Finally, the fated day had arrived.
The towering corridors, ancient since ages past, embraced a ceiling adorned with archaic engravings. The light filtering through the high windows cast a dim glow, crawling across the black marble floor, where shadows reflected in shifting patterns, as if painting an unfinished history.
At the end of the corridor stood the great door, silent, guarding the treasures hidden behind it. Its dark wooden panels were carved with depictions of legendary battles and names worn by time, some letters faded, as if even the ages themselves could not completely erase them. The massive bronze handles, sculpted into the shape of dragon claws grasping tightly, seemed to challenge anyone unworthy to lay hands upon them.
Beyond it lay the "Hall of Skills," the chamber that had allowed the elite of the family to carve their path through history. Yet, the door remained shut, concealing what lay within as if testing the patience of those standing before it. The air was thick with an invisible tension, as though silence itself had transformed into an entity watching, weighing the footsteps of those who approached, measuring their resolve before granting entry.
In that place, time did not pass as usual. Every breath was audible, every bead of sweat that might fall, every heartbeat that echoed between the walls composed an unseen melody for those who dared to step forward. And yet, the wait dragged on, stretching endlessly, as if the door would only open for the one truly meant for the hall.
That person was Valerian Lockard.
His eyes were fixed on the door as if staring into the abyss of an unknown fate. At times, he clenched his fists as though preparing to strike, and at others, he rubbed his palms together as if trying to dissolve the hesitation between his fingers. His heart pounded in a conflicted rhythm, like a wild steed torn between charging forward and retreating, while his shallow breaths raced against the storm of thoughts surging in his mind, like scattered leaves caught in an unforeseen gale.
Everyone awaited the moment when the door—known for ages—would finally open. And at last, the head of the family, the strongest among them at present... Edgar, appeared.
Every glance he cast was cold, like an iceberg that could not be melted. Every movement confirmed the authority none dared to deny. Finally, his gaze landed on the center of today's attention—Valerian.
Valerian felt his father's piercing stare bore into him, knowing this was his only chance to achieve the growth he desperately needed. At last, the silence that had weighed down the space was broken.
Edgar spoke words that were incomprehensible, as though they were an incantation that would unlock the door, yet no one could even begin to grasp their meaning.
Then, the grating sound of creaking filled the hall as the doors slowly began to shift inward, revealing an absolute darkness with no visible end. No one moved, no one dared to step forward, for only one person had been granted permission to enter—Valerian.
His breaths quickened—not as one exhausted, but as someone chasing something only he could see. His heart thundered wildly, like a war drum heralding battle. His eyes, wide like the sky before a storm, gleamed with a light flickering between anticipation and exhilaration.
His limbs trembled—not from fear, but like a taut string on the verge of playing a melody never heard before. The air around him grew heavier, as though carrying something unseen, something pressing against his chest—not to suffocate him, but to ignite an unquenchable fire within. Inside him, an overwhelming current surged, pushing him forward, filling him with an insatiable restlessness, like a lightning flash tearing through the dark night, promising a deafening explosion yet leaving the world waiting.
At last, he took his first step toward changing his destiny.
The destiny he had long yearned to alter...
"Finally, I will begin my path to a better ending... I will change everything with my own hands."
He repeated this thought in his mind, unaware of what the future held for him, yet he felt no fear. Instead, he felt the flames within driving him forward.
Each step he took distanced him further from the onlookers until he vanished completely from their sight. Now, he found himself alone... inside the Hall of Skills.
The Hall of Skills was not merely a room—it was an experience beyond the senses, a space unbound by walls or ceilings, as if it existed outside the very laws of reality. There were no pillars holding up a roof, because there was no roof—only an endless expanse of darkness, punctuated by faintly flickering lights like distant stars. Yet, these were not stars... they were Cores.
The Cores pulsed with a mysterious energy, each one resembling a heart detached from a long-dead body.
As for the ground, it was neither soil nor stone but a smooth, lightless surface, like a black page of an unwritten book, or a mirror that had absorbed all images and no longer reflected anything.
The black Cores were the most numerous, scattered everywhere, pulsing with a faint glow like embers that had been extinguished yet refused to die completely. They floated in the void, moving without a discernible pattern, as though bound by an unseen law—one only those with enough willpower could begin to comprehend.
As Valerian moved among the Cores, two in particular caught his attention:
Intuition: A skill that granted him a vague sense of impending danger, though not always precise.
Shadow Steps: A skill that significantly increased his speed.
The choice was not difficult. A faint smile played on his lips as he reached out toward the first.
The moment his fingers made contact, the Core slowly began to dissolve, like ice melting under the sun's heat, until it vanished entirely.
> [User Information Updated]
[Name: Valerian Lockard]
[Rank: Human (Intermediate)]
[Talent: Low]
[Skills:]
Fate Theft (Level 1): Allows the user to steal a skill, a future opportunity, or a talent from another person.
Intuition: A passive skill that grants a sense of nearby danger, though not always accurate.
His consciousness wavered, as if the hall had completed its purpose, opening its doors for the next participant.
The black haze lifted from his eyes as his senses returned.
And when he regained awareness, he found himself back in the hall—but the crowd had vanished. Only four figures remained, standing there, watching him.
"It seems you've chosen a decent skill, little brother... but will it really be of any use to you?" Raine spoke with a mocking tone, looking down on him with disdain.
"Next time, it will be my turn." Alexis's voice was calm, but his body looked eerily pale.
"Excuse me, I'm leaving." Claire departed without a care.
Edgar said nothing—he merely gave him a nod before walking away, followed by the others.
His family was truly fragmented, like a puzzle missing its pieces.
Standing at the heart of the grand hall, amidst chandeliers aligned like stars and the reflections of light on the marble floor, only echoes remained—the echo of an unspoken sorrow.
He was alone... except for one person.
His heart skipped a beat, and his breath caught in his chest.
A moment ago, no one was there. But now, before him stood—Carlos.
"A wise choice, my lord." His loyal servant smiled.
Warmth spread through Valerian's chest. He was not entirely alone, after all. He still had the pillar that had kept him standing until the end.
"Thank you." It was a heartfelt gratitude—not just from him, but from the original owner of this body as well.
But… from afar, another shadow stood, observing the scene.
His eyes were like those of a serpent.
Strangely, no one had noticed him, yet he was undeniably present.
With a deep voice, he murmured:
"The time has come… Tonight, we will assassinate him, as ordered."