My fist slammed against the wall again and again, hard, right above the photo of a woman with white hair and a stare as cold as ice. The skin on my knuckles split, blood seeping out and smearing the picture. It felt like punishing myself, but it didn't bring any relief.
I stopped, breath ragged. My heartbeat echoed in my head. Slowly I pulled my hand back and stared at the blood dripping from my knuckles. Damn it.
I tried to calm myself, then walked toward the mirror standing in the corner of the room. My reflection stared back at me with a mocking expression.
"Adam Socheron, you pathetic loser," I muttered at the reflection. My voice sounded foreign, like someone else disgusted with my existence. "How long are you going to keep this up? To hell with your fear. To hell with you. Why can't you, just once, act like the MCs in those manhwas you read? Even when they start weak, they fight back. Not you. You're nothing but a pitiful coward."
I let out a breath, not one of relief but the kind that belongs to someone too tired even to sigh.
Honestly, I didn't look that bad. If strangers saw me, they might even say I was handsome. My grey stone hair was a mess, nearly brushing my shoulders. My skin was pale. My eyes? Violet. Unique, people said. My jawline was decent, but my face was always buried under a gloomy expression, so it was wasted.
My body was the same—not bad, not great either. Lean but not scrawny. I stood at a hundred and eighty centimeters. At the moment, I was wearing a plain black T-shirt and dark navy chinos.
Suddenly my stomach growled loud enough to make me wince. I glanced at the clock—four in the afternoon. Damn. I really hadn't eaten since morning.
After roasting myself enough, I finally worked up the courage to leave my room. The atmosphere shifted the second I stepped outside; the house felt foreign, making me want to crawl back into my messy, familiar den.
But hunger was stronger than discomfort.
I just hoped those cursed women had left something behind for me to eat.
For once, the universe wasn't completely cruel. I found a loaf of bread in the kitchen cabinet. I opened it and counted fast. Five slices left. Not bad. Then I spotted a jar of chocolate spread. Not bad at all. Without thinking twice, I grabbed both like a petty thief desperate to escape before getting caught.
The house was quiet, and I was grateful. I didn't want to meet anyone. But when I reached the living room and started up the stairs, my body froze. I felt another presence.
I turned.
A woman stood not far away, staring straight at me with golden eyes that pinned me like nails through my soul.
Angeline Socheron. My stepsister.
She had dark purple-dyed hair, long enough to reach her waist. Her face was petite and sweet, too sweet for the angry expression now plastered on it. Her nose was small, her lips thin, but that gaze? It was sharp, hard, and it made my breath catch in my throat.
Gulp.
I swallowed instinctively, like a thief caught in the act.
She was still wearing her academy uniform. A plain white blouse with a neat red ribbon tied at her throat. A navy blazer with little crests, a knee-length skirt, black stockings that made her legs look long. Her bag was still strapped to her back. She had just gotten home.
Angeline was obviously angry. The way her jaw tightened and her eyes blazed told me her day had gone straight to hell. Whatever the reason, it wasn't my problem. All I wanted was to get back upstairs with bread and chocolate in hand, then hide behind my door until the world forgot I existed.
Unfortunately, that simple plan crumbled as soon as I took a step.
Before I could even set foot on the stairs, Angeline moved. My body was slammed onto the floor, the bread and spread flying, scattering everywhere. The sound of the impact echoed, and a sharp pain shot through my back, making me gasp for air.
In an instant, she was on top of me. Her breathing was rough, her purple hair falling over her shoulders, her dark eyes staring down at me with disgust as if I were an insect. From my pinned position, I could even catch a glimpse of the plain white panties hidden beneath her skirt.
I quickly looked up, refusing to let my eyes get trapped there. But what I found was worse: Angeline's cold stare, full of loathing, piercing straight into my chest.
Fuck. Today was officially a major bust.
My body shuddered. I knew that look. The look of a predator before it tears its prey apart. Every time she looked at me like that, I knew the outcome: my body would be bruised and battered.
Funny, isn't it? Pathetic, too. I'm a guy who's much bigger and taller than her, while she's just a skinny stepsister, her height only reaching my neck. But I'm still terrified.
Why? Simple: she is not an ordinary person.
In this world some people are called Hunter and Awakener. They are not just fighters. They are humans upgraded beyond reason.
Awakeners are people who were "awakened" by something unknown. Once awakened, they connect to a System, a strange mechanism that gives them stats and skills like a game.
They matter because Dungeons appear all over the world, random openings that house monsters that do not belong in human lands. If a dungeon is not cleared in time, its monsters spill out and wreck the area.
Hunters go into dungeons, slaughter the monsters, and close the gap. Sounds heroic, maybe. But Hunters are terrifying. A single S-class Hunter can wield destructive power like a small nuclear device. One could wipe a city off the map on a whim.
That brat astride me? She's one of them. Angeline Socheron. An Awakener, a student at Nine Stars Academy, the best Hunter school built by nine of the world's strongest Hunters.
I used to be a student there too. Or technically I still am, if you count someone who hasn't shown up in three months. I haven't been expelled, but I also haven't been in class.
I'm just an ordinary person who failed to become an Awakener.
There's a chasm separating ordinary people from Awakeners. Therefore, someone like me could never defeat this bitch.
"Ughh—" My breath hitched as she suddenly raised her foot. The black stocking encased her slender calf, and then her heel slammed mercilessly into my face.
I winced hard. The warm scent from her foot clung to my nose. A mix of skin, sweat, and something else hard to describe other than… damn. The pain spread, but it mingled strangely with another, unbidden urge rising within me.
Fuck! I'm so screwed.
With her black-stockinged heel still pressed against my cheek, Angeline started applying more pressure. My face was forced sideways, my right cheek crushed by the relentless pressure of her foot.
"You useless piece of trash!" she snapped, her voice hissing with venom. "All you can do is lock yourself in your room like a rat! Do you think I'm not ashamed to have family like you? You're just a parasite, only bringing shame to this family name!"
"Stop it," I mumbled softly, my voice hoarse and strained.
But she just lifted her foot momentarily, only to slam it back down onto my cheekbone with a force that made my head rattle. "You coward! A parasite who only knows how to spend Mother's money! Look at yourself! You even have to steal a loaf of bread like a starving dog!"
"Stop," I mumbled again, my hands starting to rise to protect my face.
"It's been three months since you set foot in the academy! Everyone knows you're garbage who failed to Awaken! They laugh at you, and they laugh at me for having to share a roof with trash like you!" Her heel came down again, faster, harder. Each impact was a staccato of humiliation, cutting deep.
"Stop..." I hissed, now sounding like a desperate prayer. My hands covered my face, but the impacts from her foot still broke through the gaps between my fingers.
Then she says something that breaks the last thread inside me. "Trash like you should just die. Your life is worthless. If you live, you'll only be a burden to others. Your dead father would be so disappointed to have a pathetic son like you!"
Something inside me snaps.
"STOP, I SAID STOP, YOU BITCH!"
My shout shatters the quiet living room. It is no longer the muttered voice of a coward. It is the roar of someone who has been stomped into silence. Without realizing it my hands have closed around her slender ankle with an unexpected grip, strength I did not know I had.
Everything stops.
Angeline freezes above me. Her anger and disgust are locked on her face like a mask. Dust that was floating in the air hangs, motionless. The noise from outside the window vanishes. The world seems to pause.
And before my eyes, a transparent window appeared, with cold, mechanical, glowing text.
[System Awakening Detected...]
[Host's Rage and Desire for Retribution have reached the threshold.]
[Unique Ability Unlocked:
[Vengeance System Initializing...]
[Primary Directive: Punish the one who has caused you humiliation and pain.]
[Target Designated: Angeline Socheron.]
[The World is Frozen. Only You, the Judge and Executioner, can move.]
[Punish Her!]