoon Commander. The only lesson he gave to his juniors when on a mission was to perfectly kill the enemy target.
'As long as the target is not completely eliminated, you keep shooting! Shoot them in the head and the heart! Take extra caution!'
Draven used his telekinetic power and controlled more sharp objects lying around the room. They floated as Draven willed. Their target was locked: the dying Priest on the floor.
"ROT IN HELL!!"
All those sharp metallic pieces pierced the Priest. His skull, his heart, his legs. His whole body was filled with rusted steel.
There was no remorse. There was only the objective.
[Ding! First Blood Achievement Unlocked!]
[Target: Priest of the Eternal Eclipse (Level 12) eliminated.]
[Level Up!]
[Level Up!]
[You have reached Level 3.]
A surge of warmth flooded Draven's veins. It was like a shot of pure adrenaline mixed with liquid fire. The exhaustion that had been weighing down his limbs vanished and was replaced by a raw, budding strength.
[Reward: 5 Free Stat Points.]
[Skill: Tactical Appraisal]
'[Reward: 5 Free Stat Points. Skill: Tactical Appraisal],' Draven noted, dismissing the flickering blue screens. 'I will deal with the stats later. First, I need to get off this table.'
He focused on the ropes binding his wrists. Instead of pulling, he applied opposing vectors to the individual fibers of the hemp. He visualized the force pushing outward from the center of the rope while pulling the anchor points inward.
Snap. Snap.
The ropes disintegrated. Draven sat up as the cold air hit his bare chest. His new body was thin and pale. He could feel the system rewards knitting his muscles back together. He slid off the metal table as his bare feet landed silently on the stone floor.
He walked over to the Priest's cooling corpse and yanked the scalpel from his throat.
'It is a pathetic weapon,' he thought, testing the edge. 'But it will suffice for now.'
He was completely naked as he was just about to get castrated. He looked around his surroundings and found some rags of clothes to wear.
'I will have to make do with this rubbish for now.'
He stepped toward the heavy wooden door and pressed his ear against the grain. Silence. He pushed the door open and stepped into the hallway.
The smell hit him immediately: a wall of rot and chemical preservatives that made his stomach churn. This was a processing plant for human misery. The hallway was lined with iron bars, and behind them, he saw the results the Priest had mentioned.
"I feel kinda nauseous looking at them. I have never seen such brutality since my last operation in the deserts."
These were the orphans and the forgotten who had not survived the transition. They were slumped against the walls, their bodies mutated with jagged bone protrusions and sickly grey skin. They were mindless, breathing meat.
'Neville Hennesy is probably out in some sunny meadow right now, giving a speech about the power of friendship,' Draven's jaw tightened in disgust. 'The idiot has no idea this place exists. And if he did find it, he would probably try to pray for their souls instead of putting them out of their misery.'
Draven moved like a ghost through the shadows. His Vector Manipulation allowed him to dampen the sound of his footsteps by controlling the pressure he applied to the floor. He was looking for an exit, but the layout was a labyrinth.
"Where is the exit? This is just too complicated for me."
Then, he heard it.
It was a faint and melodic voice. It was beautiful, but an underlying current of agony could be heard in every note. It was coming from the end of the hall.
'I need to escape. I have no time for saving someone when my own ass is on fire!'
He heard her voice again, "Please... Anyone... H-help!!"
He was reminded of the children he had rescued from the terrorist camps. Their faces showed unimaginable pain from losing an arm or leg. Worse, their parents were killed in front of them just for the pleasure of some sick rich individuals.
"AH! Sure, I will save you too."
Draven reached the door and looked through the small, barred viewing slit.
Inside was a circular room filled with shimmering, violet dust. In the center, suspended by four heavy chains made of obsidian, was a girl. She looked to be his age, with hair as white as a dying star and skin that seemed to glow with a faint, sickly luminescence. Her head was bowed, her long lashes casting shadows over her bruised cheeks.
"You look terrible!"
She was covered in runic bandages, and every time she breathed, the violet dust in the air seemed to burn her skin.
'Is this really her?!'
Draven felt a jolt of recognition. This was not just any captive. This was the tragedy that fueled the second half of the novel. He focused his gaze on her, and the new Tactical Appraisal skill kicked in. A screen materialized over her head, pulsing with a dangerous, dark red light.
[Target Identified: Estella Everdawn]
[Status: Future S-Rank Villainess (The Star of Ruin)]
[Condition: Corrupted Star Magic / Severe Mana Poisoning]
Estella's head slowly lifted. Her eyes were not human. They were like looking into a nebula, filled with deep purples and swirling blacks. She looked directly at the viewing slit, locking eyes with Draven.
"Are you here to finish it?" she whispered. Her voice echoed in his mind like shattered glass.
Draven looked at the obsidian chains, then back at the girl. If he left her here, she would become the monster that kills thousands. If he took her with him, he was carrying a living nuke.
He gripped the rusted scalpel in his hand and met her gaze.
"I am here to clean up a mess," Draven said.