A cold shiver ran down his spine as his trembling hands curled into fists. The fight had been brutal, and now the price was clear. A couple of mana bolts had been the difference between Sophie being alive and being dead. The thought made his stomach churn.
Then, the notification appeared before him, its glowing blue text indifferent to the carnage around him
[Level Up: Healer Level 1 Achieved]- Stats Allocated
Just as Richter received the notification, a sudden impact sent him sprawling into the dirt. His vision blurred as he tumbled, barely registering the pain before another blow struck his side, forcing a sharp gasp from his lips. The cold metal of the staff reverberated against his ribs, sending a jolt of agony through his body.
Jason loomed over him, his tear-streaked face contorted with rage, grief, and disgust. Whatever sorrow had clouded his expression moments ago had twisted into something raw and furious.
"This was your fault!" Jason spat, his voice hoarse with anguish, shaking with barely restrained fury. "Why did Dad have to die for you? He shouldn't have had to make that choice! He shouldn't have had to save you! If you had just—just stayed back, just done your damn job—he’d still be here!"
His breath hitched, his grip tightening on the staff. "You were supposed to heal, to keep us alive! But instead, Dad bled out in the dirt while you stood there! You let him die!"
Another strike. The staff slammed into Richter’s ribs with a brutal, unforgiving force, sending a shockwave of agony through his torso. A sickening crunch echoed in his ears, and for a fleeting moment, all sound seemed to drain from the world. White-hot pain erupted along his side, radiating like fire licking at his bones. His breath hitched, strangled, as the air was forced from his lungs, leaving him gasping—drowning in the sheer intensity of it. A broken rib—maybe more. Every nerve in his body screamed, but his limbs refused to respond. He tried to move, to push himself up, but the pain was a crushing weight, an anchor that kept him shackled to the blood-streaked earth.
Richter tried to speak, but only a garbled choke of blood and spit escaped his lips. His body trembled, his vision swimming with pain and exhaustion. Jason stood over him, his chest rising and falling with ragged breaths. Then, without a word, he let the staff slip from his grip, the metal clattering against the dirt.
For a moment, he just stared down at Richter, his fists clenching and unclenching, as if fighting an internal war. His expression twisted, a storm of fury, grief, and something else—something darker. Then, finally, he turned away.
He's really going to leave me like this. Broken, bleeding, abandoned. I could already picture it—some beast sniffing me out, drawn by the scent of blood, finishing what Jason started. Would he even care? Would he even look back? Or was I just another mistake that needed erasing?
"Sophie was so brave. We never really got along—she always found me annoying. But I loved her. And now... look at her."
Richter’s throat tightened as he turned to see Jason crouched over his sister’s body, his shoulders shaking. The weight of grief hung heavy in the air, suffocating in its intensity. Jason’s fingers clenched against the dirt, his whole-body tense as if willing her to wake up, as if sheer force of will could undo what had happened.
Richter swallowed hard. He had to do something—anything. His body screamed in protest as he shifted, his ribs aching with each shallow breath. Summoning what little energy he had left, he let mana pool into his palm, warmth flooding his fingertips as he pressed his hand against his battered ribs. The faint glow of healing magic flickered, mending torn tissue and dulling the sharp edges of pain.
Jason didn’t notice. He was lost in his grief, his world narrowed down to the lifeless form before him. And for now, Richter let him have that moment.
Summoning what little strength remained, Richter rolled onto his knees, each movement a struggle against the lingering pain. He forced himself upright, his breath ragged, and began making his way toward Jason with slow, deliberate steps. He had to try and comfort the lad. They were all they had now. Yes, he was a stranger, but in this unforgiving world, it was better to face the unknown together than to be alone.
It was a mistake. The moment Richter placed his hand on Jason’s shoulder, he felt the tension coil in the boy’s muscles, a live wire ready to snap. Before he could react, Jason was on his feet, his grief and rage boiling over into raw, unchecked aggression.
The punch came hard and fast, snapping Richter’s head to the side. He barely had time to process the impact before he hit the ground, his back slamming against the dirt. But Jason wasn’t done.
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With a guttural roar, he dropped onto Richter, straddling him as his fists came down, one after another. Each strike sent fresh waves of pain through Richter’s skull, his vision blurring with every impact. He tasted blood, warm and metallic, pooling in his mouth. His head throbbed, his ears rang, and his vision flickered like a failing light.
A faint glow caught his eye—his health bar. It was dropping fast, each punch dragging it closer to the brink. This wasn’t just a beating. If Jason didn’t stop, he was going to die. Richter had to act—now. His mind screamed for a solution, but with no mana left, there were no spells to save him. Desperation clawed at his thoughts as his hands scrambled over the dirt, searching blindly for anything—anything that could turn the tide.
His fingers closed around something solid. A hilt. He didn’t have time to process what it was. Instinct took over, a primal, last-ditch effort to survive. With a ragged gasp, he thrust the blade upward.
The world seemed to freeze. The sharp steel of Sophie's blade was buried deep—too deep—through Jason’s throat. The boy’s eyes widened in shock, his expression a haunting mixture of disbelief and fear. He blinked once, twice, as if trying to understand what had just happened, his mouth opening, but no words came—only blood, thick and crimson, spilling from the corner of his lips.
His trembling fingers reached up, grasping futilely at the blade lodged in his neck, his strength already fading. A choked, gurgling sound escaped him as his body began to sag, the fight draining from him in an instant.
A cold, emotionless notification flickered before Richter’s eyes, the System’s indifference cutting deeper than any blade.
[You have slain: Human Level 0, Caster Level 1]
The System processed the kill with mechanical indifference, a simple string of data reducing Jason’s life to nothing more than a log entry. No mourning, no hesitation—just cold efficiency. Richter’s breath shuddered as he stared at the notification, his hands still trembling around the blood-slicked hilt of Sophie’s blade.
Jason’s body slumped off him, landing unceremoniously atop the remains of his sister. The world seemed to hold its breath for a moment—until it didn’t.
A sudden jolt of pain ripped through Richter, sharp and all-consuming, like fire threading through every cell in his body. His vision fractured, glitching, the world around him flickering like a corrupted system screen. The agony lasted only a second, but it left an imprint, a lingering ache that refused to fade. Then, the pain sharpened, localizing—his right cheek burned as though seared by an unseen brand.
Panic clawed at Richter’s mind. His health was already dangerously low, yet as the pain intensified, his HP remained untouched. Not a single point drained. His breath came in ragged gasps, his fingers trembling as he touched his face, confusion mixing with dread. But he couldn’t move.
Something had locked him in place, an unseen force anchoring him to the spot. His limbs refused to obey; muscles tense yet paralyzed. It was as if his body no longer belonged to him. The burning sensation in his cheek flared hotter, searing into his skin, and his vision glitched again, warping the world around him. His mind screamed for control, for escape, but there was nothing he could do.
What was happening to him?
Still unable to move more notification came to him
[System Notification]
New Title Acquired: [First Human Murderer]
- Description: You are the first human to take the life of another in this world. The System acknowledges your actions, though whether this is a mark of infamy or power remains unknown.
- Effect: Grants a slight boost to all attributes when engaging in combat against human opponents
New Passive Acquired: [Mark of Cain]
- Description: Branded by the System, you now bear the insignia of Cain, the First Murderer. This mark is both a stigma and a warning—etched into your very being.
- Effect: By possessing this passive, you automatically receive the [Blessing of Cain, the First Murderer]. This blessing is irrevocable and cannot be rejected or removed, forever binding you to the path of Cain
Blessing Received: [Blessing of Cain, The First Murderer]
- Description: Cain, the First Murderer, is a name whispered in terror across the multiverse, feared by both mortals and gods alike. His hands are stained with more blood than any being before him, his legend built upon an uncountable number of slain foes. Through endless battles and unrelenting carnage, he perfected the art of killing, honing his instinct.
- Effect: While you hold this blessing you will gain an upgrade to your identify skill to [Eyes of the Murderer (Divine)]
[Skill Upgrade Acquired]
- Previous Skill: Identify (Inferior)
- New Skill: Eyes of the Murderer (Divine)
- Description: Through endless carnage, Cain honed his instincts beyond mortal comprehension, his gaze piercing through deception and fear alike. Now, a fragment of that knowledge is yours. You see the world not as it pretends to be, but as it truly is—stripped of illusion, deception, and doubt.
- Effect: Grants the ability to instantly identify any sentient being, revealing detailed insights into their abilities, weaknesses, and true nature. Non-sentient objects identified using this skill will function at the level of [Identify (Inferior)], though the skill itself has the potential for further upgrades.
As the last notification flickered before him, Richter's body succumbed to the overwhelming force overtaking him. His limbs slackened, his thoughts fractured, and the world around him dissolved into an abyss of darkness. Then—nothing.
Back in the divine halls, the muscular, scarred god received a notification—one he had expected for an eternity. The first of any new race to spill the blood of their own would always bear his mark. It was an immutable law of the System, woven into its very fabric.
When he first saw humanity’s name appear on the Integration List, he knew this moment would come. A new race meant a new murderer. It was only a matter of time. But for it to happen this quickly? That was unexpected.
He exhaled slowly; his expression unreadable. How far would this one go? Would he falter, as so many had before? Or had the System chosen something different this time?
The air around him shifted. He straightened, already prepared as the System summoned him.