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Geon leaned against a cracked stone pillar in what had once been a vibrant city plaza. Now, it was little more than a battlefield riddled with shattered fountains, overturned benches, and broken glass. His body ached from the fight with the Infernal Grizzly, but it wasn’t the physical toll that weighed on him the most—it was the creeping weight of what lay ahead.
The notification about the Shadow Tendrils reward was still fresh in his mind. Unlike the natural flow of abilities tied to his Demon class, this reward felt... different. The description had been vague, but something about it sparked both curiosity and unease.
Rewarded Abilities
Name Description Activation Level Shadow Tendrils Tendrils as far as your shadow spreads, increases your mobility, versatility and more. Automatic and Manual Basic ??? ??? ??? ??? ??? ??? ??? ??? ??? ??? ??? ???
Geon held out his hand, focusing.
“Shadow Tendrils,” he muttered, feeling the strange pull deep within him.
The shadow at his feet rippled, flowing like water before erupting into a web of dark, writhing tendrils. They extended outward, undulating in the air as though they were alive.
“Whoa,” Geon whispered, taking a cautious step back.
The tendrils responded to his movements, slithering across the ground like serpents. One reached out and coiled around a nearby chunk of rubble, lifting it effortlessly before tossing it aside.
Geon’s mind raced with possibilities.
“Useful,” the shadow hissed, its voice resonating from somewhere deep within him. “Not as a weapon, but as a tool. Grasp, climb, restrain... escape.”
Geon nodded, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Yeah. This could actually work.”
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The sound of distant screams shattered the moment.
Geon’s smile vanished as he crouched low, his tendrils receding into the ground. The plaza was eerily quiet now, the crimson light casting long, jagged shadows.
He wasn’t alone.
Footsteps echoed across the plaza, heavy and deliberate. Geon gripped his shadow-sword, its weight familiar but not reassuring.
From behind a ruined fountain, a figure emerged. It was a man, tall and broad-shouldered, with a grim expression and a bloodied machete in his hand. His clothes were torn and stained, and his eyes were hard, devoid of mercy.
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The man stopped, his gaze locking onto Geon.
“Well, look at this,” he said, his voice gravelly. “A Demon. Haven’t seen one of your kind yet. Heard Demon classess are tough, though.”
Geon didn’t respond, his grip on the sword tightening. "Him as well... just like that woman earlier, how do they know my class?", he thought to himself.
The man smirked, raising his machete. “Let’s see if the rumors are true.”
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The man moved fast—faster than Geon had anticipated.
He darted across the plaza, his machete slicing through the air with deadly precision. Geon barely managed to block the first strike, the impact jarring his arms.
“Not bad,” the man said, his grin widening. “But you’ll need more than that.”
He swung again, and Geon sidestepped, his shadow-sword countering with a swift slash. The man dodged effortlessly, his movements fluid and practiced.
He’s good, Geon thought, his heart pounding. Too good.
The fight continued, each clash of weapons ringing out like thunder. Geon’s stamina was draining quickly, his muscles burning with the effort of keeping up. The man, meanwhile, seemed to be toying with him, his attacks relentless but not lethal.
“You’re holding back,” the man said, his tone almost mocking. “Don’t tell me you’re one of those types. The ones who think they can survive this without getting their hands dirty.”
Geon didn’t answer.
The man lunged again, his machete aimed at Geon’s chest. This time, Geon reacted differently.
“Shadow Tendrils!”
The shadows at his feet erupted, dark tendrils lashing out like vipers. One wrapped around the man’s wrist, stopping his machete mid-swing. Another coiled around his ankle, yanking him off balance.
The man grunted in surprise, struggling against the tendrils. “What the—?”
Geon didn’t hesitate. He rushed forward, his shadow-sword slashing downward.
The man twisted at the last second, the blade grazing his arm instead of striking a fatal blow. He snarled, wrenching free of the tendrils with sheer brute strength.
“Clever trick,” he said, blood dripping from his arm. “But tricks won’t save you.”
He charged again, more aggressive this time. Geon’s tendrils lashed out, but the man was ready, dodging and weaving through them with startling agility.
Geon felt panic rising in his chest. The tendrils were useful, but they weren’t enough.
Think, Geon. Think.
The man was closing in, his machete arcing toward Geon’s neck. At the last moment, Geon dropped to the ground, his tendrils pulling him backward like a slingshot.
The man’s swing missed by inches, the momentum carrying him forward. Geon seized the opportunity, his tendrils snapping out and coiling around the man’s legs.
With a grunt of effort, Geon yanked.
The man fell hard, his machete clattering to the ground. Geon was on him in an instant, his shadow-sword pressing against the man’s throat.
“Stop!” Geon shouted, his voice trembling.
The man froze, his eyes narrowing. “What are you waiting for? Do it.”
Geon hesitated, his hands shaking.
“Kill me,” the man snarled, his voice filled with defiance. “Or I’ll kill you the moment I get the chance.”
Geon’s grip faltered. He couldn’t do it. Not again.
The shadow’s voice echoed in his mind. “Weakness will be your undoing.”
“No,” Geon muttered, shaking his head. “This isn’t weakness. It’s—”
The man moved.
In one swift motion, he grabbed a shard of glass from the ground and drove it toward Geon’s chest.
Instinct took over.
The tendrils reacted faster than Geon’s thoughts, lashing out and wrapping around the man’s arm. The shadow-sword plunged downward, piercing the man’s heart.
For a moment, there was silence.
The man’s body went limp, his eyes wide with shock.
Geon staggered back, his sword dissolving into smoke as the man’s body disintegrated into ash.
His phone buzzed.
Enemy defeated: Human Butcher Ben
Experience gained: 2330 points.
+1 Level up!
+1 Level up!
+1 Level up!
Player reached Level 28.
Geon sank to his knees, his chest heaving. The tendrils receded, their work done.
“Kill or be killed,” he whispered, his voice hollow. “That’s all this is.”
The shadow loomed over him, silent but watchful.
Geon didn’t feel victorious. He didn’t feel stronger.
He felt like he was losing himself.
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