According to the game, every character in this world had been dragged here by the gods between the ages of sixteen and eighteen, against their will.
This thought left Halo deeply unsettled. What did that mean for him now? Were the others here the same as him? Or was he the only real human in a world full of NPCs?
He exhaled heavily as he wove between the thinning trees. The massive trunks and towering mushrooms were finally behind him, replaced by scattered brush and slimmer pines.
"Hmph. I'll verify that once I'm out of this mess. But… wait—what's that?"
He pushed through the mist until the ground abruptly vanished beneath his feet. A cliff edge. He froze, staring down into a bottomless white abyss. No telling how far it dropped, but his gut said: far enough to end him permanently.
After a careful look, he scowled at the horizon.
"I almost considered jumping, but no. I can see the next land. There has to be a bridge."
But before he could take another step, something shifted behind him. It was a sound, a thrum, a presence that made his skin crawl. He turned sharply.
Relief, fear, and confusion all warred inside him, but his face said everything.
A six-foot, wormlike creature lay before him, its entire body lined with jagged teeth. Brown, sluggish, oversized. Halo recognized it instantly.
A Sinner.
He ducked behind a trunk and peered out cautiously. The creature lay dormant, its breathing slow and even, almost as if sleeping.
But something was wrong. Sinners weren't supposed to appear in this early region at all. How? Had the game changed that drastically?
He shook the thought away.
He'd been waiting for this chance. He needed two Sin Fragments to summon a clone, and he couldn't afford to waste the opportunity.
Still, he wasn't stupid. The Sinner's fangs jutted outward from patches along its skin, and its sluggish crawling suggested its Flaw was Sloth or Listlessness. He had no weapon, no armor, and no clue what hidden abilities it might have.
But judging from its size and behavior, Halo was nearly certain this was the weakest category: a Toddler Sinner.
Nearly harmless, practically blind.
All Sinners thirsted for blood, except Toddler Sinners, who were strangely childlike, naive, and rarely caused harm due to lack of awareness. But that didn't make it any less terrifying. Sinners were unpredictable, and their forms changed based on how and what they fed on.
Still, this was his kill. Not just for the Sin Fragment, he needed to prove to himself he could survive here.
He scanned the area, keeping perfectly quiet, searching for any tactic that would let him kill the creature without getting mauled.
Confidence and determination masked his true emotions. Underneath the surface, he was barely keeping himself together. Anxious. Heart pounding.
He had killed many people in his past life, but nothing like this.
If he succeeded, he'd gain a crucial frame of reference, something to bridge his knowledge of the game with the reality he was standing in.
And if he failed? The Toddler could just as easily kill him and claim his Coldness Flaw instead.
Still, Halo settled on the only plan that made sense.
He lacked weapons and strength, but he had one undeniable advantage: strategy.
The safest approach was to lure the Sinner off the cliff.
He might lose the Sin Fragment that way, but after running the options through his mind repeatedly, he accepted the risk. At the very least, it would steel him for what lay ahead.
Every nerve in his body buzzed with urgency, but his movements were calm, precise. To an observer, he would've looked fearless.
He rushed to gather two large rocks and stuffed them inside his black shirt. Once he found the right vantage point, he clamped the fabric bundle between his teeth and climbed up the nearest tree.
He wanted to avoid any injuries if something went wrong.
His plan relied on simple instinct. The Toddler Sinner might embody sloth, but it wasn't mindless.
If startled or threatened, they reacted violently. A well-aimed rock would startle it. Then he'd guide its panic in the direction of the cliff.
Halo's pulse hammered through his chest, sweat sliding down his bare torso as he steadied himself on the branch.
Before fear could freeze him, he released the first rock.
It struck the Sinner's skull with a sickening crack.
The creature snapped upright instantly, unleashing a shriek so sharp it rattled Halo to his bones. Fighting his guilt, he flung the remaining stones to the left.
The moment they hit the ground, the worm twisted violently and lunged toward the sound, its massive body rippling in quick, serpentine waves.
Halo felt chills race down his spine, but a smile tugged at his lips.
Then he heard the heavy, unmistakable drop of the creature falling off the cliff.
He let out a shaky breath.
"There's… there's no way it survives that… right?" he whispered, half hopeful, half horrified.
He climbed down, a strange spark of confidence flickering within him. Then, the bronze screen materialized.
***
[ Congratulations! You've slain a Toddler Sinner. ]
[ You've received a Sin Fragment: sloth. 1/10 ]
[ Your agility has increased. ]
***
His body jerked violently as a wave of icy energy flooded his veins. He trembled, then stilled.
Halo swallowed hard.
He hadn't expected absorbing a Sin Fragment to feel… warm. Comforting. Not painful. Characters in the game never showed signs of agony, but he still expected something more than this.
Then another screen flickered in.
***
[ Would you like to trade Sin Fragment for a secret? ]
| Yes | No |
***
He sneered.
If this were the game, he would've pressed Yes instantly. Secrets were gambles—sometimes useless, sometimes game-changing. His best friend used to brag endlessly about the missions he unlocked through them.
Halo smiled faintly. He'd made his first kill in this world. If this truly was the game, there would be many more.
It still puzzled him that he hadn't killed the Sinner with his own hands yet still gained the fragment.
"I guess what really matters is that it died… because of me."
Without wasting another second, he pressed on in search of the bridge. Nightfall was something he absolutely could not risk.
This was his life now.
He could feel it.