"SO HP is Experience Points and EXP is Health Points... right?" Jullian confirmed, eyes fixed on the floating blue screens of his system. "And what's the purpose of leveling up again?"
It was the last day before his comeback as an esper, and for a week straight, he'd poured every hour into training, working out, and learning the system's mechanics--however, figuring out how it all worked was proving harder than mastering swords or magic.
Mikhail slapped his forehead with a frustrated sigh. "For the millionth time, HP is Health Points, EXP is Experience Points. Leveling up advances your rank." He corrected, emphasizing the words.
"I see~ Well... this is harder than I thought."
Mikhail shot him a glare. He should've known Jullian was a painfully slow learner—even back in the day, teachers had left in tears because they couldn't scold him, as it would be seen as impudent for the crown prince. The only things he'd ever excelled at were swords and magic, inherited from his father, the former emperor and S-class swordmaster.
"It's not hard if you'd just listen," Mikhail snapped.
"It's not my fault!" Jullian protested, pointing at the system. "Whoever designed this has labeled everything like it's meant for assassins!"
Mikhail let out his fourth sigh of the day and he was worried that he'd run out of oxygen if he kept going.
"Let's take a five-minute break," he suggested, flopping onto the sofa.
Jullian stayed put as he stared at his system—specifically the shop tab where potions for mana boosts, universal antidotes, and even food and drinks were displayed.
He might have complained about the system's complexity, but he couldn't deny how useful it was. It was so convenient that he couldn't help but resent Gaea.
Truthfully, when he heard the system had appeared only after the Black Rift vanished, he felt an undeniable anger towards her because his comrades had to suffer in the Black Rift along with him and they only had their old swords but never once did Gaea help them and let him watch as his comrades died unhonorable death.
"And it says, I'm blessed by Gaea?" He thought as he glare at the system.
Jullian's fists clenched as memories flooded back like a broken film reel that replayed their screams, sobs, and the words that echoed in his head even now.
"It's all your fault."
He turned away quickly, striding to his drawer to grab a small medicine bottle. He popped three pills into his mouth, gripping the wooden edge as he closed his eyes and counted to ten with his jaw tight.
When he finally exhaled and opened his eyes, Mikhail was stretching his tiny arms, completely oblivious to what had just happened.
"Okay! Let's get back to this grueling lesson."
...
That evening, Jullian's coworkers-including his leader and supervisor—had gathered at a barbecue restaurant, eating, drinking, and dancing wildly in celebration of his "sacrifice" for volunteering to enter the rift.
Earlier, his leader had texted him with an urgent summons, and the text had seemed so desperate that the 521-year-old Jullian had raced over thinking his life was in a life-or-death situation, only to be greeted with confetti and his team seated around two long tables.
"Let's toast to our hero!" Mr. Winterbell called out, raising a glass with a flushed face.
"TO JULLIAN!" his coworkers roared in unison.
Jullian's cheeks pinked as he lifted his own glass. He'd been to banquets like this before, back when his knights and comrades would throw banquets to celebrate their successful rift seals but this still felt a little embarrassing with other diners nearby. Thankfully, their supervisor had reserved a private room, so their noise wouldn't bother anyone else.
"Oh! My song!" Jeffrey snatched the mic from Vincent the moment his track started playing on the karaoke machine.
His singing earned a chorus of boos and complaints. Clyde even threw a crumpled napkin-but Jeffrey pushed through, hitting every high note even as his voice cracked.
The night was chaotic and fun. Even Mikhail was having a blast, chugging from a full-sized mug of beer and staying surprisingly energetic. Their leaders chatted happily as the party raged on—until a commotion echoed from outside their door.
"I said I want THIS room! Can't you understand me?!" a man shouted, his voice loud enough to cut through the closed room.
"I'm sorry, sir, but it's already occupied. I can show you to another one," came the waitress's muffled, nervous reply.
Worried the celebration would be ruined, Jullian slipped quietly out of the room to handle things. Outside, he found the waitress blocking three men-the one in front was screaming at her, face red with anger.
Jullian's brow furrowed as he approached. It disappointed him that even in this modern age, people still treated a server with such disrespect.
"Is there a problem here?" he asked gently, drawing the man's attention.
"No problem at all, sir—please let me handle it," the server said, though fear was clear on her face.
The man scanned Jullian from head to toe, taking in his scars and rugged clothes. "So the ones hogging our room are just looters," he sneered, stepping closer. "This'll be easy."
Jullian's glare sharpened at the insult to his colleagues, but the man only grinned wider as he looked down his nose at him.
"Hey, scrub!" he called out. "Tell your looter friends that Hawkeye is here--they need to clear out now." He pointed to himself with a smug look.
Jullian crossed his arms over his chest, standing firm like a knight guarding his post. "And why would we do that? My supervisor reserved and paid for this room--we have every right to be here."
Hawkeye blinked in shock, then burst out laughing before grabbing Jullian's shirt collar. "Listen up—I'm a B+ Esper. Mess with me, and I'll make your head explode."
Jullian couldn't help but sneer. "How childish," he said, a mocking smile playing on his lips. "Arrogant over a B+ rank? Aren't you getting a little uppish?" He said using the slang word he'd picked up from scrolling the internet.
Hawkeye's face twisted with rage. He threw a punch, but Jullian ducked his head aside, grabbed the man's wrist, spun him around, and slammed him to the floor.
The whole thing happened so fast that onlookers gasped—even Jullian's coworkers, peeking from the doorway, stared in awe.
Hawkeye's lackeys flinched as Jullian turned to them. "Get your friend out of here, or I'll call the authorities."
The two scrambled to haul Hawkeye up, but just as everyone thought it was over, he broke free and faced Jullian again, eyes blazing.
"You bastard! I went easy on you before!" He spread his palm wide. "Now you'll regret crossing me!"
A falchion materialized in his grasp, coated in sickly green mana. Customers scattered as he drew his weapon, but when the waitress tried to intervene, Jullian stepped in front of her.
"Don't. it's too dangerous," he said, then faced Hawkeye with a solemn expression. "Put down your sword, esper. Weapons are meant to save lives, not bully people."
Hawkeye charged anyway but before his blade could strike, a woman with green hair tied in a ponytail stepped between them, stopping him with effortless ease. She wore a white shirt with two buttons undone that showed her cleavage and dark pants.
"By the Esper Accords, Article 7 Section 2...No registered or unregistered esper shall use their abilities as weapons against an unarmed, non-malicious individual," she recited, glaring at him. "Continue, and you'll lose your esper rights entirely."
Jullian watched the girl as she resolved the situation. He recognized her as a member of the Thrive Guild who used a bow and arrow. Hawkeye gritted his teeth, wrenched his wrist free, and stormed out. The restaurant broke into applause for Jullian and the woman.
"Thank you for stepping in," Jullian said, bowing slightly.
"Nah~ you're the one with guts to stand up to a B+ rank," she said, patting his shoulder. "I'll give you that." With that, she headed back to her table where three others waited.
...
In a dark alley nearby, Hawkeye kicked a wall, still seething from his humiliation. His lackeys were already gone, as he had chased them off because they were useless.
He gritted his teeth. How could a lowly bastard humiliate a B+ rank esper like him? And to think, the man was merely an F-rank who was only good at digging rocks.
Hawkeye leaned against the wall and put a cigarette to his lips, but when he flicked his lighter, it wouldn't spark.
"Fuck!" he cursed, throwing it aside.
Nothing ever went his way. His application to the Clarkston Guild had been rejected, and now he had been defeated by a looter.
Suddenly, a flicker of flame lit his cigarette. Hawkeye yelped and jumped back to find a woman in a cream cloak standing before him.
"Who... who are you?" he stammered, summoning his weapon.
The woman grinned widely, holding up a small glass bottle filled with purple liquid. "I'm here to grant your wish."
...
The party resumed and eventually wound down, but Jullian's colleagues kept praising him until they finally stepped outside the restaurant.
"Jullian, my man! Beating an esper like that is insane!" Holland cheered. "Who would expected you to have balls to take down an esper like that?"
"You're right there, brother!" Clyde nodded, staggering over to take his hand. "Thats why I think I'm in love with you, bro."
Jullian smacked his head lightly. "Stop being gross and go home, you drunkard." He pushed Clyde toward Jeffrey, who was waiting nearby.
While everyone was bantering, the waitress approached them, her eyes fixed on Jullian.
"U-uhm... excuse me?"
Jullian turned to her, and his coworkers fell silent, watching expectantly. The girl fidgeted with her hands, cheeks bright red as she avoided his gaze.
"Can I help you, miss?" Jullian asked gently.
"I... uhm... well..." She stammered for a moment, then shoved her phone against his chest, which surprised him. "P-please let me follow you on Instagram!"
A brief silence fell, broken only by a passing drunk. Jullian smiled and typed his username into her phone--adding one more follower didn't bother him since he didn't use his Instagram frequently and had only created it because Mikhail forced him to.
The girl beamed after he share his username and hurried back inside, waving as she went.
As the door closed, Jullian felt an ominous presence behind him. He turned to find his coworkers looking equal parts annoyed and envious of him.
"Damn you, Hildebrand!" Jeffrey whined, burying his face in Jullian's shoulder. "Why do pretty girls always pick you? I want a girlfriend too!"
"Do you think if I let a rude esper punch me, a girl would notice me?" Vincent asked gloomily.
"Dream on, bro," Clyde slurred, patting his shoulder.
...
After venting their jealousy, the group decided to head home. Jeffrey clung to Jullian, still complaining about his love life until Holland and Vincent dragged him away.
Jullian and Mikhail opted to walk back to his apartment to let the food and drink settle.
Jullian noticed Mikhail swaying in midair, nearly tumbling more than once. He'd seen the little guy chug a full-sized mug of beer earlier, and when he watched him holding the big mug, he wondered how Mikhail managed to handle things with his tiny hands--or how he was even able to make it disappear while holding it.
"Hey—are you drunk?"
"No~" Mikhail slurred, hiccuping before bumping his head against Jullian's.
"Yeah, you are." Jullian scooped him up and gently laid him on his palm. Mikhail sprawled on his back, limbs spread wide. Jullian couldn't help but smile, but the expression quickly faded when he spotted Hawkeye standing in a vacant lot ahead, his back turned to them, holding an empty bottle. It looked as though whatever he had been holding before had already vanished into thin air.
He was about to walk past when he stepped on a loose can, the clatter echoing through the quiet street. Hawkeye's head snapped around-unnaturally fast, like a puppet's.
Jullian tensed and shifted into a defensive stance. The man looked nothing like the arrogant bully from earlier.
Something was very wrong.
"Hey, man—what are you doing out here in a place like this?" Jullian asked, keeping his tone friendly while maintaining distance.
He expected a snarl or a curse, but Hawkeye just stared at him for a long moment before splitting his face into a terrifying grin. In a blink, he closed the distance, his fist whistling through the air. Jullian's hand flared with mana just in time to intercept the blow.
[Activate: Royal Shield]
The impact was like hitting a falling boulder; Even though with A+ rank shield, Jullian still winced as the vibration surged through his bones, leaving his arm throbbing.
Hawkeye giggled, then his laughter spiraled into maniacal cackling that made Jullian's skin crawl.
"She was right—my wish did come true!" he wheezed between cackles. "I really did become stronger!"
"What are you—" Jullian's eyes widened. A familiar tattoo covered the back of Hawkeye's hand, and what's surprised him, it hadn't been there before.
Hawkeye took advantage of his distraction and activated his ability. "Activate: Shadow Drain!"
Nothing happened. Hawkeye get confused and called his system but it also didn't appear nor popped up a message. It just disappeared. Scared and enraged, he threw Jullian aside like he weighed nothing. Jullian planted his feet to keep from slamming into the ground, sliding backward through the dirt. When he looked up, Hawkeye was frantically calling for his system.
"System! System! SYSTEM!" He shouted but when no response came, his voice cracking with desperation, then he grew silent with his head hung low.
Mikhail snapped awake the moment he heard the shouting. When he saw the tattoo on Hawkeye, all traces of drunkenness disappeared.
"What the hell happened while I was out?"
Jullian was about to answer when Hawkeye let out a broken laugh, tears streaming down his face as he stared at the dark sky. "Gaea has forsaken me." He laughed for full a minute.
When he finally tore his gaze away, he throw Jullian with a murderous glare.
"This is all your fault!" he screamed. "If you hadn't humiliated me, I wouldn't have been desperate enough to drink this!" He hurled the bottle to the ground, where it shattered into pieces.
Jullian said nothing, settling into a fighting stance as he listened.
Hawkeye gritted his teeth before he grinned again. "But it doesn't matter—I can still kill you!"
Violet-black mana wrapped around him like a storm. Shadows beneath his feet writhed and twisted, twitching like living snakes. His skin split open, a line of nerves and blood tearing apart to reveal feathers darker than midnight erupting beneath. His eyes narrowed into cruel, serpentine slits; lips stretched back into a hooked, gleaming beak. Hands and feet contorted into deadly talons. Massive wings tore from his back, ragged edges slicing the air. Shadows pooled at his feet, writhing like snakes, and in an instant, the man was gone—replaced by a towering, birdlike nightmare.