Lian sat before the cold corpse of the Forest Guardian, the echoes of their battle still ringing in his ears. The blood that stained the ground had not yet dried, and the air pressed heavy against his chest as if nature itself admitted defeat before him.
Then, among the shattered remains, he noticed it—
A strange mask, black as midnight, etched with twisted runes that seemed to pulse faintly, as though alive.
He reached for it, his fingers brushing against the rough stone surface.
[Cursed Artifact Detected: "Mask of Sins"]
[Effect: Triples the power of chosen Sin]
[Side Effect: Gradual loss of mental stability]
A shiver ran down his spine, not from fear—but from exhilaration.
"Power… in exchange for my mind? Hah! As if I ever had a sound mind to begin with."
Slowly, he placed the mask upon his face.
The moment it touched his skin, the world twisted. His vision darkened, and his soul was drowned in a chorus of warped voices—screams, whispers, and mad laughter, all clawing at his sanity.
[Sin Resonance Activated]
[Your Wrath has been amplified: +300%]
His heartbeat thundered, veins bulging as crimson energy rippled through his body. Shadows bent toward him, as though recognizing their master.
Lian rose from the ground, his figure now draped in an ominous aura. For a brief second, he felt… invincible.
But beyond the forest, the world had already begun to stir.
Whispers spread across nearby villages: "The Guardian is dead. Something killed it." Hunters, mercenaries, and opportunists moved toward the forest, drawn by the scent of treasure and blood. Even the nobles in their distant manors felt the tremor of change.
The balance of the region had been broken. And at the center of the storm stood one man—
A man wearing a cursed mask, with a grin sharp enough to split the world in two.
"Let them come," Lian muttered, his voice distorted beneath the mask. "The more they gather… the more sins I can reap."