Kill them..?

  A dry chuckle left my lips. How about I kill myself and be free from this bullshit, haha…

  Of course, that wasn’t an option. Not that I hadn’t considered it before. But if death was an easy way out, then the system would've probably suggested it already.

  Still, the words clung to my mind like a parasite.

  Kill them.

  So that’s how I was supposed to obtain Record Fragments.

  I exhaled slowly, leaning against the wall. Who even has them? How do I find them? What do they even look like?

  Were there signs? A mark? Some kind of aura? And how many people in the world even possessed them?

  Too many questions, no answers.

  But for now, I had bigger things to worry about.

  I glanced toward the bed. The girl was still asleep, her breathing slow and steady. She hadn’t stirred once since passing out. I didn’t blame her—she looked like she had been through hell and back.

  I sat by the window, resting my arm against the wooden ledge. My body was heavy with exhaustion, but I didn’t let myself sleep.

  I couldn’t.

  The system had warned me to keep her safe, and I had no idea who or what might come for us.

  So I stayed awake.

  Waiting.

  Listening.

  Every creak in the floorboards, every distant murmur from the tavern below made my senses sharpen. The minutes dragged, each second stretching longer than the last. But nothing happened. No sudden attack. No mysterious figures appearing at my door.

  And then—

  A deep breath I hadn’t realized I was holding finally left me.

  The moment the timer hit zero, the pressure in my chest eased. I half-expected some kind of last-minute twist, but there was nothing. Just a simple completion message.

  Finally. Speech Consistency.

  As for the skills—

  I stared at the skills listed before me, taking a moment to process each one.

  Phantom Mirage. A better version of the movement skills I already had. The afterimages would be useful for misdirection, but Phantom Stride still had the edge when it came to pure evasion.

  Precision Flow. Now this? This was actually solid. Better accuracy, faster reactions, improved dexterity. A skill that worked both in and out of combat.

  Then there was the last one.

  Rift Severance.

  I narrowed my eyes at the description. Cutting through space itself? That sounded ridiculously powerful. But the warning at the end… Unstable due to high mana requirements and unpredictable interactions with the user’s corrupted system. Yeah. That was a problem. The last thing I needed was my arm exploding just because I tried to use some broken ability.

  I exhaled, rolling my shoulders.

  One good skill, one decent one, and one that might tear me apart. Sounds about right.

  I paused, rubbing my chin.

  If the system was actually working properly now—or at least somewhat more stable—I could start asking it questions directly instead of relying on Cael. Less risk, less suspicion. I still wasn’t sure how much I could trust the old man, even if he had helped me out so far.

  But there was still one problem.

  The system was still glitched.

  It kept flickering in and out, sometimes responding normally, sometimes cutting off mid-sentence. I didn’t know when it would decide to randomly shut down on me again. Still, it was better than nothing.

  I let out a sigh. Might as well use it while it works.

  "System, why am I even getting skills? I’m not part of a skill tree, so how does this work?"

  For a second, there was silence. Then, the familiar text appeared in my vision.

  The interface flickered violently. The text glitched, warping into unreadable symbols before the entire system crashed.

  Gone.

  Just like that.

  I clenched my jaw, frustration boiling in my chest. Part of the what?! The Universal Records? What the hell was that supposed to mean?

  I exhaled sharply, running a hand through my hair.

  Figures. Just when it was actually telling me something useful.

  I glanced at my arm and then the girl on the bed. Purple blood. Corrupted mana.

  Her reaction to it wasn’t normal. It wasn’t just shock or fear—she knew what it was. That meant she had seen it before.

  And that meant someone else out there had the same corruption as me or something similar.

  I didn’t like that thought.

  I turned away, pacing toward the window. The streets outside were still alive with the remnants of the night market, drunkards stumbling home and merchants packing up their stalls. The city never truly slept—just shifted into another form of chaos.

  I should be resting, but I couldn’t. My nerves were too wound up.

  I needed air.

  With one last glance at the girl to make sure she was still asleep, I pulled my hood over my head and quietly slipped out of the room.

  The streets were damp, the scent of rain clinging to the air. The cobblestone roads glistened under the dim lanterns, and the sounds of distant laughter mixed with the occasional shout from a tavern brawl.

  I walked with my hands in my pockets, blending in with the late-night crowd. There were fewer people now—mostly those who thrived in the darker hours. Thieves, informants, mercenaries waiting for their next job.

  It was my kind of scene.

  I moved toward a quieter alleyway, needing a moment of solitude to think. But the second I stepped into the shadows, my instincts flared.

  I wasn’t alone.

  Footsteps. Faint, controlled. Someone was tailing me.

  I pretended not to notice, keeping my stride casual. If they were following me, they either wanted something or thought I was easy prey.

  Either way, they were about to be disappointed.

  I turned a corner into an even narrower alley, forcing them to follow if they wanted to keep up. Then, the second I was out of sight, I activated Phantom Stride.

  My body blurred, shifting seamlessly into the darkness as I pressed against the wall. The alley was too cramped for me to use Phantom Mirage effectively, but I didn’t need it.

  Seconds later, a hooded figure appeared at the entrance of the alley, slowing their pace. Their head turned slightly, searching.

  Looking for me?

  I moved before they could react, stepping out of the shadows and grabbing them by the collar. In one swift motion, I shoved them against the wall, a dagger pressed to their throat.

  They gasped, their hood falling back slightly to reveal a mess of blond hair and wide, startled eyes.

  A kid. No—probably my age, maybe a little older.

  “…Hah.” He let out a shaky chuckle. “Alright, alright. You got me.”

  I didn’t let go. “Who sent you?”

  “No one. Just curious, is all.”

  “Curious?” I pressed the dagger closer. “Try again.”

  His lips curled into a smirk. “You’re new here. New faces always stand out, especially when they do something interesting.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “And what exactly did I do that caught your attention?”

  “You’re still alive.”

  That threw me off.

  He grinned, tilting his head slightly. “This city isn’t kind to people who don’t belong. And yet, here you are, walking around like you own the place. That makes me curious.”

  That makes no sense.

  I studied him carefully. He wasn’t armed—not visibly, at least. But there was a confidence in his posture, in the way he spoke. He wasn’t just some street rat looking for an easy mark.

  “…What do you want?” I asked.

  His smirk widened. “Depends. Are you hiring?”

  I frowned. “For what?”

  “I know things,” he said simply. “People, places, movements. Who’s worth watching, who’s worth avoiding. You seem like the kind of guy who could use information.”

  I kept my grip firm. “…And what do you get out of it?”

  “A name, for starters.”

  I hesitated, then pulled back slightly, lowering the dagger but keeping it in sight.

  “…Zane.”

  His grin didn’t fade. “Levi.”

  Levi. I didn’t trust him—not yet—but something about the way he carried himself told me he wasn’t just messing around. And I could use someone who knew this city better than I did.

  “…Alright, Levi.” I released him fully, taking a step back. “Tell me something useful.”

  He dusted off his jacket, rolling his shoulders before giving me a lazy grin.

  “Well,” he said, “for starters—there’s been a lot of talk about a certain slave being stolen right from under the noses of some very important people.”

  My blood ran cold.

  Levi’s grin widened as he tapped his temple. “See? Told you I know things.”

  I crossed my arms, keeping my expression neutral. "And what does that have to do with me?"

  "Nothing at all," he said, voice dripping with amusement. "Just that I happened to see it go down. And, well… the man who got away with the slave had a pretty similar build to you."

  My fingers twitched slightly, but I forced myself to stay calm. "Oh? And from that alone, you suspect me?" I let out a dry chuckle, shifting my stance. "Don’t you think you need a little more than that before throwing around accusations? You do realize that kind of claim could get me killed, right?"

  Levi chuckled, the sound smooth, unfazed. He leaned back against the alley wall, one boot lazily propped against it. "Oh, I do. That’s why I’m not accusing you. I’m just making… an observation." He tilted his head, the dim light catching his smirk. "See, I don’t care much for heroes or slavers. But I do enjoy a good mystery. And when a ghost slips out of a heavily raided market without a trace? That’s interesting."

  I stayed silent, my mind racing. Was he just messing with me? Or did he actually know something? Either way, he was fishing for information.

  Levi pushed off the wall, stepping closer, his grin widening. "So? Care to entertain me?"