The days bled into each other, indistinguishable and relentless, like the bodies strewn across the battlefield. What had once been a flickering hope of surviving nine more fights stretched into an endless sea of bloodshed, where the cost of survival felt like an ever-growing burden. Each day dragged on, feeling like an eternity, each battle a harsh reminder of what he had become. The initial thrill of victory—the rush of being alive—slowly morphed into something darker, something insatiable. Caine could no longer see the battlefield as a place of honor, but as a place where his soul was slowly being chipped away, piece by piece.
The man he had been—the knight-in-training, full of dreams and honor, the mage with a sense of purpose—had faded into the abyss. Each fight, each life he took, tore further at the fabric of the person he had been. His hope for a better future, the one that once burned brightly for his mothers and for the world, felt like a distant memory, lost somewhere deep within the chaos. With every swing of his sword, every death he inflicted, he felt more alive than he had ever been, yet it was a hollow, twisted kind of life. A life born not of hope, but of a desperate need to survive. He was no longer fighting for his future; he was fighting to feed the dark craving that had taken root within him.
The power that surged through him, his Sixth Sense, had become both a gift and a curse. What had once been a gift he was estatic for now an addiction—an insatiable need to feed off the raw emotions of life and death. Every scream, every cry for mercy, every shudder of fear and regret, it all washed over him like a flood, and he drank it in. It gave him strength, but it also made him weaker, tearing at the core of his humanity. With each kill, he could feel the darkness within him grow, pulling him further from the man he once was. The line between right and wrong blurred into nothingness as his mind twisted with the emotions of those around him. Their anger, their terror, their despair—he could no longer tell where they ended and he began. And in the end, it didn't matter.
His Sixth Sense was always active, a low hum in the back of his mind, feeding him the emotions of every living thing around him. It was like an invisible web, gnawing at the edges of his consciousness, pulling him further into madness. He couldn't escape it. He couldn't escape the pain, the grief, the endless flood of emotions that drowned him. It wasn't just the enemy's anger that he felt—it was the helplessness of those he fought beside, the weight of their fear, their loss. The despair that seemed to hang in the air like a poison, suffocating him with every breath he took.
But through it all, there was one constant—one anchor that kept him tethered to the world, kept him from slipping completely. Kim.
To him she was the one person who could understand him, the only one who shared the same power. Her presence was the only thing that ever gave him any sense of peace amidst the storm of emotions that raged within him. But even now, even as she stood by his side, Caine could feel the distance between them . It wasn't real between them never was. She was there with him, but there was no warmth in her touch, no tenderness in her gaze. There was only the cold, artificial comfort of two broken souls trying to hold on to something they no longer understood. And for a moment, Caine thought he could live with it—that he could bury what he truly felt, push aside the yearning for something more. But it was never that simple.
In the midst of the deadliest skirmish they had yet faced, everything shattered.
A tidal wave of Larian soldiers came crashing down on them. The battlefield erupted in a fury of screams, weapons, and blood. Caine could feel it—he could feel the bloodlust surging through his veins, the primal urge to kill, to survive. But this time, it wasn't just his own emotions that rushed in. The floodgates opened, and the emotions of everyone around him—his comrades, his enemies, the innocent bystanders—came crashing in like a wave of agony. The pain, the anger, the fear, the sorrow. It was overwhelming, drowning him in a sea of raw, unfiltered emotion. Every death, every scream, felt like a knife tearing through his chest. The fear, the terror—he could feel it as if it was his own, crawling under his skin, suffocating him.
He tried to focus. Tried to ground himself. But it was too much. His mind was splinting, his body trembling, and the world around him faded in and out. The only thing he could grasp onto was Kim. He tried to connect with her, but it was as if she were slipping through his fingers, just out of reach.
And then, everything went dark.
When Caine finally came to, the world around him had shifted. The chaos of the battlefield was gone, replaced by a heavy silence that pressed in on him from all sides. His mind was foggy, his body ached, and yet something worse was gnawing at him—something cold, something deeper than any physical wound.
He saw her.
Kim's body lay in front of him, lifeless. Her blood mixed with the dirt, staining the ground around her. Her once-vibrant face was pale, her eyes closed forever. The world stopped. The battle continued but to him Time seemed to slow. His heart shattered in his chest. She had died,
The weight of her death crushed him. It was a loss that felt like it would swallow him whole, a grief so deep, so consuming, that it felt as though he was drowning in it. He had been drowning in the emotions of others for so long, but this—this was different. This was the loss of the person he felt understood him. The one person who had kept him tethered to the world. And now, she was gone.
The grief tore through him like a wild animal, clawing at his insides, ripping him apart. It was suffocating, a black void that threatened to swallow him completely. In that moment, he realized that he had nothing left. He had lost His future his "woman" possibly his parents if he wanted them to have a good life as it was better to not associate them with a criminal.
The madness came for him then, a torrent of anger, regret, and despair. Every emotion, every scream, every death he had ever felt rushed back at once. It was like a tidal wave crashing over him, and he couldn't escape it. It tore at his mind, shredded the last remnants of his sanity. He wanted to scream, to cry, to throw himself into the dirt and let the world consume him. But instead,, he found the strength to keep fighting.
He Blacked out, his body stood still fighting using only his six sense ability, only advancing his way through the battlefield, his mind lost in a haze of fury and grief. But he fought And in the end, they won. They won the fifth Suicide battle for the kingdom Arizurth , his body covered in blood,mouth tasting metal and his soul shattered, but victorious. It wasn't enough. Nothing would ever be enough.
That day, for the first time in what felt like an eternity, he was acknowledged.
Granted the privilege to visit the town beyond the camp's border—under strict surveillance, of course—and given a single gold coin, he did the only thing that made sense to him he went to the red light district.
After Kim's death He realized then that he'd wasted too much time with just one woman. One. What a fool if he wanted to grow stronger and make change in the world to use his awakened ability not keep it on the back and with that resolve he began what would become his infamous tour of the town.
Day after day, he roamed the red-light district, plowing his way through its residents and collecting their awakener powers.
The sheer absurdity of it all was comedic—sock summoning, mood muffling, coin flips with a slightly better chance—was this really what he'd been yearning for all these years? He obsessed over awakening, never knowing this was also q possibility since your ability was often kept secrets if not a powerful one seeing what it was like for regular people it hard not to laugh.
It was a fresh breath of air from the madness of feeling others emotions.
He wanted a fix.
Strolling through the red light district again he realized he had gotten all the use out of them they no longer had anything to offer he turned toward camp, defeated, But just as he stepped off the main strip, something odd happened.
A café, one he swore had never been there before, called out to him. It had no sign, just a door painted in deep forest green and a scent of roasted beans and cinnamon.
And there she was.
She stood behind the counter like she owned the space not with arrogance, but with that effortless stillness some people carry.
She was tall for a woman who wasn't a knight or mage—maybe 5'9" or a bit more. Her frame looked lean, almost willowy, but not fragile. She moved like someone used to silence, her posture relaxed but impossibly precise—like her limbs had learned to conserve motion, not waste it.
Her skin had a pale, porcelain tone that caught the café's warm lighting like moonlight through amber glass. Her features were delicate but sharply defined: high cheekbones, a slender jaw, and lips that held just the barest curve of amusement—like she was always in on a joke no one else could hear.
But it was her hair and eyes that truly caught Caine.
She had long, wavy ginger hair that shifted between copper and gold when she turned her head—thick, slightly messy strands tucked lazily behind one ear. A few curls slipped free and framed her face, giving her a softness that contrasted with her stillness.
Her eyes, though—those green eyes—were something special.
Not just because they were bright or rare, but because they were his shade. That deep, saturated forest green, the kind of color that looked alive And in that moment, after weeks spent wallowing in shallow pleasures and hollow powers, Caine knew he had to experience her.
"Welcome," she said, voice soft but unwavering. "You ordering something? Or just admiring the air?"she asked. Her voice was calm, low, and clear. No hesitation, no inflection forced for customer service. Just presence.
Caine blinked, then gave a half-smile. "Little of both." Then, after the briefest pause, "Unless you've got something that looks as good as you."
Her brow lifted—not in surprise, but amusement. Her lips curved just slightly. Not quite a smirk. Not quite a smile.
"We don't serve compliments," she said, tilting her head, "but I'll see what I can do."
Caine couldn't help it—he grinned. "That wasn't a compliment. That was a hypothesis."
Now she smiled. Just a little.
And then she stepped closer—only half a step—but it was enough. Close enough for Caine to catch the faint scent of roasted beans and something softer—lavender, maybe.
"You're new," she said, still watching him like a puzzle she might want to solve later. "Solider boy?"
"Yeah," he said. "Something like that."
She nodded once. "You want something warm or something strong?"
Caine didn't hesitate. "I want whatever you think I'll come back for."
Her smile deepened—subtle, but unmistakable now.
"I've got something in mind," she said, and turned to go.
But before she made it behind the counter, she stopped. Looked back over her shoulder.
"I take my break in ten," she said, voice just above a whisper. "You planning on still being here?"
Caine met her gaze, pulse rising, grin sharpening.
"I was hoping you'd ask."
——-
Character sheet for you guys and Caine doesn't have this by the way just for the viewers all he gets to see is a list of his abilities.
Awakener Character Sheet:: Caine
Class: Passive Awakener
Awakened Ability: Echo Thread
Allows the user to replicate a female individual's awakened ability after achieving intimate physical contact. Only copies Base Raw Power..
F-tier ability's
Sock Summon – Summons a single, damp sock into your hand. It's never dry.
Mood Muffle – Temporarily silences awkward silences, but does not prevent them.
Micro Blink – Teleports the user exactly one centimeter forward.
Coin Flip Crit – 51% chance of flipping heads on any coin toss.
Bitter Aftertaste – Causes enemies to feel deep, unexplained regret exactly six hours after interacting with you.
Spectral Dad Joke – Projects a random dad joke into nearby minds once per hour. Cannot be suppressed.
Perfect Skip – Allows user to always perform a perfect rock skip across water.
Pheromone Flicker – Causes the user to smell like burnt cinnamon for 3.5 seconds.
Mild Invisibility – Only renders the user invisible when no one is looking.
E-TierHair Parting Mastery – Allows flawless parting of any hair, regardless of type or texture.
Convenient Fog – Summons a misty fog around the user for dramatic effect. It provides no cover or concealment.
Auto-Mirror – Notifies the user after public interactions if something was on their face or in their teeth.
Polite Intimidation – User can intimidate others, but only while being extremely courteous.
Pocket Dimension (Smaller Than a Hamster) – Stores any object smaller than a golf ball in a personal pocket space.
D-Tier
QTactical Blinking – Automatically blink to prevent debris or dust from entering your eyes.
Clean Touch – Removes dust, grime, or minor dirt from any surface with a single swipe.
Fresh Breath – User always has fresh, neutral breath regardless of what they eat or drink.
Minor Mend – Clothing and footwear self-repair minor damage overnight.
Ink Stability – Handwriting never smudges or bleeds through any surface.
C-Tier
Tireless Posture – User can sit or stand for hours without discomfort, stiffness, or fatigue.
Meal Memory – Instantly recall every ingredient, flavor, and texture from any past meal.
Auto-Wake – Wake at the exact time you mentally choose, without an alarm.
Drywalk – Feet stay completely dry regardless of surface moisture.
Knot Sense – Instinctively know how to untie or unravel any knot, no matter the complexity.
Direction Drift – Subconsciously lean or drift toward your intended direction, even without a map.
Echo Finder – Sense when you're being watched or listened to by detecting audio distortions in nearby space.
Visual Acuity – Instantly process everything you see. You notice tiny physical details—muscle twitches, eye movement, posture shifts—making it easier to read emotions, detect lies, or anticipate actions.
B-Tier
Perfect Temperature Sense – Know the exact temperature of food or drink before tasting.