An intense headache roared through my skull like a crashing tide.
It wasn’t just pain. It was something primal, raw, like nails were scraping my brain from the inside. My fingers dug into my scalp as if trying to tear the agony out.
A strangled groan left my cracked lips.
My eyelids twitched and struggled, stitched by exhaustion, as if someone had sewn them shut with iron wire. But eventually, after what felt like eternity, they peeled open with a reluctant flutter.
And the world greeted me with suffering.
My lungs burned. My ribs throbbed. Every fiber of my being screamed like it was dipped in acid. I couldn’t even tell where one wound ended and another began. My entire body... it was a battlefield.
It was the wreckage after the war.
My eyes, heavy and bloodshot, darted up slowly—and I froze.
It wasn’t just ruined.
A field of apocalypse.
Magma bled through cracked earth like the land itself had been stabbed. Craters dotted the terrain. Hills had been leveled. Smoke curled from distant fires, and the air carried the metallic scent of scorched death.
Monster corpses were strewn everywhere, like discarded toys after a tantrum. Hundreds. Maybe more.
Some were grotesque beasts with skin like armor and tusks like warhammers. Others looked deceptively harmless—small, rounded creatures with wide eyes and too many teeth.
And then... the giants.
Mountain-sized things. Things that should have ruled this zone.
Torn limb from limb. Heads caved in. Bodies mangled into unrecognizable messes.
But what truly made my stomach churn wasn’t their numbers.
It was the lack of blood.
No guts. No tissue. No fluid.
It was like they weren’t made of flesh and bone at all. Like they were hollow inside. Like puppets.
Still clutching my throbbing skull, I let my gaze drift downward—toward my own body.
I couldn’t recognize myself.
Patches of my skin were gone. Entire chunks of flesh ripped away, revealing raw muscle, some parts even bone.
My uniform was a tattered mess barely clinging to me. Dried blood flaked off like dust.
My right arm looked fractured. My ribs poked through my skin like they were trying to escape.
My entire left side felt numb—like it belonged to someone else.
I looked like a corpse that had kept fighting.
’How... how long was I unconscious?’
Before I could gather my thoughts, the headache returned—this time sharper, heavier, deeper.
Something dug into me.
Like a reel spinning in my head. Scene after scene of slaughter. From a first-person view. From my view.
I saw myself—though I didn’t feel like myself—tearing through monsters.
A blur of movement. Precision in every strike. No hesitation. No mercy.
It didn’t matter if they were big or small. Fast or armored. They all fell the same.
I saw my fists denting skulls.
My feet shattering ribs.
’My blade—wait, did I use a blade?’
Everything was a blur.
But I remembered the feeling.
The way the world moved slower. Like everything was reacting just a second too late. Like time itself had bent to accommodate my wrath.
But the monsters fought back.
Oh gods, did they fight.
I saw my body—my own goddamn body—get crushed under something’s weight. I saw fangs pierce my thigh. Claws rip open my side. I was hurled through stone, swallowed, crushed, burned—
The visions kept coming. Like a storm. And I watched it all happen.
I kept getting back up.
Kept moving forward like a machine with no off switch.
And slowly—too slowly—I realized the truth.
That thing, that force of nature, that beast tearing through armies?
I whispered the name—profane name, inwardly.
The name echoed in my skull like a whispered curse.
That profane, enigmatic skill—it had activated on its own.
It hadn’t asked for permission. It hadn’t even warned me.
It had simply taken over—seized control of my limbs, my instincts, my mind—and puppeteered me into that slaughter.
And I was absolutely sure of it.
This wasn’t just some passive enhancement or battle instinct. No, that damned skill had used me like a plaything, moving my body with mechanical precision as if I were just a vessel.
I clenched my jaw, breathing through my teeth to resist the urge to scream.
’It was the only skill I had without a background.’
Part of an unknown element—an aberration.
And it screamed trouble from the moment I laid eyes on it. I should’ve known.
Still... I had deluded myself.
I had thought of it as my golden finger, my cheat skill, my secret weapon—the thing that would carry me through this world.
It was something far, far more dangerous.
’I need to check on it... thoroughly.’
Because if something had the power to hijack me—override my free will—and leave me near dead after that massacre, then it wasn’t a skill.
I hated losing control. It wasn’t just a preference—it was practically a core tenet of my being.
I managed my life. My circumstances. My outcomes.
But this skill... it had flipped all that on its head. It had used me. Like a marionette.
And I hadn’t even noticed.
A bitter laugh tried to claw out of my throat, but the pain made sure it didn’t.
I swallowed dryly and attempted to call the system. "Sys—"
Immediately, my throat flared up. A firestorm of agony exploded in my windpipe, like molten magma had been poured in and stuffed with barbed wire.
I shut up instantly. Words were a luxury I couldn’t afford.
So instead, I resorted to the safer route—thinking.
A familiar chime sounded in my head, and the neon-blue screen blinked into view.
Name: Cassius Lancaster
Element: Lightning, Nothing
Health: 30,000 / 30,000
Stat Points Available: 0
My jaw nearly unhinged itself.
’The fuck you mean "Restricted"?!!’
Before I could even fully comprehend it, a system notification popped up as if mocking me.
« Penalty for using [Eye of the End] ».
« Time until Penalty Revoked: 47:58:13 »
For several long minutes, I forgot the agony ravaging my body.
That was how stunned I was.
Not only had that damn skill hijacked my body...
Not only had it pushed me to the brink of death...
But now it had sealed all my other abilities and skills for two entire days?!
What in the ever-loving hell was this cursed thing?
Rage flooded my chest like hot oil. My muscles trembled—part pain, part fury.
My eye twitched, and despite the sharp throb slicing through my spine, I slowly—very slowly—lifted one hand.
Middle finger raised.
A gesture of pure defiance.
A small act of rebellion against the system, the world, everything.
The system dinged again.
« Examination Complete »
« Please proceed to the portal »
I snorted mentally. As if that wasn’t ominous.
Still groaning, I lifted my gaze and scanned the destroyed battlefield.
And like magic, a shimmering blue portal materialized before me.
No choice but forward.
I staggered, bones cracking in protest, and limped toward the portal. Every step felt like glass was embedded in my legs.
The warped space bent around me, and the hellscape vanished.
When I reappeared... I was on a stage.
I realized it immediately, from the oppressive silence.
Thousands of eyes locked onto me. Staring. Watching.
Many recoiled. Some looked horrified. Others were just dumbstruck.
I looked like a corpse dressed in rags, with blood-stained skin, torn muscles, dried wounds, and a hollow gaze.
Even I would be terrified of me.
Among the crowd, I spotted her—Mia.
She was standing beside the heroines and a new fellow?
And something in her broke.
Before I could even brace for it, she sprinted toward me, ignoring the crowd, the gasps, the murmurs.
She wrapped her arms around me carefully, like I was made of glass.
Like she was terrified I’d shatter in her arms.
But I didn’t pull away.
As I stood there in her arms, one strange, foreign question whispered into the recesses of my mind.
’Who was Mia... exactly?’
The thought wasn’t natural.
It came from somewhere deep.
From something inside me.
And it chilled me more than the pain ever could.