Crescitlok, City of Brewing.
A tiny rat scurried across the alleyway and in the next instant a heavy boot came down, crushing it into pulp.
"Ahhh, shit! What the heck?!"
The man barked, lifting his foot in disgust. His bulging crotch swayed awkwardly as he scraped the bloody mess against the dumpster, trying his best to clean the sole.
"Get your shit together! You fucking pig!" a girl growled her face twisted in anger.
The man hearing that quickly bow and apologized.
"Ms. Elizabeth.. I am deeply sorry for that unsightly act." he bend down almost touching his head on the pavement below.
As he bent down, he turned to the satchel hanging at his waist, pulled out a parchment, and handed it to Elizabeth.
"Here, Ma'am."
His disgusting crouch was still visible, and he tried to cover it with one hand before Elizabeth could draw her sword and slash it.
He feared Elizabeth, though the girl appeared ordinary, with brown hair and brown eyes. Nothing about her stood out, except for the sword at her waist and the ring on her finger.
The sword was peculiar—its blade dull and worn, as if it hadn't been sharpened in decades. Anyone who tried to wield it would be swinging endlessly without cutting a thing.
Her ring was enchanted, and a single glance was enough for anyone to recognize it. She narrowed her gaze at the pig, who was visibly shaken, then shifted her eyes to the parchment, swiftly snatching it from his hand. She began to read its contents.
Gordon of Might, the sheep keeper of the Shepherds, rules the Northern Sector. Rumor has it he's been blessed by the Mistress of Head.
Class: Ignorant Guard.
Skills: Unwanted Boon, Might Drainer.
Unwanted Boon: Grants a target a benefit they never wished for.
Might Drainer: No one can possess greater vitality in his presence, limited to his class and power level.
'His skills aren't that great... how did he become the ruler?' Elizabeth wondered. Her finger unconsciously drifted to her chin as she absentmindedly scraped the lower part out of habit.
She shifted her gaze toward the Pig, who flinched as their eyes met.
"Yes, ma'am, is something wrong?" he whimpered, his voice nearly breaking into a squeal.
"What about the others?!" she asked, her voice stern and steady.
"The rest are on their way, ma'am. It might take a bit more time..." the pig replied, rubbing his hands together, his crouch awkwardly visible to the girl.
Disgusted, Elizabeth delivered a swift kick between his legs. The pig collapsed as pain shot through him. She tossed a bag that burst open on impact, spilling red mushrooms onto the ground.
Upon seeing them, the pig nearly forgot his agony, lunging forward to devour a piece.
Stepping out of the alleyway, Elizabeth called back, "Don't forget the rest. Next time." With that, she vanished into the mist.
For a moment, the street fell into an eerie silent. Only the faint drip of water echoed between the walls as the mist condensed, it felt like as if the night itself was hiding. A sudden cold breeze swept through, scattering loose papers across the ground.
That was when a masked man hurried toward the broken building, glancing over his shoulder as if someone was on his tail.
He slipped inside quickly, the yellow walls damp and the floors slick with moisture. His breath puffed out in small clouds.
"Arghhh...shit."
"Why is my luck so bad? An old man can't even get a moment's rest," the masked man muttered.
He waited inside the abandoned building, but no one came. Finally, he stepped out of hiding.
"Looks like no one is coming..."
With that, he pulled out a parchment covered in a language he had never seen before, its foreign script composed of strange, esoteric symbols.
"System, translate this."
[Translating the Royal Ernest Language.....]
[Translation Complete]
[The sculptor and sculptress have arrived and are starting their preparations. No one is allowed to disturb them. I noticed some people trying to sneak a peek at the unveiled statues, but one of them was punished by the soldiers. Honestly, I don't understand what's so special about a stone slab...]
"So it was a diary... useless!" Aaron sneered at the system's content, waving it away to shut down. He didn't want to read any further.
After arriving in the inner city, he ended up in an abandoned building outskirt of the city. Once he figured out where he was, he summoned the system and pulled out the necklace of the Blemish King, Ammat.
The system shimmered in front of him, displaying the contents.
Item Type: Amulet
Name:Grafted Sigil of Imperfection
User can change their flesh and make deformation on their body. Body transformation.
After reading the system prompt he found out that the sigil lets the wearer alter their flesh, but not in the way most would wish. It doesn't heal, restore youth, or make the body whole again. It only twists and warps, and whatever it shapes always turns out wrong. That was for its imperfection.
When he used it the first time, he tried to become his younger self, the boy he remembered. Instead, the sigil forced his body into something that only roughly resembled a human. A crude shape. A poor imitation. His face turned into a smooth plate of skin with no nose, no mouth, no expression at all. Only two black, rodent-like eyes remained, staring out of the blank surface as if someone had pressed them in by hand.
He managed to stand upright, but something about him was undeniably off. Every movement felt like his bones and muscles were fumbling to remember how a human should move and failing badly.
It felt strange, for it hadn't been that long since he'd been a rat, hardly enough time to forget how a man moves.
Later, he came across a corpse lying by the river. Nothing noble about it, no dramatic moment in between them, for he was already exhausted to maintain human decency once he had, just the simple brutality of reality of a body with clothes he needed.
He stripped it without hesitation.
From the torn shirt, he cut strips of cloth and wrapped them around his head, trying to hide the faceless horror he had become.
Only then did he dare approach people.
Later, while strolling in the mist city, he came across information about a mage who could use ritualistic magic to change a person's face, making them handsome and pleasing to look at.
When he saw the mage leaving his quarters, he sneaked inside and grabbed a scroll, not even thinking to ask the system, his movements tinged with a hint of panic. He was a little scared.
Later he finds it was nothing more than a diary, a simple journal.