World Awakening: The Legendary Player
Chapter 45: Calm...Too Calm

Chapter 45: Calm...Too Calm

Nox wanted to push this mana further, to see its limits. He focused, coaxing more of it from his core. The sleek blackness spread, crawling up his shoulder, then creeping across his chest, forming a partial breastplate of the same light-absorbing material. It was harder this time, the drain on his mana more pronounced.

He tried to shape it, to make the gauntlet on his hand form into something more menacing than just a reinforced fist. He pictured talons, long and wicked. The mana rippled, then bulged, but didn’t quite form the sharp points he envisioned. It was like trying to sculpt with half-set tar; he could influence it, but precise control was still eluding him.

’Damn,’ he thought, frustration passing through him. The effort was making his head swim. The new layer of armor receded, flowing back into his arm, then dissipating entirely. He swayed, catching himself against the stone ledge. His mana bar, visible in his vision, was nearly empty.

[MP: 5/55]

’This Corrupted Mana... it’s powerful, but it eats MP like crazy. Need to work on that. A lot.’ He took a few deep breaths, the dizziness slowly subsiding. But with the physical strain came a surprising mental clarity.

The constant, gnawing unease that had been his companion for years, the feeling of being hunted, of being a target, it was... quieter now. Replaced by a hardened resolve.

His lips curved into a humorless upturn. He looked out at the broken city, at the sky that was just a sky, uncaring.

"Humans," he said, his voice quiet but carrying a new, unsettling resonance. "Monsters, elves... gods." He chuckled, a sound devoid of warmth. "Doesn’t matter. Get in my way, and I’ll end you. Simple as that."

The god chat, which had been relatively subdued, erupted.

[Auraelia, Goddess of Resilient Sparks] Nox! What are you saying?! That’s... that’s not you! 🥺 You don’t mean that, do you? You’re just tired and hurt!

[Baron Von Cynic] Oh, finally. The boy sheds his skin. Took him long enough. Welcome to the real game, Nox. Sentimentality is a weakness.

[Lady Veritas] This is a chilling pronouncement. He speaks of indiscriminate slaughter. Has all compassion truly fled him? This path leads only to ruin.

[Lord of Carnage] Now that’s the spirit! No more sniveling. Take what you want, kill what you don’t. The universe respects strength, nothing else. Good on ya, kid.

He ignored them. He pushed himself off the ledge and started walking back towards the hotel. The sun felt different on his skin, or maybe it was just him. He felt... unburdened. The world was still a wreck, but his place in it felt less like a victim’s and more like... his own.

He reached the hotel and climbed the creaky stairs. The door to the room was still closed. He opened it quietly and stepped inside.

Serian was still asleep, curled on her side on the floor, the thin blanket still pulled up to her chin. She didn’t look like a high-level elf princess from another world; she just looked like a young woman, exhausted and vulnerable.

He walked over and stood there, looking down at her. His expression was unreadable, his eyes holding no discernible emotion.

The gods in the chat held their collective breath.

[Auraelia, Goddess of Resilient Sparks] Oh, please, Nox, no. Don’t. She’s your friend. She helped you. She carried you when you were unconscious! Remember that! 😭

[Baron Von Cynic] Pragmatism dictates the elimination of potential threats. The princess is a complication. An asset, perhaps, but also a liability. What will it be, boy?

[Mars, God of Tactical Warfare] The target is incapacitated. An optimal moment for a decisive strike, if the objective is her removal. Minimal risk.

[Lady Veritas] Have you no shred of honor left, Player Nox? To strike down an unsuspecting ally in her sleep? This would be an act of utter depravity!

He didn’t react to their frantic messages. He slowly reached out his hand, the one that had so recently been clad in corrupted mana. His fingers extended, moving towards her throat. He could feel the faint warmth radiating from her skin.

’One squeeze,’ he thought, his mind detached, analytical. ’That’s all it would take. No more princess mission. No more complications. No more looking over my shoulder wondering if she’ll turn on me when she realizes what I am, or what I’m becoming.’

His fingertips brushed the delicate skin of her neck. He could feel the faint, steady pulse of her heartbeat beneath his touch. She didn’t stir.

He remembered her actions. The way she’d faced that monster, her initial suspicion of him, then her gradual, almost reluctant trust. The way she’d jumped in to fight Lola, even when she was clearly outmatched. Her concern when he was injured. Her quiet presence beside him in the arcade, the department store. Sharing the bed, not kicking him onto the floor.

’She... hasn’t been like the others,’ a thought surfaced, unbidden. ’Didn’t laugh when I was down. Didn’t run when things got ugly. She’s been... decent. To me, at least.’

His hand hovered there for a long moment, a breath away from ending her life. The gods watched, silent now, waiting for his decision.

Then, with a movement so subtle it was almost unnoticed, his fingers relaxed. He drew his hand back. He looked at her sleeping face for another second, then turned away without a sound and sat down on the floor in the corner of the room, leaning his back against the wall.

He closed his eyes.

The silence in the chat was broken by a single, shaky message from Auraelia.

[Auraelia, Goddess of Resilient Sparks] ...He didn’t. Oh, thank the stars, he didn’t. 🥹💖

His mind went to his new abilities. Corrupted Mana. Unseen Blade. Shadow Mend. The names sounded like something out of a bad fantasy novel, but the power they represented was real.

’Time to figure out what this stuff actually does,’ he decided. He wasn’t going to just sit here. His eyes closed but not to sleep, but to focus inward. He thought of it as research. Understanding the tools he had.

He first prodded at the sensation of the Corrupted Mana within his core. It was there, a dense, potent energy, different from the lighter, almost airy feeling of regular mana. This felt... substantial. Like liquid night. He tried to draw a small amount, guiding it with his thoughts, not into his limbs for physical use, but just to circulate it, to get a better feel for its texture, its weight. It moved, responding to his will, a slow, heavy current.