Clayton paused, hesitation flickering in his eyes before he finally made a decision. He wasn’t going to leave—at least not yet.
The stigma on his body was still blinking, but the glow was faint. That likely ant his pursuers weren’t nearby. That gave him just enough ti to assess his surroundings.
He approached the two five-star apprentice mages, now reduced to little more than crushed at. As he prepared to loot their remains, a familiar electric serpent suddenly appeared.
Clayton didn’t even flinch. His skeletal minions reacted instantly, intercepting the attack and shredding the enemy to pieces before he had to lift a finger.
Only once the lightning mage was dead did Clayton begin examining the area. He found several valuable items, but the mage’s spatial pouch had a security lock—he couldn’t open it just yet.
Instead, Clayton picked up a Forty-Eight Spell Scroll. The mont he activated it, a wave of dizziness washed over him—a feeling he was all too familiar with. Scenes from the forty-eight hours leading up to the apprentices’ deaths began flashing in his mind.
As fragnted mories flickered past, Clayton finally understood why this place was so crowded. Apparently, people had been randomly teleported in from various locations. Anyone could be dropped into this area at any ti—and more kept arriving.
It all made sense now. The outer world was no longer safe—not like the transparent do that once protected him. It also explained why his stigma kept activating: more people ant more bounty hunters. No one was targeting him specifically—and ironically, that was the real danger.
With this realization, Clayton returned to the site where the lightning mage had fallen. He used another Forty-Eight Scroll to peer into the mage’s mories from the past two days. What he saw explained the obsession that mage had with him.
It all stemd from envy and resentnt.
Envy, because Clayton had survived the great fall, while the mage had ended up paralyzed. Resentnt, because he believed Clayton could have saved him—but didn’t.
Upon learning this, Clayton sneered.
"Hmph. And if I had saved you, would you have treated any better? Judging by your attitude, I doubt it. You probably would’ve repaid kindness with betrayal."
After that, Clayton stopped caring. He took what he needed and destroyed the rest. With everything sorted, he quickly left the area, concerned that more bounty hunters might be closing in.
As he ran, the stigmas on his body kept blinking erratically. It made him anxious, and all he wanted was to get out of there as fast as possible. At first, he didn’t notice anything strange—but after a while, sothing started to feel off.
The stigma, which normally maintained a stable connection, now flickered like it had poor reception—sotis glowing brightly, other tis dim, as if it were low on battery. It didn’t add up. If enemies were nearby, it should shine brightly. If they were far, it should dim. But this... was a ss.
Clayton began to wonder—was it because too many people from different places were searching for him?
After a closer look, he noticed sothing strange: the stigma on the front of his body was acting up, while the ones on his back remained stable.
Suspicious, Clayton examined himself more carefully. At first, he found nothing unusual. But after so deep thinking, he realized the problem— It was the pheasant’s blood from earlier. It was interfering with the stigma’s signal.
That explained the abnormal flickering on the front of his body—it had been splashed with that annoying bird’s blood. To test his theory, Clayton sared the blood across the rest of his body. The mont he finished, he imdiately noticed a change.
"Ahhh! Just as I thought!" Clayton shouted, thrilled.
Now, even though the stigmas still blinked, their glow was faint and erratic. To test the effectiveness, Clayton stood completely still for thirty minutes—and not a single soul ca near him.
Overjoyed, Clayton burst out laughing.
"Huhuhuhu! Finally, I’m free of this cursed tattoo!"
Relieved to know he was temporarily safe, exhaustion hit him like a wave. He decided to find a secure place to rest. After wandering through a series of dark tunnels, he found a secluded spot—unremarkable, with three different exits.
After surveying the area, he decided it would do. He instructed his skeletons to set up the tent and camp while he worked on placing an invisible protective array. After half an hour of effort, everything was ready.
Clayton summoned his familiars to help calm his nerves. Even though he was surrounded by skeletons, they brought him no comfort. They were too cold, too lifeless—and he didn’t enjoy talking to them.
After eating and relaxing a bit, he finally drifted off to sleep. As always, the skeletons stood guard outside.
For the first ti in a long while, Clayton could finally rest—until the ground beneath him suddenly began to shake violently. He jolted awake, panic-stricken, and scanned the area.
Clayton hurriedly packed his belongings, afraid of being late. With the help of the skeletons, he managed to store everything in the dinsional space.
There was nothing imdiately threatening. Still, the ground continued to move in strange, steady tremors. Suddenly, the wall in front of him disappeared, sliding down into the earth, and the floor beneath his feet began to shift.
The terrain surged forward chaotically—rising, falling, turning, reversing. It was like riding a roller coaster made of tectonic plates.
There was no way to fight it. All Clayton could do was go with the flow. Before long, the ground carried him to a strange new place. It still resembled a dungeon, but this area was now filled with irregular walls and winding corridors—a living maze.
"What the hell is going on?" Clayton muttered, confused.
Just as he was about to investigate further, all the labyrinth walls vanished. At first, he didn’t care—until he realized he was now surrounded by a crowd. Judging by their auras, they weren’t ordinary people—they were strong.
With the walls gone, everyone grew tense. One man in particular—a sneaky-looking figure—seed to be trying to hide himself. His suspicious behavior caught everyone’s attention. Was he nervous? Shy? Hiding sothing?
Suddenly, soone began chanting a stigma-induction spell. In an instant, a bright light burst from the sneaky man’s body—shocking everyone.
Clayton flinched as well—one of his own stigmas had begun to blink. Fortunately, the pheasant blood masked the signal, making it faint and barely noticeable.
Nervously, Clayton instinctively turned toward the man—only to see him looking back. For a mont, their eyes t—confused and uncertain.
Was it sympathy? Recognition? No one knew. But one thing was certain—the crowd was already moving to capture the glowing man.
More spells were cast, revealing multiple noble family stigmas on his body. He now shone like a beacon—a candle in the darkness.
And like a candle, he drew in countless "insects." The crowd stared in awe and disbelief at his bold and reckless display.
Clayton, whose stigma was only slightly dimr than the man’s, had no idea what to do. If he got exposed... it was over.
As panic started to set in, Clayton saw the man walking toward him—with a knowing, unsettling grin. A chill ran down Clayton’s spine.
"Shit... that guy’s definitely up to sothing," Clayton muttered, panicking.
Reviews
All reviews (0)