🔥[𝙈𝘼𝙎𝙎 𝙍𝙀𝙇𝙀𝘼𝙎𝙀! 𝟮𝟬 𝘾𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙨 𝙩𝙤𝙙𝙖𝙮!]🔥
𝙒𝙚 𝙖𝙧𝙚 #𝟭 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙬𝙚 𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙨𝙩𝙤𝙥𝙥𝙞𝙣𝙜! 𝙄𝙛 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙬𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚, 𝙑𝙊𝙏𝙀 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙍𝙀𝙑𝙄𝙀𝙒! 𝙇𝙚𝙩'𝙨 𝙨𝙝𝙤𝙬 𝙒𝙚𝙗𝙣𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙡 𝙬𝙝𝙤 𝙞𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙡 𝙎𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙚𝙞𝙜𝙣! ⚔️
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The Outcasts of the Lower District
The silver-clad doors of the Cathedral had barely closed behind Leonardo before the weight of the city's judgment began to press against him. He walked down the massive marble steps, his small frame looking insignificant against the towering architecture of the High District, but his mind was far from small. He could feel the eyes—not just of the commoners, but the sharp, analytical gazes of Level 4 Inquisitors trailing him from the shadows of the colonnades. To them, he was a broken miracle, a Level 1 Supreme whose failure to manifest a profession was an insult to the System they worshipped.
"They won't stop at just watching, Leonardo," a familiar, gravelly voice whispered from an alleyway.
Leonardo ducked into the gloom of the Lower District, where the smell of expensive incense was replaced by the honest, pungent stench of coal, damp earth, and stale ale. Kael stood there, his massive arms crossed, leaning against a stack of empty crates behind The Traveler's Rest. The Guardian of Secrets looked more like a wall of meat than a spy, but his eyes were sharp.
"They think you're a broken tool, kid," Kael growled, his voice low enough to be drowned out by the distant clanging of blacksmith hammers. "In Albion, everything has a place on the shelf. If you don't fit the shelf, the Church doesn't just throw you away—they melt you down for parts. They'll want to know why a Supreme core is empty, and they aren't patient people."
Kael reached into his belt and pulled out a wrapped bundle. He handed it to Leonardo. Inside was a Beginner Earth Tier Dagger, its blade forged from iron that had been quenched in the blood of lesser drakes. It was heavy for a twelve-year-old, but it felt balanced.
"If you want to survive the 'melting pot,' you need to grow," Kael continued. "In this world, growth isn't a gift. It's a harvest. You need souls."
The shadows at the back of the alley deepened, and the Old Man stepped forward. The Star Reaper looked out toward the horizon, where the massive white walls of Albion caught the dying rays of the sun, casting long, needle-like shadows over the slums.
"To reach Level 2, a normal warrior needs only a handful of essence and a simple task," the Old Man said, his voice carrying the weight of centuries. "But for a Supreme, the System is a jealous master. It demands a mountain of souls to fill that vacuum in your heart. You cannot hunt in the light, Leonardo. You must go where the city forgets to look. You must hunt the Gutter Hounds in the sewers—beasts of Level 1 Superior that have mutated in the filth."
Leonardo looked at the dagger, then at the mancha in his eye that seemed to pulse in anticipation. He wasn't just a boy anymore; he was a predator in training, an "Unfit" anomaly about to start a harvest that the System would never see coming.
The Sewers and the First Harvest
Leonardo descended into the underbelly of Albion, leaving the polished stone of the High District for the damp, oppressive corridors of the city's ancient sewer system. The air here was a physical weight, thick with the stench of rot and the hum of stagnant mana. For a twelve-year-old, this was a realm of nightmares, but for a Level 1 Supreme, it was the only training ground that wouldn't draw the Church's immediate intervention.
He activated the Void State, feeling his heartbeat slow until it was a mere echo in his chest. He didn't just hide in the shadows; he sought to become the shadow itself, a literal hole in the perception of any creature lurking in the dark. His feet made no sound on the slime-covered stone, his presence shielded by the "Absence" his grandfather had described—a void that predators simply could not "bite".
Suddenly, a splash echoed from a side tunnel. Leonardo froze, his back pressed against a mossy wall. Emerging from the murk was a Gutter Hound, a beast the size of a wolf but twisted by the city's toxic runoff and concentrated mana. Its fur was a matted mess of grey sludge, and its eyes glowed with a sickly, unstable yellow light—the mark of a Level 1 Superior creature. In the rigid hierarchy of Albion, this was a monster that shouldn't exist so close to civilization, yet here it was, thriving in the neglect of the High Lords.
Leonardo watched the beast's movements, his left eye pulsing with the violet stain. He could see the "Solidity" of its soul, a flickering flame of animosity. He remembered the lesson from the Elinor Woods: don't be the leaf that falls; be the air that allows it to fall. He waited until the hound turned its head, distracted by the scuttling of a metallic-shelled insect.
In one fluid motion, Leonardo lunged. He didn't scream or show hesitation; he was merely a vacuum rushing to fill a space. The Beginner Earth Tier Dagger found the soft gap in the hound's armored neck with surgical precision. The beast didn't even have time to howl.
As the life faded from its yellow eyes, a misty, translucent vapor began to rise from the carcass. It didn't dissipate into the air. Instead, it was drawn toward Leonardo, swirling around his hand before being violently sucked into the violet stain in his eye. A cold, sharp sensation rippled through his marrow—his first Monster Soul.
Progress: 1/1,000 Souls gathered for Level 2.Status: Level 1 Supreme (Inapto).Requirement: A "Great Deed" yet to be identified.
The "Empty Boy" felt a flicker of something new—not power, but the hunger for it. He wasn't just surviving anymore; he was beginning the long, silent harvest required to eventually stand against the King.
The Traitor's Scrying and the Growing Rot
High above the squalor of the Lower District, nestled within the ivory spires of the Cathedral, the air was cold and thin. Here, the traitorous priest—a man whose holy robes hid a soul already half-consumed by the Vazio—stood before a Celestial Tier scrying glass. The artifact didn't show physical images, but rather the flow of life and mana throughout Albion like a glowing, golden circulatory system.
He watched the steady pulse of the city, a rhythm of thousands of souls that the System deemed "orderly". But his eyes, tainted by a violet hue that mirrored the mark on Leonardo's eye, sought the discord. He noticed it—a tiny, microscopic ripple in the energy of the southern sewers. It was as if a single drop of golden light had been blinked out of existence, leaving a pinprick of absolute nothingness.
"Feed well, little fragment," the traitor whispered, his fingers tracing the hilt of a dagger carved from bone. "The System calls you 'Unfit,' but you are the only one truly awake in this tomb of stone".
He turned away from the glass, his gaze falling upon a map of Albion's defensive grid. The city relied on ancient Level 8 wards to keep external threats at bay, but the priest knew those walls were designed for an enemy of flesh and blood. They were useless against a Calamity Ontológica that began from within.
"The stronger you become, the more beautiful the sacrifice will be when the Black King finally claims this city," he continued, his voice a low, distorted frequency.
The infiltration was not a sudden strike, but a slow, deliberate rot. While Leonardo hunted in the dark to gather the thousand souls required for his ascension, the shadows of Albion were weaving a shroud that would soon cover every white stone of the capital. The priest picked up a small, violet-cracked gemstone—a Sky Tier artifact—and prepared to meet his next "convert" among the city's guards.
The Alchemist of the Slums
Guided by Kael, Leonardo navigated the dampest corners of the artisan district until they reached a workshop that smelled of sulfur and ozone. The "Guardian of Secrets" stopped before a heavy iron door, rapping a complex sequence of knocks that echoed through the narrow alley. The door creaked open, revealing a woman with silver-stained fingers and eyes as sharp as glass—an outcast Alchemist who specialized in "tainted" materials that the Church deemed heretical.
"A Level 1 Supreme with no profession?" she cackled, leaning in so close that Leonardo could smell the metallic tang of her breath. "The System says you are 'Unfit,' but my scale says you are a vacuum. You don't just use mana; you erase it".
She took the mist-like Gutter Hound soul Leonardo had collected, holding it in a Beginner Earth Tier containment jar. With practiced movements, she fused the essence with scraps of blackened leather, using a localized runic forge to bind the soul-vapor to the material. The result was a chestpiece that hummed with a low, predatory energy, its surface appearing to swallow the flickering candlelight of the workshop.
New Item: Gutter Husk (Beginner Earth Tier Armor).Tier: Earth (1 of 12).Effect: Enhances the Void Stateby 5%, making it significantly harder for Level 3 sentries to detect the wearer's heartbeat or heat signature.
"It's a start, kid," Kael muttered, eyeing the dark armor that seemed to blend into Leonardo's very skin. "But 1 soul down, 999 to go".
The Traitor's First Move
While Leonardo equipped himself in the slums, the slow infiltration of the city's heart intensified. The traitorous priest did not move with the thunder of an army, but with the poison of whispers. He visited the barracks of the West Gate, where a captain of Level 5 stood watch over the massive fortifications.
"The 'blackout' was only the beginning, Captain," the priest whispered, his voice smooth and hypnotic. He reached into his robes and produced a small, violet-cracked gemstone—a Sky Tier artifact of corruption. "The Church's old light is failing. Carry this; it will shield your men from the coming darkness".
In reality, the stone was a beacon, a focal point that allowed the Black King's influence to slowly bypass the city's Level 8 protective wards. The rot was no longer just in the sewers; it was now standing at the gates, wearing the uniform of the protectors and hidden behind a mask of faith.
The countdown to the city's fall had begun, not with a bang, but with a silent, violet-tinted gift.