[...Child, what exactly are you]
The voice echoed within the vicinity, though my thoughts were regarding it, but certainly different.
The Voice of the Existing had a reputation for maintaining its formality and order throughout the novel, be it with anyone.
And the word child did not exactly lie under professionalism.
Though I guess there was a good reason for that, my multiple archetypes.
If the Voice lost its professionalism just now, I wonder what would happen in the near future.
The thought crossed my mind, vivid and intrusive, as an image of a feminine as well as masculine silhouettee standing alongside fors for the briefest second, flickering like a soft glitch in the space around .
Leaving that, it was certainly silent now, and the peaceful one.
The type of silence that didn’t feel empty, but expectant, as if even the Scenario itself was holding its breath to see what would co next.
I waited just for a second long, before an expected sentence was recited by the Voice of the Existing.
[Origin point of Signature Ability determined]
[The Skill will manifest under the Rebel’s domain].
The silence deepened for a mont, stretching thin enough to feel like the world itself was holding its breath.
[A signature skill has been acquired by you, ford through your will, archetypal intensity, and the available possibility space].
The atmosphere around dissolved into entropy, the lingering colors and collapsing fragnts peeling away as reality slowly pulled itself back together.
The previous background I had stood in shimred into existence again.
Rays of the morning sun fell over , filtered through the curtains near the windowpane, warm and almost too ordinary after everything that had just occurred.
The stillness of the Scenario was replaced by the faint hush and chatter of normal people going about their daily lives, each sound grounding back into the world.
Footsteps, conversations, and the occasional distant scream acting like an oddly lodious spike in the rhythm of morning noise.
I was tempted to look outside, to see if anything had changed, to confirm whether the world still looked the sa after witnessing mine shift so violently.
Not like i peered out even once since i ca to this world.
But I had far more pressing matters in hand.
[Skill has nad itself as ’Hit & Hurt Box’].
[’Hit & Hurt box’ deploy hitboxes, as well as hurtboxes on you and other entities.]
[Further information not given, and it must be inquired by you as you constantly get proficient in using the skill.
The skill may evolve or beco twisted at the next rank].
A skill naming itself wasn’t unusual, but the na it chose... that was sothing else entirely. "Hit & Hurt Box."
It sounded almost stupidly simple, but the Rebel’s domain never manifested in straightforward terms.
Simplicity in na usually ant brutality in function. The more I thought about it, the more an uneasy excitent coiled in my chest like a tightening thread.
Rebel’s skills weren’t joke.
Skills born from defiance had a habit of ignoring conventional logic, twisting rules instead of following them.
If this thing truly reflected the Rebel’s nature, then whatever it did, it wouldn’t be gentle.
Moreover, the Rebel fell under the Horrendous.
The most violent, unforgiving, and aggressively expansionary of all known energies, so it was only natural that any skill born from it would lean toward offense.
Even the most basic techniques wielded by Horrendous archetypes were infamous for bending rules that other energies treated as immutable, often turning intention into impact with frightening efficiency.
If anything, I should have been worried that the na wasn’t far worse.
"Not gonna lie though, it sounds like it belongs to a budget sandbox-ga chanic."
Before I could examine the skill any further, a faint ripple passed through the air as the voice surfaced.
[A manual trigger is required to deploy the Signature Skill].
[Register a unique sign or motion that will act as the activation key].
Of course.
Skills born from the energies always required an anchor, sothing that acted as a ntal trigger, a motion, a word, a shape, anything that tied intention to execution.
A sign relating to a hitbox... there was only one thing that imdiately ca to mind.
I raised my hands slowly, letting instinct guide .
With my index and middle fingers extended on each hand, I drew a quick horizontal line in the air, the top edge of an invisible fra.
My left hand dropped, sketching the side of a box, while the right mirrored it with a sharp downward cut.
Then both hands slid inward, outlining a torso-shaped silhouette, as if I were tracing the borders of a human body caught inside an unseen cage.
[Signature motion has been registered]
[Signature motion linked to ’Hit & Hurt box’]
I completed the motion and felt a faint ripple crawl across my fingertips, as if the air itself had acknowledged the sign and was waiting patiently for the next command.
A subtle pressure gathered around my palm, the kind that hinted the skill was already willing to erupt at the slightest nudge.
For a mont, I actually thought about doing it, just deploying the ability and seeing what kind of distorted phenonon a Rebel-type signature skill would create.
But the thought lasted barely a heartbeat before common sense returned.
Using anything born from the Rebel’s domain inside this fragile building was nothing short of suicidal.
This was a cramped room, made of questionable wood and even more questionable craftsmanship.
If the ability manifested wrong... or worse, over-manifested... I’d probably end up collapsing half the building or injuring so innocent passerby downstairs.
Not ideal for a first test.
So I let the urge die down slowly, almost reluctantly.
Even if I wanted to test the ability, I needed a place ant for accidents, miscalculations, and violent outbursts of power.
A place where the Horrendous energy wasn’t just tolerated, it was expected. And fortunately, in this world, such a place existed.
The Church of the Rebel.
It wasn’t far, and more importantly, it was built exactly for people like .
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