Zero to Overlord – The Talent Devourer
Chapter 9: Trust Is a Blade With Two Edges
The black feather appeared on my pillow again the next evening, right as the false stars in the safehouse ceiling began to dim into twilight simulation.
I picked it up between thumb and forefinger.
It pulsed once—warm, almost affectionate—then crumbled to ash.
Message received.
I left the safehouse without looking back, hood up, sword at my hip, the weight of ten thousand gold crowns (half already transferred to a small spatial pouch Broker had given me) pressing against my thigh like a promise.
The corridor to the Feather Exchange felt shorter tonight.
Or maybe I was just walking faster.
The circular chamber looked the same: violet orbs floating like lazy fireflies, obsidian walls drinking light, high-backed chair in the center.
Broker sat there as always, hood low, pale hands folded.
But something was different.
The air tasted metallic.
Like blood just before it hits your tongue.
And there was someone else.
Not Elara.
A man—tall, broad-shouldered, armored in matte-black plate that seemed to absorb the violet glow. No crest. No insignia. Just a single red cloak pinned at the shoulder with a silver rose.
He stood to Broker's right, arms crossed, face hidden behind a full helm with a narrow visor slit.
Even from across the room I could feel the mana rolling off him in waves—thick, controlled, violent.
Broker's voice slid through the silence like oil.
"Ren. Punctual as ever."
I stopped five paces away.
Hand resting on sword hilt.
"Who's the tin man?"
The armored figure didn't move.
Broker tilted their head.
"Our mutual friend. The one who paid for Elara's freedom. He wished to meet the hand that severed the rose."
The man spoke then—voice low, distorted by the helm, but carrying the weight of command.
"Takahashi Ren."
He said my full name like he was tasting it.
"The Devourer. The thief who stole from a saint and walked away breathing."
I kept my face neutral.
"You're the noble who branded a kid to settle a debt?"
A soft chuckle echoed inside the helm.
"Debts must be paid. House Lirien has obligations. Elara understood the cost."
My fingers tightened on the hilt.
Broker raised a hand—smooth, placating.
"Business first, gentlemen. The second half of the payment."
They gestured.
A small chest appeared on the table between us.
Dark wood bound in silver.
When Broker opened it, gold crowns gleamed—five thousand of them, stacked in neat rows.
"Ten thousand total," Broker said. "As agreed. The curse is broken. The talent is yours. Everyone walks away richer."
I stepped forward.
The armored man moved—sudden, fluid.
One gauntleted hand shot out, faster than any human should move.
He grabbed the chest lid and slammed it shut.
Gold coins scattered across the obsidian floor like broken teeth.
Broker's hood shifted—surprise, maybe the first real emotion I'd seen from them.
"What is the meaning—"
The man's other hand came up.
A blade of pure crimson mana extended from his palm—long, razor-thin, humming with killing intent.
He drove it straight through Broker's chest.
No hesitation.
No warning.
The hooded figure jerked once, twice—then went still.
Blood—black as ink—poured from the wound, pooling on the floor.
Broker's voice came out wet, bubbling.
"You… promised… neutrality…"
The man twisted the blade.
"I lied."
Broker's body slumped forward.
The hood fell back.
For the first time I saw their face—smooth, androgynous, pale as porcelain, eyes wide with shock and betrayal.
Then the light left them.
Dead.
The armored man withdrew the blade.
Turned to me.
The visor slit glowed faintly red.
"Now," he said, "it's your turn."
I drew my sword.
The chamber exploded into motion.
He lunged—faster than the pack leader wolf, faster than Aria in the summoning room.
Crimson blade met my steel.
Sparks flew.
The impact jarred my arms to the bone.
Strength 22.
Agility 31.
It wasn't enough.
He was stronger.
Faster.
His mana was deeper, older, like an ocean compared to my river.
I parried the next strike, twisted, used Mana Manipulation to compress air behind me and launch backward.
The force sent me sliding across the obsidian.
He pursued—relentless.
Every swing of that crimson blade left trails of burning mana in the air.
I countered with a sphere of compressed force—same one I'd used on the knights.
He shattered it with a casual backhand.
The backlash hit me like a truck.
I tasted blood.
Steel Resolve activated.
Pain flared—then turned to fuel.
Stats ticked up slightly.
I rolled, came up swinging.
Blade Saint Candidate (S) sang in my veins.
My sword moved like it had a mind of its own—perfect angles, perfect timing.
I scored a shallow cut across his pauldron.
The armor didn't even dent.
He laughed—low, amused.
"You're good, boy. Better than I expected."
Another swing.
I ducked, felt the wind of it part my hair.
Counter—slash to the knee joint.
He blocked.
Pushed.
I flew backward, slammed into the wall.
Breath exploded from my lungs.
He advanced.
Slow now.
Confident.
"You stole from the saint. You stole from my property. Now I'll take what's left."
He raised the crimson blade high.
The tip began to glow—bright, blinding.
A spell forming.
I had seconds.
I pushed everything into Mana Manipulation.
Not attack.
Defense.
I shaped a dome of compressed mana around myself—thin, dense, layered like onion skin.
The crimson spear of light lanced down.
It hit the dome.
Cracked it.
Pushed through the first layer.
Second.
Third.
I screamed—raw, animal.
The dome shattered.
The spear grazed my side.
Burned through cloak, shirt, skin.
Pain.
White-hot.
Steel Resolve roared.
Vitality surged.
I rolled away, blood trailing.
He advanced again.
But I saw it now.
His armor—beautiful, flawless—had one flaw.
A small seam at the collar.
Where helm met plate.
I waited.
He raised the blade for the killing blow.
I waited.
He swung.
I moved.
Enhanced Agility (B) + Blade Saint Candidate (S) + every stolen scrap of speed I had.
I slipped inside his guard.
Drove my sword upward—not at the body.
At the seam.
Steel met steel.
Then flesh.
The blade punched through.
Blood—real blood—sprayed.
He staggered.
The crimson blade flickered.
I didn't stop.
I twisted.
Pulled free.
Slashed again—across the visor.
The helm split.
Fell away.
A face stared back at me.
Older than I'd expected—late forties, sharp features, gray at the temples.
Eyes wide with shock.
Then the system chimed.
[Enemy critically injured]
[Talent Devourer – Devour Window Available]
[Target: Duke Harlan Lirien]
[Available Talents (Ranked):]
Crimson Dominion (S) – Mastery of blood-based mana constructs. Absolute control over liquid blood within 30m.
Noble Lineage (A+) – Inherited physical superiority + resistance to curses/poisons.
Command Presence (A) – Aura that compels obedience from lesser wills.
I didn't hesitate.
I reached.
He tried to speak—gurgling.
I took Crimson Dominion.
[Talent Acquired: Crimson Dominion (S) → Crimson Dominion (SS) due to Devourer advantage + Blade Saint synergy]
[Slots Filled: 3/3]
[New Active Skill Unlocked: Blood Forge – Shape blood into weapons/armor. Cost scales with volume used.]
Power flooded me—dark, wet, intoxicating.
The duke's own blood rose from the wound, coiling around my hand like a living glove.
He dropped to his knees.
I looked down at him.
"You sold a girl to settle a debt," I said quietly.
He coughed blood.
"House… must… survive…"
I stepped closer.
"I don't care about houses."
I placed my palm on his chest.
Devoured Noble Lineage.
[Talent Acquired: Noble Lineage (A+) → (S)]
[Passive: +30% to all physical attributes. Immunity to low-grade curses. Accelerated healing.]
Then Command Presence.
[Talent Acquired: Command Presence (A) → (S)]
[Aura: Forces lesser wills to hesitate or obey. Synergy with existing talents detected.]
He stared up at me—eyes dimming.
I leaned down.
Whispered.
"Tell me one thing before you die."
He tried to speak.
I listened.
Then I stood.
And I walked away.
The chamber was silent except for the drip of blood.
Broker's body lay where it fell.
The duke died seconds later.
I didn't look back.
Outside, the night market was still alive.
I moved through it like a ghost—hood up, blood hidden under the cloak, new talents burning in my veins.
Crimson Dominion.
I flexed my fingers.
A thin tendril of my own blood rose—dark, obedient.
I shaped it into a needle.
Threw it.
It pierced a distant lantern cord.
The lantern fell, shattered.
People screamed.
Chaos.
Perfect cover.
I disappeared into the alleys.
The Broker had betrayed me.
The duke had tried to kill me.
And I had devoured them both.
The hunger was sated—for now.
But the city was waking up.
Word would spread.
The Feather Exchange destroyed.
A duke dead in the undercity.
The Devourer loose.
And somewhere out there—maybe closer than I thought—Aria was still coming.
I smiled into the darkness.
Let them come.
I had three full slots now.
And the numbers were only getting bigger.