The battle between the monsters and the front-line guards was almost over but solen didn't pay it any heed.
He focus was on his stats as he stared at the screen that he had just gained more info about, in front of him, his eyebrows furrowing as his eyes traced the letters that told him about his power. Each time he read it, he couldn't help but feel his weakness.
Beneath his name, a list of categories glimmered faintly.
[System Interface — Dormant Solen]
Strength: G− (Low)
Speed: G− (Low)
Stamina: G− (Low)
Mana: G− (Low)
Luck: G− (Low)
Charm: D+ (Mid)
Beneath those, another 2 notes were written in pale blue:
Each rank divided into three sub-levels — Low, Mid, and High. Advancement possible upon growth or energy stabilization.
Just cause two dormant belong in the same grade doesn't mean, they necessarily have the same strength. Between each minor and semi minor grade their is a huge difference, so even if both have same level of strength there may be some differences.
Solen stared for a long moment, his mind quiet.
"G minus low, huh?" he muttered under his breath, very lowly so others don't hear. "Didn't even have the decency to give me a proper G."
He dragged a hand through his hair, letting out a slow breath. The more he looked, the stranger it felt — like the world itself had decided to quantify his existence in letters and dashes.
Still, he couldn't help the smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth when his gaze landed on the last line.
Charm: D+ (Mid)
'Well' he thought dryly, 'at least someone appreciates my face.'
Even in the middle of this nightmare — an unknown world, a strange trial, monsters made of shadow — he could still find humor in the absurdity of it all. Maybe that's what kept him sane.
His eyes flicked back to the other stats. Strength, speed, stamina, mana and luck — all pitiful.
It wasn't just bad. It was insulting.
He sighed. 'So I'm the weakest of the weakest huh? Great start.'
Solen dismissed the glowing screen with a thought, and it vanished in a soft flicker.
The way he had been talking to himself, muttering strange words had earned him strange gazes from the rear guard. He was already not too well liked, but now this had certified his position as the loner of the group.
By this time the front line of the guards had already defeated the monsters or the hollows, as the pale called them.
The front guards —bruised, and breathing hard were returning back to their places in order, their blades had darkened by the strange black blood of the slain creatures. The air still held pressure as if a testament to what had just happened here.
Solen could still feel their remnants of their souls in the air. Soft yet pale mist flew out of them — invisible to everyone but him — floated lazily upward before fading into nothing. The system's voice still echoed faintly at the edge of his mind:
"Soul fragments detected — absorbable."
"Warning: Delay beyond thirty seconds will render them unabsorbable."
"Note: Excessive absorption may lead to partial loss of humanity."
He stared at those fading wisps, lips pressing into a thin line. The temptation itched somewhere deep — to reach out, to absorb, to feel that rush again.
But the memory of the message, cold and precise, weighed heavier than curiosity. He wasn't sure what "losing humanity" meant in the Pale's terms — but it didn't sound like something that could be easily reversed or something that he would like.
And besides, the absorption had taken time earlier — far too much time. If he tried again now, with so many eyes around him, someone would definitely notice that he was acting strange, too much strange. Not to mention, he still hadn't chosen a vessel — the artifact that would anchor the souls and keep them from dissipating.
'No..... it isn't worth the risk. Not yet.'
He exhaled slowly, forcing the faint energy that stirred within him to settle. "Not now," he whispered to himself, "one mistake and I'm done for."
As the guards regrouped, shouting to one another and checking the wagons, Solen stepped aside, pretending to busy himself with the rear supplies.
That's when he felt it — a gaze.
He looked up.
From near the front, Garran Voss was watching him. The head guard's eyes, sharp as a hawk's, met his for a fleeting moment before narrowing slightly. It wasn't suspicion in the usual sense — not the way one looks at a thief or a coward — but something colder.
As if Garran knew. Not everything — but enough. It was enough to unsettle Solen.
'Why in the hell is he staring at me like that?'
Solen looked away first, pretending not to notice.
Their eyes had met for only a second before he had looked away. Seeing him look away, Garran turned away too, barking new orders to his men. Yet the weight of that stare lingered long after.
Even after the caravan started moving again, the question refused to leave his mind.
How had Garran noticed? The man had been in the midst of battle, cutting through those creatures like a storm — yet somehow, he'd seen something no one else had. None of the other guards had spared in his direction for more than a second. Even if they had noticed him acting strange, they had been too busy cheering their victory or tending to wounds., to actually care.
Solen's gaze drifted to the front of them all, where Garran rode in silence beside the lead wagon.
'Why him?'
Why did it feel like the head guard was watching a different battle entirely — one Solen hadn't even realized he was part of?
'And who was that person who had accepted me as one of the guards? Who was it, if not Garran?'
Solen now had a lot of questions that he wanted answers too, but he knew. He knew very well that right now he was neither important nor strong enough for Garran to value him enough to give answers to his questions. He would get those answers only if he had enough strength.
But here came another question, were these answers really so important? Important enough for him to sell his humanity.