The sun began to rise on the horizon, its rays piercing through the cracks in the old apartnt window where Ronan lived. The morning air was cool, but to Ronan, the chill barely registered.
His eyes slowly opened. For a few seconds, his mind was blank—the only sound in the room was his own quiet breathing. But then, like a flood, the mories of the night before ca rushing back.
Blood. Screams. Shattered bones.
His eyelids twitched.
He let out a sigh, got up from the creaky bed, and walked toward the tiny bathroom in the corner. A twist of the rusty faucet brought a rush of cold water, and without hesitation, Ronan splashed it onto his face, letting the sting wash away what remained of his sleep.
He lifted his face and stared at his reflection in the cracked mirror.
It was the sa face—familiar, but sothing had changed.
His dark hair, always neatly trimd in an undercut style, was the sa. His eyebrows were still sharp, and his face still held a firm, well-defined structure. He couldn't be called extraordinarily handso, but his appearance was striking in its own way.
However, the most striking feature—his eyes.
His once black pupils had turned into a deep crimson, as if a hidden fla burned within them.
Ronan narrowed his eyes, inspecting them closely. This wasn't a trick of the light. Not an illusion. It was real.
"...Devil's Covenant," he muttered.
That was the only thing that made sense. That skill... it had done sothing to him.
He brushed a hand over his face and gave a faint smirk. Not one of joy or pride—just a quiet, thoughtful smirk.
Last night, he had changed.
He had never lost control like that before. The rage, the power, the instinct to destroy... It wasn't like him.
And yet—wasn't this exactly what the world demanded?
In a place where weakness ant being hunted, kindness was often seen as vulnerability.
This was how the world worked.
Ronan took a deep breath, then grabbed a towel, dried off, and stepped back into the main room.
Ti for breakfast.
-----
He tossed on a black t-shirt and a pair of gray sweatpants—nothing special, just sothing to wear around the apartnt.
Sitting down on his battered old sofa, he leaned back and finally said what had been lingering in the back of his mind.
"System interface."
[Na: Ronan Raylinde]
[Age: 18]
[Cultivation Level: Human Realm – Level 2]
[Special Ability: Starfla (S-Class)]
[Skill: Devil's Covenant (Unique)]
[Skill Points: 0]
He nodded. A system and an S-Class ability—Starfla. Not bad at all.
But one thing still bugged him.
"What do skill points do, system?"
[ ... ]
No answer.
Ronan frowned.
"What about system functions?"
[ ... ]
Still silence.
He tapped his temple with two fingers, thinking. Maybe it wasn't a talkative system?
He tried once more. "System?"
Silence again. Not even a ping.
"...You've gotta be kidding ."
Ronan sighed and rubbed his face. Maybe the system only responded under certain conditions. Or maybe he hadn't unlocked all its features yet.
Whatever. It wasn't worth stressing over.
He checked the ti—6 a.m. Early. Ti to eat.
He walked into the cramped kitchen. Nothing fancy—an old electric stove, a tiny fridge that buzzed every few minutes, and a few well-used utensils.
He opened the fridge to check supplies.
Eggs. Bread. So frozen chicken.
"...Chicken olet sounds good."
He grabbed what he needed, then paused, glancing down at his palm.
With a thought, a flicker of red fla ca to life in his hand.
A grin tugged at his lips. Why not?
He began cooking with the Starfla, letting the pan heat instantly under the crimson fire. The sizzle of oil filled the room, the scent of spices and at rising quickly.
But then—
The pan began to lt.
"Ah, hell—!" he cursed, pulling his hand away as the steel warped and sagged like wax under the heat.
He stared for a second.
His fire had just lted tal.
Depending on the type of stainless steel—it was an old pan after all. But old or not, that was real power. That ant his Starfla likely burned at over a thousand degrees Celsius.
Cool.
Still, he didn't admire it for long. He grabbed another pan and switched to the stove this ti, flipping the olet with practiced ease.
Then—
[New Skill Acquired!]
Ronan blinked.
A glowing panel hovered before his eyes.
[Skill Acquired: Ho Cook]
[Description: als cooked taste better and slightly improve energy recovery.]
Ronan: "..."
He looked at the floating ssage, then down at the olet.
"...So I get skills just by cooking now?"
He snorted.
"Okay, that's new."
He wasn't sure if his system was insane or brilliant—but one thing was for sure:
If even sothing like this could give him a skill, the possibilities were wide open.
And for the first ti in a long while, he actually smiled.
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