A swirl of eerie energy gathered in the air, followed by the sound of pages fluttering. Suddenly, an old, dust-caked tome materialized out of nowhere and dropped heavily onto the ground at Ethan's feet.
Its cover was a deep midnight blue, worn and ancient, as though it had endured centuries of use. Strange claw-shaped symbols were embossed along the spine, radiating an unsettling aura.
Ethan bent down slowly, his pulse quickening.
The system's voice followed in its usual monotone, though this time it carried a strange weight:
"Congratulations. You have obtained a Level 9 treasure—'The Nine Talons of the Abyss.' This martial technique allows the user to channel devastating power through their fingers, striking with a force that rends flesh and bone with unnatural precision. To your enemies, resistance will feel as fragile as rotted wood."
Ethan shivered involuntarily. The Nine Talons of the Abyss… Just hearing the description made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.
"This is insane," he muttered under his breath, crouching to pick up the book. The leather was cold to the touch, as if it had been resting in a grave.
When he flipped the cover open, Ethan half expected the text to be in some unreadable dead language. To his surprise, every word was printed in clear, modern English—neatly organized, and even accompanied by detailed illustrations of hand positions and movements. The pages almost glowed faintly in the dark cemetery air.
This… this looks like an actual training manual, he thought.
Part of him wanted to laugh. Just hours ago, he'd been annoyed at finding a useless USB stick. Now, he was holding what looked like the script to turn him into a monster out of a nightmare.
But his excitement was tangled with unease. If this technique was real, would practicing it twist him into something inhuman? The system didn't exactly come with a warning label.
He snapped the book shut with a frustrated sigh. "Forget it. I'll think about this later. What I need now is to figure out the next mission."
The system chimed, almost as if it had been waiting for him to say that.
"A new round of treasure hunting has been unlocked. Please check the task column."
Ethan closed his eyes and focused. Sure enough, a glowing task list appeared in his mind.
Current Mission
Collect 8 Level 1 treasures from the real world.
Requirement: At least one treasure must be Level 2 or higher.
Time limit: 3 days.
Reward:
3 random treasures
20 points
Unlocking of the "Historical Plane" space
For the first time, there were buttons beneath the task description:
Accept Now
Accept Later
A note at the bottom read: "You may postpone the task for up to 30 days. After that, it will automatically begin."
Ethan exhaled. At least the system wasn't forcing him to jump straight in. This meant he could choose when to risk his life.
But hesitation only lasted a second. "If I wait, I'll just worry myself sick. Better to start now."
He mentally clicked Accept Now.
The radar pulsed, and the system's tone sharpened:
"Congratulations. Mission activated. Warning: Failure to complete the mission will result in a deduction of 200 points. If your balance is insufficient, user termination will be immediate."
Ethan's blood ran cold.
"Wait, what?! Termination?!"
He quickly checked his points. In the corner of his vision, the number glared back at him: 15.
"Fifteen…" He swallowed hard. "So if I fail, I'm dead."
For a long moment, he stood frozen among the gravestones, the night air colder than ever. Then he clenched his fists.
"No. No way. I'm not dying because of this. I'll find those treasures. Every damn one of them."
His determination fueled his steps as he scooped up the rewards—the sneakers, the light armor, and the claw manual. The armor was bulky, and lugging it around made no sense. Then a thought struck him.
He raised his hand and stared at the black ring on his finger. The storage ring. How had he forgotten?
"Let's test this thing…"
He touched the small dark gem, and a black void opened up in the air before him. Inside stretched a strange, pocket-sized space, about the size of a walk-in closet. Without hesitation, Ethan shoved the armor, shoes, and book inside. The void swallowed them whole, leaving no trace.
He flexed his hand. The ring was as light as ever. Not a hint of extra weight.
A grin tugged at his lips. "Now this… this is a real treasure."
With his load lightened, he hopped back onto his battered electric bike and sped toward the city lights.
By the time he returned to the internet café, it was just before nine.
Inside, the place was still buzzing, screens glowing, keyboards clacking. Ethan burst in and clapped his hands loudly. "Alright, everyone—wrap it up. We're closing early tonight."
A chorus of groans rose from the rows of gamers.
From behind the counter, Chloe popped her head up, eyes narrowing. "Closing? Early? Did you hit your head or something? You never close before midnight."
"Inspection," Ethan lied quickly. "Some big official check tonight. Can't risk it."
Chloe squinted, clearly unconvinced, but she didn't press. Instead, she started shooing the customers along with a practiced mix of sarcasm and threats. Within ten minutes, the café was empty except for the two of them.
Chloe sat back at the desk, counting out the day's pathetic earnings before sliding the bills across to him. "Rent's still bleeding us dry, you know."
Ethan forced a grin. "Relax. Your brother here's too stubborn to go down that easy. I'll figure something out."
Her lips quirked into a smirk, though her eyes betrayed worry. "Better. Or I'll have to find a new boss to annoy."
They bantered a little longer, then Chloe stood, stretching. "Alright, I'm heading home."
"You sure?" Ethan asked, suddenly uneasy. "It's late. Want me to walk you?"
She shook her head. "My place isn't far. Don't worry."
But as she stepped out into the street, Ethan lingered by the doorway, watching her go. Something about the sight of her walking into the neon-lit night left an ache in his chest he couldn't explain.
"Be careful," he called softly.
She waved without turning back.
And as she walked beneath the streetlights, Chloe's fingers brushed the edge of the swimming cap he'd given her earlier. A strange look flickered in her eyes—something between amusement and sadness.
"Finally showing a little concern, huh, Ethan?" she murmured. Her voice was low, almost carried away by the wind. "But maybe… maybe it's too late for that."
The night swallowed her words, leaving Ethan alone in the glow of the café lights.
(End of Chapter 5)