The forest pressed in around Myuk, a living entity that breathed and whispered secrets in the rustling leaves. He moved with purpose, each step echoing the newfound resolve that coursed through him. The intoxicating power he had tasted lingered on his skin, a reminder of the darkness he had embraced. He was no longer the timid boy who had once cowered in the shadows; he was a force to be reckoned with, and he felt the thrill of it deep within him.
As he walked, Myuk opened the notification window that had appeared in his mind, studying the description of his newly acquired skill:
Mimicry (Lvl 2)
Ability to imitate or replicate a trait, behavior, or characteristic of another being. (Skills Acquired: 3/5)
Hero can now mimic up to five abilities, with increased efficiency and potency. Skills copied at this level may also have a minor enhancement in their effectiveness, allowing the Hero to wield them with greater precision and power.
The implications of this skill sent a shiver of excitement through him. He could replicate the abilities of those he encountered, enhancing his own power and versatility. The thought of wielding spells and techniques that had once seemed out of reach filled him with anticipation. He could become more than just a shadow; he could be the master of the darkness itself.
Closing the window, Myuk continued deeper into the forest, his senses heightened. He could feel the weight of the trees around him, their gnarled branches twisting like fingers reaching out to him. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and decay, a reminder of the life that flourished in the shadows. He welcomed it, relishing the thrill of the hunt that lay ahead.
Yet, unbeknownst to him, he was not alone. A presence lurked in the underbrush, watching his every move with keen interest. The assailant, a figure cloaked in the forest’s natural camouflage, trailed him silently, moving with the grace of a predator. Their eyes, sharp and calculating, followed Myuk’s path, noting the way he carried himself—confident, ruthless, and unyielding.
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He recalled the mage woman’s final moments, the way her laughter had turned to screams, the life that had drained from her eyes. The memory should have haunted him, but instead, it filled him with a sense of purpose. He had taken control of his fate, and he would not shy away from the darker paths that lay ahead. There was no room for hesitation or remorse; he was the master of his own destiny now.
As Myuk ventured deeper into the forest, the sound of running water reached his ears. He followed the sound until he came upon a small, secluded pond. The surface of the water shimmered in the dappled sunlight that broke through the dense canopy above. Myuk knelt at the water’s edge, cupping his hands to drink and then splashing his face with the cool, refreshing liquid. For a brief moment, he allowed himself to enjoy the calmness, his reflection rippling in the pond as he washed away the remnants of his recent battles.
But the tranquility was short-lived. The subtle shift in the air, the almost imperceptible rustle of leaves, signaled the presence of another. Before Myuk could fully register the danger, a blade was pressed against his neck, cold and unyielding.
“Who are you?” a voice hissed in his ear, low and dangerous. The assailant’s grip was firm, their breath hot against his skin. The forest seemed to hold its breath, as if awaiting Myuk’s response.
In that split second, Myuk’s mind went into overdrive. He felt the pulse of danger, but also the rush of adrenaline, the thrill of being hunted and hunter all at once. Without a word, he activated Flash Step. In an instant, he vanished from the assailant’s grasp, reappearing behind them with a swiftness that defied logic.
The assailant stumbled forward, momentarily disoriented by the sudden loss of their target. Their confidence faltered as Myuk vanished before their eyes, reappearing behind them like a specter. Fear gripped their heart—this was no ordinary boy, and they had gravely underestimated the darkness they were dealing with.
Myuk’s voice, cold and menacing, cut through the air. “Who are you?” he demanded, his tone a reflection of the darkness that had taken root within him.
The assailant turned, eyes wide with surprise, but Myuk was already prepared for whatever came next.