The bells of the monastery tolled twice before dawn—an old ritual meant to cleanse the air of dream-sins. No one knew why it had once mattered. But they still rang it.
The air in Kael's room was still, almost reverent.
Sunlight from the high, arched window crept across the stone floor, casting golden lines over the basin, the cot, the pages of a half-read manuscript. The dust danced in silence.
Kael didn't sleep.
Kael sat at the edge of the cot, hands wrapped around a chipped porcelain mug. The tea inside had long since gone cold. He hadn't touched it. He stared at his reflection in the cracked mirror above his basin. Red eyes blinked back at him, no longer dull or uncertain.
He had bathed. Dressed and tidied the sheets of his cot with monastic precision.
And yet he didn't feel clean.
His Core throbbed with quiet satisfaction. The system had not spoken since he'd destroyed the shrine. But it didn't need to. The energy now threading through his bones spoke volumes.
He had fire at his fingertips.
And it was listening.
He stared at the tendrils of smoke slowly rising from his palm—remnants of [Voidflame], summoned and dismissed. It came easier now. As simple as thought. The fire no longer demanded rage or fury; it answered calm intention just as well.
This control frightened him more than the fire ever had.
Not because he doubted it.
But because he didn't.
He let it hover.
Watched it writhe.
And then, slowly, snuffed it out.
It wasn't enough to have power. You had to choose how to wield it.
By midmorning, the monastery was uneasy. Whispers crawled through the stone like ivy. The incident at the shrine had not reached them yet, but something else had: Brother Henrick's sudden absence.
He had vanished sometime in the night. No note. No report. His bed was cold, his study untouched.
Brother Henrick's disappearance had left a vacuum of confidence among the senior clergy. No one had seen him since two nights ago. Some whispered he'd wandered into the woods and been taken by beasts. Others suggested he'd fallen into heresy and run.
Kael knew better.
Henrick had seen something. Something real. And he'd fled because of it.
Because of him.
And in doing so, had spread a seed of fear more effectively than any curse.
Kael found himself in the scriptorium during prayer hour, robes clean, posture correct, and expression neutral.
He needed to look… normal.
He knew the monks would be occupied in the chapel, leaving the hall of scrolls mostly empty.
He preferred it that way.
The shelves rose tall around him—centuries of failed philosophies, half-translated dogma, and fragmented histories. He walked slowly down the aisles of ancient scrolls and illuminated tomes, fingers brushing the carved wood shelves. He wasn't here to read. He needed to be seen. Present. Harmless.
So many truths buried in here.
But no real truth.
Only sanctioned truth.
Only filtered wisdom.
He chose a scroll at random—an old treatise on mana-alignment penned by a blind theologian—and returned to his usual seat beneath the high window. Sunlight streamed through the stained glass, casting shifting patterns of violet and gold over his hands.
He set the scroll aside unread.
Instead, he closed his eyes and listened.
He felt it—a hum. A presence. His Core responding not to action, but to intention. He was close to something. He could feel it in the way the air warped near him.
Then came footsteps.
"Brother Kael?"
He opened his eyes.
Brother Emil stood a few paces away, holding a tray with tea and bread. The young monk was thin, always smiling too easily. But his smile now was uncertain.
"I thought you'd be here," Emil said, approaching cautiously. "You missed morning prayers."
Kael shrugged. "Didn't feel like pretending today."
Emil sat beside him without being invited. "There's talk. About Henrick. About… strange things."
Kael said nothing.
"I know you didn't like him," Emil continued, his voice low. "But I thought you should know… he named you."
Kael turned his head sharply.
Emil swallowed. "Before he left. He was raving to Brother Vallon. Said you'd cursed him. That he saw your eyes glowing. That you summoned fire."
"I overheard something," Emil said at last. "The abbot summoned a scryer from the southern cloister. He'll be here in a week."
A pause.
"A scryer?" Kael repeated, though he already understood what that meant.
Emil nodded. "To confirm or dispel rumors of dark magic."
Kael's stomach twisted—not with fear, but with calculation. How long before his presence became undeniable? How long before he crossed a threshold that couldn't be hidden?
Kael arched a brow. "Do you believe him?"
"I don't want to." Emil looked down at his hands. "But strange things are happening. Sacred lights dimming. The prayer candles flickering. I even saw the Lightmother's statue weep soot yesterday. The priests said it was a bad oil mixture. I don't know what to believe anymore."
"Have you ever felt like you were made wrong?" Kael asked quietly. "That the world operates on rules that were never meant to include you?"
Emil flinched. "Yes."
Emil looked down. "Sometimes, I think I'm broken."
"You're not," Kael said. His voice was quieter than he expected. "You're just not what they want."
Emil gave a short laugh. "I knew you'd understand."
Silence stretched between them again. Kael stared through the window, pretending to study the monastery gardens. His mind burned.
That was the moment—the pivot point. Kael could feel it in his soul. The system watching. Waiting. Hungry.
He had a choice.
He could tell Emil the truth.
Or he could use him.
System Suggestion: Mark Target
Optional Objective: Corrupt a low-faith individual using[Black Sigil].
Progress toward Tier 0.5: 4/5
Kael reached into his sleeve and withdrew a scrap of parchment. Upon it, a sigil drawn in his own blood. A test.
He handed it to Emil.
"What's this?" Emil asked.
"A charm," Kael said. "To help with doubt. Just keep it near your bed."
"It's old. From a forgotten tradition. For clarity of purpose."
Emil blinked, then smiled. "Thank you. I—thank you."
Kael felt the air shift. Like a breath drawn beneath his skin.
[Black Sigil] has been placed.
Effect: Subtle interference with divine influence. Faith rituals degrade in efficacy within range.
+1 Corruption Resonance
Progress: Tier 0.5 → 5/5
Threshold Reached.
Tier Advancement Eligible.
Processing evolution...
Kael's vision blurred.
The world pulsed once—deep, like a heartbeat underwater.
Then came the voice.
"Tier Advancement Complete."
Core: Tier 1 – Malice-Bound
New Skill Unlocked: [Malform Prayer]
New Passive Unlocked: [Weight of Sin]
System Note: You have passed the point of concealment. Your presence now stains sacred ground. You are no longer a shadow. You are a stain upon faith itself."
Kael closed his eyes and inhaled. The rush of new strength was exhilarating.
But deeper still, something stirred.
He had used Emil.
The only person in this place who had shown him real warmth.
And the system had rewarded him for it.
There was no guilt. Not really.
Only clarity.
The rules had always been there. Written in scripture. Etched in law.
He was choosing to follow different ones.
Let the monks chant and pray. Let them bless their walls and light their candles. He would walk the other path. The one that went deeper.
That night, the chapel was half-lit. Fewer monks gathered than usual. Whispers swirled like mist. Kael sat in the back pew, watching. Listening.
Emil knelt near the altar, holding the parchment Kael had given him. He whispered something—too soft to hear. A prayer, perhaps.
Then it happened.
The candle beside Emil flared black, just for a moment. The air twisted.
The other monks noticed. A few gasped.
Emil collapsed.
Two brothers rushed forward, dragging him from the altar. His hands were burned. His lips blistered. One of the priests screamed, "Heretic!"
Kael stood slowly and backed out of the chapel before the chaos rose. He didn't run. Didn't hide. Just… left.
His chest was tight.
Not from fear.
Not from triumph.
Something else.
He didn't know what to name it.
Back in his room, he sat at his desk for hours, staring at the [Black Sigil] etched on the back of his hand. It had begun spreading—veins of red-black mana forming spiderweb cracks along his wrist.
He had power now.
Undeniable.
But power always took.
Emil had been kind. Honest. Loyal.
And Kael had broken him for progression.
System Alert: Emotional deviation detected.
Would you like to suppress unnecessary empathy?
[Yes] – Optimize growth path
[No] – Retain human sentiment. It may affect the system trajectory.
Kael stared at the choice.
He didn't press either.
Not yet.